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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

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Stitches and Pucks

i swear i tried writing the whole fic from the 3rd and 2nd pov in the beginning but hockey harry is so dang loud he’s like hang on honey this is MY story so let me tell this one ☠�� so here we are. i had loads of fun getting inside his head though, i hope you like it!

massive thank you to my biggest cheerleader @smokeinherperfume 🥺💛 and ken i’m so sorry for making you read an LA Kings fic 😂 @emotionally-imbruised

warning: smut. there’s no actual bow chicka wow wow stuff though but there’s some thigh riding 👀

[17k]

Harry

I swear I’m gonna kill Zayn.

That fucker just slammed my face into the boards, and as I’m trying to push back while flexing my jaw because that’s the right thing to do when you’ve got your face smashed into the boards, he tries to push me back again. Well, not a fucking chance. I give a particularly hard push back to get him off my back and I’m able to free my stick from the boards and put the blade to ice.

Because we’re playing on home ice here at Staples Center and I know its speed and consistency like the back of my hand, it takes nothing but a short tap on the puck and it shoots back between both of our legs. We scrabble, throwing elbows and shoulders and even kicking at it with our skates to expel it out. It’s a hard-fought battle, probably not lasting more than a few seconds, but it’s starting to wind me up because fuck if I’m gonna let them score. We’re up 4-2 against The Sharks, and with only under six minutes left to play in the game, I’d like to keep it that way.

I really don’t see it coming. And as much as we hate each other’s guts, it probably wasn’t even intentional, but it still hurts like a mother when Zayn’s stick pops upward, the end catching me just above my left eyebrow. I don’t feel any pain at first, but red, blurred vision definitely lets me know I’ve got blood streaming down my face. The ref blows the whistle and the play stops as the penalty is called.

The pain hits me next, and I bend over at the waist, my clear eye watching as a stream of blood hits the ice and freezes. In just about a few seconds, I feel a towel covering the cut and I hear the new team doctor say, “alright… let’s get you off the ice.”

Her hand stays steady at my back as I lift up straight, taking the towel in my own hand to hold it in place. The doctor walks alongside me while I skate to the bench, which has an exit door on one end that will lead back to the locker room. A few of my teammates slap me on the shoulder as I walk past. Harvey, who plays the same position as me but on the second-line yells out, “get stitched up so you can come back out and kick his pansy ass.”

I can’t help but chuckle, because that’s exactly what I plan to do.

“Up on the table,” the doctor says briskly and I watch with my one good eye as she quickly starts preparing the necessary supplies. I hop up onto the table, and in just under four minutes, my very own Doctor McSteamy has my injury evaluated, lidocaine injected, and is now closing the cut with stitches.

Good grief, she’s a fucking vision. Has a slammin’ body too, which no doubt would feel fucking fantastic underneath me. She probably doesn’t even realise it, but she’s got her little tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and I bet that’s something she does when she’s trying to concentrate on what she’s doing. I can feel my dick starting to twitch, so I close my eyes and get my mind out of the gutter before I get a hard-on. Fucking embarrassing.

When I’m sure I’ve got my downstairs head situation under control, I open my eyes again. She’s placing what I’m guessing the last suture on the cut and I make sure I put on my most dazzling smile as I look at her because I can be devastatingly charming when I want to be.

“Hey Doc,” I lean a bit closer to her when she’s done and murmur, “you should let me cook you dinner at my place tonight. You know, as a thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she replies without even looking towards me, preferring to busy herself with putting away the supplies that she used to tend to my cut. “I was just doing my job.”

“Alright then, no dinner at my place tonight,” I say with a sly smile. “But how about giving me your number so I can take you out sometime?”

She snorts in reply. “I’m not one of your puck bunnies.”

“No, you’re not,” I smirk at her. My tone is matter-of-fact when I add, “you’re one hot doctor.”

Not sure what I’m expecting, but this is definitely not it. Most women would blush and drop their knickers in an instant when I give them the tiniest bit of my attention, let alone a compliment, and let’s just say that’s why my bed is rarely empty. But it seems like my charms don’t work on this doctor since all I get is a fucking eye-roll.

“Are you always this forward?” She asks, still not looking at me.

“I’m a simple man, Doc,” I tell her with a shrug. “I see something I like, I go and get it.”

“Good for you,” she says dismissively, but I don’t miss the hint of amusement in her tone.

“Does that mean I get your number?”

She lets out a chuckle and finally turns to look at me. “That means I like your way of thinking.”

“So, no number?” I pout like a damn child, and apparently, the sight is hilarious to her. She throws her head back and laughs, and when she looks back to me, I get a wink.

“Sorry sunshine,” she smirks at me and I can’t help but ogle at her lips.

Perfect fucking lips.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” she adds.

Now, this is funny, so this time I’m the one tipping my head back laughing before I bring my gaze back to her. “You know our General Manager, Sloane Knightley?”

“Of course,” she replies, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“She’s with Alex, right-winger,” I tell her with a grin. “Now, Brynne Adams, have you met her yet?”

“The Athletic Trainer?”

“That’s the one, and she’s dating Matt, left-winger.”

“What?” Her jaw drops and it’s the cutest fucking sight. I’ve always thought of myself as a tits-man, but apparently now I’m a jaws-man too.

“Oh I’m not done yet,” I smirk at her. “Sarah Jones, Head of Equipment Manager, do you know her?”

She nods. “I’ve met her twice.”

“She’s with Mitch, right defenseman. Now, you probably haven’t met this one yet, but our goalie, Adam, is the only one married between us first-line players. His wife, Rachel, is the head of our in-house legal team. So look around Doc, everyone’s bloody shitting and eating around here,” I finish with a grin.

“Yeah, that doesn’t change a thing,” she insists. “That won’t be me.”

I give her one last glance as I hop off the table before I walk towards the door, pretty sure my eyes glitter with mischief as I say, “yeah, we’ll see, sunshine.”

—

The Owner’s Box is a local sports bar in El Segundo. Located only a stone’s throw away from the team’s practice facility at Toyota Sports Center, it has become the go-to hangout for a lot of the players ever since the facility opened in 2000. I like this place because it carries 140 types of beer and I like beer, and honestly the food is great as well.

As much as we like to mix and mingle with the fans, which is super fucking cool in my opinion, the manager always ropes off an area on the second floor for the players so we can drink and chill out without fans swamping us. Usually when we arrive, we’ll hang around the first-floor bar area for a bit to give the fans an opportunity to take pictures and ask for autographs before we head upstairs.

It’s always crowded after the game because everyone knows they can find us here, but it always gets extra busy whenever we win. Tonight, there’s an actual line of people waiting to get inside.

I nod at a bouncer and enter, and it takes me a good half an hour to make it to the second floor where I find several of my teammates sitting at some of the tables or standing around talking.

Winding around tables, teammates, and hot women since several puck bunnies have been allowed to go up the second floor and are doing their best to get noticed by the players wearing outfits that fit them like a second skin, I make my way over to Alex and Matt who are already sitting at one of the tables nursing their beers. Those two are my best friends since we’re linemates, but normally I’d go stand over with the single guys and start my selection process for whatever woman who’d warm my bed for the night.

Not tonight though. Never thought this day would come but I’m not here for a hookup tonight.

Alex gives me a knowing grin as I sit down since I told him in the locker room after the game about my exchange with the hot doctor earlier when she tended to my cut and how she turned me down. Well, he and several other of my teammates since there were a few there in the locker room with us and they had ears to listen. I’m pretty sure I could even hear Mitch chuckle, which is honestly one of the world’s seven wonders since the guy barely talks let alone laughs.

“How’s that cut feeling?” Matt asks as I take a seat in front of him.

“Feels like a butterfly kissed me there,” I tell him, which gets a deep belly laugh from both him and Alex. We hockey players would never admit to being hurt in a fight. Ever.

The voices in the second floor immediately go silent and I see all eyes swing towards the stairs, and when I look there I see our General Manager walks in alongside Coach Higgins, followed by some staff of the team. Cheers start ringing as she walks towards our table, no doubt to sit next to her man, and then I hear a low chant, “Sloane! Sloane! Sloane! Sloane!”

Matt and I do the same since not only Sloane is more of a close friend rather than a boss who signs our paycheck once she steps outside of the GM office, but as the only female GM in the league, she managed to turn our team into champions. We won the Stanley Cup last season and no doubt she’s going to push us to victory again this season. Alex has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as his gaze focuses on his girl, looking so damn proud of her. Man, my best friend is fucking whipped.

Sloane blushes, slides a grin to Alex, and when the sound dissipates and the guys all start sitting back down, she says, “shut up you big jerks, do you want me to cry?”

We all bark in laughter.

I stand up to give her access to the booth so she can sit between Alex and I, and Alex immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders when she’s within his reach to pull her closer to him and proceeds to give her a searing kiss. I whip my head at Matt and we both make a fake gagging noise.

“God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Matt says and Alex flips him off, still giving his woman a hell of a kiss and without even looking at us.

“I know, right? Not used to you being so fucking mushy mate,” I add. “Gives me the willies.”

Sloane laughs as she breaks the kiss. She leans over and playfully punches me in the arm. “You’ll have a good woman one day, Harry.”

“Yeah,” I drawl, then I give a faux shudder to make sure they understand I like being single. “No thanks.”

“You sure?” Matt cocks an eyebrow, but before I can reply, something behind me catches his attention. “Ooh, isn’t that the new doctor?”

I whip around so fast I fucking knock a bottle of ketchup off the table and it goes flying across the floor. Matt is laughing so damn hard he almost falls off from the booth, Alex is leaning over as he laughs, pressing one palm down on the sofa with the other to his ribs as if they hurt from laughing and Sloane is dabbing at her eyes as she laughs hysterically.

But yes, holy shit, that’s the doctor stepping off the stairs and onto the second floor with Brynne and Sarah. Now, I know Brynne will most definitely walk towards our table since Matt is here, but Sarah will most definitely walk towards the bar where Mitch is talking with some other guys.

Come here. Come here. Come here.

Fuck, she goes with Sarah to the bar.

“Oh no,” Alex says low and in warning. “I know that look.”

I don’t bother to give him my attention, keeping my eyes pinned on my girl. But I do ask him, “what look?”

“Your gaze just became predatory,” he says with a laugh.

“God, you have it bad for her,” Sloane teases but I ignore her as I stand up. Brynne gives me a wink when I walk past her and now I have a suspicion that my teammates blabbed to their women about what happened earlier tonight and now they’re trying to set me and the hot doctor up. Otherwise, why would she even be here? Fucking crazy, I know, but they’re all nuts.

“Go get her, tiger!” Matt quips as I walk towards the bar without looking back at their table.

The doctor has ditched the white lab coat that she wore earlier tonight at the arena, and I’m glad she has her back to me since I don’t make a secret of my ogling. My eyes are pinned to her ass in those skinny jeans and fucks sake I need to get a grip.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine,” I say with a smile as I stand next to her, trying to get her attention. That was lame, I know, and I feel like I want to punch myself for not being cool.

She laughs and fuck if that’s not the best sound in the world. It’s warm, rich, and husky, which warms my blood and speaks to my dick for some reason. Not sure if she’s laughing because she genuinely thinks I’m funny or is that just a pity laugh, but honestly I could listen to her laughing all day. Wouldn’t be opposed to hearing her moan one day, preferably with her underneath me, but if her laugh is all I can get at this moment then I’ll take it.

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask her and I mentally prepare myself for her to decline since she turned me down earlier in the arena, so it totally takes me by surprise when she only shrugs and says, “eh, why not.”

I’m sure my smile is ten times wider and she sees it. “What’s your poison?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“What if I want the hard stuff?” I raise a single brow. “Sure you want that?”

“What?” She smirks at me and my inner caveman is screaming for me at the sight to just throw her over my shoulder and take her home right this instant. But obviously I won’t do that, since I’m pretty sure that’s called kidnapping and I know I won’t look good in prison stripes. “You don’t think I can take it?”

“Oh honey, I know you can take it,” I laugh as I lift my finger to the bartender. “I’m only wondering how you’ll handle it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait and see.”

—

It’s three hours and many beers later, well for her anyway since I limit myself at two because I’m driving, and we’re stumbling out of the bar, laughing our asses off.

She’s telling me about the funniest thing that happened at the hospital a few months ago. At the beginning they thought they had a domestic situation because the couple came separately; one via ambulance and one via police car. But when they finally got the whole story, it turned out to be an anniversary celebration gone wrong since the wife had a seizure when she was going down on her husband and bit down on him.

“Are you joking?!” I stare at her, mouth gaping in astonishment before I burst out laughing hysterically.

She shakes her head and laughs with me. “I wish.”

“Did you manage to save his manhood?” I ask with a half-grin and half grimace.

“My colleague did,” she replies. “I was busy with the wife, she had rather extensive head trauma.”

“From the seizure?”

“Well, in panic and pain, her husband didn’t think much and just grabbed the closest thing he could find to try to get her to loosen her bite, which sadly was an old rotary style telephone and hit her in the head with it. She was okay in the end, though.”

“That’s one hell of an anniversary to remember for sure,” I chuckle, and the giggle she emits pretty much confirms she’s bladdered. Well, not the kind of drunk where she wouldn’t remember tonight I’m sure, but I bet she’ll wake up with a massive headache.

“I sure hope you’re not driving,” I say as I steady her by the elbow when she wobbles as we step down the stairs.

“Sarah, Brynne and I took an Uber here from the arena earlier,” she mutters as she pulls out her phone from her handbag.

“Let me drive you home,” I quickly say before she gets the chance to order a ride. Not sure why I did that because I certainly have never offered women a ride home without the promise of getting in their knickers, and I can assure you that I won’t be getting anywhere near hers tonight, but maybe I just don’t want this night to end yet.

We’ve been glued at the hip from the moment I bought her first drink, and three hours purely just talking with the same woman? That’s a record in my book. While I’m not ashamed to admit that I also like looking at her, honestly, to me that’s just an added bonus. I think it’s safe to say that I have never met anyone like her before. Granted, with most women usually there wasn’t much talking, but from what I learnt in just the span of three hours is that this doctor of mine is a hell of a lot of fun.

I swear she’s just a pure fucking joy to be around. Conversation with her is like a never-ending merry-go-round and she makes me laugh a lot. She’s bright and witty and she’s one of those people that knows no strangers. She can easily talk about anything from politics to sports even to crude jokes, and add on to that, she’s just so kind and inclusive that several times tonight I actually had to drag her away to one of the back tables so we could have a proper chat without the crowd around us.

“You don’t have to,” she gives me a hesitantly sweet smile.

“But I want to,” I gallantly insist as I turn and offer my arm to her. “Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

“Well, alright then,” she smirks, her hand easily slides into the crook of my elbow. “I could save a few bucks.”

I roll my eyes and tease her, “didn’t take you to be such a skinflint.”

“Hey!” She playfully slaps my arm with her other hand as she laughs and I’m glad I amuse her.

No, seriously... I like her laugh.

There’s no doubt that she wants me, just as there’s no doubt that I totally want her. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on all night, and plenty of innuendo, but I won’t be surprised nor disappointed if she doesn’t invite me inside when we get to her home and nothing happens tonight.

We’ll get there, I’m sure.

Until then, I’m completely fine drinking beer, being her personal chauffeur, and getting to know her a little better.

—

We always finish team practice with battle drills. From the end zone face-off spot to either the left or right of the goalie, we pair up and battle for a goal. One on offense, the other on defense, we shoulder, bump, and juke our way across the short distance to the net. It’s a four to five second drill that will make us sweat, and then it’s over. We skate to the end of the line, where we wait to do it again.

“Saw you left with the new doctor last night,” says Matt, my battle partner today, with a shit-eating grin as he taps his stick against my leg. “How was she?”

I ignore his question not only because I don’t have the answer that he’s looking for because nothing really happened after I dropped her in front of her house, but also because this feels different. She is different. Had it been just another one night stand, I wouldn’t think twice before I blab all about the dirty details with my teammates. Great lays, lousy lays, I honestly have no filter and I tell them all.

But this is YN, and fuck if I know why and what this really means. All I know for sure is that I want more than to just tap that. The thing is, my teammates will probably not understand because they can’t really see past the fact that the new doctor is a gorgeous woman who I’ve been lusting after for about a week.

“Dude,” Matt says to get a reaction from me, smacking me a little bit harder with his stick. “How many times did you score her last night?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growl.

“Whoa, dude,” he apologises and I swear his grin gets even wider. “Sorry. I guess you’re serious about her?”

“Serious about what?” Alex pipes up from in front of us. He’s paired with Adam, our goalie. There are four pairs of skaters in front of Matt and me, but there’s an equal number on the other side. We’re alternating.

“None of your fucking business,” I mutter, willing the line we’re in to go faster so I can escape from my nosy teammates and head to the doctor’s office.

Alex and Adam take off, Alex with the puck. They ram their shoulders into each other, legs braced and skates digging hard all the way to the net.

“Did you at least kiss her?” Matt nudges me with a sly grin, still trying. Man, he’s not a quitter.

“No,” I answer shortly, hoping that will satisfy him. “Just dropped her at her house and left after I made sure she got inside safely.”

“No. Fucking. Way,” he quips dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done to my teammate?”

Play continues, the next set of skaters in our line taking off and I ignore Matt but apparently he’s not done poking his nose in my business. “Oh, we’re not done yet buddy. Let’s go out tonight so we can squeeze some more gos out of you. Just you, Alex and I, how does that sound? Brynne said the girls are going to have a girls night out so I know he’ll be game.”

The girls means my teammates’ better halves, and honestly, hanging out with just my bros does sound good. Don’t get me wrong, those girls are cool—yes, my boss, Sloane, included—and they’re fun to hang out with. My teammates sure hit the jackpots with their women. But before Sloane and Brynne came along, the three of us were thick as thieves. There was a time where we went out almost every night and that’s why we’re more like brothers than teammates. Sometimes I miss that since we don’t get the chance to do it as often now that they act like old married couples, so yes, this does sound nice.

However, as tempting as it sounds, I want to hang out with my hot doctor more than my mates. That is if she’ll have me though.

“I can’t,” I say, clearing my throat. I lean in towards him and whisper, “I want to take YN out to dinner tonight.”

“Seriously,” he drawls dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

Again, I ignore his comment.

“Alright, I guess that’s a definite no to dinner with me and Alex then, huh?” Matt says in an exaggeratedly glum tone.

“The doctor is way prettier than you,” I reply blandly.

“Fine, go on your date,” he says with a slap on my back. “But I want to book some time with my best friend in the near future if it’s not too much trouble.”

“We’re going on a four day road trip in two weeks,” I mutter as I roll my eyes at him. “I’ll snuggle you then.”

Matt sidles up to me, lays his head on my shoulder, and bats his eyelashes. “Oooh, I can’t wait.”

I shove him off with a chuckle. That bastard.

—

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope,” I say after two knocks on her office door. I can hear her chuckle as she tells me to come in.

God, I have turned into such a dork. But I like hearing her laugh and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to hear that sound again and again.

“Hey,” she smiles at me as she looks up from her computer. “What’s wrong?”

“Knee’s a little sore,” I tell her, not feeling the slightest bit of guilt for my lie just so I can have a few moments to talk to her. “Thought you could take a look at it.”

Her brows draw inward with concern and she motions towards a table. “Did something happen?”

“Nah,” I shake my head as I hop onto the table with my legs hanging over the edge and kick off my slides. “Just came off the ice and noticed it.”

“Alright, go ahead and lie back,” she says as she turns to the sink and washes her hands. “I’m going to do some range-of-motion tests.”

I stay silent as she maneuvers my leg, trying not to focus too much on the feel of her soft hands against me or the smell of her perfume. Fuck, she smells good. Fruity and flowery. Like berries and the heart of rose and bitter wormwood, and the scent is fucking delicious.

“Do you feel any pain when I do this?” She asks with one hand on my calf, the other on my thigh as she rotates my knee.

“Not really,” I shake my head. What happens here today will go in my chart and I don’t want to call any attention to my knee.

“How about this?” She asks, rotating the opposite way.

I shake my head again. “Nope.”

The hand on my calf slides down, grasping the bottom of my foot firmly. With the other hand still holding onto my thigh, she pushes hard into my foot. “This cause any pain?”

“Nope,” I say quickly, and then add, “I think it’s nothing more than my muscles getting back in shape. But I figure some ice can’t hurt, right?”

She slowly lowers my leg and gives me a sweet smile. “Well, I don’t think anything’s loose or torn, but if you’re worried about it, I can schedule an appointment with Dr Green.”

She is the team’s orthopaedic surgeon, and hell I’m not about to do that. Talk about an unnecessary red flag. “I think it’s just a lack of conditioning. Got lazy this summer.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I nod firmly. “I just need some ice and I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Well, alright then,” she says as she turns back to wash her hands again at the sink. “I’ll let Brynne know and have her prepare you an ice bath.”

“Oh hell no,” I quickly shake my head and grimace. “That bloody thing is pure torture and my balls will go into hibernation until next summer. Just an ice pack will do, Doc.”

She laughs again. “Okay, just an ice pack. I’ll be right back.”

She turns and heads through the door to the treatment room and I take a moment to admire her gracefulness as she moves. She looks delectable today in her scrubs, which are the typical light blue you see in the hospitals, and they hang on her tiny frame loosely. I’d actually never seen her in them before since she usually just wears normal clothes underneath her white lab coat in the arena, but I swear this might possibly be the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen her in. I’m sure that has to do with the fact that I respect her so much as a doctor that it just heightens my attraction to her, and I can’t help but wonder if she’ll play dress-up games with me in the bedroom when the time comes. Because, well… I certainly wouldn’t mind getting a thorough exam from her.

“Here you go,” she says when she comes back. “Scoot back on the table and stretch your leg out. Keep this on for twenty minutes, then you can go.”

She places a towel over my knee, then lays the bag of ice on top.

“Thanks, Doc,” I tell her.

“Just doing my job,” she quips, and then walks back over to the box of supplies she had been unloading.

“Well, you’re very good at it,” I add and I can hear her chuckle. But I got nothing in response, so I add, “speaking about good things… I had a good time last night.”

“Did you?” She quips, still not looking at me but I can hear from her tone that she’s smiling.

“Well, yeah,” I say with a confident nod. “Didn’t you?”

“Eh, it was alright,” she smirks at me over her shoulder as she walks towards her desk.

“I want to do that again,” I tell her nonchalantly before I ask with a lopsided grin that I hope she finds charming, “will you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

“I can’t,” she shakes her head as she turns to look at me.

“Why? Got a hot date already?”

“Nah,” she chuckles. “Sarah invited me to a girls night at her place. I wasn’t gonna go because they seem like a tight-knit group and I don’t want to intrude, but Sloane came by here earlier to ask me again and she’s bribing me with tacos and margaritas, and well… I can’t say no to both.”

“Fair enough,” I laugh. “But have fun then. They’re all really nice, you’ll fit right in.”

“Thanks,” she gives me an easy smile, and I hope it’s subtle enough that she doesn’t realise this, but my breath actually hitch a little while I stare at her lips.

“How about tomorrow night then?”

“Well-” she begins, but she’s cut short when she hears her pager beeping. “Oh shit, I need to go back to the hospital. You think you’re okay there? Go to Brynne if you need something else.”

“Okay, don’t worry,” I tell her with an encouraging smile. “You go and save some lives, Doc.”

—

The arena is packed, the fans are at a fever pitch, and we’re in the midst of a fierce battle with the Anaheim Ducks. We’d taken them on in the first round of the playoffs last season, and while we swept them, they’re still a formidable opponent. Not to mention there’s a long-standing rivalry between the two teams, and add on to that, we’re in the regular season now so every win counts. The pressure is on.

As a center, I’m a shooter, not a fighter. That means I’m relied on to score, not to play defense or get tough with other players. My body is too valuable to mess it up in a slugfest, so I’m rarely enticed into a fight. Sometimes it takes everything in me to keep my cool, but I know I’ve got to trust Mitch and Marcel, our defensemen.

Just like right now. We’re late in the second period tonight, and one of the Ducks players, Jeff Azoff, is being a dick. He cross-checked me in the back, not strong enough to slam me into the boards, but it was enough to alert Mitch who’s skating right behind us.

“Do that again and I’m going to kick your ass,” I hear Mitch tell him. That guy doesn’t really talk, but he wouldn’t think twice before beating the hell out of someone if they mess with our team. He takes his job as a defenseman seriously. When he’s on the ice, nobody dares to touch his guys.

The fucker did it again, still not forceful enough for a penalty to be called, but Mitch was quick to drop his gloves and took on that Azoff guy. He kicked his ass good.

Man, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. Mitch is a badass. Unfortunately though, the fucker did land a lucky hit to his temple and his skin split just to the side of his eyebrow. Knowing Mitch, that will be nothing but a ten-minute trip to the treatment room where YN will stitch him up. I’m sure as hell he wouldn’t let her give him anaesthetic so he can get back on the ice as soon as possible. As I watch him skate towards the exit, I make a mental note in my head to buy him a beer tonight as a thank you.

The play resumed, and there are about forty seconds left on the clock before intermission. The Ducks are down 3-0, and they pull their goalie once they gain possession of the puck since they have nothing to lose. Luckily our stamina is stellar, so our legs are still fresh as we defend.

They pass the puck back and forth, looking for the long shot or a quick dump inside for a goal. My back is to Adam, our goalie, as I keep myself facing the action, letting my stick play loose.

The crowd’s screams escalate in tune to the clock ticking closer to zero. With a sharp flick of the wrist, the puck makes it past Alex, our right-winger, to the inside. Players crash the net, Marcel poke checks, and the biscuit shoots out towards me.

It’s a full-on breakaway as I shoot down the ice, one on one against the goalie.

Tap, tap, tap… back and forth… puck to blade of stick.

I close in on the goalie and juke left.

He goes left and I juke right.

He keeps going left, so I keep going right and flip the puck up and over his shoulder into the back of the net. The red light burns bright behind the net and the fans go wild. That was my third goal tonight, and it’s the perfect timing for intermission since there’s no way we can play with all the hats being thrown onto the ice.

It takes merely a second before I’ve got my teammates surrounding me. Alex, Matt, Marcel, Adam and Niall, one of the defensemen from the second line who’s filling in for Mitch. Pats of their gloved hands on my helmet, stick blades gently against my calves.

We skate to the gate that would lead us to our locker room. We all trudge there, taking up spots around the open space as we wait for Coach Higgins to address us. It’s what he does at the end of every period. If we play poorly, we get our asses handed to us. If we play stellar though, like tonight, he’d be effusive in his praise.

But as much as I’d love to hear nice things from the Coach, there’s nobody I want to see more than my very own Doctor McSteamy. And yes, just to put it out here since I’ve been calling the hot doctor by that nickname, I’ve got to admit that I did watch too much Grey’s Anatomy in the summer because there’s not much I could do during the off-season. My sister didn’t let me watch past season 10 though, because she said it’s not worth it.

“Need to get my knee taped,” I tell Alex on my right as I stand up. We have 17 minutes before we start the third period and I figure that should be enough time to see the Doctor and secure a date in the near future. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bullshit,” he grins and there’s a clear amusement in his eyes. “You want to see your girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” I growl.

“What’s this?” Matt asks curiously as he takes a seat next to Alex.

“Our buddy here wants to see his girlfriend,” Alex’s grin doesn’t lessen as he tilts his head at me. “Needs to get his knee taped, he said.”

“Conjugal visit in-between periods? Classy,” Matt says with a salacious grin and I glare at him. When his laughter dies down, he points out, “okay, jokes aside, that’s a shit excuse. If you really need your knee taped, you’d see Brynne and not YN.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing else here,” I grumble like a stroppy child. “Can’t hit my own head just to get a cut, can I?”

“That would be outright dumb,” Alex laughs. “But come on, I’ll go to Brynne and make up something so at least you can tell the doctor that she’s busy.”

The treatment room is just down the hall from the locker, and when I get there, I notice the door is half open. I see her sitting on the little desk with her computer, so I knock lightly on the door to get her attention.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Her head swings up when she hears my voice and it takes everything in me not to just march there and kiss the fuck out of her when she offers me the sweetest smile. Crazy how much effect this woman has on me. “I need my knee taped but Brynne’s busy.”

“Sure, I was just reading the players’ medical chart,” she replies. “You were on fire out there by the way.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I smile at her.

“Skates, socks, shin pads and pants off,” she says as she walks towards the supply cabinet.

“Jock strap too?” I can’t help but smirk.

“No,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she grabs a towel and hands it to me. “Put this over your lap.”

“Do I have to?”

“Well, yeah, unless you want me to get a peek of your dick.”

“You know I wouldn’t be averse to that, Doc,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows.

She gives me a school teacher, disapproving-type look but the slight twitch of amusement in the corner of her mouth is hard to miss. “You’re so bad.”

“You have no idea,” I grin, but she doesn’t see it because she has her back to me. She’s pulling another cabinet open to get adhesive, gauze and tape before knocking it close with her shoulder.

This is ridiculous but I’m actually a bit self-conscious of getting practically half naked in front of the hot doctor. I have absolutely no clue why and this had certainly never happened before.

I shed my gear from the waist down and she keeps her back to me until I get on the therapy table and the towel is covering my lap. She lays out her supplies on the table beside us, her slender fingers using a pair of scissors to open a new package of tape.

I take a moment to admire her as she cuts off uniform lengths of tape and attaches them to the table. She’s not in the scrubs I saw her in last week, but if you think I’d be disappointed, even just slightly, then you’d be wrong because you could put her in a burlap sack and to me she would still absolutely look edible.

Tonight, she’s rocking a mustard-yellow trouser suit with wide legs and a cross-over pleated blouse underneath her white lab coat. The crisscross swath of silk that wraps around her upper body does lovely things to her tits, and I realise I’m quite the pig to be thinking about her this way.

“Left knee?” She asks. “I’ve just finished reading your medical chart when you came in. Arthroscopic medical meniscus repair two years ago.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Sometimes it feels a little loose. A good taping is all it needs.”

“Any soreness?” She asks as she steps up in between my legs that dangle over the table.

I shake my head and say, “nope.”

“Clicking or popping?”

“Nope.”

“Locking?” She inquires as she lifts her face up to mine.

She’s fucking close enough I can smell her minty breath. I could easily kiss her, but I’d probably get kneed in the nuts, so I just shake my head and say, “nah, just feels a little loose.”

“Okay,” she says, laying a soft pat on my thigh. It’s nothing but a move of reassurance, but fuck if I don’t feel it all the way through my gut.

She grabs her supplies and I can’t keep my eyes off her as she gets to work taping my knee. It takes merely a few minutes, and then she finishes the wrap, holding the end while taping it with the precut pieces. “There you go,” she says, stepping back.

“I’ve got something to confess. My knee was absolutely fine,” I blurt out, the words popping out of my mouth so suddenly, I’ve got no clue where they came from. Clearly my subconscious decided to overtake my sensibility and make itself known. “I came here because I wanted to see you. Thought I’d try to get your phone number and a date one last time before I give up.”

She gives a tinkling laugh. “You’re not a quitter, are you?”

“Well, no,” I reply with a grin. “So, tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven. How does that sound?”

“Listen,” she smiles at me sweetly as she begins, but I don’t like the sound of it. Nothing good ever comes after ‘listen’. “You’re a nice guy-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I cut her as I hold my hands up. “Don’t go with the ‘nice guy’ brush off. Clearly I’m not if you won’t give me the time of day.”

“I just don’t think we’re looking for the same thing-”

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“Look, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem more like the bang ‘em and leave ‘em type to me.”

“Is that really how people see me?” I ask her curiously, without an ounce of defense in my voice because there’s no point in denying that. I really don’t care what people think, but I’d like to hear her opinion.

“You’re a player, Harry,” she says with a chuckle. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re young and in your prime. You should totally be sowing all your wild oats. It’s just… I’m at the point in my life where I realise that meaningless sex without something deeper isn’t very fulfilling. I don’t want that anymore.”

I feel a metaphorical light bulb goes off in my head.

I know she doesn’t mean to, but fuck, she hits me right where it hurts. She’s called that exactly right. This is something that I’ve actually realised and known for a while, especially after seeing my best mates being the happiest they’ve ever been after they found their women. There’s not an ounce of regret in what I did though, because just like my girl right here said, there’s nothing wrong with that. There was a time when burning my way through all the hot women in LA and having them take turns warming my bed had its appeal, but not anymore.

Maybe this is why I’ve been feeling unfulfilled lately. I know I’ve got a great career, more money than I could ever need in a lifetime and endless selection of gorgeous women to warm my bed every night. What more could a man possibly ask for, right? But at the end of the day, it’s just me in a monstrosity of a house that I call home.

Maybe deep down I know I don’t want it to be just me anymore.

“I think I’ve actually known that for a while, but the way you point that out, I think it’s drilled home now,” I admit as I face her.

“What do you mean?”

“That casual, meaningless sex without something deeper isn’t very fulfilling,” I say with a smile. “I mean, yes what I did was fun, but then I look at my best mates and see how happy they are with their women. Of course I rib them good because hey, that’s my job as their best mate…”

She laughs.

“...but that doesn’t mean I never look at them and think, fuck, I want that one day. Maybe the idea didn’t really appeal to me because I had never found the right person, who knows. But I swear I don’t want just sex with you. I want more. Do I know what I’m doing? Fuck, no. I haven’t even been on a proper date in years. But I do know that I genuinely want to get to know you better, Doc, that is if you give me the chance.”

She gives me a dopey smile when she asks, “you mean all that?”

“I really do,” I nod solemnly. “Now let me prove it to you. Go on a date with me.”

“Tell you what,” she begins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If you go back on the ice and win the game, we can go to The Owner’s Box when you’re done to celebrate just like the other night. And if you behave, I’ll give you my number this time.”

“Want me to behave, huh?” I say teasingly with a waggle of my eyebrows. “Don’t fancy a bad boy?”

“Oh I actually have it bad for bad boys,” she smirks. “My favourite character in Harry Potter is Draco Malfoy.”

“Okay, I’ve got a counter offer,” I say as my laughter dies down. “If I get MVP tonight, which I’m pretty sure I will since you said it yourself that I’m on fire tonight, you give me your number straight away after the game and let me take you out to dinner. I’m thinking seven tomorrow night.”

Another roll of those gorgeous eyes that twinkle slightly at me. “Pushy, aren’t ya?”

“Only when I want something,” I tell her with a grin. “And I want you.”

“So do you want me or do you want to go out with me?” She asks slyly, tilting her head to the side.

“You gonna kick my balls if I say both?”

“I admire honesty,” she murmurs softly in that sexy, husky voice that seems to flow through my body and straight down to my dick.

“Hey boyfriend and girlfriend,” I hear Matt chirps from the doorway and my spine stiffens involuntarily. His shit-eating grin doesn’t lessen a bit even when I give him a glare. “Hate to steal your man, Doc, but the game is starting again soon and we kinda need our favourite asshole right here.”

“You two break a leg,” she chuckles. And then as an afterthought, she adds, “just so we’re clear, I don’t mean that literally.”

—

Manhattan Beach’s high-end strip of boutiques and restaurants are hugged by the beach on one side and some of California’s most expensive real estate on the other. It’s southern end blends seamlessly into smaller Hermosa Beach, which is similarly quiet but has a tight concentration of bars and restaurants near the town’s pier that attract bar-hoppers at night and sun-bleached dropouts during the day.

The Kings players’ houses are scattered evenly across the two towns. Some of us are clustered within a block or two of several teammates; others sprinkled little more than a mile or two away. All but one of the first-line players live in Manhattan Beach though, and we can easily walk or ride a beach cruiser to everyone else’s house.

YN lives in Silver Lake, and the drive to pick her up takes me about forty minutes. I know she must make a pretty good bank being an ER doctor, not to mention that she works at two places, but her house doesn’t scream that. It’s rather tiny, I’m betting not more than seven or eight hundred square feet max, and there’s not much of a porch but on the outer edge is a hanging basket of flowers.

There’s no doorbell so I rap my knuckles on the door. Flecks of peeling paint get knocked loose and fall to the concrete porch.

“Coming,” I hear her yell from inside and I can imagine her plopping in an earring, grabbing her handbag, and wondering if she turned the curling iron off. She sounds frazzled and rushed and I can’t wait to fucking see what she looks like when she opens the door.

And there she is.

She has a black dress on, and it’s not little but it’s spectacular. The neckline of the dress skims just below her collarbone so no skin or cleavage is exposed, but it doesn’t matter because the narrow waist and flared hips, all cocooned in black is sexy as shit. The hem of her dress comes down below her knees and the dress is so well fitted that I know there has to be a slit up the back so she can walk.

“Good grief you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I mutter as I let my eyes roam down and then back up again to find her smirking at me.

She’s got an off-white clutch bag tucked under an arm, and her head is leaning to the side so she can put her last earring in, exactly as I’d imagined.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she says, still smirking at me. I’d worn my best suit tonight in black with black shirt underneath and no tie. Glad she likes what she sees.

I step back so she can lock her door, and she turns to me as she tosses her keys in her clutch. I hold my arm out to her and ask, “ready?”

She nods and smiles as she curls her fingers in just below my biceps, then I escort her to my car.

I’m taking her to this new restaurant that both Alex and Matt recommended when I asked them last night for the finest restaurant in LA. It had been so long since the last time I took a woman out for a proper date, so I knew I needed to ask my mates and that they would have the answer. They both swore by this place called Apron, but then told me it took at least two weeks to get a reservation. Luckily though Alex had booked a table for him and Sloane tonight, and they gladly gave me the reservation. Sure I had to take a good deal of ribbing from my teammates and their women last night at the bar where we celebrated our win, but I knew it would be worth it.

The drive to the restaurant is short, only about ten minutes. And we lapse into the same easy conversation right away, just like we did the other night at The Owner’s Box. Today was my day off and I did absolutely nothing so I’ve got nothing interesting to tell, but she had plenty of exciting cases at the emergency room today, which included a toddler swallowing a penny.

“Holy shit, how did you get the coin out?” I ask her.

She laughs. “You don’t take it out. You’ve got to let the kid pass it naturally.”

“He can do that?”

“Well,” she begins. “I did take an X-ray first to make sure that it was small and could pass safely.”

“Okay, okay, okay… what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to remove from a patient?” I ask her with childish curiosity.

“Honestly, I think I’ve removed everything on the surface of the earth,” she snickers. “Coke bottle, tapeworms, coins, candles, but the strangest has got to be a stuffed animal. It was a Curious George doll, and… let’s just say that he’s no longer curious.”

“You’re joking right?” I bark in laughter as I park my car. We’ve arrived and I swear that was the shortest ten minutes of my life. “I mean… who does that?!”

“I wish,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. “You’d be surprised if you know how many weirdos out there.”

I’m still chuckling as I exit my car, then I walk over to the passenger side to get her. I hold my arm out to her, and her hand so very easily slides into the crook of my elbow.

“You don’t think I’m one of them, right?”

She gives me a playful shrug. “Well, I don’t know, you might be a weirdo... I mean, I don’t know you well enough yet.”

I give her a smart-ass smirk. “Let’s remedy that then.”

—

“How’s that one?” I ask her as I finish a mouthful of this chocolate thingy. It was a chocolate ball concoction the waiter had poured more hot chocolate over, which then melted the ball to reveal a raspberry chocolate torte inside. She had a bite, but it was too rich for her. I agree though, it was a lot of damn chocolate.

“You’ve got to try this,” she says, spearing the lemon meringue pie with her fork, top it with a little bit of pine nut ice cream and holding it over the table to me.

It’s a completely intimate move and one that I didn’t expect from her tonight. I mean, she was reluctant to go out with me in the beginning and needed some convincing, so I expected her to be reserved and cautious. But hell I’m not complaining.

I lean in and let her feed me the dessert. The flavours explode on my tongue and I think that’s the best we’ve had tonight.

I don’t normally indulge in dessert, but they all sound good so I told her we should order all the ones we like the sound of. Which was most of them except that cucumber mousse and pickle ice cream because those sound like disasters on a plate.

“Good, huh?” She asks with a smile.

“Really good,” I tell her. “I think I like that one best.”

“Finish it then,” she says as she pushes the plate towards me. “I can’t possibly take another bite. I’m stuffed to the brim.”

“Alright,” I say with a chuckle as I pull the plate closer to me. “So, when are you free again so I can take you out to another date?”

She chuckles. “We’re not even finished with this one.”

I roll my eyes at her, then I ask, “are you having a good time?”

Her smile turns dopey and I know she’s just as smitten with me as I am with her. “This is definitely the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“If we were finished, considering how things have gone, would you go out with me again?”

“I would.”

“Good,” I say with an emphatic nod. “So, weekend or weekdays? When will it work best for you?”

—

I slow the speed on the treadmill, taking me down from a brisk run to a slow walk so I can cool down. Normally I like to run outside in the morning, but I woke up late this morning and we had a team skate scheduled at ten, so I figured I’d just do my workout afterwards at the arena.

Only a few of us actually have a gym membership outside. Most of us prefer to work out at the arena because not only is the equipment better, but we also have an abundance of teammates to work out with and that’s always nice.

I walk for about five minutes to cool down, then I turn the machine off and wipe my face with a towel. I grab my phone and water bottle and turn for the barbells, as today I’m working my chest and shoulders. Mitch and Marcel are already lifting, both defensemen who tend to focus on brute strength versus speed and stamina, so I’m not surprised they didn’t go for the treadmill. I also see Matt there, and I bet Alex will join us too after he’s done cooling down.

“Have a nice run, princess?” Marcel asks dryly as I set my stuff down near the bench press.

“I’m not the one who has to prove my manhood by how much weight I can lift,” I return with a sly grin.

“Yeah, well, your manhood is in a dry spell,” he says as he loads some weight onto the bar. Pre the hot doctor, both Marcel and I were the only single guys in the first line. He’s just as much as a player—on and off the ice—as I was, but now I gladly pass the title to him.

“Not true,” Matt quips with a grin. “He went on a date last night.”

“No shit,” Marcel turns to me in astonishment. “With who?”

Before I can even answer Alex throws a quick glance at us, flashes a shit-eating grin, and yells from the treadmill, “the new doctor.”

“But I saw you two got pretty cosy at The Owner’s Box last week,” Marcel says, as if he’s still confused as hell.

“Well yeah, she was cool, so I took her out again,” I say firmly.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” He blinks at me. Eyes all round and not comprehending. “You never look at the same woman twice.”

“So?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Ooh, I get it,” he says with a smirk. “Pussy that good, huh?”

“Hey,” I cut in with a warning. “I’m not there yet.”

They all suddenly stop whatever they’re doing and turn to me with raised eyebrows. Yes, Mitch included, which I’m actually quite surprised.

“Whoa, hang on,” Marcel says. “You haven’t tapped that yet?”

“You’re serious?” Matt looks at me in disbelief. “Not even last night?”

“Dude, I gave you that reservation last night to give you the opportunity,” Alex says as he walks towards us. “I was genuinely worried about your balls.”

They’re still looking at me confused, but Adam howls with laughter. “Don’t listen to these pigs. Rachel and I took it real slow at the beginning of our relationship too, and I got to tell you, the anticipation was half the fun.”

It’s true. I’m in no rush with YN because I know we’ll get there sooner or later. I can be patient when I want to be, and right now I honestly want to. I want to prove to her that when I said I wanted to get to know her, I meant her as a person and not just carnally.

I could tell that I confused her last night when I dropped her off at her doorstep after our date. I gave her nothing but a soft, brief kiss to her cheek, then told her to get inside, lock up and get some rest. Sure, she was confused for a few seconds, but the smile that I got after she realised that I really did want to take things slow was so much more than worth it.

“So you think this thing with the hot doctor is going to go the distance?” Matt asks me.

“I do,” I say confidently. I’m not dumb enough not to realise that she hasn’t fully let her guard down yet for whatever reason. Maybe she’d been badly hurt in the past, maybe it’s my past that causes her to be a little bit sceptical, I mean... let’s be honest, I was a player through and through. But that doesn’t scare me though, because I know I’m in it for the long haul. So yes, I can say it with confidence that this thing between us is going to go the distance.

“Well, if you fuck it up, I’ve got the first crack at her,” Marcel says with a salacious grin. I don’t think twice before I grab my wet towel and throw it at him. It hits him right in the face, and my teammates howl with laughter.

All this talk about her makes me want to see her again. I’ve secured a second date last night for next Wednesday since that’s when both of us will be free, but that’s still four days away and I can’t wait that long. So I pull up my phone and type out a quick text to her.

Hey, what are you doing today?

I grab my water bottle and take a slug. Before I put my water bottle down, I already got a response. I need to go and get a new bed frame. Really can’t stand this old thing anymore.

I can’t help but chuckle. She did tell me last night about her bedroom set which was apparently really old, but she couldn’t get rid of it since it’d been in the family for a few generations and her grandmother gave it to her when she bought her house.

Want some company? I quickly type.

She’s just as fast in her response. You want to go with me buy a bed frame?

Well, yeah. I’ve finished the team skate this morning and will be done with my workout soon. I’ve got nothing to do after and I want to see you. I reply.

Alright then. She texts me back within a minute. But I’m on-call though so I can be called to the hospital any time.

Doesn’t matter, I still want to see you. I text her back. When can I pick you up?

Give me half an hour.

Perfect.

—

I’ve bought three houses in my twenty-seven years of life; the one I currently live in, one in Toronto when I was still with the Leafs before I got traded to the Kings and one for my mum back in London. And yet not once have I ever gone on a furniture shopping.

Until today.

That was something I never in a million years would have dreamed to do, simply because I hated shopping with a burning passion. Hell, I didn’t even buy things for my own house because I paid the previous owner to leave everything behind. That kind of thing was honestly just something that I would have never taken the time for.

And yet, in shuffling through my memories, I really can’t remember having such a great time before. All I know is that I don’t want the day to end, and I also know that it has everything to do with the company.

I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and technically we’ve only been on one date even though we saw each other quite often at the arena. But there was nothing odd when my hand would find its way to her thigh, or when she’d drape her arm across my shoulders so her fingers could play with my hair as we cruised along from one furniture shop to another. I love that we’re at ease with each other as if we’d known each other forever, not to mention that she’s also one of the easiest women I’ve had the pleasure of talking to in a long time.

Sadly though, it had to end when she was called to the hospital. Luckily, it was just in time after she chose a particular bed frame that she liked. It’s a classic canopy bed in live-edge oakwood with a brushed brass iron base, and I felt like a pig because even as we were still at the shop, I was already thinking about which ties from my collection would work best.

They offered same-day delivery since they had it in the storage, and since she was needed at the hospital, I offered to wait for the delivery at her home for her. She agreed, so she gave me her key after I dropped her at the hospital.

And here I am. Sitting on her bedroom floor trying to build this bloody nightmare because apparently they didn’t offer assembly service. I’ve been at it for an hour and a half now. Okay, no, more like an hour and ten minutes because I spent about twenty minutes fixing the sink in her en suite. I noticed the faucet was leaking, and I needed to step away from that bloody bed for a little anyway.

Now I don’t have another excuse, so I’m back on hammering one of the bazillion nails into the wood. I’m so focused on the task that I didn’t realise YN is home until I hear her chuckling as she walks into her bedroom and say, “you know, that is the kind of pounding that’s supposed to happen after you’re in the bed.”

I can’t help it. I fucking throw my head back and bust out laughing. “Sod off.”

“You don’t have to do it, that looks complicated. I’ll just hire someone to put it together tomorrow,” she says with a sweet smile. “Just get up and go sit on the couch. I just need to go to the bathroom real quick and then I’ll join you.”

“Yeah, that won’t do, Doc,” I say firmly. “I’ll still finish this bloody thing even if it kills me.”

“Stubborn,” she quips affectionately with a roll of her eyes as she heads towards her en suite.

“Smart-ass,” I reply with my eyes pinned to one of the million pieces of her bed frame, also with affection.

“Harry?” She calls out from her en suite.

“Yeah?” I answer, when I look up, she’s leaning against the doorframe and looking at me confused.

“Am I crazy or did you actually fix my sink?” She asks with an arched eyebrow. “Because I swear the faucet still leaks a little this morning.”

“Yeah, I did,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I needed to walk away from this for a minute and when I went to your en suite, I noticed it leaked. Not a big deal though, took me only about fifteen minutes.”

“Well, good to know that if you ever quit your day job, you have a career in plumbing,” she snickers. “But seriously, you didn’t have to do that, and you certainly don’t have to finish that.”

“It’s what any boyfriend would do, Doc,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yes I am,” I roll my eyes. “I took you on a date last night and I’m taking you out again on Wednesday. I’m not seeing anyone else, so that means we’re dating. And technically that makes me your boyfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she sputters but I can see the amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Besides… I might be seeing someone else.”

“You’re not,” I say with relative certainty.

“How did you change just like that is beyond me,” she murmurs, the appreciation in her voice evident.

I let out a chuckle. “Just get your butt in there and go chill on the couch after. I’m pretty sure I’ll be done in about half an hour, then we can order something for dinner.”

“Yes sir,” she says with a mock salute, which makes me snort.

—

An hour later, her bed is finally built and as I walk into her kitchen I see her putting the plates on the table. It smells phenomenal here, and I’m surprised when I look at the table because how the hell did she manage to cook all that in an hour?

I take advantage of her back facing me by putting my hands at her hips and pressing my chest onto her back. I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck and it takes everything in me not to kiss her there. The combination of her perfume and the faint smell of antiseptic is sexy to me. So I can’t help but hum and mumble, “smells delicious.”

“The chicken?” She murmurs.

“Among other things,” I reply softly.

She chuckles. “Come on, let’s dig in while it’s still hot.”

I take a seat in front of her before I select a drumstick from a plate of fried, spicy goodness and put it on my plate. There’s something about the fact that YN made it that makes me believe it will be the best chicken I’ve ever had. Today will no doubt go down as one of the best days ever, which I seem to think a lot when I’m around this woman.

As she dishes me some salad, I honestly can’t wait anymore and take a bite of the chicken. Her eyes snap to me when I let out a groan.

“Good?” She asks with a grin.

I can’t help but let out another groan of approval as I take another bite. “Damn, Colonel, you never told me you make a mean fried chicken.”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” she shrugs smugly.

“Or a fine ass,” I tease. “If you want to quit your day job you can totally open up a fast food chain. Your fried chicken puts KFC to shame.”

She laughs as she cuts some cornbread and puts it on my plate. “Now try this, I make a mean cornbread too.”

“Mmm,” I say in pleasure as I take the first bite.

“Okay, you need to stop with the sexy moaning,” she grumbles with a tiny smirk before she turns back to her dinner. “You’re so bad. I think you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I laugh. “And besides, you’re just as bad.”

“True,” she replies with a sly smile. “I can be bad too.”

“But just how bad are we talking here?” I ask with a smirk.

“Not bad enough to sleep with you tonight,” she says before she takes a sip of water. After she swallows, she adds, “but totally bad enough I might get frisky with you.”

I give her a mock groan and look up to the ceiling. “A tease. I’ve saddled myself with a tease tonight.”

She laughs.

We talk about what she did at the hospital today as we eat, and her job in general, and it never fails to thrill me the things that she can do. She’s a jack of all trades when it comes to medicine, needing to be able to diagnose and stabilise, often in pressure-filled situations where time is of the essence. I can’t even imagine having the responsibility of someone’s life in my hands like that, and yet she seems to be able to leave it all behind. She talks openly and often with humour about her work, but she also admits that sometimes she can’t help but bear the burden of death too when her skills just don’t make a difference.

I admire her so fucking much. Never admired a woman before, but in fairness… I never looked too deeply at them.

I’m seeing YN through unfiltered eyes and I like everything that I’m seeing.

—

Something is squirming in my arms and it wakes me up.

I tighten my arm around it in response to the movement and pull it back slightly against my body.

Wait? What?

Sleep.

Couch.

We fell asleep on her couch while watching a film.

It all comes back in a rush. Our totally awesome conversation over equally awesome food she cooked that I couldn’t stop raving about all night. I had three pieces of chicken by the way. We talked more about our backgrounds, me growing up in Cheshire and her childhood in South Carolina. We had a few beers, and when she asked me if I wanted to stay a bit and watch a film or something, of course I said hell yes.

The fact that she asked made me smile, because it meant that she was having a good time too with me. So we ended up on her couch watching Jaws, and I liked that she didn’t even hesitate when I lay down on her couch, pressed my back against the cushions and patted the area in front of my hips. I’m pretty sure she can see the devilish gleam in my eyes when I said, “come on… let’s cuddle.”

“Wow… Harry Styles, big bad hockey player, shameless flirt, total panty dropper. Didn’t peg you as a cuddler.”

“I’m a big teddy bear, honey,” I said with a grin and open arms.

She fell asleep first, and I know I should’ve left but the slightest movement from me would definitely wake her up. I know she must be tired so I decided against it and closed my eyes instead.

“Morning,” she says in a husky, raspy, ‘I just woke up’ voice and it’s sexy as fuck.

“Morning,” I reply, my own voice is still rough with sleep. I wonder if she thinks that’s sexy too. “You slept good?”

“Mhmm,” she hums softly, but then immediately groans as she glances at the clock above the telly. “Ugh, I have to be in the hospital in about an hour.”

She then tries to extricate herself from my arms, but I pull her back in close and nuzzle her neck as I point out, “you work a lot.”

“Ha, tell me about it,” she says with a dry laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my job. It’s just I wish I could sleep for three days straight sometimes.”

“Do you even have a day off in the week?” I ask curiously.

“I do,” she answers with a nod. “It was actually my day off yesterday, but I was filling in for a colleague.”

I loosen my hold and let her sit up in front of me. “Go get in the shower, I’ll make us both a quick breakfast.”

“You can cook?”

“Well, if I give you food poisoning you’re heading to the hospital anyway,” I chuckle.

In the kitchen, I grab some eggs and a pack of English muffins from her fridge. A quick breakfast sandwich sounds good, and portable just in case she needs to eat on her way to the hospital. I crack open a couple of eggs, scramble them with a fork and add salt and pepper while my skillet heats up. I put a bit of olive oil in the pan before I toss the English muffins into her toaster to crisp, then set coffee to brew in her Keurig. I’m moving around her kitchen as if I was born here.

By the time I pour the eggs into the pan, she walks out of her bedroom in her scrubs. I smile and nod at the Keurig as I say, “coffee’s ready.”

“And damn, you’re hot in those scrubs,” I add with a grin, giving the eggs a last scramble before pulling them off the heat.

“You’re joking right?” She says, wrinkling her nose as she grabs the milk from the fridge and turns my way, letting the door swing shut on its own.

“I’m serious, Doc,” I say with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind getting a thorough exam from you. Preferably in your new canopy bed though so I can tie you up after for a payback.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s eight in the morning,” she laughs and I snort in return.

She then pours some milk in her coffee, pulls the cup to her mouth, and blows across the steaming surface. Her eyes meet mine over the edge of the cup as she takes a tentative sip. “Are we still on for Wednesday?”

“Of course,” I say with a confident smile.

“What have you got planned?”

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see,” I tease her. “Just to warn you though, I may or may not gonna put my hands all over you.”

I don’t tell her that by putting my hands all over her, I mean on the ice to keep her from falling since I plan to take her ice-skating on the team’s practice rink. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, and besides, I’d be lying if I said I never thought of other ways too. The way she’s looking at me right now assures me that she does too, and well, that’s good.

We can compare notes on that later when we get there.

—

Blinking at me with a sleepy smile on her face, YN stands up from my couch. I walk up to her and she pushes me down into her seat, and then crawls onto my lap.

This is nice.

Our date on Wednesday was amazing, and as we walked inside, she turned to me and asked, “so this was your big plan to put your hands on me?”

I just laughed in response, and I did have to put my hands on her quite a lot in the end since she didn’t know how to ice-skate. Fuck if I’m complaining though.

Now we’re snuggled up on the couch at my house with full bellies. Last weekend she cooked me amazing food, so today, I wanted to impress her by cooking a roast dinner and introduced her to Yorkshire pudding. Sure, I was on the phone with my mum the entire time so she could give me directions, but I only almost burnt down my kitchen once so I’d call that a success.

I lean forward, which pushes her slightly to the edge of the couch, then I reach an arm over her and grab a packet of KitKat from the coffee table. I’m glad when I learnt that it is actually her favourite chocolate too, because KitKat is elite and it’s good to know we’re on the same page.

“Want another?” I ask her.

“No,” she groans. “I’m so full.”

I chuckle and awkwardly unwrap the chocolate. Awkward because I have to open it in front of her face since I have my arms around her, and once I got it opened, I hold the naked little chocolate bars in front of her mouth and tease, “want a bite?”

She shakes her head.

I wave it under her nose and I guess the smell of the chocolate changes her mind because then she says, “okay, a little bite.”

I break the bars and feed one of it to her, letting her take a bite and then chucks the rest in my mouth. We chew silently as we watch Marlin looking for Nemo, and I sigh in contentment when she tucks her face into my neck and drapes one arm across my chest.

It takes no more than ten minutes before I notice her breathing has slowed down and she’s fallen asleep. I rest my cheek on the top of her head and continue watching these fishies. I’m a little drowsy from all the food, but I resist the urge to fall under. For now, I just want to savour my existence at this moment because as Dory says to Marlin, “I look at you and I’m home”, I truly realise that’s how she makes me feel.

I’m sitting in my house, but for once, it doesn’t feel empty anymore. I just had a wonderful meal where we talked and joked and flirted, and now I have a gorgeous woman who I’m crazy about curled up on my lap.

There is absolutely no other place I’d rather be right now.

—

“Dude, you’re so fucking whipped,” Alex says as he punches me on the shoulder. I jerk slightly and reluctantly take my gaze off YN to look his way.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I take a swig of my beer and promptly look back at my girl. She’s standing just ten feet away, sipping on her own beer and talking animatedly with Sloane and Brynne. We’re at The Owner’s Box tonight having our first triple date, and I’m having a brilliant time. The only thing better would be if YN would quit chatting with the girls and get her sweet ass over here to sit next to me.

“Fucking hopeless,” Matt mutters and Alex snickers.

I blink and turn to look at them. “What? Why am I hopeless?”

“Because you can’t fucking take your eyes off of your girl for more than two seconds,” Alex jeers at me. Then he leans in towards me and murmurs with a mocking sneer, “pussy.”

“Bollocks that,” I say haughtily. “I can take my eyes off of her longer than that.”

“Good,” Matt says, handing me an empty beer bottle. “Go get us some more beer.”

“Assholes,” I say with good nature and head towards the bar. Stopping beside my girl, I kiss her on the temple. “You girls want anything else to drink?”

Sloane and Brynne shake their heads, smiling coyly at me as they watch my uncharacteristic display of affection. I’m immensely pleased when YN smiles at me and rests her hand on my chest. “I’m good, but thank you.”

“Be right back,” I tell the girls, and then I set out to prove Alex and Matt wrong.

I swivel my gaze back to Matt and Alex, and I give a sheepish grin when Matt mouths the word pussy at me. I flip him off and head towards the bar, intent on not looking back at my girl for at least the next few minutes it takes me to get the beers.

“Excuse me,” I hear and feel a tap on my shoulder. “Harry, can we get an autograph and a picture?”

As I turn around with a warm smile in my place, the word sure is out of my mouth before I even see who’s asking. I’m met by a vision of holy hotness as two women stand there with tight-as-hell t-shirts cut obscenely low and with plenty of silicone boobs pouring out.

Just a mere month ago, I would have whispered a prayer of thanks to the big man upstairs for sending these two my way, knowing well that I’d be banging the hell out of one of them before the night was finished. Instead, my stomach tightens and I glance past them to see YN still deep in conversation with Sloane and Brynne.

I bring my gaze back to the women… a brunette and a blonde, both looking at me with promise in their eyes.

“Do you mind taking your picture with us?” The blonde asks with a bat of her eyelashes.

I give her a quick smile and say, “sure, no problem.”

She steps up to me as she hands her phone to the brunette. I lift my arm to sling it companionably around her shoulders, but she uses that opportunity to press intimately into my side, bringing both arms around my waist and mashing her breasts against my ribs.

“Thanks so much,” the blonde says in a seductive voice. “Can we buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I decline with a smile. “I’ve got some friends waiting for me.”

“An autograph, then?” She asks.

“Sure.”

The blonde digs in her handbag and pulls out a sharpie. She then hands it to me and says, “can you make mine out to Kourtney with a K?”

“You got it,” I say, eager to get this over with because it feels awkward to me to have this woman coming onto me with my girl standing just a few feet away.

“Just sign here,” she says and my jaw drops as she pulls the edge of her t-shirt down her chest, practically exposing her entire right breast to me.

“Uh, you got a piece of paper instead?” I ask her. “I don’t think my girlfriend would like that.”

“You bet your ass she won’t,” I hear my girl quips from behind me and I’m trying my best not to laugh. I like that she immediately snuggles into my side so those women now would have no doubt that I’m totally hers, “wanna go play some pool, baby? Loser buys the drinks.”

“You’re on,” I tell her, Kourtney with a K and her friend are long forgotten. “But just to warn you, I’m really good.”

“Honey, I was practically born on one of these tables with a beer in my hand,” she says smugly, “you’re going down.”

—

“Do you want to come in?” YN asks as she pulls out her keys from her handbag. We’ve just got back from The Owner’s Box and as usual, I walk her to the door.

My tone is low, soft, and barely audible when I say, “Doc, if I come inside tonight, I don’t think I can promise you to keep my hands to myself.”

“I don’t want you to promise me anything,” she replies firmly. “Whatever happens, happens. Now, let’s not dawdle on my porch and get inside. Want some more beers?”

“Whoa, don’t hand me ammunition,” I joke and she laughs. “I’ll take some water though.”

“There’s some water bottles in the fridge,” she says, pointing to the tiny kitchen that sits at the rear of the house, past the living room. “I’ll be right back.”

I get two bottles of water out of the fridge and head back into her living room. I take a seat on the couch and pull out my phone, scrolling mindlessly as I wait for my girl.

When she reappears, she’s wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a white t-shirt. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and her makeup has been washed off. Her in a t-shirt and tiny shorts is a hundred times sexier than her in literally anything else—yes, including her scrubs—and there’s no stopping my downstairs head from waking up.

“Come here.”

Her eyebrows rise, but I don’t miss the clear interest in her eyes. “Come there?”

I tap my thigh, “right here.”

Her cheeks flush and a little puff of breath blows out of her. With absolutely no hesitation, she crawls onto my lap. Our gazes are locked tight and her eyes darken with intensity. When her chest comes level with mine, and her knees are pressed into the cushion just inches from my crotch, she asks me softly, “you going to finally kiss me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I tease her as my hands come around her lower back, pressing her onto me.

Fuck, she feels good against me. Just her soft curves and warmth and I’m already starting to get hard before I even lay my mouth on hers.

She looks at me with sizzling eyes as we stare at each other, knowing that once we take this step, our relationship is going to another level.

Leaving one hand on her lower back, I slide the other up and over the shoulder, letting my palm glide up her neck so my fingers can tangle in her hair. She shivers when my thumb strokes her jaw before I cup my hand around the back of her head.

Her hands reach out and circle behind my neck. Then she whispers as she licks her lower lip, “so this is it?”

“This is it,” I tell her, and because I absolutely cannot wait one second longer, I put pressure on the back of her head to lock our mouths together. The first touch of her lips against mine causes pleasure to punch straight through my groin, and the world just absolutely melts away.

There’s nothing else but her.

Lips so fucking soft, tongue tentative and sweet. Her hair silky to the touch and her skin warm as my hand snakes up just under the edge of her t-shirt.

She tilts her head, opens her mouth more and kisses me deeper. I groan and pull her tighter to me. My hand fists tighter into her hair, hampered by the hair tie somewhat but not giving a fuck. Her hips start to rotate slightly, rubbing herself along the top of my thigh. My dick gets achingly hard as she starts to make tiny sounds of need in the back of her throat.

My other hand slips down her back and palms her backside, then I give a tentative squeeze. I think she likes that, because her hips shift forward and she starts to grind her crotch on my leg. I press against her ass, encouraging her to keep moving against me. She does it again and shudders in my arms, so I know it’s hitting her in the right spot.

Pulling on her hair, I break the kiss just enough so I can growl at her, “get yourself off, darling. Right here. On my leg.”

Her eyes fly open and they’re full of fire and sexual need as they stare back at me. Her lips curve up in a wicked smile of acquiescence and I pull her back down to my mouth for a hard kiss.

She rotates her hips in circles, then alternates flexing back and forth. I clench my thigh muscle, wanting to give her as hard a surface as possible to stimulate herself. I slip my hand down the back of her shorts, finding bare skin. I squeeze and push her down on me, helping her to move faster on my leg.

She pants and moans softly as she works herself up. I have to force myself not to push my hand down further between her legs. I’m bound and determined not to go there yet, and besides, this is hot as fuck and completely satisfying to me.

She moves faster and faster, making tiny cries of yearning into my mouth as we kiss. Then she punches her pelvis down hard onto my thigh, going still for a moment before her entire body starts quaking in silent orgasm. I hear nothing but a soft sigh of pleasure escape her lips and slither over my tongue.

Her body goes limp in my arms. She lifts her head, our lips parting, and looks down at me with glazed eyes. I press my lips to her briefly just once more, before I pull my hand out of the back of her shorts and roll her body off me. As I stand up and hover over her for a minute, I see her cheeks flushed rosy and her nipples pebbled hard, even through her t-shirt.

Placing a hand on the couch cushion, I lower myself to her and brush my lips across her forehead. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

“Wait- you’re leaving?” She asks, confusion coating her expression.

“Yes,” is all I say.

“But-”

“I’ll take a cold shower when I get home, no worries,” I assure her with a smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I had a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells me, still looking like a wet noodle on the couch so I don’t think she’ll be getting up anytime soon.

“I did too,” I smile at her over my shoulder as I reach for her door.

It’s in this moment that I’m pretty sure I’m a goner for her.

—

I see the hottest, sexiest, most adorable doctor walking across the darkened parking lot towards me. Well, towards her car. Her head is tucked down and she looks tired. When she finally looks up and locks her eyes on me, the exhaustion melts away and I’m rewarded with a happy, welcoming smile from her.

“You really have to stop stalking me in parking lots,” she quips as she walks closer.

Then closer still until the tips of her shoes touch the tips of mine and she’s offering her mouth to me for a kiss. Obviously, I take it, because who wouldn’t? Her lips are perfect. She tastes like mint gum and smells faintly of antiseptic, and that right there is my favourite combo.

When she pulls back, she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and asks, “seriously, what are you doing here?”

“I wanna take you somewhere,” I tell her as I grab her hand and take her towards my car that’s parked the next row over.

“Where?”

“Just get in the car, Doc.”

“You’re being vague,” she says with an arched eyebrow. “Is this where you kidnap me, take my kidney and sell it on eBay?”

“This is where I’ll find a way to occupy that beautiful mouth of yours if you keep asking questions and ruin the surprise,” I tell her and she gives a tinkling laugh.

“Promises, promises,” she singsongs and I just roll my eyes.

It only takes about fifteen minutes from Cedars-Sinai Hospital where she works to the closest beach where I plan to take her for an impromptu picnic date night. We only had to stop by to get some pizza because I already have a cooler with a six-pack of beers loaded in the back of my car. It’s a little too late for sunset, but the purplish black of twilight is lush.

“The beach, huh,” she deadpans. “You brought me out here to seduce me?”

“You naughty girl,” I clutch a hand to my chest and make an exaggerated gasp of disbelief. “That’s indecent exposure that is.”

She laughs as she opens the door of the car and hops out. I do the same, then I open the back door to pull out the pizza, blanket and the cooler with beers inside before letting her help by taking the blanket.

Somehow we have the beach to ourselves tonight, and she points out a nice spot for us to sit. I agree, so I let her spread out the blanket. After both of us have our butts firmly planted, side by side, facing the ocean, I take two beers out and hand one to her.

“Ooh, we’re going fancy tonight,” she says when she sees that I brought microbrews instead of cheap beer.

I chuckle as I open the pizza box and grab a slice of the cheesy goodness that will probably clog my artery, then we talk about our day as we eat. I tell her the funny things that happened at practice today, including a joke that Marcel told us in the locker room which most would probably find insulting, but I know my girl is used to locker room talk and would find it hilarious, and she tells me what she did in the hospital. Apparently, they were so busy today that her lunch break lasted less than ten minutes.

“You never cease to amaze me, Doc,” I tell her honestly. “It’s so cool what you do for a living. Impressive as hell.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she says softly. “That means a lot.”

It’s completely dark by the time we finish our pizza, but the view is still lush since the moon is bright, causing the water to look like it’s covered in floating, crushed diamonds.

We’re silent as we sip our beers, and I love that we can sit in comfortable silence as well as talk for hours. It’s crazy to think that it’s only been a few weeks that we’ve known each other yet I just feel such a strong connection with her. I love that we’re so in tune with each other that sometimes we say the same things and steal lines from one another. We have a similar sense of humour and we can even exchange an inside joke with just a glance.

I loosen my hold of her when she pulls away from my side embrace. Her head swivels to me, and I can see the moon glittering in her eyes. “I owe you an apology.”

“What?” I look at her in confusion.

“I misjudged you, Harry,” she says with a tender smile. “When you asked me out, I outright told you that you’re a player without even giving you a chance to explain yourself. I made an assumption, and that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

“And your assumption was right,” I tell her honestly with a light chuckle. “There is nothing to apologise for. It was common knowledge, I was a manwhore.”

She snorts. “Shut up, I’m serious.”

“Me too,” I squeeze her hand. “You didn’t misjudge me, Doc, you knew exactly the type of guy I used to be.”

She has a dreamy smile on her face when she says, “kiss me.”

“No, you come here and kiss me,” I say, and I’m pretty sure she can see my eyes sparkling with mischief.

She rolls her eyes and mutters “fine” under her breath as she plants her knees on the sides of my legs, but I don’t miss the light in her eyes which tells me that she likes the idea.

Closing her eyes, she dips her mouth to mine and now I’m wondering if the two years of jail time and a fine for indecent exposure is worth it if I were to take her right here right now.

—

We’re in New York for two away games in a row, tonight against the Rangers which we won 3-1, and tomorrow night against the Devils. I’m chuffed not only because we won and I played great, but I also had a great day today before the game with my girl. We didn’t do much since she wanted me to save my energy for the game tonight, but we did walk around our hotel and ended up napping on the couch in the room that I share with Marcel.

We all ride on the team bus that takes us from the hotel to the arena and back to the hotel after we finish the game. I wanted her to sit next to me, but for both trips, to the arena and back, she gave me a slight shake of her head and sat with the girls along with the rest of the staff in the front.

When I hop off the bus though, I see her waiting for me with a grin on her face. I kiss the fuck out of her, not caring about my teammates who whistle and yell, “get a room.”

“Which floor are you on again?” I ask her as we enter the lift. I want to walk her to her room just to spend a few minutes more with her.

Yeah, laugh all you want. I know I’m fucking whipped.

“Tenth,” she says, pulling her room key out of her handbag and hands it to me so I can scan it then tap the button on number ten.

“Wanna catch an early breakfast with me tomorrow?” I ask her as we approach her room that she shares with the team’s orthopaedic surgeon, Callie.

“Sure. What time?”

“We’re leaving for light skate practice at 9:30, so we should have plenty of time if we meet down there at 8:30.”

“Sounds good,” she nods as we reach her door.

There’s a handwritten note stuck in between the door and the jamb. She puts her key in the card slot, opens the door slightly, and snag the piece of paper. She opens it up and I look over her shoulder at the note as we read it silently together.

YN,

Marcel and Joslynn are hooking up and they’re in his room which means Harry has been kicked out. I’m going to sleep with Macy instead, so you and Harry can have this room. Unless you want Harry to go sleep with Macy?

No? Didn’t think so.

Have fun you two.

Callie

“This is Alex, Matt and Marcel’s doing,” I tell her with absolute certainty as she twists her neck to look at me. “I’ll just get an extra room for tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chuckles. “You can sleep here. We’ve spent the night together before.”

“Yeah, but that was different. We fell asleep on the couch, it wasn’t intentional,” I point out. “I don’t trust myself sleeping in the same bed with you, Doc. I’m not going to be able to help myself.”

“Well, good,” she says, smiling mischievously. “Cause I’m done wait-”

That’s as far as she gets before I push her through the door, backing her into the room. My mouth hits her only moments before her legs hit the edge of the bed and we both go tumbling onto it.

This is when we realise there’s a huge box of condoms with 144 packs inside it in the middle of the bed. On the top, there’s another note and I recognise Matt’s handwriting on it.

You’re welcome by the way

“I freaking love your teammates,” she says with a laugh.

I guess I owe those fuckers some beers.

#hockey!harry #harry styles au #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #boyfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurbs #harry styles drabbles

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wistfulrat · 4 years ago

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a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. -

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. - other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK. - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys. -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss. -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry fic rec #drarry fic #soft drarry #OK FINE I RAMBLED BUT WHAT DID WE EXPECT #alexa play futile devices

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years ago

Text

Take a Chance (Draco x Reader)

Summary: In which Draco is forced to come to terms with his behavior when he meets a girl much different than him.

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: Mostly fluff; slight angst; mutual pining

A/N: Happy New Year! I’ve been working on several fics lately, but this one was too tempting to resist. Like, I would think about it as I write my other drafts haha. Anyway, I hope you like it! Any feedback is much appreciated :D

Witches and wizards alike flitted across the skies as sounds of the blazing crowds consumed the quidditch pitch. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins fueled Draco’s senses. His mind, alert. His body, in sync. His eyes were peeled for the prized speck of gold. After several minutes of patrolling the air above, he sees it, and without a second to spare, he dives. Frigid wind angrily brushes against his platinum locks as he cuts through the sky--his focus now at an all time high. The sudden change in movement grabs the attention of the opposing team, and their seeker dived in just as fast, trailing behind the flash of green robes. Draco pressed onward, pulling his body inward to increase the acceleration--the snitch now within finger’s length. Within a spur of a second the two players collide, sending the boy flying off of his broomstick to fall freely towards the earth beneath him. The sky's the last thing that occupies his vision before it turns black. His body came into contact with the ground.

It was when he opened his eyes that he sees her. The girl with long, flowy locks was dressed in her Slytherin uniform, tending to the other seeker in the hospital wing. Despite the soreness that filled his body, he kept his gaze locked on her, observing her fluid motions as she addressed sustained wounds and injuries. She’s beautiful.

Draco witnesses Madame Pomfrey tapping the girl’s shoulder before gesturing to him. The moment she meets his gaze, a small smile appears on her face; and the boy, albeit the pain, makes the effort to cast one in return. His heart flutters as she approaches him--only worsening the closer she gets.

“Hi,” She says sweetly, “I don’t think we’ve formally met. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here.” She reaches her hand out towards him. He looks at her straight before firmly gripping it.

“Draco Malfoy, but you probably knew that already.” She laughs before pointing at her green and silver tie.

“Very much so. Can you sit up?” The boy winces in pain at his attempt to do so. Taking notice of this, the girl steps closer to his side.

“Here let me help you.” Y/N cautiously snakes an arm around his back, and gently lifts him upward. In doing so, he takes in her scent--it consisted of dark chocolate and citrus. The palms that were wrapped firmly around his shoulder loosen as she pulls a chair to the bed. She takes a seat and grabs the clipboard that was placed on the nightstand.

“Do you feel pain anywhere?” The boy thought about pulling a pick up line then and there, but abandoned the thought immediately.

“Just soreness everywhere.” He looked at her as she jotted his information down. She then tears her gaze from it momentarily.

“Can you rate it on a scale from 1-10?”

“Probably an 8.” Her gaze fixated on the board once again. Draco admired the serenity that framed her features. The light that was casted from the window shines down on her, wrapping her in an angelic aura.

“I’m going to take your pulse now, okay?” Cold, slender fingers wrap around his wrist, gripping it gently as she takes two other fingers and presses it to the base of his palm. As she counts in her mind, the boy takes initiative to engage in conversation.

“Why haven’t I seen you before?” She takes a moment to respond, writing down his info on the chart. After she finishes, she tucks her hair behind her ear and faces him.

“You’re a year above me.” She states simply.

“Surely I would’ve seen you in the common room though.”

“Perhaps, but I spend a lot of time here in the wing. That explains why.”

“Why do you spend your time here?” He ignores the pain he feels when he leans on his elbow, and towards her. She rubs her chin in thought.

“Call it training if you will. I want to be a healer.”

“That’s quite the ambition.”

“We Slytherins have pride in becoming something great, do we not? What better way than to take the opportunity now?” The attraction the boy felt only grew at the sound of her words. She flashed him a smile as she stood up.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?” He asked with slight disappointment in his tone. Its sound stirred some interest in Y/N. With her back turned, she bit her lip before reassuring him.

“I’m just getting your potion, Malfoy. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” She says before walking towards the front of the hall. The boy enjoys the energy she gives off, and allows his sights to linger on her as she plods through the aisles. He watches as she reaches for a vial from the shelf, proceeding to the way she dutifully writes down information on what seems to be a logbook. The girl catches his gaze, and grins slightly. The longer he lays on the hospital bed, under her care, the more he longs to remain there.

Y/N situates herself by his side again, handing the vial to the boy.

“You came in with your tibia and rib fractured, and your forearm broken. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey was able to tend to you right away. The potion is to ease the pain. It’s recommended that you rest after you take it. You’ll be able to leave tomorrow morning.” Draco opens the vial and gulps down the fluid before making a face of disgust. The way his face contorts induces the girl into laughter. She proceeds to hand him a cup of water in exchange for the vial in his grasp.

“You must’ve had a nasty fall. I’ll leave you to rest now.” Just as soon as she turns, the boy frantically grabs her wrist.

“Will you be around tomorrow morning?” He asks. She glances down at his hand, but his grip remains.

“Tomorrow is actually my free day.” Her voice held a certain timidness, heat swarmed her head, and her heart fluttered. “Why do you ask?”

Upon realization that his grip lingered much longer than it should have, he pulls away stammering, “N-no reason. I was just wondering.”

“I’ll be in the common room if you need anything.” She states.

“I’ll see you there then.” She nods before flashing one last grin, leaving the boy alone to rest.

Draco awakens the following morning, with thoughts immediately drifting to the fourth year that he encountered the night before. With his body slightly aching and a noticeable urgency in his step, he approaches the dungeons, and slips into the Slytherin common room with hopes to see Y/N. When he does, however, disappointment greets him in the form of another boy occupying the space next to her. Books are laid out in front of them, leading him to assume that he was a fourth year as well. He can’t help but stare from afar. Not only did she seem diligent in her healing duties, but she seemed as equally so when it came to her studies. The sound of her melodic laugh overtakes his hearing, while the sight of her smiling induces his heart to palpitate abnormally—merely wishing that it was him in the place of the boy.

Before he could do anything, a firm arm wraps around his shoulder. Standing next to him was his good friend, Blaise.

“Did Madam Pomfrey fix you up well, mate?” He asks. In attempts to get her attention, Draco responds with a volume slightly louder than normal.

“If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be dead right now.” He was exaggerating, but it was enough to get her to face him. Blaise chuckled and shook his head.

“Dramatic as always, but at least you’re well.”

Y/N kept her sights locked on the boy, noticing how his friends started pooling in. Suddenly, he was surrounded by those she knew as Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass--all who were her upperclassmen by a year. They showed him concern, asking what parts of his body were in pain, laughing when they made jokes, and patted his back with reassurance that the next match will be better. She looks at them with longing, wishing she could be as close to the boy in that moment.

Draco meets her gaze, and softens his own. He gives her a soft smile, reducing her stomach into mush. She responds to him with one herself. Warmth fills both hearts as the moment ensues, however the sounds of his friends voices and the presence of a hand waving in front of her face pull the two back into their respective years.

“Y/N, what are you looking at?” Her best friend, Malachi, asks her. He needed help with charms--nothing more, nothing less. The boy follows her line of vision, tracing it back to the platinum-haired boy.

“Malfoy? He’s a fifth year, isn't he? Do you fancy him?” He asked a little too loudly for comfort. Y/N frantically placed her hand over his mouth, and threw him a glare.

“Shut up, Mal! You’ll be the death of me!” She expresses her disdain with a slap to his shoulder, to which he responds with a wince. The boy grips the area and furrows his brows at the girl.

“Isn’t he a bully, though? I get he’s quite a stunner, but why would you, out of all people, like someone so foul?” He wasn’t wrong. Draco had a notorious reputation for picking on others, but memories from their interactions tell her that there’s more to him than what others think.

“I can’t even say I like him--I literally only interacted with him yesterday. Pull your head out of the gutter.”

“You do like him, or at least you’re mildly attracted to him. It’s written all over your face, Y/L/N.” He said teasingly.

“Stop it before I use you to practice my hexing charms.” The girl grabs her wand as a way to hoax him. He laughs again before raising his arms in defeat.

“Fine, but with the way he’s looking at you, I’d say he’s mildly attracted to you too.” The warmth from Y/N’s heart fills her face, while her hands grow clammy. When she looks up, she begins to understand what Malachi was saying, because Draco was staring at her from where he was standing. Unbeknownst to her, the boy beside her packs his belongings silently, gaining her attention only when his chair screeches.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“Mel is waiting for me in the courtyard. I promised we’d talk about her boy problems too.” He winks at her, eliciting imaginary steam from her head.

“I-I don’t have any boy problems!” It was her turn to speak in a tone much louder than what was acceptably normal, gaining the attention of the students around her. One of them being Draco himself. Malachi laughs at the girl before ruffling her hair.

“See you, Y/N!” The girl rubs her temples in frustration as she waves the boy away.

“Idiot.” She mutters under her breath. Her mind is swamped with ideas to get back at her friend that she doesn’t notice him approaching her. Draco sits across from her, taking note of the way her quill was aggressively dragged along her roll of parchment. It amuses him seeing her riled up. Her face was scrunched in annoyance, and her cheek was planted on the surface of her palm.

“Pleasant morning, Y/L/N?” The sudden sound of his voice startles her.

“Very much so. Weren’t you with your friends?” She asks. Her sights juggled between him and the words in her text.

“I was. They went to breakfast.”

“You should eat also. You need to replenish your body from yesterday’s fall.” Y/N places her quill down, clasped her hands together, and looked at him with a knowing look in her eye.

“I would’ve, except I couldn’t help but overhear someone going on about their boy problems.” Draco leans forward with a mischievous expression. He raises his eyebrows at the girl, while

A coy smirk spreads across his lips. She merely rolls her eyes in response.

“I don’t have any boy problems. My friend was being a git.” She stated in matter-of-fact. Concern then took over, and she remembered the boy’s fragile state.

“In all seriousness though, how are you feeling? Do you feel any pain anywhere?” Draco, too, dropped his flirtatious facade at the sound of her voice. The expression held in her eyes elicited nervousness from him as they looked directly into his.

“I’m doing fine,” He pauses, “A little sore, but I’m fine.” The boy settled in a more serious state and leaned into his seat.

Feeling a little brave, Y/N reached for his hand, which was propped on the table and lightly squeezed it. Her touch tingled his senses.

“I’m glad you’re alright. I can get you another vial if you’d like.” She says. A gentle tone fills her voice and she gives him yet another bright smile. He shakes his head--his lips pulling into a genuine grin.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be needing it.” She nods and retracts her grip. A comfortable silence ensues as she resumes her studies. The boy admires her from his seat. She has the same focused expression that she had when she tended to him the night before. Hair that fell to her face was tucked behind her ear. Her fingers mindlessly spun her quill as she read. She wasn’t actively trying to get his attention, but somehow that was all he could give her.

“Y/N,” He calls out.

“Yes?”

“I think you’d make a wonderful healer.” The comment makes her face bloom into a bright expression. Within a few moments, she reaches into her bag. Out comes a green apple, which she then places in front of the boy.

“Thank you. With best intentions for you in mind, here’s an apple for your consumption.” He chuckles and takes it.

“Healer’s orders.”

Weeks go by since their first interaction. Due to the differences in their years, there isn’t much that goes on between them during the day (to Draco’s dismay). Y/N, although keeping herself occupied, finds that her thoughts drift to the boy from time to time as well. There are several things that irk her, however: the arrogant pride that comes out when with others, and the bullying. A gut-wrenching distaste sat within her every instance that she witnessed it, and the way he treats her in contrast to others is appalling. Therefore, she takes advantage of the distance. It doesn’t deny the butterflies that erupt in her stomach when she sees him, but it allows her to stay true to her morals and values, giving her some peace of mind.

In the midst of all her emotions, she finds herself sitting in potions, listening into Snape’s lecture on the Calming Draught. It was used for calming individuals suffering from shock or trauma, and was a substance commonly found in the hospital wing. The subject itself was something that Y/N desired to excel in, however there have been plenty of moments where she’s seen struggling. Taking note of this, Snape decides to request the assistance from one of the upperclassmen to tutor her. The class session for fourth years takes place during the later half of the day, and by then most fifth years have a study hall to utilize for OWLs review. Without much knowledge about her predicament, Draco walks into the classroom with disinterest painted on his face, and approaches the professor.

“Mr. Malfoy, glad to see you could make it.”

“Of course, professor.” Snape senses the hint of the begrudging tone in his voice.

“Ms. Y/L/N, please come up to the front.” The boy’s heart races at the sound of her last name. There’s a shift in energy almost immediately, as she’s seen walking towards the two. Her eyes widen at the sight of the familiar boy, moreover at the realization that he may very much be the tutor Snape was referring to.

“Draco, it’s nice to see you.” She says politely. He nods in response.

“It seems you’re already familiar with each other? Good. Y/L/N, you’re dismissed. Mr. Malfoy will be responsible for tutoring you from this point forward.” The boy waits for her at the entrance of the room while she collects her belongings. Another set of butterflies erupt, and nervousness racks her insides. She purposefully takes her time as she moves towards the door. Draco lightly grins when he sees her.

“I didn’t know you were good in potions.” She says.

“Let me surprise you then.”

The pair slowly made their way to the library, discussing things that have happened since the last time they spoke. The boy had been busy studying for his OWLs while Y/N spent her time in the hospital wing as always. It was a funny feeling, really--the ease that came when engaging in conversation. The fact that he was indeed a bully went past her head the more they spoke. In such little time, she learned new things about him, like the way he nodded when he paid attention to her speak, the way he’d fumble with the rings on his fingers, and the way he spoke with expressive hand gestures. He was boisterous and animated, and not too shabby in contrast to the moments when ill-formed words poured out of his mouth.

“So what role does lavender play in this concoction?” The boy sat with her textbook in hand, quizzing the girl on the brewing process for Calming Draught. He glanced at the girl who was deep in thought.

“It’s calming to aches and an agent for relaxation, is it not?”

“Perfect.” Relief overcomes Y/N, and the comfort she feels around him increases.

“Draco, you’re taking your OWLs this year. What do you plan on doing after you graduate?” He takes a while to respond. It wasn’t something he thought about all the time.

“Perhaps something close to Alchemy. I’m good with potions, so probably something within that realm.” The girl stared in awe.

“What’s with the look?” A scowl found its way to his face while he fiddled with the pages of her book.

“I think it’s really cool. I never would’ve expected.”

“And why’s that? I’ll have you know I’m very capable.” Y/N sensed a defensive tone in his voice. Nevertheless, she approached her response with much caution.

“Well,” She hesitated, “I don’t see you often, and when I do it’s mostly when you’re picking on others.” She lowered her volume towards the end of her sentence. The boy quirked a brow upward.

“And how does that impact my abilities to excel?” She actively avoided his gaze.

“I’m not saying it does, but it’s not like I know what goes on in that mind of yours either.” The boy softened the tension in his facial features. She was nervous, and he didn’t realize how much her opinion mattered to him until that moment. A small knot began to form in his stomach.

“Well what goes on in your mind when that happens?” He leans forward, interested in what she had to say.

“I would think, ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’” She said honestly. The frown on his lips deepened, the knot that had formed only grew bigger, and he glanced anywhere except her. How was he supposed to respond? The differences between them felt greater than what it seemed. Without much thought, he silently closed the book and shifted it to her. With the feeling of defeat overcoming him, he lifts himself from his seat and leaves.

The action alerts the girl right away. With her heartbeat elevated and her eyes widened, she frantically shoves her books in her bag, and trails after him in a brisk walk. She catches sight of the platinum-haired boy, and quickens her pace. With much urgency, she grabs his wrist, panting at the amount of energy she just spent trying to meet him.

“Draco, why’d you leave? Is there something wrong?” Y/N’s grip remained unwavering as he turned to her, exposing the shame that filled his eyes. Without meaning to make himself any more vulnerable, he faces away.

“You can’t just walk away like that and expect me to pay no mind.” She says.

“I don’t think you should be seen with someone like me Y/L/N.”

“What are you talking about? You’re my tutor. I-”

“But I’m also a prick. You have your values, I have mine,” He scans her from head to toe, “I’m not exactly your definition of good.”

“Draco, I don’t understand why that would matter. You’re my tu-”

“Are you really that daft?” His sudden outburst shocked her.

“I like you, Y/N. Your damn opinion matters to me, but I don’t exactly fare well with others in comparison to you.” The girl stood there in shock. With her mind processing his declaration, she couldn’t find the proper words to form a coherent sentence. Draco shifted his view to her hand that remained wrapped around his wrist. Disappointed at her lack of response, he shook it off and trudged away.

To be quite frank, Y/N didn’t know exactly what to feel. Surely, the boy crossed her mind here and there, and it wasn’t wrong to say that she enjoyed his company, but why would he like a fourth year like her? Wouldn’t it be more logical for him to like someone who had more in common with him?

Three weeks had passed since their last encounter. The girl tried her very best to understand what Snape was lecturing about, so she wouldn’t have to be tutored by the boy. Besides, it wasn’t like he was making the effort to face her either. Whenever he’d enter the common room, he wouldn’t even look at her (at least that’s what she thought). The boy would take a seat with his friends, join in conversation, and laugh along as if the feelings he had for the younger was nonexistent. Perhaps that was the reality of the situation. It shouldn’t bother her--she didn’t want it to--but it did. She found herself cursing the day she tended to him. If only she had taken leave earlier, then he wouldn’t have known about her, and all of these feelings would’ve been avoided. At the same time, it was bliss talking to him--it felt natural. She was comfortable around him, and he believed in her ability to succeed. Yet, the barrier found within their differences managed to convince her to keep her feelings suppressed.

“Earth to Y/N, what the heck is going on with you?” Y/N finds herself stuck tutoring Malachi in charms yet again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been dozing off for a while now.”

“Oh, have I? I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“Clearly. You’re normally so focused. Did something happen recently?” As if on cue, Draco enters the common room, eyes meeting hers for a second before they shift elsewhere. She feels pain slowly creeping into her chest.

“Nothing, really,” She lies, “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to head to the hospital wing.” Malachi nods his head, and helps her from her seat.

“Can you make it there by yourself?” He asks. She nods before giving a weak smile.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Draco witnesses the interaction from the sofas located in the center of the room. Jealousy arises at the sight of her friend lifting her, patting her back, and sharing her smile. At the same time, however, her dazed expression fills him with worry. His sight follows the girl as she walks past him, not bothering to spare him a glance. Malachi notices this, and approaches him as soon as she leaves the room.

“Malfoy, may I have a word with you?” His confrontation sparks the attention of the group of fifth years surrounding him.

“Anything you have to say to him, you can say to us. Spit it.” Pansy spews aggressively.

“Easy now, Pans.” Draco lifts himself from his seat, “Let’s take this outside.” The two situate themselves in the halls of the dungeon, keeping silent for a short while.

“Is this about Y/N?” Draco asks.

“You can’t fool me, Malfoy—I see how you look at her. She’s not okay, and as her friend, I want to know what happened.” The demand in his tone kindled a slight annoyance in the boy’s gut.

“Nothing happened, and I can assure you that if she wanted you to know, then she would’ve told you already.”

“Merlin, don’t you notice the way she looks at you?” The tension in Malachi’s voice grew.

“What do you mean?” The previous question took Draco by shock.

“For two smart individuals, you both are incredibly daft.” A scowl appeared yet again on Draco’s face, however the other boy remains firm.

“If the reason behind the way you look at her is exactly what I think, then all I can say is that she thinks about you too.” The way he framed his words made Draco’s heart beat. He releases the tightness in his face, allowing himself to express more gentleness at the thought of Y/N.

Malachi continues, “Y/N has a logical way of thinking. With her head wrapped around her goals, how could she not? Her mind is constantly fixated on the next step and its consequences, so much so that she doesn’t allow her heart to decide.” The rosy feeling ignited within his chest once again.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you two are pining like idiots.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Besides, I’m sure there’s a softy under that bully we all know.”

“Shove off git.”

“Pleasure.” Malachi retreats to the common room, leaving Draco alone in the hall. He chuckles softly before setting off to find Y/N. As he navigates his way through the halls and corridors, his thoughts drift to the way she responded in the past. Would he be able to handle it if she reacts the same way? When the boy finds her, she’s seen in the hospital wing organizing potion vials—her focus was completely locked onto her work. Once he’s in front of her, he clears his throat.

“Excuse me, can I have a vial of Calming Draught?” The familiar voice causes the girl to freeze in place. With much hesitation, she looks up at him.

“You need a referral, Malfoy.” She returns to her duties, but the boy doesn’t leave.

“Then is it alright if I can lay down here? I don’t feel too well.” Y/N glares at him.

“Should I hex myself then?” The boy pushes his luck, eliciting a sigh from the girl.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” The boy sits himself on the bed nearest to the counter she’s stationed in.

“I wasn’t feeling well. I’m feeling pain.” Y/N glances over to Madame Pomfrey, who’s occupied with other students. With a softened glance, she turns to Draco.

“Where does it hurt?” She asks. He points to his heart. “Right here.” The girl couldn’t help but let out a laugh, making him beam in response.

“Don’t waste my time, Malfoy.” She suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes.

“Time with you is time well spent.” Heat rises to her face before she releases a groan of frustration followed by a fit of giggles. She grabs his wrist and pulls him into a secluded hallway.

“Care to explain to me why you’re here? For real this time?” Draco’s face turns serious as he scans her eyes. Her body was close to his, arms crossed over her chest, and her face pointed up at him to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the girl raises her eyebrows in response, prompting him to continue.

“I shouldn’t have left you the way I did.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I like you, and the opinion you have of me matters.” The boy stumbles over his words, “I’m a git, and you’re the exact opposite. You’re diligent, you’re smart, you’re considerate, you’re ambitious,” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You deserve someone who has a better reputation than I do—someone who can help you.”

Y/N’s arms fell to her sides, her heart rate ramped up with its beats wildly pounding against her chest.

“I’m sorry too.” She says softly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did,” she smiled weakly, “I knew I liked you also, Draco. I have for a while now. I was afraid of taking a chance—that our differences would somehow come between us, and drag us down.” The boy cherished the way she referred to their relationship with an “us”. It was as though they were already in this together. Furthermore, he closed his eyes in relief before opening them once more to face her. Without any warning, he snakes his arms around her waist and brings her into a close embrace.

“Surely we can work something out, right?” He asks. The depth of his voice induces goosebumps to rise on her skin. With hesitation, she trails her fingers up his forearms before resting her palms on his biceps. Her chest overflows with rosiness and warmth.

“I think we can.” She presses her ear to his heart, taking in the sounds of his rapid heart beats.

“You’ll give me a chance?” He parts from her, hands still lingering on her waist, his face slowly and mindlessly leaning in.

“Only if you give me one too.” The gaze she holds shifts to his lips and back to his silvery orbs. Draco notices this, and lowers himself even closer to her. She can feel the shape of his lips ghosting over hers.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss-” The boy doesn’t hesitate to cut her off, pressing his lips gently on her own. He closes his eyes, and allows himself to memorize the feeling of her mouth. He then tightens his embrace, pressing her body flushed against his. The girl, in turn, steps on her tiptoes, and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer and deepening the kiss. Sparse breaths were taken in between, only to be disturbed by the reunion of their lips—each time becoming more passionate than the last. Draco lifts one of his hands to her cheek, dragging his thumb along her cheek bones, while she takes the liberty to run her fingers through his hair. The longing that has accumulated throughout the weeks poured throughout the duration of the kiss each caressed one another with gentle, affectionate intent.

“Does your heart still hurt?” She asks before pressing her lips on his again.

“I think I’ve been healed.” He responds briefly, and plants another one with him smiling into it.

“Good.”

A/N: Thank you once again for reading! I’m going to try to post my other fics asap! School is starting up again, so I’ll try to find a way to adjust, although I can’t guarantee I’ll be posting as much :D Nevertheless, I’ll try my best; I appreciate you all and the support you give! I hope you have a great New Year!

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@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #slytherin imagines

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stresseddepressed-student · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Nine:

Unfortunately, Potter was powerful and uncontrolled so his magic refused to keep itself contained. Stupid dumbass idiot who didn’t know how to control himself.

“Potter, your presence is messing with the delicate potion in the cauldron, please remove yourself.” Draco tried his best to keep his voice level, to be bigger than him, to not sink down to his level. He really didn’t want any conflict with Potter this year. It would be difficult enough without Potter Problems.

He finished mincing the wings of the Hercules beetle, wincing as he eyed the poor bastard who was still crawling around his tank. Now that he was wingless, his only purpose would be to breed one last time and then be tossed into a Fortis Invigorate potion. Draco felt a lot like the beetle, he had no life other than to be used and trapped in a glass tank. He then minced the Aconite, admiring the purple flakes created as he cut.

He cast a discreet tempus, 3:00, damn it, it's been 3 hours since he started the potion. If he was going to be successful in any way, he needed to put the wings and flakes in now. He gracefully turned, holding the cutting board in one hand and the knife in the other. He kept his gaze on the cauldron, refusing to spare Potter a glance, slowly he scraped the ingredients bit by bit. Wolfsbane was particularly difficult and if he wanted to get this right, he would need to be patient.

“What are you making?” Potter insisted, coming up closer.

Draco looked up into his eyes, barely biting his tongue at the disgust in the other boy's eyes. He glanced down, tracing the sweat and water that left trails on his brown torso and down into his pants. His trousers were hanging perversely on his hips, heavy with exertion and water. Draco could see the other boy's hip bones, the defined muscles eating away his stomach, rounded strong pecs. And his shoulders, Draco was sure that Potter could probably carry him easily and Draco was quite muscle-laden himself. His legs would definitely help him, they were thick, strong, the kind of thigh perfect for spreading his-

Draco turned away, thanking his father for the years of training in keeping his emotions out of his voice, “I don’t answer to you, Potter. Please, escort yourself to the showers as you are in fact messing with a highly volatile potion. Thank you.”

He went back to the book, listening to Potter's steps as he came closer. He inhaled sharply, the smell of rain and musk robbing him of his senses.

Draco didn’t dare turn as Potter whispered in his ear, his spine-tingling, “you’re up to something Malfoy and I’m going to find out. I’m going to figure you out and when I do, I’ll ruin you.”

You already have.

Potter stepped back and Draco could practically hear the sneer painting on his full lips. Draco finally looked up as Potter walked away, burying a groan at the sight of his muscled back and broad shoulders. He looked like a man. His trousers were barely being held up by the curve or his arse, Draco could see his pants peeking out, darkened by sweat and water. Draco knew he was absolutely fucked if this was his reaction to Potter after working out. Draco hadn’t missed how tight his pants looked around his front, Draco resisted the urge to lick his lips.

Merlin.

He felt like a pervert, he needed to get his mind out of the gutter and focused back on the potion before him. He wanted to figure out a way to make the potion better in every way-- taste, texture, effectiveness, cost of production-- anything to fix the things he broke.

Turning the flame off, he carefully poured the potion into the vials, closing them so they could ferment. They should be done by the next full moon so he had about a month or so before it had to be perfect. He wasn’t sure who would accept his potion but he wanted to perfect it before he showed it to Minerva. He rolled his back, stretching the aching muscles as he leaned over the book.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Draco whirled around, his mother's wand discreetly tucked by his side-- poised to strike. He relaxed once he recognized the dirty blonde hair and shy smile-- Astoria Greengrass.

He relaxed his mouth into a subdued smile, only the barest hint of teeth peeking through. “Astoria,” he acknowledged, nodding respectfully.

Her smile curved even more, a pretty red thing that for anyone else would have signaled something seductive, but Draco was so gay that the promise held in her lips did nothing to excite him. “Draco, how are you?”

Still, it's a lot easier to get information from a distracted person and there had to be a reason Astoria was here. He hoped she wasn't here for some nefarious purpose but soon remembered her family played a minimal role in the war, far less so than his friends' families.

He crossed his arms, flexing purposefully to see if her eyes followed the movement. They did. “I am well. Or as well as I can be considering my circumstances. And you? How is your sister?”

Her nostrils flared, once, then twice. The slightest expansion of the curve of her nose that promptly settled back into its natural state. “She is well, the climate agrees with her. Theodore, Tracy, and Millicent are there as well.”

“Yes I heard, Theodore wished to be here, but he found his family in Belgium much more amenable to him being in France than Scotland.”

“England,” she corrected, her smile smaller than before. “We’re in England.”

“Only for those who haven't learned otherwise.”

She turned her head away from him, her focus instead on the cauldron glowing purple with the remnants of his work. He decided to interrupt her before she asked any more questions.

“You didn’t answer my question,” He let one of the corners of his lips tug upward, his eyes fastened on her-- everything in his posture and countenance used to flirt with her.

She lifted her chin, tilting her head to one side to expose her neck. “What question?” she demurred.

He stepped closer, “how are you?”

“I am better now that I’m here.” She stepped back and he followed her until they were walking side by side out of the classroom.

“Here in Hogwarts or here right now?” He guided her away from the empty lab room, walking towards the Slytherin dormitories.

She peered up at him through her dark lashes, “that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He chuckled, a gravelly sound he used when he wanted to sway his victim or seduce them, “well now I’m intrigued by the mystery you present.”

She murmured the common room password, and let him escort her through the dark passage. He tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow, teasing her lightly about spiders and snakes, all the things girls liked to be teased about. It felt a bit surreal if he was being honest, to be flirting and walking through the shadowy corridor like before. Usually Pansy would be the one to have her hand tucked into his elbow, or Blaise, or Theo; Greg and Vincent bumbling happily behind him, messing with his hair, or ticking him just to get a rise out of him. It felt so much like before that Draco's chest hurt a bit, a gentle persistent pressure growing exponentially with each step he took. Finally, they emerged into the softly lit common room although it was oddly packed to the brim.

Astoria guided him to the front where Blaise, Pansy, and Slughorn stood.

“I- I don’t understand? What’s going on?” Draco whispered urgently to Astoria, taking in his friend's smug looks.

Pansy glanced at him before settling her attention on Astoria, “so?”

Astoria pouted, “he did everything you said he would.”

Draco glanced around, bewildered. Blaise was softly giggling, patting Pansy on the back.

Astoria leaned on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek, patting him gently, “thanks for going along, love.”

Pansy grabbed his arm and dragged him to stand next to her, “shut up and I'll explain later,” she hissed, keeping her stiff smile pasted on her face. She was still mad it seemed.

Slughorn stepped forward, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Students, new and old, welcome to Slytherin, your new home. Today we must assign the student advisors, of course, I am always available to the public! I make a point to keep my door open and I'm actually writing a book on teaching principles everyone could apply to their everyday relationships, I’m sure it will be a bestseller so if you want to pre-order your copy be sure to Owl me. An open door rule isn’t the only policy I will write about in fact I-”

Blaise cleared his throat, flashing his eyes at a startled Slughorn.

“Er- right! Today we will elect from these three. Please, er, raise your hand if you would like Pansy Parkinson as an advisor.”

Several murmurs could be heard and Pansy rolled her shoulders nervously. No one was raising their hands and Draco could feel her disappointment.

Draco swallowed his pride, stepping forward, “Professor, If I may?” At Slughorn's nod, he began to address the room, “some of you do not know Pansy, I believe it would be beneficial to have a few testimonies in regards to her and Blaise so that the newcomers may have an accurate picture of them. I would like to go first.”

Slughorn clapped his back, “right you are m’boy. Excellent Idea, have you been reading my early drafts?”

Draco nodded tightly, barely concealing a snicker. He took a deep breath before speaking once more, “Pansy happens to be my best friend and I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about her from different people. But I would like to tell you she is the most generous person. She will offer you her time, her talent, her knowledge so that you can succeed. More than anything else, she cares about the success of Slytherin as a whole, and if you’re lucky to be her friend, she cares about your personal success. She’s third in our class right behind Hermione Granger and me. She is passionate about her work and a good teacher. Blaise is also my best friend, he’s understanding, he sees you even when you cannot see yourself. And If you find yourself in a snit, he’s the best person to help you get out of it.”

Mitch Creevy stepped forward, looking around nervously, “I'm the first Slytherin in my family, all my cousins are in Gryffindor and neither Draco nor Pansy nor Blaise made me feel any different. Pansy protected me when the Carrows were asking about my bloodline.”

Draco turned back towards his best friends, returning Pansy’s watery smile. Hopefully, this would make her forgive him and see that everything he did was for her good.

Several other people spoke up, each other saying kind things about Pansy and Blaise. Draco tried to ignore the prick in his conscious about the lack of kind words directed at him.

That was until Astoria stepped forward again, her posture relaxed and strong, “I understand many of you are avoiding the controversy of Draco Malfoy but we must not forget all that he’s done for us. He showed us how to fake curses and hexes or lower the intensity when we were forced to attack our fellow classmates. He fought in the war against the Dark Lord-”

“After he let them in!” retorted a student. A chorus of agreements and Draco looked down at his feet, it wasn’t like he could contest. He had done that and much more.

“But he fought even against his father.”

“Astoria!” Pansy hissed, her mouth settling into a harsh line.

it was becoming hard to breathe for Draco, buried his nails into his palm to ground himself. It was for naught, if Astoria didn't stop soon, he was going to have a full-blown panic attack.

“Who do you think put every single captured death eater in prison, who provided the evidence? He was ra-”

“Astoria!” Blaise warned, starting towards her, his eyes flashing gold. Draco felt sick, he didn’t want his secrets uncovered, everything he did, his shame, uncovered. He felt naked under the disgusted stares.

Astoria took a deep breath, “today, he went to his lab to work on a Wolfsbane because he knew that many students, Slytherin or other, could not afford good quality Wolfsbane. He is the only reason Goyle passed his classes, he tutored every single Slytherin falling behind. He is more than his name. I urge you to consider him.”

Mercifully, she didn’t mention Vincent. Draco didn’t think he could handle her mentioning his dead friend, someone rotting in the ground because of him.

Astoria turned towards him, her mouth pinched tightly, she didn’t say sorry, she didn’t like to lie. And even though Draco was close to tears, he admired her tenacity, her passion, her intelligence; he privately thought to himself that she would make a better teacher than Slughorn. She was almost at his level in potions but she had more of an inclination towards being an Auror than anything else. Pity. She had some inane belief she could reform it. She certainly was more ambitious than her sister.

Slughorn looked around nervously, his fingers twitching as the muttering increased. “Have we come to a decision?” he tried.

Leon Moon, the first year from earlier, stepped forward; his shaggy auburn hair reminiscent of Remus Lupin. “Is it true that you’re making wolfsbane for everybody?” he demanded, his tiny figure puffed up.

Draco buried his shock at seeing a miniature version of his old teacher. He nodded, clearing his throat before giving the fierce boy a resounding yes.

Moon glanced around, looking at his fellow first-years to see if they had any objections, “We would like Draco to be our advisor, and Pansy too.”

Everyone agreed with the little boy, save for a few people who grumbled that Blaise should be one of the advisors. Draco snorted, every single one had been one of Blaise's conquests.

Pansy stepped forward, “there can be three advisors. It was more of a matter of choosing who you didn’t want.”

Blaise rubbed his neck, “that’s alright Pansy. I don’t really want the responsibility, but I’m happy to help you guys out along with the 7th years.”

Steeled by everyone's vote of confidence and the trust in her eyes, Draco stepped forward again. “Then it’s settled,” Draco said, his voice clear and determined. “Pansy Parkinson and I will be your advisors. Professor Slughorn, are you prepared for a swearing ceremony?” Draco didn't even know why he asked, the man definitely didn't understand the sort of commitment Slytherin had towards each other.

Draco rolled his eyes as Slughorn babbled, snapping his fingers to request Mipsy.

Mipsy arrived with a pop and several first years gave a surprised yelp. She punched her fist onto her hips, looking up at him expectantly, “Yes Master Draco?”

“You can’t have a personal elf apparate in and out of Hogwarts wards!” Slughorn fretted, his chest puffing as he tried to assert his dominance. What he didn’t realize was that Draco took responsibility seriously, took vows seriously, and this was both. Slughorn didn’t even want to be the head of house for Slytherin.

Mipsy answered him before Draco could, “I work in kitchens, missus Minnie allow me to work by Master Draco.”

Draco smiled, “Thank you, darling. We’re going to do a blood oath, do you mind notarizing?”

“Elves cannot notarize!” Slughorn complained. Oddly enough, he had no qualms about performing a blood oath, something considered dark magic but he had a problem with Elves becoming Notaries. Typical.

“Certainly Master. Raise you's hand.”

Both he and Pansy raised their right hands, Draco remembered that he was mostly naked save for his shirt and he tucked his left arm tightly into his side. Though it was useless, a lot of people probably saw his mark.

“Speak vows now.”

Pansy went first, “I Pansy Minato Parkinson, vow to protect, encourage, defend, teach, and care for the students under my care.” She tapped her wand against her palm and a sliver of blood fell onto the stone floor. The stone glowed green before absorbing the blood and returning to its natural gray.

Draco stepped forward, his wand poised, “I Draco Lucius Siran Malfoy-Black, vow to protect, encourage, defend, teach, and care for the students under my care.” He pressed the wand against his palm, shivering under the surge of magic slicing his skin. The blood dripped down his wand, spiraling around the natural grain of the dark brown wood, the single drop falling into the stone, glowing a blinding silver that lasted a lot longer than Pansy’s had.

He could feel his peers' eyes on him and titled his chin up, not meeting anyone's eyes. He stood back with Pansy and Blaise as the group dispersed, his mouth tight. “Mate I-”

He shook his head, dispelling the apology he knew was to come, his arms clasped behind his back to hide his mark.

Leon came forward, his dark blue eyes glancing wildly around. He coughed and sidled up next to Draco, “Mr. Malfoy sir,-”

“Draco is quite alright.”

The boy flushed and nodded, “I was wondering, I have been, that is, I was wondering if you had finished the potion, I, well I-”

Draco placed a hand on the small boy's shoulder, crouching down slightly, “Leon, you are a smart brave boy, and I'm not going to hurt you no matter how scary I look. It’s okay to ask for things.”

Leon, flushed, scowling, “I'm not a baby, don’t patronize me, I know I can ask for things. This is a secret thing and I've never told anybody else. I was wondering if you could help me during my-” he lowered his voice and leaned closer, “transformations.”

Draco’s smile faltered, the spunky kid was so young, too young to have to be afflicted with this. He nodded, “the night before your transformation, meet me at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”

The kid flashed him a smile, the ones that come easy when you're smaller no matter what’s happening around you. Draco's eyes burned, visions flashing of the small boy before him losing that smile because of the life ahead of him, of the boy becoming like Lavender. Draco stepped away, casting a sonorous so that everybody in the dorms could hear him, “If you require assistance for your transformation, werewolf or other, please meet me the night before the full moon in the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.”

Pansy’s hand moved towards him but he walked too quickly out of the common room for her to catch him. He ran down the corridor, down the hallway, back to his lab, breathless. He stumbled over the cauldron and retched, bile and vomit spewing from his mouth into the cast-iron cauldron. His yellow vomit smelled so horrible mixed with the wolfsbane, and he vomited even more. A hand found its way onto his back, rubbing soothingly up and down his spine. Smaller hands combed back his hair, holding the fringe away from his sweaty face.

“He’s so young!” he cried to Pansy and Blaise. “He hasn’t lived yet and his life is ruined.”

“It's not ruined,” Pansy answered sharply, “it's not. And even if it was, it’s not your fault.”

He sobbed into the cauldron, everything from him mixing in there, his potion, his bile, his tears, his sweat-- all of it combining to present a reflection of him.

Blaise pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe his mouth and neck, banishing it with a shudder “Come on love, let's go to bed.”

Draco shook his head, dazed, “no, I’ve got to clean up first or Minnie won’t let me back here.”

“Minnie?” mouthed Pansy to Blaise who only shrugged.

Draco summoned a low dose pepper-up charm from his stock already organized in the storage room adjoined to the lab. He gagged as he swallowed the spicy concoction. Shaking his head to clear away the haze of guilt, sickness, and shame.

He conjured a scrub and some soap in a bucket. Pansy summoned another bucket and he hefted the cauldron up to pour the remaining mixture into the spare bucket. Blaise banished the bubbling bucket once it was full and Draco set the cauldron down again. Pansy whistled at his flexed muscles and he threw some soap at her playfully.

He snapped his finger and music played, lately Pansy had gotten them into Spice Girls and oddly enough, an androgynous band named Eurythmics. Wannabe’s poppy beat echoed around the room and Blaise danced comically around the room, swaying his hips and thrusting in the air every so often. He moved his hips as he scrubbed the Cauldron, humming the lyrics under his breath. None of them noticed when the door opened and Neville barreled out of the greenhouse into the lab.

“Uh-” Neville stammered, eyes wide.

Draco paused mid-gyration to stare at the blubbering boy.

“I’m gonna go-” Neville mumbled, running out of the room, leaving a trail of dirt behind him.

“Do you think he-”

“Did you see his face?!”

Blaise and Pansy both hollered at the same time, cutting Draco off. Draco grunted, drawing the attention of his two friends who promptly rolled their eyes at his pinched mouth. He cast a scourgify on the mud tracks, charming a mop to follow Neville’s path.

“Oh, will you wipe off that pinched ferret expression you’ve got!” Blaise called, slapping his bum as he passed by.

Pansy cackled, bent over in exaggerated laughter. “You do look a bit like a ferret, love,” she sighed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Draco grunted, wiping his sweaty brow. “Do you think he saw me, so…”

“Human?”

Draco glared at Blaise, who raised his hands in mock surrender. “Disheveled, unprofessional, inelegant, un-Malfoy," he corrected.

Pansy ignored him as she shucked her shirt, though there wasn’t a single drop of sweat on her back or neck. She rolled her bony shoulder as she conjured a scrub and a mop. Casting an Augementi, she started working on the walls, throwing the mop to a pouting Blaise. Draco was at once, filled with relief that his friends, his posh wanker friends, were helping him with the menial task of cleaning.

Pansy didn’t turn away from the wall as she spoke, casting several charms at other conjured scrubs to reach the places she could, “Isn’t that the point, Draco? To be un-Malfoy. To be yourself? Look at what I'm doing! I’m bloody scrubbing the wall, I would have never done that years ago!”

Blaise passed the mop between his hands, “I know you think nobody will believe the person you’ve become, that you’re good, but you don’t help when you shut people out and continue to put up wards around yourself.”

Draco wiped the cauldron down, carefully oiling it to preserve its integrity. “What would you have me do? Scream at anything and everything that I’ve changed, that I’m not a blood purist?! What would you have me say?! “Hey guys, I know you lost a brother, son, daughter, father, mother, friend-- people! But! Guess what?! I’m not a bad guy anymore, see I’m good, I can even shake your hand and I won’t break out in hives!” Yeah, that’s a great idea guys, ” Draco scoffed.

Pansy marched over, grabbing his chin gently with her soft soapy hands, “that’s exactly what you need to do because that is exactly who you are.”

He turned away, his voice weak and resigned, “and if I’m not. What do I do if I'm the same exact person as before?”

Blaise strode to him, cradling the side of his face in his hand, pressing his forehead against Dracos’, “You are. You are good. You deserve good things. You are good.”

Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips against the boy, wanting to have the maker of his affirmation breathing those words into him. There was something venerating about this kiss, about the tenderness of their lips against each other. But too soon did Blaise pull away, looking at him regretfully, “this isn’t what you want.” Draco whimpered and Blaise thumbed his temple, “ it’s okay, I won't take the words away, they’re yours, they're who you are.”

Pansy pulled him off, “go to bed with Blaise, I’ll meet you later after I finish here.”

“No, no I've got this,” Draco objected, pulling his wand out. He conjured more scrubs, mops, and dusters, easily manipulating them to clean the entire room. It was exhaustive on his magical core, especially after the day he just had, but he needed this lab to be spotless for the plan formulating in his mind. With a just wiggle of his fingers, he took over the scrubs Pansy had been manning and the mop in Blaise's hand. Pansy and Blaise gawped at him and a rush of pride swept through him. He walked over the cauldron, hoisting it up to flip it over, he wasn’t able to carry it with just his own human muscles. Sighing, he focused his remaining magic on lifting all of the spare cauldrons and organizing them on the newly cleaned floor. He was just about to set them down when his chest began to ache, a sharp digging sensation that made him stumble back. Pansy and Blaise rushed forward, grasping his sides as keeled over. Thankfully, the very expensive cauldrons were too close to the ground to have any resounding impact.

Blaise whipped out his wand, shouting “Finite Incantatem!” with no success. Dracos magic was too strong for him to make the dizzying cleaning supplies stop dancing around the room.

Pansy tapped Dracos cheek hard, “Draco, stop the spell. It’s hurting you, stop the spell!”

He groaned, his head rolling to one side. With all the strength he could muster, he whispered the spell, his wand falling limply from his hand.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #hp fandom #draco x harry #good draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #bottom draco malfoy #redeemed draco #hermione granger #ron weasley #neville longbottom #top harry #bottom draco #ao3 fanfic #drarry ao3 #drarryfics

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notcatherinemorland · 5 years ago

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More Hamlet Thoughts because i leave everything to the 11th hour . production continues to be the 2018 globe w/ Michelle Terry

Hamlet and Ophelia’s uhhhhh fight

Ham’s personality twists into cruel mockery of her at the line ‘Where’s your father’ and OHO the facial expressions

Ophelia kept trying to hold onto Hamlet’s hand and body and curl her fingers around hamlet’s hand and it was very heartbreaking . Hamlet was a ball of chaotic energy who scrabbled her hands off himself. rlly interesting to watch

this turned around with hamlet scrubbing over her face as he presents her to the audience’s 4th wall for the make up lines. and shoves her down to the floor at the end

the physical manipulation hamlet takes out on ophelia is a super interesting segue to the players scene

2 b / x 2 b

ham sat in the middle of the front of the stage and held the hand of an audience member who he talked he speech to. very intimate and closed and really interesting interpretation

im a nerd so i really like the juxtaposition of such a grand and philosophical speech being told on such an intimate and small scale

Hamlet’s still got his smudged clown makeup on

hamlet and horatio come across Very gay in the ‘something too much of this’ line. i vibe

hamlet decimated his friendship with R&G and i LOVED how Horatio held him and then forced him away to give him just a touch more character. this Ht loved R&G as well and i appreciate the bit of character we all try to give horatio

Horatio’s Emotions over R&G’s impending death is a++ give this man some emotional range

OH the ‘if your mind dislike anything, obey it’ can we PLEASE listen to horatio the lone voice of reason within elsinor’s halls

that’s not me being gay, that’s a legit analysis of Hamlet in that everyone in Elsinor has a twisted sense of reality and morality and Horatio as an outsider is immune and must watch in horror

the argument is flawed with R&G but hey it’s not my theory.

THE TRUMPETS . there’s live trumpets

the music they played to signal the half time of the play was wonderfully dissonant and i VIBE WITH THAT that is the ENERGY of Elsinor right there

honestly im annoying and i don’t particularly care for the play scene as an audience member. like academically the play within a play is rife with analysis but like. to just sit and watch it feels like such a halt in the energy

plus i really dislike it when they use gross physical comedy in the dumb-show because again. im annoying

anyway they only do the dumb-show (more tollerable than a lot) and they use drum beats and purcussion in place of lines, and have hamlet explain what’s going on with his lines. it’s certainly different and its a lot quicker than the text is

This Claudius is Prime Smarmy Politicians and is very indignant as he tries to pray and i REALLY LIKE HIM

The scene transitions are .. non existent in this play and i LIKE IT

the lines follow on immediately between scenes as the other characters are leaving the stage

i love how it supports the theme of acting this play has and how it breaks down the barrier for the audience of personal vs private

thats not quite what i want to say uhhhhh. in other productions some of the scenes are really discreet from each other- like how pearl necklaces have stoppers between the pearls- and that’s especially evident in films, but here it’s the opposite and the scenes bleed into each other to create a really fast paced and chaotic energy and i REALLY LIKE IT

‘personal vs private’ is on god my favourite theme in hamlet and the way it works with the audience creating it here is GREAT

Closet scene... OH BOY

this hamlet is CRUEL oml

the ghost enters after hamlet spends 3 minutes berating his mother and she’s crying on the floor by the audience and hamlet immediately stops and starts weeping

‘oh save me’ sounds so small and childlike and it really showcases the love between them

not that kind of love, sigmund fucking freud. get your mind out the gutter

the disdain hamlet has for gertrude absolutely breaks my heart but that’s a me thing because i haven’t been able to see my mother in person for coming up on a month due to quarantine :(

added an extra hug before ham leaves .. v sweet

Claudius comes barreling in and picks up ham’s dropped sword. :eye emoji: doesn’t put it down until Hamlet’s brought in for questioning. but he’s still holding a book (english dictionary presumably?) and this act of holding a sword for 2 scenes WILL be reiterated time and time again in ever hamlet essay i write forever to whatever end i so desire because it’s easy to manipulate to my own purposes. bless this moment

There’s a seagull that keeps interrupting claudius at perhaps the funniest possible moments in his soliloquies and honestly WHERE is it’s Olivier

Ophelia’s madness isn’t as explicit as it is in other versions, but watching her tumble into emotions and lack of restraint is so, so heartbreaking.

this is one of the productions of hamlet that makes a really convincing case for ‘madness’ in elsinor being synonymous to speaking one’s mind and being truthful about one’s heightened emotions and like. i Love that interpretation

lets be real i love 99% of hamlet interpretations

the 1% is freud. fuck that guy

I’m Digging the parallel of Ophelia’s emotional outburts of grief (in madness) to Laertes incensed outburst of grief . ohoho

Laertes gets rosemary and pansies, Claudius gets fennel and columbines, Gertrude gets the rue, Audience member gets the daisy and the thought of violets

unfortunately i once wrote a shite poem about gertrude and weather she know of the poison in the cup at the end and unfortunately that’s all i can think about for the last 40 mins of the play hfdhgjgghjhgj

im annoying so i read along with the play and the duets Claudius and Laertes make of the meter and the word formatting on the page comes across really different on stage, which is super interesting.

not to be really fucking dramatic but i read in the info packet of this play that the pillars on the stage are actually tree trunks carved and painted to look like marble and considering how many times i had to hear the words ‘appearance vs reality’ in my english class, i think im allowed to use the smirk emoji about how the setting of the globe is Integral to Hamlet as a play

i am itching to write an entire 4000 word tirade about the use of the physical body in hamlet because between the actual acting on stage, polonius, ‘one auspicious and one dropping eye’ and all whole host of references made to physical body parts i am going feral

PLUS this one incorporates sign language

i actually hate the word incorporates but needs must

The Ophelia’s death speech is of course wonderful, but i can’t stop thinking about how John Everett Millais made his model (who’s name escapes me in a terrible irony because i got this information from an exhibition about the female pre-raphalites) sit in a cold bath for hours on end whilst he sketched and it made her very ill because the fire went out and she was sat nude in a bath of cold water for hours.

Gravedigger only has the songs and the hamlet interaction, and he wears a high vis jacket. he’s also played by the ghost’s actor, which whilst understandable in such a small cast, amuses me greatly

Hamlet’s got his hair tied back and in a military style jacket, and marches around with Horatio who’s in a hoodie and a black duffle coat (absolutely a student) and the same tight plait. Ham’s definitely meant to be sane now, he speaks very brusquely and all but marches around the stage

Not To Make An Edelgard Reference But edelgard’s cause in 3H was also cemented by a timeskip and a military outfit and a brusque personality hehehe

Hamlet gets into the ‘grave’ to chat to Yorick which, again, i will use in every relevant essay i will write and manipulate this scene to whatever end i desire and on god i thank this production for this

a level me would have gone feral

current me is also going feral

Grave Scene: a terrible one for your family to walk in and ask what the fuck you’re watching

Polonius’ actor plays the priest. yes, capsule wardrobe of a cast, i know but i’m an english student it’s my duty to wring every irrational inch of analysis out of this thing

i won’t trail on about unsubstaniated interpretations of Polonius’ parenting skills and fate in Hamlet but on god i will find an essay about it

i always enjoy it when someone leaps in the grave .. the melodrama... the meaning... the liminal spaces...

the DRAMA of seperating feral laertes and the really calm and imposing hamlet is excellent and a bit hilarious and the camera is going nuts

i’m very aware that everyone is now traipsing about over the grave in the middle of the stage and THAT’S a fun dynamic you don’t get from film or text

ok I’ve just noticed the video has the ‘top chat replay’ going and the very first line i saw is ‘what if hamlet had tiktok’ and i am CRYING

Ophelia’s actor also plays Osric and is a) absolutely hilarious and b) again, capsule wardrobe of a cast will not stop me from analysing everything and anything this play may or may not offer me.

im not saying hamlet is a play about inheritance and the burden of it, but also... isn’t it :eye emoji:

if bloody fire emblem fates can do it so can i, step off

Fencing scene: oh thank god it’s nearly over

The hearts on their fencing get ups parallel Hamlet’s clown outfit with a heart on the sleeve Very Nicely

Gertrude isn’t wearing her headpiece anymore .. ohoho dispelling the trappings and suits of dishonesty, if you will

The duel is a) bloody terrifying because sword fighting and b) judged by Osric (Ophelia) and the poetry of having ham & lae’s duel waged over and judged by Ophelia is absolutely excellent

Claudius’s aside (or to laertes? camera didn’t follow) had no right to be as humorous as it was jdfsghfkd

Gertrude figured out it was poison in this one. Nice

I like the call and response effect of ‘Treachery! Seek it out! / It is here Hamlet’ they made with Hamlet running around they stage to find little propped up Laertes

The dramatic eye contact of Hamlet and Claudius as he forces him to drink the poison.... OH HECK YES

the way they sink to the floor in a pair, with hamlet crawling over his body to make sure he dies... oh LORD

the swing hamlet does with his arm to the audience to cast them as ‘the unsatisfied’ was EXCELLENT and i would like that in every production of hamlet please

the tussle of horatio and hamlet over the cup..... iconic.... and i enjoy the parallel of that to hamlet with claudius as they’re stood in the same corner

The harsh projection of Hamlet’s voice and the blunt manner of his words about Fortinbras’ inheritance of denmark against the soft way Horatio rocks Hamlet back and forth ... i want to CRY

Horatio got to have emotional range in this production .. wonderful

i always enjoy the way the play tails off with politics in a room of dead bodies.. the layers the absolute onions

how none of the drama within the castle has any meaning to anyone outside of it is Excellent

and then the way the prison and enclosure of elsinor is finally broken with military force in parallel to the tumultuous interpersonal relationships within it... i vibe yet more

they actually ended with ‘go bid the soldiers shoot’ which i enjoy a lot!!!! and the music is wonderful

then they all start doing this dance which i think is meant to be about the themes of the play and to be perfectly honest it’s a bit crunchy for me but the music absolutely slaps!!!

final thoughts:

that sure was a hamlet production and i thought it had a lot of heart and did some new things very very well!!!

and i loved the emphasis they put on the costuming!!!!

overall: a solid hamlet. very nice. i greatly enjoyed it!!!!

#hamlet blogging #OH BOY THIS IS LONG THIS IS SO LONG

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megaerakles · 7 years ago

Text

A Rumor in Knockturn

Tomione Anastasia AU; One-shot, 3461 words.

“Ten million galleons, Riddle.” Abraxas muttered as yet another failed contender slunk off the dimly lit wooden stage in disappointment. “All we need is a girl who can pass for Hermione Black for a single evening, and we’ll never want for anything again!”

Tom pressed his palm into his eye as he tried to get the sound of the last “Hermione” attempting to sing “like a pureblood” out of his head. The girl, Millicent Bulstrode, had murdered a perfectly innocent operatic aria in increasingly higher octaves until Abraxas had shouted over her to stop. Now on top of suffering through the hordes of talent-less pretenders that the decrepit city of Knockturn hid in its cracks and gutters, he would have an ear-splitting headache to make the experience that much more excruciating. “Whatever,” he said tiredly, opening his eyes again. “How many more auditions do we have today?”

“Just five,” Abraxas said after consulting the sign-up sheet they’d surreptitiously posted in the back of the pub. “Um, the next one is—”

“Pansy,” Tom interrupted, scowling as the familiar dark-haired girl sauntered onto the stage. “What are you doing here, Parkinson?” he snapped, fixing her with one of his darkest glares.

The insufferable twit who used to cling to him and Abraxas during their shared school years fluttered her heavily made-up eyes in his direction. “Pansy? Parkinson? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tommy,” she cooed. “Don’t you see?” Here she pushed her chest out and dropped her shoulders back to allow her fur-lined cloak to slide down her body as she struck what must have been meant to be a seductive pose. Her voice took on a sultry quality as she drawled, “It’s me, Daddy—Hermione Black!”

The pain in Tom’s head became sharper.

“Parkinson, stop messing around,” Abraxas said, shaking his head. “People in London already know who your parents are, there’s no way they’d believe that you’re Sirius’ long-lost daughter.”

Pansy stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. She looked like she was about to say more, but Tom cut her off with a sharp look. “Leave now, Pansy. We don’t have time for you today!”

“Hmph!” Pansy drew her gaudy cloak around her shoulders and turned her nose up before stomping off the stage. Tom let out another exasperated groan. This day could not get any longer. And so it went on…

After the last girl had left they retired to their rented office across the street from the theater. Tom collapsed into his chair and allowed his shoulders to slump and his head to fall back as he staring at the cracked ceiling in despair.

“Between this week and the last, we must have seen every single girl in Knockturn!” he complained. “How is there not a single witch who can pass for Hermione Black?”

Abraxas didn’t answer; instead he just reached into his robes and pulled out his flask of firewhiskey, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Tom. Tom accepted it and took a swig, vainly hoping the alcohol would burn away his problems as it burned down his throat. When he finished, he handed it back to Abraxas, who took his own long drink.

“So what now?” Abraxas said once he’d swallowed, looking at Tom. “Do we keep searching?”

“The money’s too good to stop,” Tom said, letting his eyes fall closed as a sense of despair washed over him. “If we have to, we can widen the search. Try some of the surrounding villages. Why is there a shortage of curly-haired brunettes in a seventeen to twenty age bracket? You would think it wouldn’t be so—”

He was interrupted by the loud bang of the light wooden door of their rented room being pushed open with far too much force. He and Abraxas spun around to face the intruder. Tom’s hand instinctively grasped at the wand concealed in his pocket, but when he saw that the figure standing in the doorway was only a disheveled young woman, he relaxed his grip on his weapon and began to consider her.

The girl was nothing short of common and plain; she had frizzy brown curls that looked as though they hadn’t seen a brush in a year and were doing their best to escape the confines of the headband that held them back. Her nose was the slightest bit upturned, and a light smattering of freckles dusted across her features. Her front teeth were a rather large, and were currently employed in nervously chewing on her bottom lip. Yet her eyes were bright and burning with a bold, determined light. It was hard to assess her figure as she was dressed in drab clothes of coarse brown fabric that hung shapelessly off her body, but she seemed rather lithe and petite. On one arm she’d hung a worn basket covered with a tattered red cloth, and in the other she held a writhing mass of ginger-colored fur that took Tom a full thirty seconds to identify as a large, ugly cat.

“Excuse us,” Abraxas sniffed, giving the intruder and her pet one of his haughty, aristocratic glares, a leftover from his upbringing. “This is a private space! I’m not sure why that door was unlocked, but you’re not supposed to be here, and if you do not remove yourself this instant, my colleague and I will be forced to—”

Tom cut his partner off by holding up a hand as pushed his chair back and stood up. He slowly walked across the room towards the girl, who stared at him for a moment before stammering out,

“Are- are you Tom Riddle?”

He cocked his head a bit, slowly starting to walk around her, his eyes sweeping up and down over her features. Was there something there? The hair was right, and her features, though plain, could reasonably be argued to resemble those of Sirius Black’s muggle paramour… A change of clothes, a new hairstyle, and a few etiquette lessons might just render a complete transfiguration, one that could come close to being what they need… “Perhaps I am,” he drawled after letting the silence hang for a minute. “That would depend entirely on on why you want to see him.”

Frowning, the girl twisted her head around to follow his movements and huffed slightly. “Look, I don’t want to make any trouble for anyone. I just need to get to London, and I’m told that a man by the name of Tom Riddle is the one to see about it—hey, why are you circling me like that?” she cried. She whipped around to face him and released her grip on her cat so she could place a hand on her hip. “What, were you an owl in another life?”

Tom stopped his pacing and brought his his hand up to his face, making a show of pensively stroking his chin while really attempting to mask the wicked grin that had spread across his features. And here he’d just about been ready to give in to despair! “I’m sorry, it’s just you look an awful lot like…” he shook his head. “Never mind. Tell me, my dear—” he paused and frowned. “What did you say your name was, again?”

The girl looked at him suspiciously, but he just responded by giving her one of his wide, charming smiles, and after a moment, she cautiously replied, “well, I didn’t, but I’m Emma.”

Tom quirked one eyebrow. “Emma what?”

Her face clouded over with a look of longing. “Well, that’s just it, I don’t really know. I’m an orphan, you see, and I don’t know who my family was. I have no memories of my childhood, and have been alone for as long as I can remember… That’s why I need to go to London!” she proclaimed as her free hand moved to clasp what appeared to be some locket hanging around her neck. “It’s the only clue I have to my true identity!”

A veritable orphan with no identity? How convenient! Tom looked towards Abraxas and saw the realization slowly creeping into the other man’s eyes. He tried to keep his smirk relatively innocent as he looked back at their visitor.

“People were right to send you to me, Emma. You see, I do have the resources to get people to London,” Tom said, keeping his tone careful and even despite his racing excitement. “Three people, in fact. Me, Mr. Malfoy over there, and Hermione Black.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide. “Hermione Black?” she cried incredulously. “But—look, I know there’ve been lots of rumors lately, but isn’t she dead?”

“On the contrary, Miss Emma.” Abraxas finally joined the conversation, coming over to stand besides Tom and placing a hand on his colleague's shoulder. “Tom here can personally attest to the fact that she is indeed alive; he was present in Black Manor the night of the attack.”

Emma blinked, and then looked at Tom, caution and suspicion now lighting up her gaze. “Oh really? That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it?”

Tom smiled indulgently. “Nevertheless, it’s true. My mother was a servant in their household, and I was kept around as a… playmate of sorts for the young Miss Black. It was actually through my assistance that she escaped, although I unfortunately lost track of her afterwards.”

Emma snorted, and even had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Right. Sure. And before the Revolution, I was best of friends with Ariana Dumbledore! I’d still be writing her today, you know, if I could get an owl out of Knockturn.”

Tom gritted his teeth. He couldn’t help being the slightest bit offended at her unwillingness to believe his story; he lied about many things in his life without qualm, but for once he was actually telling the truth! However, his genial facade needed to be maintained if he wanted to charm her into cooperating, so he forced a smile and said calmly, “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. Hermione Black is alive, and Abraxas and I have set out to find her and restore her to her family. My resources are limited, and I’m afraid I don’t have enough magic to get more than the three of us into London.”

Emma’s face fell for a moment, before she shook her head and fiery determination lit up her eyes once more. “That’s alright, I don’t need you to bring me to London. If you just tell me how to get past the guards, I’m sure I can figure out the rest on my—”

“Do you have money?” Tom interrupted, knowing full well what her answer would be. She paused before slowly shaking her head.

“No, but I can—”

“Do you think my knowledge of the Order’s weaknesses was so easily gotten that I can afford to give it away for free?” he asked calmly. He wanted to smirk at her crestfallen expression, but to his surprise, her dejection lasted only a second before she scowled and straightened her shoulders, and said firmly,

“I can see that you’ll be of no help to me; very well, I’ll just go find someone else! Crookshanks, where did you—Crookshanks, get away from him!” Emma bent down to retrieve her ginger beast from where it was vigorously rubbing itself against a mortified Abraxas’ legs, leaving behind a mess of orange fur that Tom knew he’d be hearing complaints about for weeks. As the girl was muttering an apology to the scandalized former aristocrat, Tom decided it was time to move things along.

“You know, Emma, I’m not sure you’ve really thought about everything I’ve said,” he began, giving her another another innocent smile as he reached out to stroke her cat’s head. It hissed, so he quickly withdrew his hand.

Emma’s brows knitted together as she attempted to sooth the angry feline in her arms. “What do you mean?”

“Well, here you are, looking for your home, at the same time that everyone else is looking for the poor, lost heiress to the most ancient and noble of the pureblood houses. Has it not even occurred to you that there might be a reason for that? That the answer to both questions might be one in the same?”

A stray curl had fallen into Emma’s face, and with her arms full of the struggling Crookshanks, she had become distracted by trying to blow it out of the way, but as Tom’s words sunk in, she stopped and allowed it to fall across her eyes as she gaped at him incredulously.

“Wait, are you trying to say you think I’m Hermione Black?”

“Think about it, Miss Emma,” Abraxas said. “The greatest mystery of the age just happens to arise at the same time as you attempt to answer such a vital question about yourself? And besides, you’ve got the Black family look about you!” He gestured towards her form.

“Regulus’s smile!” Tom offered.

Abraxas smirked. “And Bellatrix’s hair!”

Tom reached out to take hold of the girl’s chin and tilted her head from one side to the other. “You’re the right age, the right stature, I’m telling you, Emma, you could be the one they’re looking—”

“Mr. Riddle!” Emma cried out, her voice suddenly shrill as she stepped out of his reach. “This is absolutely ridiculous! I would think I would know if I was the daughter of a sacred twenty-eight family, don’t you?”

“Ah, but don’t you have no idea who your family really is?” Tom said, giving her a pointed look. “You could be anyone, couldn’t you? A Smith, a Boot, even a Black!”

Emma’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times as she shook her head, looking between Tom and Abraxas and backing up towards the door. “I heard you were sketchy, but they never mentioned the fact that you’re insane!”

“There’s no need to resort to such name-calling,” Abraxas chided, frowning at her. “We’re simply stating a very real possibility. What with all the rumors, it’s a wonder you hadn’t considered it yourself!”

Emma scoffed. “Come on! I mean, look at me! No one in their right mind would think that I was a descendant of the Black family. The pair of you are downright delusional!”

Despite her words, Tom could see the slightest bit of doubt or confusion in her eyes, and he knew he’d have her hooked. Even if she truly couldn’t be convinced she was Hermione Black, she’d have to be dumb not to play along, since he would get her to London if she did. Now all that remained was the final push, and for that, he’d utilize a bit of reverse psychology…

“Well if that’s what you truly think, that I suppose it’s for the best,” Tom said, lacing his voice with notes of regret. “We really must save our resources for Hermione Black; I’m sure you understand. It’s a shame we couldn’t get you to London, but, c’est la vie!” Tom stepped over to the door and opened it while she stared at him. He gently put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her outside, smiling cheerfully once more. “Good luck with your search for an identity!” With that, he pulled the door closed, shutting her out of the room.

“Riddle! What are you doing!” Abraxas hissed, giving his business partner a glare. “You just pushed away the perfect Hermione—”

Tom smirked. “Wait for it,” he murmured, leaning against the wall. Abraxas threw his hands up in the air, but ten seconds later, three sharp raps sounded from the other side of the door. Tom winked at the other man before pulling it open again.

“Well, since I don’t have any memories of my life before the orphanage, I can’t really say that I’m not Hermione Black, you know?” Emma said as she pushed her way back into the room. Her cat jumped out of her arms again as she began to pace around. “And if you think so, then really what’s the harm in going with you to London to see? The Blacks would certainly be able to tell if I’m related to them, so if I’m not, it’ll be fine!”

“I’m pleased you could see things our way, Emma,” Tom said, managing to throw a satisfied smirk Abraxas’ way without the girl seeing.

“Indeed! I must say, it’s an honor to be the one restoring you to your rightful place, Lady Black,” Abraxas said, holding out his arm to her. “Come, why don’t we sit down and discuss the particulars of our endeavor?”

Emma eyed his proffered arm for a long minute before tentatively accepting it. Abraxas led her over to their table and pulled out a chair in an imitation of a gentlemanly gesture. As they were getting situated, Tom shut the door and secured it against any possible intruders or eavesdroppers. One couldn’t be too paranoid in a place like Knockturn; it was actually a sign of how exhausted he’d been earlier that he’d forgotten and Emma had been able to get in.

Once that was done, he made his way over to where Abraxas was busy pouring some tea to Emma, whose hands he kept swatting away as she tried to assist him.

“You must learn to be served, Miss Emma.” he chided. “You’re a Black, after all.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes, but accepted the chipped china cup from the pale blonde wizard. Tom took the seat to her left, and folded his hands on the table. “Now, my dear, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself—well, what you remember, that is. Where have you—”

“Mreow.” All of the sudden, there was the sound of a scuffle in the corner, and a moment later, Emma’s mangy cat trotted over to where the three humans were sitting. In its mouth it was holding a struggling, slightly bloodied grey rat.

Tom would have thought that Emma might be disturbed by the sight of the rodent, but to his surprise, she started cooing. “Oh, clever Crookshanks! Look at you, you caught the big mean rat all by yourself!”

Abraxas had turned even paler than usual and his hand flew to cover his heart. “My Lady! I am utterly mortified that you there was such a disgusting creature in your presence! I promise, in the future, your accommodations will be much more befitting a lady of your status!”

Tom chuckled at his colleague's ruffled composure, inclined to be amused by the whole incident, especially since Emma didn’t seem bothered in the least. However, his good humor evaporated quickly when Crookshanks jumped up onto the table and dropped the still wriggling rat into his lap.

The shock at having a bloody rodent land on his person was so great that he couldn’t help shouting out and jerking back, which unfortunately caused his chair to go flying back and he ended up sprawled out on the floor. The rat took advantage of his confusion to make a dash towards freedom, slinking away into a hole in the wall before Crookshanks could go after him again.

“My word!” Abraxas cried as Tom pulled himself up and tried to regain his composure. It didn’t help that the girl Emma had dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “What sort of a display was that, Riddle?”

Tom glared at his business partner sourly. “Watch it, Malfoy,” he growled, righting his chair and sitting back down. The cat was now sitting in the center of the table and swishing its long bushy tail across all of their papers. It fixed Tom with what he imagined was a reproachful look. Its mistress was still overcome with mirth at Tom’s episode, but between bouts of laughter she managed to get out,

“I’m sorry, Mr. Riddle. Crookshanks only found me two days ago, and I haven’t had the time to teach him proper manners—”

“You mean this creature is a stray?” Abraxas looked like he might have a fit from the scandal of it. “What if it’s carrying diseases? It certainly is not a suitable companion for a young lady; it must go back out to the streets at once!

Tom just rolled his eyes. “These days, everyone’s a stray in Knockturn. We can hardly throw them out based on that alone. Still,” he added, frowning at Emma. “If it’s going to be around, keep it under control.”

Emma giggled again, but she did reach out and pick the bushy orange cat up, bringing him into her lap.

“Now that that’s settled,” Tom said as he smoothed back his ruffled hair and then folded his hands on the table, smiling widely at this unremarkable girl who could be the key to the biggest profit of his lifetime. “Let’s get down to business.”

#tomione #anastasia au #writing #my writing #tom riddle x hermione granger #abraxas malfoy #crookshanks #this au is not developed like at all #but i may write more scenes #gee i wonder who that rat could have been

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jodybouchard9 · 5 years ago

Text

6 Dumb Mistakes Even Pro Gardeners Make—in Their Own Yards

Aleksei Vel./Getty Images

Wish your lawn and garden were overflowing with greenery? You might think that gardening and landscape pros have all the answers, but even professionals who spend their lives in the dirt struggle with foliage.

Part of the problem is Mother Nature herself. You can install a row of pretty pansies in the perfect spot with partial sun, only to have an army of bugs eat them for breakfast.

Or you might sow something that’s supposed to do fine in your climate—but then a series of rainstorms comes along, and your poor seedlings are drowned into oblivion.

“Landscapes are not living rooms, and plants are not chairs—they’re really more like pets or kids whom we need to stay in communication with, in case they droop or fade,” says Cassy Aoyagi, a gardening pro and president of FormLA Landscaping in Los Angeles.

So whether you’re wishing that your lawn or your windowboxes are more lush, heed these mistakes that even professional gardeners have made on their own properties. Consider yourself warned!

1. Too many flowers

Photo by Hilarie Holdsworth Design

Forget-me-nots are supposed to thrive in wet soil, which is an issue that Susan Brandt, the plant pro at Blooming Secrets in Bristow, VA, faces in her garden. Unfortunately, these pretty blue flowers adapted too well to her conditions and took over large swaths of Brandt’s yard.

“Their prolific self-seeding meant they were everywhere, but since they only bloom in spring, they’d die after flowering and leave holes behind that needed to be filled,” she adds.

Brandt spent the next fall and the following spring yanking these pesky plants from her garden, but to this day they still pop up—more than 10 years later.

Lesson learned: For self-seeding plants that spread, make sure you’ve got ample room for them to grow, and that they won’t crowd out other foliage.

2. Planting trees too close to the house

Photo by Deck and Patio Company “Outdoor Living Experts”

Brandt had good intentions when she took down a too-large hemlock near the front corner of her house and replaced it with a Bradford pear tree.

“The problem was that I planted the pear tree a little too close to the house, and a few years later, when it got very big, a hurricane caused its branches to push under the roofline and pull the front gutter right off the eaves,” she reports.

In the end, she had to chop it down.

Lesson learned: Trees should never be too close too your house, since falling branches can damage your roof, gutters, and more. Keep in mind that small trees get larger, too!

3. Planting imports instead of natives

Photo by Gardenart Group

Years ago, Aoyagi tried what she now knows is a no-no: planting flora from Chile, South Africa, and Australia in California.

Granted, “We planted climate-compatible, noninvasive plants, with the thinking that they caused no harm,” Aoyagi says. “But now we see that these non-native species fail to provide the habitat needed for native pollinators and wildlife.”

Lesson learned: Even if nonnative plants work for your area, keep in mind that they may not be best for the environment.

“If I had to do it all over again, I’d put in only California natives,” Aoyagi says.

4. Grapevines gone wrong

Photo by Landscape East & West

Jared Craig‘s downfall? It was the grapevines that he trained to grow on a makeshift trellis fashioned from recycled fencing.

“While rows of well-maintained vines on a trellis look beautiful in wine country, the five that I was sowing on crooked rusty material lacked the luster of Napa Valley,” explains the co-founder of Sow Exotic Nursery in Winter Haven, FL.

Lesson learned: If your plants need support to grow, make sure to choose something you’ll like to look at.

Since the sight of this fencing made him cringe, Craig carefully removed it and encouraged the vines to travel up some nearby mulberry trees.

“I was immediately thrilled with the natural look of two plants cohabiting in harmony, and loved that two different types of fruit could be harvested simultaneously,” he says.

5. Deer fencing that doesn’t work

Photo by Deer Fencers, LLC

Jackie Kim, a landscape architect based in Seattle, was tasked with protecting a client’s veggie and flower gardens, so she installed fencing. Alas, the product wasn’t deer-proof, as advertised, and the animals cleared it easily.

Lesson learned: Not all deer-proof fencing is as good as advertised!

As for how she managed to fix the problem, Kim says, “I had tall, wide shrubs planted next to the fencing, and the deer were finally deterred, because they couldn’t see a clear landing zone past the fence.”

6. Plant pots without drainage

Photo by Pamela Crawford & Associates

Kim has a bad habit of selecting garden pots without drainage holes.

“And I’m overconfident in my watering abilities and sometimes overdo it and kill my plants,” she admits.

Lesson learned: Drainage holes in plant pots keep water from sitting in the bottom … which can lead to overly damp soil and root rot.

Since making that mistake, Kim says, “I’ve tried to water very sparingly, and it usually works, though from time to time, my plants wither away due to underwatering, so I really just need to take responsibility and start buying pots with proper drainage.”

The post 6 Dumb Mistakes Even Pro Gardeners Make—in Their Own Yards appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

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derrickperegrine · 7 years ago

Photo

got a shotgun in my pocket.

a pansy drabble for @fortesques. happy birthday fran!

Night was a good time for London. Yellow street lamps burned blearily into the dark, illuminating the silent buildings in a greasy light that slid right off their rain-eaten exteriors; red buses ground loudly against the looping black streets, their wheels sounding so much rougher in the silence; and the faded black of sky felt soft and heavy, like something muffling and concealing, so thick and blurry that even the stars couldn’t shine through and spy upon the unsuspecting world.

Which suited Pansy perfectly. She was mindful not to step out of the sticky shadows looming by the street lamps’ stringy rays of light, and the noise of late night traffic masked the sound her shoes made upon the pavement. The air felt tacky against her skin, and Pansy hoped that it wouldn’t rain before she got to her target. Peregrine Derrick’s voice crackled over the legilimency link.

‘Quit worrying, Nightshade. You’re close.’

If she weren’t working with Derrick, Pansy would have strangled him in a heartbeat. But after the war, snakes must stick together and retreat back to their pits, never to rear their heads in Potter-worshipping society; they could only bare their fangs in the dark and spill their venom into the gutters. Some life.

Of course, many erased themselves, adopted new names, returned to the world shining and happy like the sun that rises from its grave in the horizon. Others fled, for being in this country -- where they lost and which they lost -- as disowned children was too painful of a memory, and a new chapter had to be written. Pansy despised these people, cowards who couldn’t live with their own words, couldn’t admit to the guilt of their own actions, couldn’t stay true to themselves. Lies masquerading as humans, cowards covering their jaundiced bellies with dazzling brocades and shadowy vestments alike.

Traitors who left their own to suffer, for fear of their own comfort.

Then there were those who were left to live through the pain. Those who accepted the burden of their actions, those who shouldered the curse of their reputation, those who accepted the truth of the world they were living in. Those who were like her friends, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Astoria. Life was hard for them, but they did not hide from it. They understood the rules -- you reap what you sow; and so they willingly ate their bitter fruits.

Then there were people like her. People like Peregrine Derrick, Millicent Bulstrode, Lucian Bole, Graham Montague, Adrian Pucey, and Cassius Warrington. There were the vengeful. To live a life of resignation, acceptance, or escape was not a life, they firmly agreed. A person must live their lives by their own terms; one must fight to claim what they had previously lost.

And they had lost a lot. Fame, family, friends, fortune, familiarity. What was once their birthright had been ripped from their hands by the war, and they knew exactly who was responsible. Pansy came up to the house she was assigned to target. Her hand hovered preparedly over her wand. They knew exactly who was responsible, and they were going to make them pay -- an eye for an eye.

‘Nightshade, do you have eyes on the target?’ Derrick’s voice palpitated through the connection.

Looking through the window, Pansy could see a figure rustling within the house. ‘Affirmative, Falcon.’

Pansy withdrew her wand, a sleek thing, a cold thing, and not the same thing she owned when she was in school. She was not the same thing. None of them were. Now Pansy was Nightshade, Peregrine -- Falcon, Cassius became Angel ... they were things stuck between human and shadow, existence and nonexistence. When she walked up the front doorsteps now, her shoes made no sound. Silently, she twirled the wand in her hand and traced the shape of an alohomora in her mouth. The lock clicked open. No, they were not human. They were ruination.

As she stepped through the door, Pansy considered almost amusedly how little effort this one had taken to break into; just a simple alohomora. The aurors could have gotten this one, if they were clever enough to find it. Derrick’s voice buzzed again. ‘Don’t let down your guard just yet, Nightshade.’

‘Do you have a location for me, Falcon?’ She scanned her surroundings and found them typical -- the room was only dimly lit by muggle lightbulbs, however the furniture was fanciful, familiar. The furniture was obviously dryad-work, with intricate nature motifs and the soft hum of forest magic that she could feel in her wand.

This was definitely a mark’s house. ‘He’s in the study,’ Derrick said.

‘Didn’t even bother to hide, huh?’

Derrick laughed, and it was a lightweight yet brassy sort of thing that Pansy never liked. ‘No, he never knew we were coming.’

How annoying, Pansy thought to herself, now he’ll get startled and put up a fight.

‘That’s half the fun,’ Derrick said, and Pansy was instantly reminded of why she didn’t like him. She found Pucey a more compatible handler -- he never uttered a single unnecessary letter, for one. But he was also on field duty tonight -- Footprint was following another target.

Pansy waved her wand in a casting motion, and a pale blue film fell onto the room before her, draping it in an almost eery glow. Some places glowed brighter than others -- warded and booby trapped. Pansy held out her wand as she moved forward.

The first impediment was the standard anti-intruder jinx, which Pansy removed with ease as instinctual as breathing. Its complicated layers of alarms, restraints, and jinxes used to frustrate her, but now it was the most predictable and commonplace of all spells. Pansy traced her way around it, disabling all of its protocols and functions, and it let her in as the house’s new mistress.

She effortlessly disabled a horn-tongue hex, an ear-shrivelling curse, and a jelly-legs curse. She couldn’t tell if her mark was being careless, overconfident, fearless, or if he’s simply given up. ‘It could also be a trap,’ Peregrine said, his voice suddenly serious. The brightness was gone from his demeanor and it made Pansy more alive for it. Finally, some gravity coming from Derrick.

With a flick of her wand, Pansy nullified the finger-removing jinx from the doorknob. She wrapped her hands around the spell-cooled metal, and turned.

Immediately Thorfinn Rowle cast an entrail-expelling curse towards her and Pansy nullified it with a confringo. She learned early on that casting a curse was more effective in blocking a spell than casting a protego. A trap, then. He raised his wand to cast again, but Pansy wasn’t here to fight tonight. She had other things to do. She was here to decimate.

‘Stop playing around,’ she said, and Rowle’s wand snapped cleanly in two. Incantations don’t matter, it’s intent that makes a spell, Millicent always said. Rowle looked at his broken wand in disbelief and, briefly, terror. He made a dash to burst out of the window to his left, but Pansy simply said, ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ and the ropes of an incarcerous bound themselves tightly against his thin frame.

The former Death Eater tripped and fell onto his face. Pansy walked over and turned him over with her shoe. He wore a fugitive’s face, thin and sallow, and his hair was long and heavy with neglect, pooling behind his head like an oil spill. Pansy felt disgust curl in her stomach like a slick snake. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ he asked, his voice weak and trembling like a candle flame in the dark.

‘I’m going to kill you,’ Pansy replied as she unhooked her knife from her belt.

They all had their different methods of going about it. Cassius, or Angel, was a merciful boy who simply used the Killing Curse. Millicent lived up to her name of Hellcat by stalking her marks and strangling or drowning them silently; she didn’t care to make a fuss. Graham, who was known as Cracker, hated to leave evidence so he usually blew up his marks. Like Millicent, Adrian, or Footprint, was a stalking sort of killer, who’d egg his marks into traps he’d set earlier -- he hated to dirty his hands. Peregrine, or Falcon, was a furious and messy sort of personality; he preferred to deal with his marks on a more personal level, with fists and boots and Quidditch bats. And Lumos -- Lucian -- was a sly person who enjoyed leaking out information about his mark into the public, bringing their whereabouts to light, until terrified of this omniscient force, his mark would reveal themselves to the aurors, to be arrested and taken to eternity in Azkaban, where he would be far, far away from the light and from Lucian.

Together they were known as the Last Meal. It wasn’t a glamourous name -- The Daily Prophet came up with it, the tawdry rag -- but they lived up to it. They were a group of anonymous assassins, hitmen, and bounty hunters who took out the remaining Death Eaters at large. They took care of it simply because as figures who were close to Death Eaters, they knew their habits, their information, their contacts; and as victims, they were by far the most forgotten and unavenged group.

For who remembered the sufferings of Slytherin children at the hands of Death Eaters? Who remembers the expectations imposed upon them, onerous in their ‘or else’s and repercussions? Who else remembers the mental and physical torture of having to live under such intense fear, to live in the very heart of darkness itself? And watch it engulf you, a hungry demon, and slowly melt your resolve in the acid of its stomach? Who else remembers the life left behind for them? The ‘future’ that both ‘revolutionary’ sides fought for? Peace and prosperity only for those who chose the side of Harry Potter, disdain and forgetting for those who chose otherwise.

No, no one wants to remember the silent little snakes who daren’t speak up against their parents for fear of an Unforgivable cast upon them, no one wants to remember the fucked up kids who didn’t know how to deal with this except to fake their loyalty to their families. No one wanted to avenge their suffering, and no one wanted to demand reparations for their wounds. And so they had to do it themselves.

They had to hunt down these wizards and witches, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Pain, humiliation, fear, anger, helplessness ... those hatchlings you stepped on have fangs too, they have venom too. And they remember you.

The Last Meal were more effective than the aurors -- they had insider information, and they didn’t care for the political and social repercussions of their actions. They burned with a thirst for retribution and justice that society wouldn’t give them, so fuck the Ministry of Magic. Utterly useless as always, no matter who was helming the bureaucratic machine. The Last Meal realised that, if you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself.

‘Please, spare me ... I’ll give you whatever you want ... I still have galleons, and you can have this house, too ...’ Rowle pleaded feebly beneath her. Pansy thought of the life she could have had. She and her friends living happily, all with the jobs they wanted, functioning members of society. She would see Draco and Theo smile again, and Daphne would shine radiantly beneath the sun instead of hiding in her house. Adrian and Terence would be playing Quidditch professionally like they deserve to, and Lucian would perhaps even join the aurors. Peregrine would be travelling the world instead of glaring holes at the walls all the time --

‘Stop wandering off and kill him already,’ Peregrine said through the connection, his voice dry and harsh with irritation. Pansy could imagine the expression on his face, as if he just had to witness something supremely stupid and beneath him.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ she said aloud, angry at Derrick’s dismissal. But he was right. There’s no point dwelling on what you can’t have. Dreams don’t come true for disgraced Slytherins.

‘Please ...’ came the voice from underneath her shoes.

Pansy looked back at Rowle, her black eyes empty and her hair curtained around her face like a grim reaper’s hood. She didn’t say a word as she dropped her knife on him, the knife falling directly above his heart.

It sank in with a disgustingly human sort of sound, soft and squelchy and somehow like a sigh, but Pansy was used to it at this point. She’d lost count of how many Death Eaters she’s killed. She didn’t care to count in the first place.

Rowle’s face went slack, and it was even softer and inhumanly shapeless in death, like a sheet of melting wax over a skeleton. This is what fear does to a person, Pansy thought to herself, I won’t let it control me again, like it did before. Blood pooled behind Rowle’s body, reaching out towards Pansy, as if looking for the culprit. She walked around his corpse and yanked her knife out. She wiped off the blood with a clean handkerchief, opened the study’s window, and whistled for a crow.

There was a rustling as the bird made its way over. Pansy handed the bloodied handkerchief to the bird, who took it and made off in the direction of the aurors. She then closed the window, and wiped her prints off of it.

She also wiped her prints off of the doorknobs on her way out. She closed the front door behind her with her wand. ‘Nicely done, Nightshade,’ Peregrine said.

‘I’ll be seeing you around, Falcon,’ she replied, and turned off their connection. She cast a tempus charm and saw that it was two in the morning. Although she should probably sleep if she were to wake up in time for tomorrow’s new assignment briefing, she was giddy with the high of the kill -- less the pure rush of power you have over a someone else, more the intense relief of having wiped out another name on your ledger -- and so she decided to grab something to drink as a celebration of sorts. Walking into the shadows, she apparated back to South London.

She popped into a 24 hours Tesco and purchased a bottle of gin. She fed Muggle money into the self-check out register, and left the store to return to her flat. It was a small one, but it was cozy and obviously lived in, not aloof and untouchable like the manor she grew up in.

As she opened the bottle and took a swig out of it -- what’s the point of using a glass if you were just going to drink alone -- her Muggle phone lit up. Did something turn up with the others? Was she being called as back up?

She picked it up and could barely believe the words being thrown into her face by the intense light of the gadget.

I know it’s you whose been taking them out. -- Harry P.

Fuck, fuck how did they find out? How did the aurors find out? Did Montague go overboard with the magic again and leave a magical signature? And how the fuck did they get her Muggle phone number --

Her phone flashed again.

I’m not angry.

She almost scoffed. Like she gave a fuck.

I want you to join us.

Pansy wanted to think that she couldn’t imagine that Harry Potter was offering her -- or perhaps, the entire gang of the Last Meal -- to join the Aurors. But this was a completely Potter thing to do.

Sod off, she typed back, and tossed the phone onto the table. She waved her wand and turned on the radio, and took another drink from the bottle.

There was a knock on the door that chilled Pansy to the bone.

I’m outside. Her phone read.

Pansy put down the bottle, and picked up her wand. She set up extra defenses around her flat and herself, and adopted a dueling stance. Just like Potter not to back down, she thought. But she wouldn’t be intimidated into joining his gang. She’s had enough of that sort of pressure.

Her phone flashed again.

At least let me join you.

#tw: murder #pansy parkinson #harry potter #peregrine derrick #hp fanfiction #hp edit #saladstuff #saladfic #saladedits #the last meal

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nxrcissamxlfoy · 8 years ago

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Ronsy + "If you have to ask how much, you definitely can't afford it."

[continuation of this] [for the @slytherdornet & @hprarepairnet be mine challenge]

“If you have to ask how much, you definitely can’t afford it.”

Ron raised an eye brow. “Are we talking about this jacket or you?”

“Both,” Pansy snapped, snatching the jacket from his hands and putting it back on the shelf. She grabbed him by the arm of his ratty old jumper and pulled him towards the back of the store. “What have I told you about coming here? I own this place, I have a brand image to uphold!”

“Are you saying I don’t fit your image?” He pouted and played with the hem of her shirt sleeve. She slapped his hand away.

“Not dressed like that you don’t. Now what do you want?”

He smiled and traced his finger over her collar bone and down her arm. “Oh, you know, just...”

She slapped his hand again. “I know you’re a horny bastard but honestly Weasley!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Pans, I meant Valentine’s Day!” he defended.

“Valentine’s Day?” she scoffed. She’d never really had a proper Valentine’s Day, and while she normally wouldn’t turn down a night of fine dining, drinking, and sex, the idea doing it all just because of some stupid holiday seemed much too pedestrian for her tastes.

“Yeah, it’s tomorrow.” Ron suddenly looked nervous, and his hand went to the back of his neck. “I know we’re not really that serious yet but I was thinking-” he paused and Pansy saw her opportunity.

“Ron, I’m really swamped right now. I just got a new shipment in this morning that needs to be sorted and-”

“Hey,” he said softly, his previous nerves over ridden with concern for her. “I was just going to say, let’s get some takeaway and hang out at my flat. Nothing fancy, nothing serious; no need to make a big deal out of it.”

Pansy bit her lip and looked up at him. “Nothing fancy?”

“Listen, we don’t even have to wear clothes.”

Pansy laughed and shoved his shoulder, he caught her arm and pulled her into a kiss. “Tomorrow night, then? My place?”

She smiled, nodded, and went in for another kiss, then pushed him back and walked away. “But I’m picking out the food!” she called over her shoulder.

#ronsy #ransy #ron x pansy #pansy x ron #ron weasley #pansy parkinson #slytherdornet #hprarepairnet #rare pairs #hp rare pairs #mywords #ff-sunset-oasis

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insomnia-without-limits · 7 years ago

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Fuuuuuck. Quentin had to tear his gaze away when Michael made his (stupidly) sexy voice sound even sexier. He licked his suddenly dry lips, swallowing thickly as him mind stared to supply him with some very dirty images. Dammit Quentin, get your head out of the gutter.

His hands fiddled with his necklace as he responded. “W-Well, not all of them are, erm...like that. The Sweet William, for example, represents a smile. It could mean ‘you make me smile,’ or ‘I want to see you smile,’ or is the sender simply giving a friendly smile at the receiver.”

After pointing out the Sweet William, he explained how the order of the flowers was important and conveyed a specific message. The flower on one side of the Sweet William—the ‘beginning’ of the message—was the a white Heather; wishing him good luck in his future. On the other side was an Agrimori, which signified his he was thankful that Michael helped him recover from his panic attack. Woven next to it was a pink Rose of appreciation and a scarlet Geranium of comfort, which specifically meant ‘I find you comforting.’ It kinda explained itself; he appreciated the comfort Michael gave him yesterday. He then felt happy, especially once he noticed Michael’s beautiful eyes through his mask, as shown by the large yellow Rose in-between two small stripped tulips. He felt an attachment to the larger man that slowly turned into something more, signified by the three Red Morning Glories that trailed off like ellipsis, almost hiding the bud of a yellow Acacia, which had just stared to blossom. The last few flowers—purple Pansies—were woven in almost haphazardly, meaning that Michael’s been in his thoughts ever since.

“So, put simply: I have a massive fucking crush on you. And in case you haven’t noticed by now I’m a huge romantic and thought I was being clever by making you the flower crown but didn’t really think about how I’d want to explain their meanings which leads us here,” he finished in rush.

Michael stalked closely behind Quentin, watching his every move to find the right moment to approach. When he was finally alone, the Shape stepped out from the shadows, arms behind his back holding the last gift for the puzzle he created. He was buzzing with excitement and anticipation to see the look on his face. "Happy Valentine's day." He pulled his arms around to show a small vine bush covered in rose buds. It had clearly been ripped up from the ground by brute force.

Quentin was only mildly startled when Michael suddenly appeared, having expected to see him at some point but unsure when. Once he saw the vine bush his face flushed, turning even darker when Michael said ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’ He hadn’t realized what day it was until now. Everything clicked into place. The gardening tools. The gloves and apron. The somewhat morbid poetry he kept reciting.

If Quentin wasn’t already hopelessly gay for the man in front of him, he certainly was now.

“Thank you very much Michael.” He smiled sweetly, carefully taking the bush from Michael. “This was very a very nice surprise. I…uh, actually have something for you too,” the insomniac confessed shyly. “But it’s at my own private camp. Would you mind if I brought you over there…?” he asked hopefully.

#((i wasnt sure what color they were tbh #goodeststabboi #Fuckhands McMike (Michael Myers/The Shape)#((im really proud at how the flower crown came out #((*sings* symbolism~

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thatcrazyfanfictionwriter · 6 years ago

Text

Secret of the Sewers: Hunter Games

In a small apartment in New York, a figure sat in front of his television, watching the news with a vicious scowl.

"And in other news, the turtle creatures remain at large, despite police efforts to bring them in. Because of this, Chief Vincent is offering a reward for anyone with information that could lead to their capture."

The figure smiled maliciously, rising from his seat and turning off the television.

"I wonder what yer offerin if ya manage to bag one." he remarked, walking over to a rifle he kept on a shelf.

He gave it a look over before brandishing it like a hunter, a large smile poking out from under his thick mustache.

...

Down in the sewer, everyone was looking over a map of the entire sewer system, several red x's dotting it. Donny had a red marker in his hand, already adding yet another x.

"This tunnel collapsed last month, so crews are still down there trying to clean it up." He reported. "That means this entire section is off limits."

"So that's out." Leo replied. "What about the north-west tunnels?"

"We already scoured that section for anything usable." Raph declared. "Nothing big enough."

"Well, there's that old drainage junction." Hisako offered, pointing at it on the map.

"Not structurally sound." Donny shot down. "Floor could give out beneath you."

"How about this section here?" Mikey suggested.

"Too close to the old lair." Leo argued. "Even with the Foot no longer a threat, I'd prefer not going there any longer than we have to."

"Especially since that's where I got arrested and cops will be checking the place out." Hisako added.

"So we need somewhere isolated, away from anywhere we've been sighted, and structurally sound." Donny listed off.

Mona Lisa let out a sigh.

"When I asked for suggestions on where to find a place of my own, I did not expect it to become such an ordeal." she declared.

"Hey, I promised we'd help you and we will." Raph reassured. "Unfortunately, the sewers weren't exactly meant to be lived in.

"And yet, here you all are." Lisa pointed out.

Before any comments could be made on that, Splinter walked in.

"What is going on here?" he questioned.

"We're searching for somewhere for Lisa to set up shop." Hisako answered. "Unfortunately, real estate in the sewers is lackluster at best."

"I see." Splinter observed. "Lisa, you know you are welcome to stay with us for as long as you need."

"I appreciate the offer, but I desire my own place." She explained. "That, and using your absent daughter's room is… disconcerting. I feel like a trespasser."

"Well, if I may offer my opinion, there is the abandoned reservoir station on the west side of the city." Splinter offered, pointing at it on the map. "It's far from anywhere we have been sighted and long forgotten by the city. You will be safe there."

The others looked at the location in contemplation.

"That… could work." Leo declared.

"All the tunnels leading there are in good condition, and there's are multiple routes to get there as well." Donny noted. "It's perfect!"

"Excellent!" Lisa proclaimed. "I will go and prepare my new home immediately."

"I'll come with you." Raph offered. "Leo's pretty insistent on the buddy system, and you don't know these tunnels like we do."

"Fair enough." Lisa conceded. "I would enjoy your company anyway."

Raph hopped up, grabbing his sai and sliding them into his belt. Donny tossed him his shell cell, then Raph hooked arms with Lisa, heading out of the lair.

"Be careful!" Leo warned. "And if you run into trouble, call us!"

"And don't stay out all night!" Mikey called out.

Raph shot him a glare as he left, Hisako letting out a groan as she rolled her eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mikey."

"We live in the sewer." Mikey replied. "Where else is it supposed to go?"

...

In another part of the sewers, the two lovebirds weren't the only ones lurking around. The figure from before stalked through the stagnant water, his grip adjusting on his gun. He stepped into the light of a storm drain opening, revealing himself to be none other than Marlin.

"With those freaks being on the run, the only place they'd be safe is down 'ere in the gutter." He declared. "And lucky fer me, I'm the only one that thought to look here."

He peered around the corner, making sure the coast was clear before continuing on.

"I'd hate fer anyone else to get them before I got my chance." he went on. "Those freaks humiliated me, made a fool outta me back in Northampton. I lost a prime chance at making it big by catching Bigfoot. Now, they'll be my ticket to the big time, all of them."

…

Meanwhile, Raph and Lisa continued to make their way through the tunnels and were making casual conversation along the way.

"I must admit, when you told me your family lived in the sewers, I was skeptical at first." Mona Lisa began. "This begs the question, why do you constantly fight to protect the humans above you?"

Raph took a minute to answer, surprised by the question.

"Well… because it's the right thing to do." Raph responded.

"But they have done nothing to merit such treatment." Lisa rationalized, hopping up onto the wall. "They hunt you, ridicule you, and force you down here. You have no reason to help them."

"It ain't really about what they've done for us." Raph told her, following alongside her. "We knew from day one we were different, and that the surface world would never accept us. However, we also knew that it was just human nature. Humans are a superstitious and terrified bunch of idiots, but that doesn't make them evil or out to kill us."

He then stepped on something hard that made a beep as he did. The noise stopped them both in their tracks, their eyes slowly drifting down to the ground. Under Raph's foot, hidden in the stagnant water, was what could only be described as a mine bomb.

"What the shell?" He let out.

"Raphael." Mona Lisa said quietly. "Whatever you do, do not. Take your foot. Off that mine."

"Noted." Raph replied.

She surveyed the tunnel, spotting several more mines dotting the water. She cursed, remaining perched on the wall.

"This entire tunnel has been booby-trapped." she informed him. "Someone is aware of your presence down here."

"That ain't good." Raph let out. "It's bad enough we got everyone huntin for us up there, we don't need em down in the sewers."

"Worse than that, I cannot get close enough to you to disarm that mine without setting off several myself." Lisa lamented.

She looked around, trying to come up with an idea. After a moment, she got one.

"Stay here." she insisted, crawling up onto the ceiling high above him.

Raph watched her go, more than a little worried about the mine under his foot. Before he could get too worried, something long and pink stretched down and wrapped around his arm. Suddenly, he was yanked upward, into the grip of Mona Lisa as the bomb went off below. This set off all the other bombs as the two clung to one another on the roof. The two waited until the last bomb went off, then looked out at the scorched tunnel. Raph let out a whistle at the sight.

"Nice save." He remarked.

Lisa unfurled her tongue from around Raph's arm, retracting it back into her mouth. She spat a few times as she did.

"I knew you were lying when you claimed you took a shower the day before." she accused.

She then dropped him, the ninja landing on his feet easily as she dropped down next to him.

"Ok, we gotta find the whack bag who's hunting us down here and shut him down." Raph declared, punching into his hand.

"Agreed." Lisa said with a nod. "If they are searching down here, then they may know where your family resides, and I fear mines may be the least of our worries."

"No kidding." Raph replied. "Let's check the tunnels surrounding the lair."

They shared a nod, then darted back the way they'd come. Unbeknownst to them, their actions had been caught on some secret cameras hidden in the tunnel.

...

In another part of the sewers, Marlin watched the two run off on a tablet. He swiped the screen, showing a different part of the tunnels as a grin grew on his face.

"Tis a shame they dodged the mines." he lamented. "Still, they'll lead me right to the whole family. I'll get those turtle freaks, and have a giant salamander to boot."

Marlin put the tablet away and readied his gun, moving through the tunnels.

…

Back with Raph and Lisa, they continued making their way through the tunnels. As they ran, Lisa's foot snagged on a thin string hidden in the water. She yelped as she felt it, drawing Raph's attention. He turned just in time to see thin metal turrets rising from the water. Raph thought fast and tackled Lisa out of the way before the turrets opened fire. They caused several high intensity lasers to fire, closing in on the pair.

"Run!" Raph screamed.

The two got up and ran away from the onslaught of laser blasts, the lasers closing in. Thinking fast, Raph drew a bunch of shuriken from his pocket, striking several of the laser turrets. Lisa also pulled out a laser sword and used it to deflect some of the lasers. This sent the blasts right back at the source, eliminating them all. Raph glanced over at her sword, blinking in surprise.

"Since when did you have that?" he asked.

"It was G'Throkka's." she explained. "I held onto it."

"Whoa." Raph remarked.

With the last of the turrets dealt with, the two took a moment to breath. As they did, Raph caught a glint of something hidden in the shadows. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stalked towards it, spotting a tiny camera hidden there.

"Looks like we got an audience." Raph noted.

Lisa perked up at that.

"It seems our hunter is craftier than we anticipated." she mused. "Perhaps they were hoping to follow us back to your home, or at least learn its general location before we met our demise."

"He's good, I'll give him that." Raph admitted. "But he's not gonna get us that easily."

He got up right in front of the camera and gave it a big grin.

"Hey!" he shouted. "The pansy hiding behind some cheap tricks and a camera! Why don't you come out here and fight us mano y monsters! That is… unless you're a big chicken!"

…

On the other end, Marlin growled in response to Raph's comments. He shut off the tablet again, stomping towards where Lisa and Raph were located, determined to take them down at any cost. He pulled out his phone, opening a speech app and speaking into it.

"Alright Turtle-boy." he declared. "You wanna showdown? I'll give ya a showdown."

...

Both Lisa and Raph jumped when they heard Marlin's voice echoing from down the tunnel.

"Hello freak." He called out. "Ya caught onto my scheme sooner than I thought you would."

"You'd be surprised how quick turtles can actually move." Raph remarked.

"Oh I know firsthand just how slippery you freaks can be." Marlin told him. "Though the salamander is a surprise. Perhaps I'll mount her head right next to yours!"

"Try it, and you're in for a world of pain, pal." Raph swore.

"Then come stop me, monster." Marlin challenged. "Unless all that bravado is just an act to impress the lassie."

A noise came from down the tunnel Marlin's voice had been heard.

"Oh, bring it on, pal!" Raph declared, running after the noise.

"Raphael, wait!" Lisa tried to warn.

Raph didn't hear her, intent on going after Marlin. He darted towards a fork in the tunnel, heading to the left. By the time Lisa reached the fork, he was already gone. She cursed under her breath.

"Rakkan frood!" She exclaimed, taking off to the right on a limb.

...

With Raph in the left tunnel, he eventually came across Jack Marlin. The Hunter was leaning against the wall, running a cloth over his gun while his hat covered his eyes.

"Well, well, ya finally caught me." he announced. "Too bad the lizard took a wrong turn."

"Probably for the best," Raph remarked. "You can barely handle me, both of us would have just been too much."

"We'll see about that, freak!" Marin challenged.

The cloth dropped from his hand and Marlin fired at Raph. Raph brought his sai up in just the nick of time, blocking a dart from hitting him.

"That all ya got?" Raph taunted.

Marlin just growled in response as he continued firing, Raph spinning his sai to block each dart. Marlin grew more and more impatient with each shot. Marlin continued the assault though, hoping to wear the turtle down and get a shot in on him.

"Ya know, I was hopin for the blue one." Marlin admitted. "Still, yer bettah than nothin'."

"Well, he ain't here." Raph told him. "You're gonna get your butt kicked by me, so deal with it."

Raph pressed forward, swiping at Marlin with his sai and forcing the man to dodge. Marlin noticed the hard edge to his voice, as well as the fire behind his attacks. A plan forming in his head, he got to work.

"At least that one put up a decent fight." Marlin jeered. "I've seen declawed kittens fight harder than you."

"You want a fight, pal?!" Raph cried out, throwing one of his sai at him.

Marlin dodged it before shooting again. The shot rebounded off his shell, but he was getting closer.

"Ya call tossin yer weapon at someone a fight?" Marlin challenged. "How ya managed te survive this long I'll never know. I woulda had you stuffed and mounted on my wall inna heartbeat, right next ta tha rest of ya freaky family."

"That's it!" Raph declared.

He charged forward at Marlin, looking to skewer him. Marlin leveled his gun with Raph and fired. This time, the dart hit him right in the neck. Raph suddenly dropped to the ground, his sai's slipping from his limp fingers as he collapsed into a pile.

"All too easy." Marlin remarked.

…

Lisa continued to follow the left tunnel, searching for any sign on Raphael. So far, she had come up empty and was beginning to realize she had gone down the wrong tunnel. Her suspicions were confirmed when she reached the end of the tunnel to find that is dropped off into a drainage junction, one with no alternative exits.

"Rakka-rakka!" She screamed, pounding on the side of the wall. "Curse this incomprehensible labyrinth!"

She immediately turned around and ran back the way she came. When she reached the fork, she grabbed the wall, making the turn as tight as possible before heading down the left path at top speed. As she ran, she stepped on something hard that made her yelp, stopping in her tracks. She went to kick the offending hazard, but stopped short when she realized what it was.

"No..." she let out.

It was one of Raph's Sais, stuck in the mud and half sunk due to her stepping on it. She bent down to pick it up, noticing the fishing line attached to it a second too late. The line pulled taunt and a net gun activated, catching Lisa and suspending her partially in the air.

"What the-?!" She let out.

She struggled in the net, trying to get her bearings. When all she did was entangle herself further, she stopped, taking a few breaths to calm herself. She then gripped Raph's sai and began using it to saw through the ropes. As she did, she could hear footsteps approaching, which only spurred her to work faster.

"Come on…" she muttered. "Come on…"

Finally, she cut a hole big enough to dump her back into the mud. The second she landed, she scrambled to her feet and dove for the shadows, mere moments before Marlin rounded the corner. He looked at the torn net, rubbing his forehead in surprise.

"Blimey." He let out. "The other one must've bolted. Then again, if this salamander is anything like 'er friends, she'll be comin' fer the red one soon."

With that, Marlin left, allowing Lisa to slip out of her hiding spot.

"You will see how like my 'friends' I am soon enough." Lisa swore before following after him.

…

After letting out a slight groan, Raph slowly came to. He became aware that he was moving, and that he was heavily tied up. His eyes opened and he found himself in a cage being dragged through the tunnels on a dolly.

"What the…" Raph let out.

The dolly stopped and the cage was suddenly dropped into an upright position. Before Raph had a chance to regain his senses, Marlin bent down so he could look into the cage.

"Well, well, yer awake." he mused. "Bout time. Was worried I juiced ya too much."

"Don't worry, I'm still gonna kick your ass when I get out of here." Raph reassured.

Marlin laughed.

"I don't see how that's possible, mate." Marlin informed him. "I doubt even you could weasel yer way outta them ropes, and even in ya did, dis cage is locked by an electronic remote. Ya ain't getting out unless I want ya to."

"You think you're the first nut job to lock me up?" Raph remarked. "Trust me, this is nothing compared to what I've been through."

"Yer right." Marlin agreed. "Cause unlike the saps from before, I actually caught ya, and I intend ta keep ya. At least until I hand ya over to the coppers for that sweet reward. Yer gonna make me a very rich and very famous man."

"Ya couldn't do that by hosting a reality show or something?" Raph jeered.

Marlin kicked the cage hard, jarring Raph slightly.

"Let's see how smart that mouth is when yer on an autopsy table." Marlin sneered, grabbing the dolly and continuing his trek. As they continued along, Raph struggled in his ropes, trying to get them to loosen. They held fast, which only made Raph struggle harder, kicking the bars of his cage.

"Let me out of here, you weasely son of a cockroach!"

"I think I liked ya better asleep." Marlin muttered. "Ain't too late to fix that before goin after yer little friend."

"Leave them out of this." Raph demanded.

"Fat chance ah that." Marlin promised. "Yer time in this city is done."

…

The two eventually exited the tunnels, reaching a large drain that led to the Hudson. There, Marlin had parked his van, the back doors open in anticipation for his captured quarry. He got Raph's cage loaded onto a special lift that pulled it into the back. At this point, panic was truly beginning to set in, and he feared that Lisa wouldn't find him. However, as Marlin slammed the back doors shut, he saw something discretely stuck in the storage pocket of the door. It was a kunai knife with a red tassel, one Raph had given Lisa earlier in the week as a gift. He smirked, realizing what the message was.

"Alright, freak." Marlin called out as he got behind the wheel of his car. "Say goodbye to yer freedom."

He then tried to turn on the car, but all he got was a click of the transmission. He tried it again, but the same results happened.

"Wha' in blazes is goin on?" He let out.

"Aww, what's the matter?" Raph teased. "Car trouble?"

"Can it, you!" Marlin called out, getting out to check the engine.

He opened the hood, reeling back when he found that his engine had been torn apart with a laser sword.

"What the devil?!" He exclaimed.

Suddenly, the hood came crashing down on his head, disorienting him. He stumbled back and saw Lisa standing there, seconds before she punched him in the face. He fell and Lisa quickly searched his pockets, finding the remote for the cage. She then threw the doors of the back open and used the remote on the cage. The door swung open as Lisa grabbed Raph by the ankles and dragged him out.

"Why is it that I am always saving your life?" She questioned.

"Hey, I ain't complaining." Raph remarked. "Just glad you found me."

Lisa grabbed her kunai from the door and was about to cut Raph free when Marlin suddenly came up behind her. He grabbed her from behind, trying to wrestle the knife out of her hand. The two tussled for a bit, trying to gain the advantage over the other. As the fight continued, the knife fell out of both of their hands, sliding towards Raph on the ground. He grinned, working his way towards the knife as Lisa continued her wrestling match with Marlin.

"You are strong… for a humanoid." Lisa admitted, struggling to keep him at bay. "I'll give you that."

"You should see me against a crocodile." Marlin remarked.

"I'd like that." Lisa told him. "I know one who would eat you in a heartbeat."

As this went on, Raph finally managed to get ahold of the knife and began sawing away at his bindings. Marlin meanwhile managed to punch Lisa in the face before throwing her to the ground.

"Sorry love." Marlin told her. "But it looks like the hunt is-"

Before he could finish, Raph sucker punched him across the face, the remains on the ropes dangling from his wrists.

"Nobody hurts my girlfriend." He swore before offering Lisa a hand.

Lisa took the hand and they both got up. Shaking his head in pain, Marlin drew a pistol from his belt, aiming it at the two. Raph noticed this and quickly tackled Lisa out of the way before a shot rang out. It collided with the side of the van as the two scrambled for safety.

"I wanted ta bring ya alive, but I guess that ain't gonna work!" Marlin shouted, letting out two more shots. "Guess tha coppers will have ta settle for ya cold, dead bodies!"

"Or you could just surrender!" Raph called back.

That got him nearly shot in the foot. He yelped and they kept moving, Marlin keeping them pinned behind the van.

"Well this is a fine mess we're in." Lisa muttered. "How do we get out of this?"

Raph thought for a moment, then saw they were on the side where the gas tank was. He grinned, then grabbed Lisa's plasma sword.

"I've got an idea." He told her before using the sword to cut through the tank and allow the gas to leak out. "Alright, now when I say run, we run."

Just then, Marlin came around and aimed his gun at the two of them.

"Run!" Raph cried out.

The two bolted just at the hunter fired his weapon, the sparks from the gun igniting the gas fumes. Everything suddenly exploded, forcing Lisa and Raph into the ground. The two slowly pulled themselves up and looked towards the smoking wreck of the van.

"That was your plan?" Lisa questioned.

"Well… for the most part." Raph replied.

"What's the other part?" Lisa asked.

"Getting the hell out of dodge before the cops come and pray Marlin's either dead or in a coma." he answered.

"Good plan." Lisa agreed as they got up and bolted back into the drainage tunnels.

…

A few minutes later, Marlin came to. He'd suffered serious burns and a massive concussion, but was still alive. He was being tended to by doctors who were all wearing surgical masks and glasses to obscure their faces, and men in black suits were all over the scene. One of the doctors noticed his movement and turned towards the men.

"Agent Bishop, he's awake!" they called out.

Marlin turned his head slightly as Bishop came up to him.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Marlin?" Bishop inquired.

"Like a croc chewed me up and spit me out." Marlin answered. "But I'll feel better once I nab those freaks."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen." Bishop told him. "It is clear that you are a danger to yourself and to the city."

"What?!" Marlin let out. "You can't be serious!"

"Very serious." Bishop told him. "As of right now, you are in EPF custody. Leave the turtles to us."

The doctors tending to Marlin then pushed him onto a gurney, strapping him to it. He fought as hard as he could, but it just wasn't enough. He was loaded into the back on an unmarked van before the doors slammed shut and he was carted off. Bishop then sighed, looking at the burnt-out wreck of Marlin's van.

"This situation is escalating far faster than I had anticipated." Bishop realized. "If we're to resolve this, we're going to have to act."

…

Meanwhile, the two fugitive mutants finally reached Lisa's new digs. The reservoir station, while dusty and in need of some TLC, was in surprisingly good condition.

"So, what do you think?" Raph asked.

"I imagine making this dwelling suitable for living will keep me busy, but I am certain it will be worth the effort." she answered.

"And you won't be doing it alone." Raph reassured, taking her hand.

"The sentiment is appreciated, but you must return to your family." she reminded him. "They will no doubt be worried about you, and someone must inform them of Marlin's death traps."

"Yeah…" Raph agreed hesitantly. "I just… I don't like the idea of leaving you alone again."

"Raphael, I promise I will be fine." she assured him. "You are needed elsewhere. Besides, it is not like I am a galaxy away this time. Once things settle down, we will see each other again."

"I know it's just… that might be a while." Raph lamented.

"And it will be worth every moment." Lisa reassured before kissing him.

They held each other and embraced, and for a brief moment, the worries of the world melted away, leaving just the two of them.

#SOTS #Secret of the Sewers #tmnt

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