#giving the bloody portrait a little goodnight kiss as we speak

[two-gays-in-a-trenchcoat]

anyone else’s airbnb have a tibetan buddist shrine and a portrait with blood dripping down in the same room or nah

[comfortwriting]

Best friends Brother - G.W

Part 1 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2

George Weasley x Fem Reader 

About: The Reader is falling for her best mates older brother, she confines in Ron who is already afraid of losing his best friend to the brothers he’s so pressured to be like.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mention of food and eating, but of angst, George punching a creep.

Walking away from Hagrid’s hut towards the castle, thoughts about the more quiet Weasley twin filled your hazy head - you were planning on shooting your shot, but first you needed some advice and the only person who could do that right now is your best friend Ron - currently chewing your ear off about Hermione and the house elves. 

“She doesn’t know when to stop does she? All the S.P.E.W nonsense, if she brings it up one more time-”

“Hey, do you think George likes anyone?” you asked as cool as possible, trying to contain your nervousness and excitement. 

Although you and George had only spoken few words to one another, he was all you could think about, all you ever thought about, day in day out. You would share sweet glances and looks across the common room in the evening, the beautiful amber glare coming from the flames projecting onto George’s face, making him look like an angel. 

As much as you liked him, you were terrified that he wouldn’t feel the same, that he only saw you as his little brothers best friend - you hated it. 

Ron slowed down from his brisk walk and he continued to stare at the ground “George? As in.. my brother?” 

“yeah” you smiled shyly, swallowing hard. 

Ron could feel his heart flutter, the idea of another person - his best friend - favouring one of his legendary twin brothers over him made him sick to his stomach, he couldn’t lose anyone else, he wouldn’t let it.

He pondered his thoughts, perhaps you were asking for someone else, someone Ron didn’t care about - the desperation in his stomach kept churning to find out. 

“I don’t know” he replied in a huff “we don’t really talk much, why you asking anyway?” 

You went quiet, suddenly finding interest in the scenery as the two of you edged closer to the castle. 

“uh, no reason” you lied, running your hand through your hair. 

For all of Ron’s flaws, he could tell when his best friend was lying - he never failed calling you out for it in the past, you learnt not to play any card games with him - especially when galleons were on the table. 

The two of you entered the loud castle, pushing past students in the hall, making your way to the Gryffindor common room.

“you like him, don’t you?” Ron muttered under his breath, making sure everyone else around you couldn’t hear.

You sighed and made eye contact with Ron, his facial expression even more sour than when he puked up slugs in first year. 

You walked up the stairs and held on to the rail, looking around for the Fat Lady “I suppose I do, I was thinking of asking him to-”

Ron could feel the sweat form in his palms and under his arms, images of you and George being together all the time instead of him flashed before him.

“I don’t know, Y/N, you’re two years younger than him, you haven’t spoken more than ten words to each other.” 

Your heart pained for a moment, your spirits crushing like the ingredients in one of Snape’s potions.

“I just don’t think he’ll like you that much, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he finished, the two of you finally reaching the portrait. 

“I guess so” you mumbled “you know him better than I do.”

Over the next few days you couldn’t stomach being around George, each time you looked into his gorgeous eyes and seeing him smile, caused your heart pain, a lump forming in your throat, and hot tears filling your eyes. 

At first George didn’t notice but when he would wave and smile - only to be ignored, he couldn’t help but overthink; wondering if he had done something wrong. 

It wasn’t just George who you ignored, you kept away from your best friend Ron too - Ron felt like shit but you were away from George and that gave him enough of a clear conscience to sleep at night. 

You couldn’t sleep, you missed your best friend even when he hurt your feelings, you also felt hopeless, the only person you ever showed an interest in wouldn’t even give you a chance.  

“What’s been up with Y/N lately? George asked his younger brother, buttering his toast, causing Ron to almost choke on his. 

“What you on about?” 

George rolled his eyes and swallowed his food, “unbelievable you are, she’s been avoiding you like the plague and she won’t even look at me.”  

“So, did you make up your mind yet?” 

You swore silently under your breath, recognising the voice who called out to you - an attractive and charming Hufflepuff student in George’s year with short black hair kept asking you over and over to go on a date with him in Hogsmeade, each time you said no had failed to satisfy his desire. 

“Uh” you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him to fuck off, but then again, what did you have to lose? “yeah, I’ll be there” you faked a smile. 

Ron watched in the distance and felt relieved, from his perspective, the possibility of you and George seemed incredibly slim to none. He walked over towards you as soon as the lad split, a smile creeping up on his face. 

“Y/N, alright?” he smiled, his hands in his pockets. 

You stared at him, yes you were hurt, but you missed him - he could do much worse to cause a much bigger fall out between the two of you. 

“I suppose” you sighed “walk with me to Transfiguration class?” 

Ron smiled “can do”

“and took your bloody shirt in!” you scolded him, bumping into him playfully. 

As much as you enjoyed visiting Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but want to go back home and climb back into your warm bed, hiding away from the world - but your habit of trying to see the best in people lead you here - waiting outside Honey Dukes for your date to arrive. 

“Look at you!” he called out, walking over and kissing your hand “ready for the best day of your life?” he grinned.

Best day of my life? with you? I should’ve stayed in bed.

“Sure” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face. 

The best day of your life wasn’t too bad, you had someone new to talk to, to try and get your mind off things - but your heart couldn’t help but yearn for George. You looked around the shops thinking of the products he liked, disliked, and what he bought for Ron at Christmas. 

Your date had more to blab about himself than get to know you, he held your hand and bought you a much needed Butterbeer - but he talked so much that he didn’t even get round to drinking his own. The more he had to say, the more he tried to impress you, the more you disliked him, making you fall for George even more. 

Finally breaking out from the busy and overwhelming pub and out into the cold, your date stood in front of you with a strange expression on his face. 

“So?” he shrugged

“so, what?” you stared at him, your patience wearing thin. 

The shared laughter between George and Ron came to a halt when George spotted you with his classmate, he knitted his brows together. 

“Why’s Y/N around that plonker?” he asked his younger brother. 

Ron looked at you then back to George “she’s on a date”

George shook his head “he’s an absolute creep” 

The two of them stared, the student took a hold of your hand and tried to pull you in for a kiss, you pulled away and glared at him, trying to not make a scene. 

“Fucking pervert!” George hissed, storming over towards the two of you “Hey!”

George clenched his jaw, his nostrils flared and his glaring gaze settled on on the lad, he bunched his right hand into a fist and swung, everything went in slow motion as George punched him in the face. 

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare and watch the fight unfold. 

“Stay away from her or my foot will rip you a new one!” George threatened him, he turned to you, his facial expression instantly turning soft.

“th-thank you” 

“you don’t need to thank me love, are you alright?” George searching your eyes with his, full of care and concern. 

Your heart fluttered, his voice, him speaking to you sounded like the most fascinating birds chirping, and his caring face caused fireworks in your stomach to erupt into the sky. 

You wanted to take your chance, ask him out and start over but before you could do any of that, let alone reply, Ron hurried over and interrupted; putting you back in your place and making you remember how his brother felt about you. 

“Proper shiner he’ll have in the morning” Ron laughed “sort your knuckles out George, if anyone sees they’ll send a letter home.” 

The fluttering in your heart died down, the chirping of the birds instantly turning into the most dreadful squawks, and the fireworks in your stomach burning out, starving the embers before they could relight.  

“Thanks again” you murmured quietly, flashing George one last smile before walking away, wanting to retreat to your bed and hide away. 

George had to admit, he felt quite hurt that you went back to ignoring him after he had your back the other week - he knew that you didn’t owe him anything, not even an explanation - but he couldn’t understand why even after making up with Ron, you still refused to look at him.

Sitting on the sofa in the common room in your pyjamas, you flicked through your Quidditch magazine and blinked over and over whilst you looked across the page, sleep trying to pull you in. 

“Georgie, I’ve already said-” 

“Shhh!”

Jolting awake, you looked behind you and stared at the twins, long roles of parchment in one hand and a map in the other, you yawned and rubbed your eyes, closing your magazine. 

“It’s okay boys, I’m going to bed anyway.” you yawned again, slowly getting off the sofa. 

Fred and George shared a look, the older twin nodding his head towards you “go on then, mate, I’ll be upstairs.”

Fred walked past you, he whispered a “goodnight!” and went off to his dorm, leaving you alone with the person you wanted more than anyone in the world. 

George pursed his lips, standing around awkwardly before approaching you “Y/N, can we talk?” he asked softly. 

You nodded slowly, the nerves piping up in your tummy. 

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, love” he said softly “have I done something wrong?” 

This was your moment, not to ask him out - but to tell him the truth. 

You pushed your stray hairs out of your face and sighed, the lad of your dreams standing beside you, looking down on you. 

“I have feelings for you George” you admitted, your mouth going dry “and that’s why I have to stay away from you, because I know you’re never going to feel the same.” 

George went quiet, the embers from the fire spreading and making it set alight, the amber tones coming from the flames resting on his face. He smiled for a moment and licked his lips, looking into your eyes.

“Tomorrow night” he whispered softly in your ear “where we first met”

Tag list: @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl  

[acreativeme]

Quidditch Captain

The more time I spend with him, the more I want to jump off the Astronomy Tower. Before being partnered up with Oliver Wood, I was unaware of how much he talked about Quidditch. I am a Hufflepuff, so I guess I can use that as my excuse.

“...if Alicia zigzags this way and tosses the quaffle to Ange..” He muttered to himself, quickly writing the play down in his leather playbook.

SIghing, I set my quill down. “Wood.”

He ignored me, continuing to work on his play.

“Wood.” I repeated, a little more annoyed than before.

Silence. The bloke ignored me, waving his free hand at me.

“Wood!” I whisper-yeled, making him look up at me.

Annoyance was etched on his pale face. Setting his quill down, he finally replied, “What? Can’t you see that I am busy, Rosewood.”

Scoffing, I glared at him. “Can’t you see we are supposed to be working on our potions essay.” I wave my hand over the piles of notes and books that set between us.

He shrugged, “It ain’t due ‘til next week, las. We have loads of time.”

Sighing, I started to pack up. “You said that last week, Wood. The essay is due tomorrow.”

Quickly putting his playbook away, Oliver grabbed a blank page of parchment. “Bloody hell, really?” He reaches across the table to grab my notes.

Leaning away from him, I nod. “Yes, really.” I slipped the notes into my bag, “now, I am going back to my common room to finish this essay. I am sure there is a Gryffindor 7th year that is willing to help you.”

He stood up from the table, as I pull the strap of my bag over my head. “But you are my partner.”

Stepping away from him and the table, I reply. “Partnerships go both ways, Wood. Think of it as a Quidditch game.”

I turned around and walked off, letting him stew. Guilt bubbled in my stomach as I pushed open the doors of the library, but I didn’t look back. Don’t let that wanker use you to get a better grade! I thought as I walked down the Hufflepuff corridor. I need chocolate. Stopping at the kitchens, I , tickled the pear and pulling the portrait open. Stepping inside, I noticed that the house elves were rushing around preparing dinner. A familiar house elf stopped in front of me.

“What can Dobby do for young mistress?” He asks, looking up at me with his big eyes,

I grin down at him. “Dobby, you don’t have to call me mistress. You are a free elf, so you have no master.” 

Somehow, his already big eyes widened. “Dobby is sorry, Miss. Dobby will punish himself.”

Panicking a little bit, I grabbed him. “Don’t do that, Dobby. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He struggled a little bit, before stopping, “what does miss want?”

I released him. “I’d like some chocolate chip cookies. I’ve had a stressful afternoon.”

He nodded quickly, popping off towards another area of the kitchen. Humming, I leaned against the least covered counter. It took Dobby only a moment to come back with a metal container full of cookies and a thermos filled with something unknown.

“Here you go, Miss. Dobby got miss some hot cocoa. Dobby hopes that these things pleases miss.” He states, placing the items on the counter.

I grabbed both containers, slipping the cookie container into my bag. “Thank you, Dobby. You are the sweetest.” I bent down and kissed his cheek.

I smiled widely as I waved goodbye to him and the other elves. I skipped the rest of the way down the corridor, humming a muggle song and saying hello to other students in the hallway. Quickly tapping our password on the barrels, I crawled through the tunnel to my common room. I dusted off my skirt as I moved towards my regular table near the fireplace. Grinning as I noticed my best friends/roommates, Violet and Joy, already set up. 

“Ello, ladies.Whatcha working on?” I ask, setting my things on the table. They didn’t look up from their ink filled parchments.

“Potions.” They muttered bitterly.

Sighing in relief, I pulled out my notes. “Thank Merlin. I need some help.” I set the metal container in the middle of the table, knowing that they need them just as much as me.

“Chocolate chip?” Joy asks, massaging her hand.

I nod, grinning because I know that they are her weakness. “Yup. Fresh too.”

Giving me a smile, she popped the lid and took a couple. “I thought you were working with your partner, Oliver? What happened with that?”

Kicking off my shoes and sitting criss cross in the chair, I scoffed. “That wanker spent the whole time working on Quidditch plays. Then he had the nerve to yell at me, when I asked if he was going to actually take part in writing the essay.”

Violet rolled her eyes, snatching a cookie from the tin. “Sounds like Ollie. Bloke practically has a hard on for the sport. He acted the same in transfiguration last year.”

Joy and I made eye contact as Violet’s eyes went back to her essay. ‘Ollie?’ Joy mouthed to me. I shrugged. ‘I think they grew up together.’ I replied. She nodded in agreement. I took a sip from the thermos, after opening obviously. “So, how’d you handle it, Vi?” I ask, pulling out my inkwell and quill.

“I talked with McGonagall. She had words with him about participating in group activities and whether he wanted to play Quidditch or not. He got better after that.” She replied, making it seem simple.

I froze. “You know, I’d have to talk with Snape about this.”

She nodded simply, “Snape likes you. He may not show it, but he does. Well, as much as he can because you aren’t a Slytherin.” Joy hummed in agreement as she shoved another cookie in her mouth. 

I sighed, focusing on the essay in front of me. We were silent for awhile, only speaking to ask questions and reply to those being asked. It took about an hour and a half for me to finish the essay, and read over it. Around the two hour mark, the girls got up and headed to dinner.

“Are you coming to dinner, Rosewood?” Joy asked, sending her things up to the dorm with a wave of her wand. 

I shook my head, trying to stop the yawn itching to get out. “Nah, I think that I am just gonna head to bed. I promised Madam Pomfrey that I’d help out in the Hospital Wing after classes.”

Joy and Violet rolled their eyes. “You are doing too much.”

I grinned, sticking my tongue out at them. “It is gonna help me become a Healer, so I don’t mind.” 

They didn’t reply, just waved goodbye and headed out of the common room. I giggled and packed up, making my way up to our dorm. Taking advantage of the empty dorm room, I turned on the Wizard radio and hopped into the shower. Humming along with the Weird Sister song that was playing, I went about completing my bathing routine-secretly happy that I didn’t have rounds tonight. With Sirius Black being on the loose, patrols have been twice as long and more intense. I’ve been known to let couples go without giving detentions or taking away house points, but that has changed. The rules have become more strict this year, especially for Gryffindors young Seeker-- Harry Potter. Rumour has it that Black is after Potter, you know because Black is a supporter of You-Know-Who. Personally, I think it is hogwash. My parents knew them back in the day, said they were thick as thieves. Mum said that Peter was the only one that didn’t really fit and seemed a bit distant during the war. If Black hadn’t killed Pettigrew, I would’ve put a bet on him betraying the Potter’s. 

Enough thinking about that! The Perfect voice in my head yelled, pulling back to reality. Turning off the water, I stepped out of the shower. How’d I get from a relaxing shower to thinking about Black? I thought as I wrapped my towel around my damp body. Think about something else, like what am I gonna say to Snape. 

Groaning, I slip into my PJs and climbed into my bed. For the first time since I came into the room, my cat, Rocko, moved to greet me. “Ello, Rocko. How was your day? Catch any mice?” He looked up at me with his honey eyes and meowed. “Is that a yes?” Meow. “No?” MEOW. I scratched his head, “What is your problem, Rocko?” He nudged my hand and jumped off the bed. He ran over to his food bowl, circling it as I approached it. “Oh, you are hungry.” I scooped some food into his bowl and placed a few treats on top, hoping to make it up to him. He dug in as soon as I stepped back.

“I am glad you are happy, Rocko.” I smiled, turning at the sound of knocking on the window. Stepping up to the ledge, I noticed that my parent’s owl, Oscar, with a parcel. Opening the window, I let Oscar fly to my stand. After feeding him a couple treats, he gave me the mail. Attached to the parcel was a letter, most likely written by my mother.

Breaking the seal, I began to read.

My Puffer, I mentally cringed at her awful nickname.

How are class going? I know you are stressing over getting good marks, but I want to stress that you need to relax a bit. Joy and Violet are worried about you, which worries me and your father.

Also, don’t the whole Black ordeal weigh you down. He is not going to hurt you. Remember that. Huh… What does she know? 

Anyways, I wanted to write and ask if you’d be alright staying at Hogwarts this Christmas. Your father and I were hoping to take a much needed holiday. I know you are 17 and considered an adult, but I don’t like the thought of leaving you home alone. Is that alright? Oh, don’t worry about your presents. Your father and I have been gathering them since you left for school. HEHE. Well, goodnight my dear! 

Kisses,

Mum and dad!

I rolled my eyes and smiled. My parents are so goofy. I set the note aside and picked up the parcel. Pulling the tie off, the lid sprung off and flew to the bin. Inside the parcel was a knitted hat and a copy of Healing through the Ages vol 3. I hugged it to my chest, squealing in excitement. I held it as I pulled out some parchment to write my parents back.

Mum & Dad,

THANK YOU SO MUCH.

I don’t know where you found it, because I searched Flourish and Blotts back in August. 

You spoil me rotten. 

Have fun on your holiday, I am alright staying here.

I promise to relax a bit over break, but Madam Promfrey is letting me intern with her.

So, not too much relaxing.

Love ya!

I folded the letter and tied it to Oscar’s leg. “Take it back to mum and dad.” He hooted, wanting another treat. I giggled, pulling another out of the bag. “You are a spoiled boy.” I rubbed his head before reopening the window. With a final hoot, Oscar took off. 

Sighing contently, I climbed into bed and wrapped myself up in my blanket. After finishing his food, Rocko came to snuggle with me. “Goodnight, Rocko.” 

~The next morning outside the potions classroom~

One of the plus’ of waking up before my dorm mates, is that I can have this talk with Snape without an audience. After fixing my tie, I knocked on the door-- not waiting to just walk in. 

“Enter.” Snape’s monotone voice called out. 

Cracking the door open, I poked my head inside. “Do you have a moment to speak, Professor?” 

He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk. “Only for you, Rosewood.” 

I smiled softly. “Thank you, Professor.” I stepped in, making sure to close the door behind me.

“Now, what can I do for you?” He asks, pulling down his quill.

 Clutching the strap of my bag, I stood in front of his desk. “I am having a problem with my partner, Oliver Wood.”

“What kind of problem?”

Looking down at my feet, I mumbled. “He isn’t doing his part.”

“Can you repeat that, Rosewood? A little clearer too.”

“He isn’t doing his part.” I repeated. “I am doing all of the research for the essay’s that you assign. I have to basically force him to simply pass me ingredients in class. I am getting sick of picking up his slack.” I snapped, breathing hard.

The smirk on Snape’s face surprised me. “Miss. Rosewood, what do you want me to do?”

I felt my face harden and hands to move to my hips. “I’d like for you to do your duty as a Professor and have a talk with Wood.” I snapped.

Snape’s eyebrows shot up. “Miss. Rosewood, that wasn’t very Hufflepuff like.”

Practically growling, I replied. “Oh, I am sorry Professor. I maybe a Hufflepuff, but that doesn’t mean I am a doormat.”

Surprisingly, Snape chuckled. “I know that, Miss. Rosewood. I am actually happy that you are standing up for yourself, it is refreshing.”

“What?” I stuttered.

He leaned back in his chair. “It is refreshing--disrespectful-- but oddly refreshing. I will have a word with Mr. Wood.”

Nodding, I smiled. “Thank you, Professor.”

He waved me off, “No need to thank me. If that is all, go have breakfast.”

“Alright.” I turned towards the door.

“Oh, one more thing, Miss. Rosewood.” He stopped me.

“Yes.” 

“Detention. This evening.” I gasped. “And 10 points to Hufflepuff.”

Grinning, I left the dungen. 

~2 weeks later~

It’s been two weeks since my talk with Snape. He had went a step above having a simple conversation with Oliver, he switch everyone partners. I am now partnered up with Percy, who works just as hard as me, plus we are patrol partners. Oliver burned holes into the back of my head for that whole class period. I rushed out of class, leaving a note for Percy to meet me in the library, to get away from him. And that is how the last two weeks have been going, me running away from Wood to avoid his questions. 

Well, that was until today.

I was sitting on my bed, working on homework and munching on sugar quills, when Rocko jumped into my lap. I jumped a little, nearly knocking over my inkwell. “What is wrong with you, Rocko?” 

His bigs eyes look up at me. “MEOW.” He put his paws on my chest.

Tossing my quill to the side, I started to pet him. “Do you need some attention?” I cooed, scratching his head.

He bumped his head into my chin. “MEEOOW.” 

Feeling something around his neck, I pull him away from me. “What is around your neck, baby?” It was a bow tie. “Where did that come from, Rocko? Is Joy dressing you up again?” Looking a little closer, I notice that it is red and gold. Why is it Gryffindor colors? 

He jumped off the bed, only to scratch at the door. “Do you want out?” I climbed out of bed, straightening out my jeans and Hufflepuff sweater. Slipping on my sneakers, I opened the door for him. 

He didn’t move.”MEOOW.” He jerked his head, signaling that he wanted me to follow him.

 “I am not following you.” MEEEOOOWWW. “Why are you being an arsehole?” He went ran down the stairs, towards the common room--- not giving me a choice.

Rocko moved through my housemates legs as he led me out of the common room. His black and white bum bounced down the corridor towards the greenhouses. “Why are you leading me out here, Rocko?” He nudged the door open, flicking his tail at me. 

I opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once inside, I noticed muggle Sunflowers growing in a black and yellow painted pot. Rocko jumped up on the table, pushing a note towards me. Picking it up, I noticed that it had my name on it. I looked up at Rocko, confused as all hell.

Opening the small piece of parchment, I noticed an all too familiar handwriting.

Rosewood,

I’ve been trying to work up the courage to confront you, but I am lacking the Gryffindor bravery that everyone talks about right now. I was disappointed to learn that we are no longer Potion partners. I had wanted to talk about what happened in the library, but Snape held me back.

I am sorry, lassie. I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly that day, I guess I was too worried about wooing you with winning at Quidditch.

And my addiction to Quidditch.

What I am trying to say is……..

The note stopped there and a familiar Scottish accent picked up where it left off, “that I really fancy you.” 

I turned around, blushing bright red. “Are you serious, Oliver?” 

He nodded, sticking his hands in his trousers. “Yea. I’ve fancied you for a long bit, just never had the courage to say anything. You are a bit frightening, you know?”

I gasp, “How am I frightening?”

“You are bloody brilliant at everything. You are one of the top students of our year, just below Weasley and Clearwater. I am sure that you would have been made Head Girl too.You are kind to everyone, even Slytherins. I am not a good student. All I am good at is Quidditch.” He stated honestly. 

I melted a little bit. “You are so much more than that, Oliver. Yes, you are bloody brilliant at Quidditch but that’s not all. You are one of the sweetest lads, almost Hufflepuff sweet, I’ve ever met. Two years ago, I watched you welcome Harry Potter onto your Quidditch team as the youngest seeker in a Century. Last year while during rounds, I walked around the corner and saw you hugging a Ravenclaw first year who was scared.”

He waved me off. “That was nothing.”

I stopped him, placing my hands on his arms. “That is not nothing, Oliver. It is the most important thing. Kindness is something that I find admirable.”

His pale face reddened. “Really?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out. “I’m sorry, that was-”

I stopped him, pressing my lips to his. “Be quiet, Wood.”

[lothirielswan]

“A Putz and a Shady Businessman” [12]

I rolled over, little bits of sand clinging to my damp clothes as I looked out at Stranglethorn’s beach. The coast reminded me of a treasure chest with slopes of pearls and gold coins.

Who knew being a reckless teenager would pay off years later? If only my mother knew that.

Gallywix squeezed water out of his top hat as he sat up on the beach. “I don't know who’s gonna pay for my drycleaning, but it ain’t me.”

Salt water burned my nostrils as I kneeled on the shore. Khadgar was closer to the water with his cobalt robes lined with foam.

And Velen…?

Gallywix screamed as a violet hand erupted from the sand, and out followed the rest of the Prophet. The elderly draenei coughed as he dusted off his beard and hummed like he had just finished a mundane task.

“Well then, maybe your mother shouldn't have yelled at you all those years for visiting the marsh,” Khadgar’s voice was even more hoarse than usual as I helped him up from the bed of wet sand. He had reclaimed his staff, and wiped off the wooden head carved into a perching raven.

“You want to tell her that?” I remarked with an arched eyebrow.

Khadgar’s arm stiffened beneath my touch. “Heavens no.”

My gaze drifted to the ocean and sky, blushing with reds, pinks, and amber as the sun kissed the day goodnight. My eyes widened as I remembered Tera’s words. My buccaneers found it and they’re selling it this evening in the lower ramparts of Booty Bay.

I looked back at Gallywix. “The painting!”

The Trade Prince moaned. “Curse the pirates! They ruined my life!”

Khadgar and I turned to each other, sensing the clock that ticked above our heads. “Tera said the deal would take place this evening.”

He nodded, his hands igniting with blinding arcane light. “Right. We’ll be there, hold on!”

The arcane glow expanded and feasted upon our surroundings. In a mere moment, the angelic sigh of the waves was replaced with the overworked groan of timber planks. We were stationed in front of the gaping tunnel that lead to Booty Bay.

The wooden structures creaked with the reminder of how long they had been there. The village faced the sea at a curve with open arms, exchanging ships with the waves from the busy harbor. The only extravagant thing was the laughter off in the distance, ringing with richness and purity. It was one of the most endearing–er, charming places I had seen.

I tensed as the sun bobbed on top of the horizon. Khadgar’s fingers gripped his staff and swiped a look at me. There was urgency in his tone, “You’re the fastest. Don’t wait for us.”

“And get that painting by any means necessary, or you’re fired–! Sorry, force of habit,” Gallywix dismissed his empty threat as I sprinted away from the tunnel. I scanned the awkwardly-set buildings and searched for a way down.

Despite the circumstances, I think I would like this place. It’s warm and lively: it's not Pandaria, but it's homey.

I sucked in a breath as I stumbled on one of the nailed floorboards. The long, deadly gap between the wood and the stone cove hugging the town loomed before my eyes. Two arms caught me before I fell down to the life-taking depths.

“Careful, this ain’t running terrain, sweetheart.” The dark-haired human pulled back. For a minute I was dazed by his eyes: they were a rich gemstone blue that reminded me of Anduin’s. I cursed myself for lingering on them–I was losing precious time.

“The lower ramparts,” I spat out the words as I felt the thin, uneven slabs of wood below me shudder. “Where?”

“This way, hug the ends, and ya see that ramp by the overturned boat–” I sped off before he could finish, shouting my thanks over my shoulder as I ran.

I faltered a few more times, tripping on nails and slippery seaweed. The human was right: trying to move swift here was suicide, and I sharply avoided goblin-appointed guards as they became trampling hazards.

I can't let Gallywix lose this painting. I’ve gotten to know him, and he might be a putz sometimes, but he's not some shady businessman…! Alright, he is a putz and a shady businessman that will sue me if I fail, but I like him. And the Horde has enough problems with the summit.

My breath caught as the floorboards transformed into uneven bamboo strips. I bit back a hiss as the rough ground scraped against the bottom of my boots.

I arrived at the last ramp with my bare, freckled shoulders slick with sweat. I scuttled to a stop as I looked down at the bottom floor.

We’re too late.

Two parties shook hands at the bottom. One group was clothed in the crimson bandanas of the Bloodsail. The buyer was a wealthy-looking undead in a business attire, flanked by two elven bodyguards.

“This will make a fair addition to my collection,” The undead businessman handed a portrait hidden by a drape to the blood elf on his left. “Give Tera my regards.”

The Bloodsail shared mutual nods. The wealthy undead glanced over at the ramp I was stationed on and frowned. “Is this...another one of your associates?”

The orcish woman in charge of the Bloodsail party looked at me, clutching a bag of newly-acquired gold. Like Tera, tusks sprouted from her jaded lips like the talons of a vicious hawk. Before she could speak, I finally found my voice, “No, I'm not with them. Is that...The Goblin Lisa?”

All of the Bloodsails’ hands were suddenly positioned at their waists, where pistols and cutlass’ were sheathed. I heard more footsteps, and my companions reached the top of the rampart. Khadgar took his place by my side and silently assessed the situation.

The undead smiled at me, and while the blood elf woman was still holding it, he raised the drape covering the portrait. The lively-looking picture of a goblin woman’s face stared back at me, with a faint but knowing smile. The undead handed the beige sheet to the male night elf on his right and gestured at his prize, “In the flesh, my dear.”

A flicker of emotions crossed Gallywix’s face, but they were chased away by a grotesque sneer. “Ey! Give that back–!”

“Finders, keepers,” The orcish pirate snapped.

Khadgar and I exchanged a look. We could fight them. If we did engage in a skirmish, the painting might be damaged...and the pirates would be killed.

Is there another option?

“I have a proposition for you,” I replied, shrugging of the shoulder straps to my pack. A breeze swept through the cove and I finally noticed my rebellious hair. The goblin products I used to tame it had been washed out by the tide, and it cascaded down in puffy, sunset-bathed waves.

As I dug into the contents of my belongings, the Bloodsail aimed their weapons at me. Khadgar’s eyes widened and raised his hands up in surrender. His curious gaze flit back to me as I held up the shiny object.

“This is the brooch of the infamous Prince Arthas Menethil,” I said, forcing my voice to sound confident as I flashed the pin that was larger than my hand.

The Bloodsail leader’s nostrils flared as she recognized the crest. “That is ours!”

My head tilted to the side slightly at her. “Finders keepers.”

I strode down the ramp to the undead businessman. “Sure, it’s a well-made painting. But I think the past makes my trinket a little more...valuable.”

I shrugged, the brooch still clasped in one hand. “Perhaps we could make a trade?”

My heart pounded as he pondered the decision. He was undead; by Sylvanas or by Arthas, no one could say. It could be of importance to him, or it could be a scorned artifact of time.

I could give this to him and lose my chance to reunite Jaina with it, or I could spill more blood on an already tainted history.

“Or not,” I said, lowering the arm holding Arthas’ brooch and slowly spun around.

“Hold on.”

I stilled, flashing a smirk at Khadgar and then turning an innocent gaze back on the undead businessman. “Yes?”

His eyes, two pools of light, flickered on the gold trinket I held. “I want that brooch.”

“And I want that painting,” I said. “That's my price. Are you willing to pay it?”

His bodyguards moved with him as he took a few more steps towards me. “I will.”

The Bloodsail still watched with furious gazes, fingers on their triggers. Khadgar acted as my bodyguard and stood close as we exchanged the two relics.

The undead sighed as he traced the boon of Arthas with flesh-deprived fingers. “Such bloody history...”

I clasped the frame of the painting and turned to Gallywix, who already had his arms outstretched as if to embrace a long-lost relative.

The undead bowed his bald, gray head before he ascended the ramp, “Ladies.”

Part of me grieved to see him pass Velen as he left: Jaina had been attached to Arthas, the prince, before he became the king Azeroth remembered him to be. But that Arthas was gone.

“You dare to steal from the Bloodsail?” The orcish woman hissed. The cutlass she held shined with the last rays of sunlight.

“You dared to steal from me!” Gallywix snapped.

As the two bickered and pistols were pointed, I leaned back into Khadgar. I muttered, “I think now would be a nice time to…”

“Disappear?”

“Yeah.”

Khadgar smiled as his fingertips let off a soft glow, “As long as there are no spiders on my head, I’m happy.”

~Gallywix’s Pleasure Palace~

I watched as Gallywix set the painting back up on the tacky banana-stamped wallpaper of his home. His estate was much larger than Aggra had told me, and he invited the us there to celebrate our victory.

“And viola,” The Trade Prince stepped back, dusting off his fingertips as we stared at the painting. Lisa still had her mysterious aura about her, with her plump lips in a remote, secretive smile. Perhaps she smiled with the knowledge that this Lisa had of her son, and the true Lisa never bothered to learn. Was I right? I would never know.

“Gallywix–” I started.

“Call me Jastor, Red,” The goblin leader winked as he retrieved his martini glass from a nearby dresser.

“Jastor,” I corrected myself with a smile. “why keep the painting?”

Jastor swished around the liquid contents of his glass as he stared at the hazel eyes of the portrait. As he stared at that secretive smile that seemed to know all the enigmas of Azeroth, his answer trickled from his lips, “I’m a businessman, Red. I got a lotta jewels, boat loads of rubies. Those things, they don't go away unless you’re stupid or you wander into a casino at night. But people can disappear even faster. And you can't always earn them back. So I treasure all those people, past and present.”

I smiled, “That’s very sweet.”

“Good, tell Fairbreeze’s Fables I said that,” Jastor raised his glass in a mock toast.

We fell silent. Still we stared at the mystic face of Lisa.

“Ya know, Red, out of all the people at the summit, I think I trust you the most right now.” Jastor’s tone had gone surprisingly hushed. “And that’s why I’m gonna tell you this.”

I turned away from The Goblin Lisa. Jastor’s features were bathed with an extra green layer of eerie light from the string of bulbs across the walls. The sickly glow faintly reminded me of the Undercity canals filled with mysterious, deadly toxins.

“Sylvanas, she’s a smart lady. Pragmatic, a lotta vengeance, lotta ambition.” Jastor slightly shook his head at just the thought. “But nothing good comes from tryin’ to bury your past. You didn’t hear this from me, but...I don't think it's gonna turn out the way she wants unless some new...epiphany, comes along.”

“What are you saying?” I leaned closer, searching another face that knew a secret.

Jastor suddenly cackled, drops of liquor staining the zebra-carpeted floor as his body jiggled with laughter. “Look at your face! I got you good, Red, I got you good! Oh, this alcohol works fast, man–”

His lighter tone broke off and he shot me another serious look. “You don't tell...a single living soul about this.”

I was at a loss for words, so I settled for a slight shake of my head. Jastor never seemed like the mad type. He released a puff of air and muttered to himself, “She hates all living souls, anyway…no faith in humanity. Heh, business preys on that. But I don't want it dead...I don't want them dead.”

~*~

I left Gallywix to divulge his mysterious outburst to the painting as I stepped outside. The Pleasure Palace stood high above Azshara, with party lights twinkling like the first night I had pursued Gallywix. I passed palm trees probably imported from Stranglethorn Vale as wandered to the pool.

Khadgar had already made himself at home on one of the floats, bobbing atop the clear water as he playfully froze and boiled the pool’s surface.

When Khadgar saw me, he rolled off his float and into the water. He popped back up on the edge of the pool, water droplets cascading down his face. “Care to join us?”

I wanted to, but after Jastor’s words, I couldn't stop thinking about the Warchief Banshee Queen. Relaxing had been kissed goodbye tonight. I smiled politely and shook my head, “I think I'm going to call it a night, but I’ll see you at the summit.”

Khadgar vanished with a splash and went back to his float, humming as he gazed up at the stars. I passed Velen’s lawn chair next and waved. “I’m afraid I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for your help, Velen.”

The elderly draenei perked up, rattling the row of finished glasses beside him. “It was a wonderful adventure, Scout Strider. Don't forget to give Lady Proudmoore this.”

I gaped at him as he opened a purple hand and offered me Arthas Menethil’s brooch. I wondered if it was a figment of my imagination, brought on by a long, tiring day. Velen pressed the cool gold into my palm, and I accepted it as reality.

“All the Stars in the Night Sky...this is amazing, Velen! Did you steal this?” I glanced up from the treasure as Velen shot me his own doe-eyed look.

“Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can break the rules too, Scout Strider.” Velen winked. “Get that to the Lady of Kul’Tiras as soon as you can.”

“I will, my gracious thanks,” I added a little bow as I juggled my hearthstone in my other fist. But before I whispered an incantation to get home, I glanced up at Velen.

“Yes?” He looked at me curiously.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Tera seemed nice.”

“She was indeed.” Velen agreed. “But there is a chance that she survived, and is looking up at the same stars we are now. I suggest you think of that ending, Eona.”

The stone bloomed with light like a star in my grasp as it started to grow hot. Then the rest of the stars in the sky faded into nothingness.