#his time with the death eaters means he has full confidence he can take down Rakepick

[novafire-is-thinking]

Speculative Analysis: Why TFP Soundwave is so Terrifying to His Fellow Cybertronians

Time for an essay on why I think TFP Soundwave might have chosen his current cryptid form—electrical tentacles and all. There’s a TL;DR at the end, so feel free to scroll down first and then decide if you want to read the full thing.

This will involve cross-continuity speculation, centered around TFP / Aligned but with some IDW / MTMTE lore thrown in. This could also loosely apply to Bayverse Soundwave, but I won’t be focusing on him. I’m confident you all can infer the potential implications for that version of his character by the time you reach the end.

Okay, so I’ve seen several fellow TFP fans speculate about why Soundwave went from beefy gladiator to bonafide cryptid. Some say it could have been due to the loss of his horde of “minicons” (the term used in ‘Exodus’ by Alex Irvine). Others think it was just Soundwave’s way of adapting to the direction of the war by taking on a form that would give him the best strategic advantage in his position as Megatron’s communications officer. I agree with the latter, but I think there could be more to it than that.

As we see in the flashback for Ratchet’s story and the TFP Titan comics, Soundwave had his current frame type, armor, and alt mode back on Cybertron:

[Sarcastic Soundwave: Superior]

In the real world, Soundwave’s design is based on the MQ-9 Reaper military drone—an earth-based aircraft, but I’m not going to address that small discrepancy since it’s not relevant to this analysis. Skinny, cryptid drone Soundwave existing prior to his arrival on earth supports my theory anyway.

“Can’t we throw a tarp over him? He’s creepin’ me out.”

-Bulkhead in Minus One

On the surface, Bulkhead’s comment and Smokescreen’s subsequent response seem like an interaction between a couple of Autobots who are unnerved because they’re familiar with Soundwave’s reputation—Bulkhead more so than Smokescreen since the latter had probably not seen Soundwave up close in action before coming to earth. However, I think some of Bulkhead’s fear might have been due to an entirely different reason: Sparkeaters.

While reading MTMTE #3, my eyes were met with this lovely sight /s :

[Hey, wasn’t the energon eater in Rescue Bots called “Sparky” too? I guess it’s a cross-continuity tradition to call life-sucking parasites “Sparky” at least once.]

Terrifying? Yes. But I stared in horrified awe at this abomination and thought, “Wait. One. Fragging. Minute. I’m having a galaxy brain moment.”

Mind. Blown. Their overall sharp, jagged appearance, their thin, but formidable frames, their prehensile cables extending from somewhere inside (fuel lines for the sparkeater; multipurpose tentacles for Soundwave). I was—and still am—fascinated by the uncanny resemblance.

[Now who’s Sparky?]

It’s true that sparkeaters aren’t confirmed to be canon in the Aligned continuity, but their existence isn’t denied either. We got something similar with the zombie Terrorcons, but those were a new phenomenon produced either by Megatron’s blind ambition and stupidity or Knockout and Starscream’s lack of forethought and scientific restraint. For the sake of where I’m taking this, let’s assume that sparkeaters, as defined by IDW, do exist in the Aligned universe. What would this mean for Soundwave’s disturbing choice of frame/body type? Why choose a visual motif so strongly associated with death and disease?

One word: Mimicry

Mythologically, historically, and medically, sparkeaters are inseparable from death and disease. Their very existence instills fear in most Cybertronians. What better way for Soundwave to strike terror into the sparks of his enemies (and potential enemies) than to take on a physical form that resembles the sparkeater—something that has been known to kill normal Cybertronians using a deeply disturbing, painful, and even sacrilegious method? Even though the initial shock of seeing a “sparkeater” show up during or around a fight would have dissipated once the Autobots realized it was mostly cosmetic, an impression would have been left. Coupled with his spy capabilities and gladiator-style prowess in combat, a message would have been sent: Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

And there you have it, folks! Another reason to love Soundwave’s design.

Bonus:

I could see Soundwave being called a few things by allies and enemies alike: “The Decepticon Sparkeater,” “Soundwave the Sparkeater,” or just “The Sparkeater.”

An interaction between two Autobot scouts:

Scout 1, over comms: “You there, kid? Who is it? Who did Megatron send this time?”

Scout 2: “It’s The Sparkeater! He’s here!”

1: “You mean Soundwave!? Do you have a visual?”

2: “How many ‘Cons do we see walkin’ around looking like sparkeaters??? Of course it’s Soundwave! And yeah, I’ve got a visual.”

1: “Aw, hell. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

TL;DR: Soundwave may have put more thought into his appearance than is obvious. He may have opted to look like a sparkeater as a way of sending a highly effective warning.

[quindolyn]

heyyyyy, can you do harry imagine where when they fight with the death eaters fem reader rescues sirius from bellatrix because she know he is the only relative harry has and gets hurt, so in the hospital harry visits her and thanks her and she tells him that she loves her? like lots of fluff😻

To Be Lovable || Harry Potter

Word Count: 4069

A/N: Hey love, I hope you enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write.

Warnings: mentions of a broken bone, let’s just pretend that Sirius’ name has already been cleared, obviously not canon, I believe that that is it.

Masterlist

Life had fucked Harry Potter over, that was for sure. It basically said “fuck you” and gave him the responsibility of saving muggle and wizardkind alike. Robbed him of a family, of a childhood, of any semblance of the confidence he so desperately needed. 

But life always outs. Life will always find a way to straighten itself out, even the scales. Life had given Harry Sirius Black, so it was doing a pretty good job so far. Just as life had fucked Harry Potter, it’d fucked Sirius Black too.

When life gave them each other it slowly started mending its wrong doings with Sirius’ false imprisonment, Harry’s lack of a father figure, their shared lack of affection of any sort. In Harry Sirius had found a friend, a son and in Sirius, Harry had found a father, someone to care.

You had spent the last five years watching Harry suffer trial after trial all while you suffered a trial of your own, the trial of loving him from afar. As much as you adored Harry, and you really did, how could you not? From the blush that painted his cheeks at the slightest compliment, to the way his glasses sat crooked on his nose, to the messy black mop of hair that sat upon his head the boy was completely and utterly loveable. But it was because of the love you harbored for the boy that you refused to confess your feelings to him, he had more than enough on his plate. The Boy Who Lived most definitely had better things to do with his time than deal with the feelings of a hormonal teenager. Perhaps that was life’s way of fucking with you, making you love a boy who didn’t have it within him to love you back.

Life didn’t get to fuck with Harry Potter anymore, he’d done more than his fair share of suffering, of grieving, he’d more than served a punishment he’d never earned. That’s all you could think about as you saw Bellatrix point her wand at Sirius’ form, laughing maniacally as a jet of green light shot from the tip of her wand, aimed directly at Sirius. 

Head thrown back in laughter, eyes closed, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge the curse leaving you with no other option but to full on tackle him. You threw your body at him, aiming to take him down at the knees but failing rather miserably instead wrapping your arms around his chest and instead of knocking him to the ground, making him stumble backward.

Regardless, on the floor, or a few inches to the right, you still managed to knock him out of the curse’s path. Sirius hadn’t realized who was on top of him or that their intentions were good rather than evil, in the heat of the moment, with curses flying to and fro you were flung from his body as he knocked you onto the floor.

As you landed on your side, your arm trapped beneath you, you heard the distinct, sickening snap of what couldn't have been anything other than bone. The sound rang through the din in the room, impossible to miss but yet no one seemed to offer you so much as a glance, anyone except Sirius that was. 

“Shit” He swore, bending down to access the damage, gently turning you on to your back so that he could get a better look at your arm, “I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s fine Sirius,” You slurred, not daring to look at your arm, the pain you were feeling was enough, you were more than fine without visuals to match. Having never broken a bone before you were not ready for the immense pain that festered in your arm, sharp and stabbing it felt like every single nerve in your arm was being bludgeoned over and over again, mercy be damned.

“You’re slurring your words (Y/N),” Sirius scolded, not angry at you but rather at himself, “You’re not okay and it’s not fine. Now did you hit your head too?”

You thought for a moment, had you hit your head?

Yes, you remembered the thump of your skull against the hard stone of the room hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries, and the more you thought about it, the more clearly you could feel that the dull thrum of pain was still present where the initial impact had occurred.

 “Y-yeah,” You stuttered out, your vision blurring as the man kneeling above you started to fade, “I think so, it hurts.” Black spots began to dance through your vision, the cacophony of noise in the room became a low buzz as the sound of your blood rushing through your veins overwhelmed you. It became the only thing you could hear.

You heard the faint noise of Sirius letting out a slew of curses, not all of which seemed to be in English as his hands moved to your scalp, gently pressing down until a sharp pain coursed through you. 

“Fuck,” Someone, swore, him or you, you weren’t sure. It was very possible it had been either of you as Sirius pulled his hand away from your head and back into your visage. His middle three fingers were soaked in blood, your blood. Crimson and dripping from his digits the metallic scent flooded your nostrils making you work not to gag as you found the stench to be truly nauseating. 

He spoke again, or at least you thought he did as you could faintly make out the whisper of his voice and the moving of his lips.

Faintly you wondered if you heard the familiar voice of a certain bespectacled boy, frantic as he approached you, and the glimpse of dark, messy hair you caught almost convinced you of such. But as more and more blackness took over your vision it became harder and harder to tell until you were completely swallowed, and your eyes blinked closed into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“She’s not exactly asleep,” Someone was talking.

“Well she sure as hell isn’t awake,” There was someone in the room.

“If you’d let me finish Mr. Weasley-”

“Oh shut up,” This voice was new, deeper than either of the previous ones, its posh accent distinctly different than the other two, “No need to condescend the boy just tell us if (Y/N)’s going to be alright. Harry’s going to want to know when he finishes his business with Dumbledore.”

Harry? Was Harry alright? Stupid question, if precedent was anything to go on, he probably wasn’t.

At the mention of his name you felt a wave of energy surge through you, it was only with that energy you were able to blink your eyes open. They desperately wanted to close as the harsh white light of the room flooded your irises but you refused to let them, instead squinting so that the light entering your vision was limited. 

“As I was saying,” The first voice continued, “She’s in a medically induced coma, this isn’t a restful sleep this is because she can’t afford to be conscious right now and when she wakes up she’s going to be in a whole world of pain and having the six of you here isn’t going to help her.”

No one seemed to notice your new state of consciousness as they continued their conversation, voices tense with worry as they batted back and forth in a game of verbal racketball, a question met by an answer which was countered by another question.

You were too out of it to take offense to their neglect as you felt that surge of energy start to slip away from you, like sand through your fingertips. Grasping onto the last whispers of it before it drifted away from you entirely you cleared your throat, the sound minuscule but apparently just loud enough to catch the attention of a certain red headed girl.

“(Y/N),” This voice was unmistakable Ginny. You turned your head to face the source of her voice, met by the blurry outline of unmistakable Weasley red, they really should just patent it at this point, hair surrounding a pale face. “(Y/N) you’re awake!” She lunged towards you gripping your arm in her hand, albeit a little painfully, but all pain, and sound, and sight seemed fuzzy, like remembering a dream from the night prior.

At Ginny’s words, all heads in the room snapped to your form where you laid in the hospital bed, looking as though you’d seen better days. Which granted, you had. 

It took a second for them all to register the meaning behind what Ginny had announced, but as soon as they did they went into a flurry, a healer rushing to take your vitals, moving her wand up and down your body, muttering incantations under her breath. Molly was at your side, gazing at you with brown eyes swimming with worry as she ran a hand down the side of your face which was still lolled to the side. Two identical boys stood at the foot of your bed while two girls, the previously spoken of redhead and her curly haired friend stood back, giving the Healers space to move about. 

Sirius stood over Molly’s shoulder, his eyes drowning in guilt as he failed to return your gaze. 

“Where am I?” Godric you sounded awful, and it felt like there was gravel in your throat, irritating you even as you merely swallowed.

“St. Mungo’s darling,” Molly answered promptly, trying and failing to suppress a sniffle, “You were hurt at the Department of Mysteries.”

You remembered, oh you undoubtedly remembered. The ache in your arm and head was more than enough to remind you of what had occurred, it was reinforced by the dark haired man looming in the corner refusing to meet your eyes.

After a good deal of fussing both by the Healers and Molly people finally started to stream out of your room, first Ginny and Hermione, followed by the twins and finally the Healers and Molly. 

That left just you and Sirius, who still refused to meet your eyes, in the small room which smelt of dittany and blood. 

It was silent for a minute, then two, before you simply couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t going to say something you would, “S’not your fault Sirius,” Your voice was still rather hoarse but it had improved significantly after downing the three cups of water than had been placed in front of you. 

“You were just trying to save me, you did save me and now you’re hurt.” His head which had previously been hung raised to finally meet your eyes, the shame he carried in his eyes was palpable, remorse etched into his face. A face which reflected every year he’d lived on this planet and then some. 

“M’gonna be fine Sirius, you didn’t know it was me I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” You shook your head lightly to refocus your eyes but that just amplified the pain already pounding in your skull.

Reluctantly Sirius trudged towards you before pulling a chair up to your bed and eventually resting himself in it, not looking at your face but rather at the foot of the bed. “Why’d you do it (Y/N)? Why’d you go to all that trouble to save an old man like me?” There was none of his usual humor in his voice, only a sorrowful curiosity.

“You’re all he has left Sirius,” This drew his attention, craning his neck to look at you, his eyes, accompanied by his continued silence urged you on, “You can’t die on him because then he’ll have no one.”

For the first time since you’d tackled him in the Department on Mysteries however long ago, Sirius Black smiled. Unlike his usual smirks or grins, the one that graced his face was gentle, and perhaps a bit hopeful as well.

“Not so sure about that love,” He let out a laugh so light it was barely a laugh, more like a puff of air, “He’d still have you, wouldn’t he?”

You willed yourself not to give away your true feelings for Harry to his godfather of all people, but the nervous grin that adorned your face was a dead give away to his already good guess.

“He cares about you (Y/N),” Sirius was merciful, sparing you from verbalizing the feelings that the both of you now acknowledged existed, “We had to drag him away from you at the Department of Mysteries.”

“That was Harry?” You perked up, “I didn’t just imagine him?”

“Nope,” He replied, popping his p, “He almost punched Moony when tried to drag him away from you.”

Not knowing how to respond to that you simply didn’t.

“He had to meet with Dumbledore to discuss something, that’s why he wasn’t here when you woke up,” Sirius explained.

“Oh, its okay, I’m sure he has much better things to do than come visit-”

You were cut off mid sentence by the sound of feet thumping down the hallway outside your room. Both you and Sirius turned your heads to watch someone fly by the cracked door of the room, his voice booming as he called out for you, then Ron, then Hermione. 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to be a little quieter,” The stern but kind voice drifted into the room from the hallway.

“Where is she?” Yup, that has Harry. The sound of his voice was ingrained in your head and had been for countless years now. 

You and Sirius stayed silent, still watching the door, listening to the tense conversation taking place between Harry and the St. Mungo’s staff member before you heard Hermione’s voice cut in, trying to calm the two men down.

“Well it sounds like he’s going to be in here soon,” Sirius said, standing up from his chair, gazing down at you.

“It does,” You agreed.

“I will never be able to thank you enough (Y/N), not only for saving my life today but for being such a good friend to Harry, giving him the love that he deserves.” Tears brimmed at the raven haired man’s eyes as he laid his palm atop your hand.

“Of course Sirius,” Your voice cracked mid sentence as you too were gulping down tears.

Leaning down Sirius pressed a fatherly kiss to the crown of your head just as Harry burst through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” The older chuckled, pulling back to his full height as Harry bounded towards you, completely ignoring the presence of his godfather. 

“(Y/N)!” His long legs got him to you in no time at all, when he reached you his eyes snagged on your broken arm before meeting your own. 

Sirius sent you a silent wink as he slipped from the room, you hadn’t noticed him even make his way towards the door. He made sure to shut the door tightly behind him so that you and Harry would be granted some privacy.

“Hi Harry,” You let out a watery chuckle as you took in his appearance, he looked like he’d gotten caught in a wind tunnel with his hair all messy, and the fabric of his tight fitting t-shirt clinging to his chest. 

“Don’t laugh,” He frowned down at you as he settled himself next to you on the bed, “You might hurt your lung or something.”

You smiled at his clueless, over protective behavior, “S’not my lungs that are hurt H, just my arm and my head.”

“There’s nothing just about it,” He countered, “You’d be fine without your arm but you need your head (Y/N/N), can’t go walking around without it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t get the chance before he started talking again, pushing himself off up the flimsy mattress to pace next to your bed, “What the hell were you thinking jumping on Sirius like that?”

You rolled your eyes at his outburst, “Bellatrix had cast the Killing Curse at him, Harry, he was going to die if I didn’t do something!” Your voice raised against your will as you got defensive, you may have loved Harry but that didn’t stop you from getting aggravated with him when he was being an idiot. Take now for example.

“You could’ve died (Y/N)! Don’t you understand that? You could’ve died and I-”

“But I didn’t Harry! I didn’t die and I’m fine now.”

“The hell you are! You’re lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s with a broken arm and a concussion, if that's your definition of fine then I’d hate to see what not fine is!”

“I’m a big girl Potter, I can take care of myself,” You argued, pushing yourself up on the bed so that you were sitting upright, independent of your pillows. How was he being so daft? You’d saved the closest person he had to real family and now here he was, completely railing on you.

He was so caught up in his own head, continuing to pace up and down the length of the room that he didn’t seem to notice when you started swaying, no doubt because you had lifted yourself up too quickly and your head should’ve been resting on your pillow. 

“You may be a big girl (Y/N), but clearly you shouldn’t be left to your own devices because what would possess someone to do something so idiotic?”

You tried to swallow the anger you felt bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to explode in an eruption of words you weren’t quite ready to say out loud. But as he went on and on you found it harder and harder to swallow your feelings until they inevitably bubbled over.

“You idiot,” You cut him off, too fed up with him to listen to what he had to say, “I wasn’t going to let Sirius die because he’s the only family you have Harry! You love him and it would kill me to see him ripped from you, just like so many other good things have been ripped from you, because…”

You went silent, all of a sudden your voice seemed very loud in the sterile room and you realized it’s because he finally shut up. 

“Because why?” He asked turning so that he was facing you, “Because why?”

“Because I-” You felt a rush of heat flooded your face and quickly averted your gaze from the boy, focusing instead on the clock hung on the wall opposite your bed. 

You were quiet for a moment, hoping he would show you mercy and continue on with his ranting but he didn’t. Harry never did stand down from a fight, especially not one that he could win. 

Coming to terms with the fact that the only way this was ending was with a confession from you, you gulped. And with your saliva you swallowed your pride, turning back to face the boy who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

“Because I love you, okay?” You admitted to him, letting your vision glaze over so you wouldn’t have to see the eventual look of guilt wash over his features before he gently turned you down, apologizing, calling you beautiful, telling you how you deserved someone better. Even though there was no one better than him.

You thought he looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared at you, unblinking. 

Eventually, after what could’ve been a couple of seconds or could’ve been a couple of hours, he spoke, “Y-you love me?” He sounded incredulous like he didn’t really believe you.

And that’s when it hit you, he didn’t really believe you. 

As a wave of indescribable sorrow washed over you, at the notion that the beautiful boy in front of you really had no clue just how beautiful he was, you maneuvered yourself so that you could stand up, throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other.

Pushing yourself up into an upright position you were immediately swaying, ready to collapse onto the floor, and Harry must’ve observed that as he came back to his senses as he looped his arms under yours, pulling you into his toned chest, hard from countless hours of Quidditch practice.

“What do you think you’re doing (Y/N/N)?” His voice was softer now, meant for only you to hear.

“Was gonna show you how much I love you,” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt as you abandoned all of your inhibitions, you needed to tell him how you felt, “You clearly don’t believe me when I tell you and that’s ridiculous Haz because you’re lovely and wonderful and you light up my day every time I see you. I can’t imagine my life without you,” You paused your ramble, not noticing the brilliant shade of vermillion his face had turned.

“No, I can imagine it without you Harry and it’s horrible, it’s not a life worth living.”

“Don’t say that (Y/N),” He cut you off, a frown gracing his enviably red lips.

“Would you let me finish Potter?” You sniped playfully, “I love you, Harry, I’ve loved you since we were first years and it kills me that you don’t see how lovable you are. Because you are lovable Harry,” You pulled back a bit to rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, “You are completely lovable, and that’s why I put myself in harm’s way today, because if it meant saving someone you love, then it is worth it. It will always be worth it.”

You watched as tears spilled down his cheeks, but you could tell by the smile pulling at his wobbling lips that they were happy tears, “Y-you love me?” 

How your heart could break at three simple words baffled you but it did, “I love you, Harry, I have loved you and I will always love you.”

A smile overtaking his entire face split it in half, a toothy grin you’d like to see on him more often, “I-”

“You don’t have to say it back H, the fact you’re not turning me down right now is more than enough. You don’t have to say it back, we can take it slow,” You cut him off, not wanting to rush him.

“I want to though, I want to say it back.” He insisted, sounding like an eager puppy.

“Really?” You couldn’t suppress the optimistic lilt to your voice.

He nodded surely, still grinning down at you. “I love you (Y/N).”

You had to stop yourself from crying, or screaming, or jumping in the air, or some combination of all three, but that’s all you wanted to do. You wanted to scream and jump and cry but you preferred being in Harry’s arms much more. 

“May I kiss you?” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper you could barely hear.

“Yes please,” You giggled, standing up on your tippy toes as he leaned down to capture your lips in his.

You poured all the passion of the past five years into that kiss, all of the stolen glances at him, all of the nights spent sobbing, thinking that he could never love you back. All of the sacrifices, all of the hugs, and the smiles you shared. They were all poured into the kiss and they all meant so much more now because being part of something so beautiful could only make those memories better.

Harry wrapped his arms around your back, pressing your body to his while being careful to mind your hurt arm. You dug the fingers on the hand of your healthy arm in his thick hair, using it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him.

You pulled away first, taking big gulps of air in an attempt to refill your empty lungs. 

“You love me,” Harry stated simply, staring down at you adoringly.

“I love you,” You agreed with a small nod of your head.

“I can’t believe you actually love me.” He smiled again, this grin even goofier than the last, making his emerald eyes shine.

You smiled at the look of childlike happiness that adorned his face, “And I can’t believe it took me this long to tell you.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

[startanewdream]

The road home

Summary: Lily watches Harry and Ginny finding their way back to each other following the end of the war.

Note: For @madhulika18, who asked for more Hinny moments as seen by James and Lily. I could never decide if this is really part of Eyes Glistening (because Harry and Ginny have drama really, and I don't like them having drama), but it works either way, so I hope you enjoy these moments (also, I have a soft spot for Lily and Harry talking, so...)

_______

It’s all about the words that aren’t being said.

Once, a long time ago, Lily lived that with James. But it was different and, though, of course, it didn’t seem like that at the time, it was easier too. Her problems were unknowing her feelings, not understanding why she enjoyed his company and why she craved his smile, his light. She had fancied him for a long time before she understood what it was what she really felt for him — and until then it was only her heart beating faster when they would touch each other without meaning too (a brush of hands, sitting together closer than necessary), enjoying the perfume he’d left on his trace, finding excuses to be with him.

But after she had understood what she felt for him, somehow it had been easy. Awkward, sure, that first date when she was feeling stupid near him — until she remembered this was James, and being with him was good and blissful and then kissing him had felt as natural as breathing —, but there was never a question about how they felt about each other, never doubts that they would be together.

They had fought over many things, until they perfected the art of compromising, of understanding each other’s view, but there was never a breakup, never something that really kept them apart.

They are lucky on this, she knows.

Especially when she sees the look on Harry’s face, the way his eyes can’t help but follow Ginny as she walks around between the tables of the Great Hall, stopping to share words with her friends.

They haven’t talked yet. Lily knows this because Harry was gone with Ron and Hermione after the battle and then he slept for a full day. When he woke up, he called his parents and they talked then — the most difficult conversation Lily had ever had in her life and the one she knew she needed most. She and James. They needed to understand what had happened, why it had cost Harry’s life and what it had meant, but nothing had really prepared her to know her son had died.

Only the thought of it sends shivers through her body.

Harry is fine now, having come down to the Great Hall to lunch; there are fewer people at Hogwarts two days after the Battle, so they manage to find a place for them to sit quietly. It’s almost peaceful.

Except Harry is clearly not at peace.

‘Go talk to her,’ she whispers to him, and Harry turns to her with those eyes that are full of ghosts lately — he has seen and lived and died too much.

‘She doesn’t want me,’ he answers, breathing heavily as if the words are physically hurting him.

‘How do you know?’ James asks, exchanging a confused look with Lily.

‘Because she hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Lily thinks Harry didn’t go to her either, so maybe this is just a case of miscommunication. But she doesn’t say anything, because she believes things have to happen at the right time. And she has been watching Ginny too; every time Harry looks the other way, she glances in his direction, an expression on her face that Lily cannot understand exactly.

It seems to be ablaze.

_______

Later, Lily will define it as a dance where the dancers aren’t supposed to touch each other but still they synchronize their steps perfectly.

It’s unnerving, really, and she doesn’t know how they are really managing it, but if there is a quality she could attribute to both Harry and Ginny is stubbornness.

They can’t ignore each other, not really, not with how much they encounter each other — funerals and homages and dinners over the Burrow and rebuilding Hogwarts —, so instead they adopt a sort of relationship that’s just a shadow of how much they got along together.

Lily saw them before they even dated or had acknowledged their feelings for each other, and Harry and Ginny had shined together with chemistry as if they were two ingredients in a potion that demanded to be together. It was only friendship but there was sparkle and understanding and compassion and brightness. Lily remembers thinking that even if they didn’t develop romantic feelings for each other, they were truly soulmates.

And this is just one of the reasons why their current formal courtesy with each other bothers her so much. If they wanted to be only friends, there wasn’t much she could do. But they are not even friends lately, just two people who had gone through so much and hadn’t been able to share anything with each other despite wanting very much.

That’s the other thing that annoys her. They want more. Both of them.

She knows Harry, of course — he shares the same expressions and he wears his feelings on the same sleeve Lily does, so it’s easy —, and Lily likes to think she knows Ginny too, for the times they met, for all they’ve talked and for the fact that Ginny is usually blatant on her feelings when they are at the edge.

Usually. This time, it seems their stubbornness is getting the better of both of them.

They are alone most of the days of May. Hermione has gone to Australia to find her parents and Ron went with her, and Lily thinks this would be perfect for them to get together again – to have time to talk and to truly live their relationship without the threat of a storm above their heads.

But they don’t go to each other. They stay apart, even though Lily sees the cracks in their stubbornness when Harry breaks a glass after hearing Ginny talking about exchanging letters with an ex-boyfriend, and when Ginny suddenly leaves the room after Harry mentions Kingsley’s proposal to start the Aurors course.

James sees it too. He is always frowning when they are in the same room, and Lily knows no one rooted more for that relationship than James. So she is not surprised that he approaches her one morning when they are cleaning the mess the Death Eaters made in her office.

‘Do you remember when you forbade me from intervening in Harry’s love life?’ he asks in a nonchalant voice, cleaning a stain that looks a lot like blood on the carpet.

Lily nods with her head.

‘Maybe it’s time to change that rule?’ James asks then, now sounding hopeful.

Lily throws him the briefest of the looks, without turning away her attention from the cauldrons she is supposed to check if anything is worth saving.

‘Harry would hate it if we did anything.’

‘Harry would hate it if he knew we were doing anything.’

‘And James Potter can be discreet? How many detentions did you get just because you couldn’t help but flaunt your work?’

He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

��That Slug Club dinner on my birthday. I was so discreet no one ever found out what we were doing.’

Lily blushes. He was absurdly quiet that night, indeed, despite her attempts otherwise.

‘Fine, you’ve got a point. Go on, but I’m warning you, if Ginny realizes what you are trying to do, she will hex you and I won’t stop.’

‘As long as she hexes me on their wedding day, I won’t complain,’ James says unabashedly, and Lily has to grin.

She is not feeling much confident — James’ love plans took him three years to her agree to date him, after all, and even then she had fallen in love with him when he had given up on any plan at all —, but she can’t deny James is creative and it’s better trying anything than watching Harry sigh all over the place, heartbroken and unhappy.

During the year they were out, their house has been searched over and over; their furniture is broken and there are spots of red ink — or blood — in every room, with curses or slurs written on every wall. They could just easily destroy the house and build a new one, but it feels good to clean the place; it feels like a new beginning.

Maybe this is what James is hoping to give Harry and Ginny because he asks for her help in rebuilding their house. Ginny accepts surprisingly quickly, probably guessing that Harry will still be occupied with the work at Hogwarts.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Lily says after she and Ginny manage to clean the debris away from the stairs, so now the first floor is available for them to start cleaning up the rooms.

‘No problem, it’s good to be out of the house,’ Ginny notes, drying the sweat on her face. ‘Sometimes it feels… too claustrophobic there.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, indicating around the hall, where the number of things still to be organized makes the corridor seem a lot smaller than it is. Ginny gives a small chuckle.

‘It’s just — Mom is trying to compensate, I think. Ron is not here and I am the youngest and she needs to take care of something, after — after everything that happened. So, yeah, I need some time to myself.’

‘Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to do?’ Lily asks, concerned now. Ginny just shrugs.

‘Since I can’t fly, this seems like the best available option,’ she says. ‘And it feels good to be doing something — and there is so much to do here. The Death Eaters made a mess.’

‘That could be said for everywhere.’

‘And everyone,’ Ginny adds softly, and she returns to the cabinet she is trying to fix without saying anything further, but Lily doesn’t think she needs to. She saw Neville’s bruises, she saw Luna’s scars and she has a pretty good idea of how it was at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s regime.

But Ginny keeps her marks quietly, and Lily knows there is only one person she will be able to talk to.

The next day, James comes home earlier from Hogwarts with Harry. There is an awkward moment when Harry and Ginny meet in the kitchen and James mentions that now the main work over Hogwarts is done, Harry volunteered to help get his home back again.

‘Any problem?’ James asks genially, making both Harry and Ginny jump.

‘No,’ they say at the same time, and it doesn’t convince anyone.

Lily never noticed how big their house was until she realizes Harry and Ginny still manage to avoid each other except during mealtimes, so she decides they can get past subtlety. She and James start to ask them for help for the same rooms until they eventually are paired in the same tasks.

She doesn’t hear them talking, but it seems to work, albeit at the slowest pace ever.

‘You won’t believe who asked Sirius for an interview,’ James says one night after they settled for the day and they are having dinner before Ginny returns to her house. ‘Rita Skeeter.’

‘What scoop does she want now?’ Harry asks, rolling his eyes. ‘I am still awaiting her biography about me.’

‘What will be called?’, Ginny asks, and Harry turns to her with his eyes already shining with the joke.

‘Easy. Harry Potter, chosen or undesirable one?’

She laughs – it’s a short tentative laugh, but it’s there, and Harry smiles too. James exchanges a look with Lily, but she shakes her head warningly to him.

‘What Skeeter wanted with Sirius?’ she asks, putting the conversation back into place. It was just a shared joke. There is still a long road ahead.

‘Oh, gossip on you and me, actually, which unfortunately is something Sirius thinks it’s too funny to pass – and also he has a soft spot for Skeeter.’

Harry chokes on his drink.

‘Soft spot?’

‘Oh, please, don’t tell me –‘ Ginny raises her eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered look with Harry. ‘Sirius and Rita Skeeter?’

James chuckles.

‘No, he just likes her because of the animagus stuff. He says he can’t fault her for being one.’

‘Oh, much better,’ Ginny sighs. Then she bits her lip before looking back at Harry. ‘Can you imagine them together? Rita Skeeter as your godmother?’

‘I would have to quit Sirius from his job as godfather,’ Harry says, pretending to gag. ‘He would clearly be underqualified.’

There is another small giggle and that’s it for the night.

They are talking again at least, even if it is still not like it used to be. There are no whispered words during their time together during the day and they don’t seem to be secretly snogging. But they talk sometimes, and once or twice Lily hears a laugh when she passes the room they are in.

But it’s only two weeks later that something seems to happen.

Lily is in her room, finishing to set up the bed so she and James will finally be able to sleep there, when the voices catch her up on her window.

‘You are bleeding.’

‘It’s just a cut, Harry, no big deal.’

‘It was a splinter, there can still be something there.’

‘I told you, I took everything off. I will just press it, it will stop bleeding in a minute.’

‘I can help you, I – I know a lot of healing spells.’

There is a pause.

‘Me too, but I also know that the bleeding will stop. It’s not deep.’

‘How do you –‘

‘Same way you know, Harry.’ There is a note of tension in Ginny’s voice. ‘I had to learn.’

‘Ginny –‘

‘What? Do you think you were the only one who had a hard time?’

And she storms inside, giving him no time to answer.

Harry is subdued that night, even more reserved than natural, and when she passes his room late at night, she sees the light is on. For a second Lily wonders if she should call James, but then she sighs and knocks on his door.

‘Harry?’

In answer, the door opens quietly. Lily enters his room to see Harry fully clothed on his bed; he is holding something and, with a start, she realizes it’s the Marauder’s Map. That’s a weird thing for Harry to be consulting in the middle of the night.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and running her hand through his hair comfortingly. He shrugs. ‘Anything to do with that fight with Ginny?’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘Hearing behind doors, Mum?’

‘No need, you were talking under my window.’

‘Next fight I will make sure we are far,’ he says with a grimace.

‘There will be a next fight?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, and this prospect doesn’t seem to make him better. ‘If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?’

‘Wasn’t I always, Harry?’

He smiles for a second before his expression is grave and uncertain.

‘Do you think I am self-centred?’

Lily blinks.

‘No one would accuse you of being selfish, Harry, I mean –’

She doesn’t know where to begin, considering all the sacrifices she had seen Harry make over the years — he gave his life —, but Harry shakes his head.

‘Not selfish, I mean – the summer after my fourth year, when Voldemort was back, I said plenty of things –’

‘You were under a lot of stress, no one –’

‘I know, but I was complaining about how everything happened to me and now I am thinking that maybe, somehow, I never stopped to think that things happen to other people too.’

Lily squeezes his hand.

‘It is not a suffering competition, Harry.’

‘I don’t know if I see it that way. I mean, when I saw Neville for the first time, with all his bruises and looking so hurt, I still wished it could be me, staying at Hogwarts and fighting because it seemed easier and it never occurred to me that she could – they could – have had a difficult time too. It still seemed… just school.’

He pauses to pick up the Marauder’s Map, opening it even if there is no map showing there.

‘I used to take the Map last year to watch over her,’ he whispers, his face flushing. ‘And I saw her dot and I never thought that she could be in trouble. I knew they were rebelling, but… it didn’t feel like it was something real.’

‘Well, that’s why you should talk to each other. None of you will understand if you keep avoiding each other.’

‘She is mad at me.’

‘Of course she is. You are avoiding her.’

He doesn’t answer.

‘You need to talk, Harry. Go there. Try it.’

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I go visit my ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night?’

‘I’m pretty sure you will just talk if she doesn’t hex you first,’ Lily says brightly. Then she smiles softly. ‘You could wait until tomorrow, Harry, but I have the feeling you both have been waiting too long. And this isn’t any of your styles. You are both people of action.’

Harry grins now, standing up.

‘I will go then. Thanks for the tip, Mum.’

Lily accepts the soft kiss he gives her on the cheek.

‘Just be safe, Harry.’

_______

Harry seems to be in a better mood the next morning, despite the fact that he slept a few hours that night — Lily knows he returned by five, just as the sun was rising.

But she doesn’t say anything, just smiling to herself when Harry’s face lights up when the fireplace erupts into emerald flames and Ginny appears, dusting her clothes. They exchange a look that it’s still not there yet, but it’s soft and promising. James looks in her direction, surprised, and she promises to explain later.

It’s not Summer yet, but the days of May and then June get warmer and then Harry and Ginny are spending more time outside, though there isn’t much to fix there.

At least, not material things.

James keeps an eye on them — he wouldn’t resist not doing so —, telling her that most of the time they just seem to be taking long strolls and talking.

One day they return from their walk holding hands, and Lily has to lock James inside the room so he doesn’t say anything. Harry and Ginny are still not there.

The road home takes time.

On the second weekend of June they have the hottest day yet and they take some time off; James transfigures a pool in the backyard that neither Harry nor Ginny seems to enjoy other than to sit at the edge of the pool and take off their shoes to wet their feet. Instead of helping to ease any tension, the pool seems to create some weight over them, making them more silent than usual, so James suggests they go flying instead.

‘My Firebolt is gone,’ Harry remembers, wincing, and Lily knows it’s not the broomstick he is really missing right now. Harry lost a friend that day.

‘Mine was burnt by the Carrows last year,’ Ginny adds, her voice casual as if it’s nothing important.

They don’t end up doing anything after that.

In the afternoon, James gets a call from Sirius and Lily decides to just stay home, finishing the Wolfsbane Potions she will need to deliver to Remus by the end of the week. She is quietly lost in her favourite potion world when she hears the voices, and it’s just because they are whispering, rather than talking normally, that it draws her attention.

‘Are you sure?’ Ginny is asking, her voice unusually hesitant.

‘Only if you are,’ he whispers, sounding just as unstable.

Lily approaches the window and withdraws the curtains as little as she needs. Harry and Ginny are still by the pool, standing facing each other, and without looking away from Harry, she takes off her shirt, to reveal her bikini under it.

Harry gasps, but Lily knows that what is taking his breath away are the marks on Ginny’s torso — faint scars of cuts and small yellowed bruises that remained from the battle, over a month ago.

Ginny bits her lip, her arms trembling as if she wants to cover herself. Harry finally takes a step in her direction, looking her in the eyes now.

'Thank you for showing me,’ he whispers and then he sighs. 'My turn'.

His hands are shaking as he goes to unbutton his shirt, until Ginny raises her hands.

'May I?'

Harry nods slowly.

Ginny keeps her head high, not looking away from Harry's eyes, until she finishes opening all the buttons from his shirt and taking it off.

Then her eyes fall to his chest and Ginny freezes.

Lily knows what she is seeing, even though Lily can't see it from her angle: Harry's new lightning scar, across his chest, over his heart, where the Killing Curse hit him for the second time in his life.

'Harry,’ Ginny sighs, pain evident in her voice. She raises her hand, looking at him, questioning him silently. Harry nods once more.

Then Ginny takes a step closer to him, touching his chest, and Lily knows that she must be feeling his heart over it.

She lets the curtain fall and returns to her potion.

She is not surprised when they return home holding hands and she only tells James later (so he doesn't say anything during dinner because she knows her husband) that Ginny kissed Harry softly on the lips when she thought no one was seeing them.

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 49

a/n : "the incantation comes from latin 'protego', 'i protect', and 'diabolica', a declension of 'diabolicus', meaning 'diabolic, relating to the devil'. it is unclear if the translation is meant to suggest 'protection from the devil' or 'the devil protects.'..."

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_______________________________

“Jungkook, will you stop eating all the cookies please--”

“How come Jin gets to eat everything in sight, but I can’t--”

“Because Jin is an insatiable mountain troll with no human manners and six stomachs--”

“Aw, Yoongi, you’re so loving with your words!”

“Shut up, Jin.”

“Kim Seokjin, stop eating the fucking food!” Jimin watches with thinly veiled exasperation as chaos unfolds in Yoongi and Hoseok’s countryside cottage. They’d arrived a few days prior, spending the week together before dispersing for Christmas Day, just in time for the full moon. It had been a chaotic week at best -- verbal altercations were had over stupid things like gift-wrapping techniques, and several small fires had already occurred in the kitchen, mostly due to Taehyung’s ice cream maker.

But somehow, they’d made it to Christmas Eve. And, so far, this Christmas Eve had been spent watching Jin eat all the food as it’s being made and consequently be kicked out of the kitchen entirely by Hoseok. Jimin’s seated in the living room with a perfect view of the chaos happening at the dining table. Y/n’s next to him, reading quietly with her head on Jimin’s shoulder. She’s especially tired today, the full moon just over 24 hours away, so Jimin’s staying close to her.

Namjoon and Taehyung are seated in front of the fireplace, engaged in an intense game of wizard’s chess. Namjoon is beating Taehyung by a landslide, but Taehyung just will not give up, something that makes Jimin smile fondly.

There’s a bang from the kitchen, catching everyone’s attention. Hoseok turns slowly from where he stands at the oven, smiling sheepishly at them.

“I may have put the pie in for too long.” The room is a collection of groans and exasperated laughter, Jin’s complaints overpowering the rest.

“How the fuck do you make a pie explode?! It’s a pie!” Hoseok looks to Yoongi for help, but the boy only shrugs.

“The man’s right, babe -- pie’s not that hard.” Hoseok lets out an affronted scoff, moving to open the window over the sink to let some of the smoke from the oven out. Jimin feels Y/n snicker softly beside him, and when he looks down at her, she’s peering over the top of her book at the scene in the kitchen. She looks so peaceful and happy, even with eyes full of exhaustion. He adores her entirely, and he knows it’s obvious to everyone but her.

Her eyes flick up to meet his then, and, over the cries of outrage from the kitchen about not having dessert, he hears her whisper to him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin purses his lips, smothering the smile that’s rising to the surface. He only shakes his head, his expression judgmental.

“Not everything’s about you, Y/n, geez.” He laughs when she gives him a hard nudge with her elbow, and he moves to wrap his arms around her and trap her in his hold. She lets it happen, only grumbling noncommittally about being unable to read like this. He presses his lips to her temple stubbornly in response. “You have a lifetime to read -- let me hug you.”

“Alright, it looks like we’re having deconstructed pie for dessert, so everyone come eat!” Apparently, the argument about the oven disaster has ended, as Hoseok’s setting a pie on the table, a giant hole in the middle where it had imploded. Taehyung jumps up from his tragedy of a chess game and runs for the kitchen, socked feet sliding to a stop in front of the refrigerator. Plucking a big bowl of homemade ice cream -- its flavor to be determined -- from inside, he makes his way to the table and spoons a giant scoop into the pie’s battle wound. He gestures dramatically at it when he’s done.

“Problem solved!” Hoseok mimics him, gesturing just as dramatically at his disappointed boyfriend.

“The man’s right, babe -- problem solved!” The group laughs, everyone slowly making their way to the table to eat. Y/n sets her book on the couch, moving to stand, but Jimin stops her. From within his pocket he pulls a vial and shakes it, eyeing her knowingly when she groans.

“Ten seconds of pain, and then you can drown the taste out with some ambiguously flavored ice cream. If it makes tomorrow night more bearable for you, then ten seconds is nothing.” She smiles, taking the vial and uncorking it.

“Did you just admit to being someone who eats dessert before dinner?” She downs the potion in one go, eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t see Jimin gazing at her lovingly, only to lower his eyes when she’s done. She hands him the vial and takes his hand, pulling him to his feet and toward the table.

“You promised me only ten seconds of pain before ice cream, so move faster, Park Jimin.” They take their seats in the chairs nearest them, Jungkook setting his plate down on Y/n’s other side and moving to join them. Tae, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit across from them, Jin and Namjoon taking the end seats. Namjoon leaves his seat after a moment, moving to pass out silverware and swap the ladle in Jin’s hand for a normal spoon. Jin refuses to give up his spoon of choice, glaring at the boy standing over him.

“Dude, I will fight you on Christmas Eve -- I have no qualms about fucking up the holiday spirit or whatever--”

“Stop.” It comes from Jungkook, spoken with a quiet urgency that halts all activity in the room. He’s standing just behind the seat he’d been about to take, his hand resting on the back of the chair. He ignores their questioning glances, his eyes locked on nothing in particular as he focuses his hearing on the open window. When he finds what he’s looking for, he meets Yoongi’s eyes, alarmed.

“I thought you said you put a barrier around your house.” Yoongi and Hoseok glance at one another, shaking their heads simultaneously as Yoongi looks back to the Gryffindor.

“We never got around to it…” But Jungkook’s stopped listening. And, for all the years of jokes, remarks, and complaints Jung Hoseok had ever made about the boy’s heightened senses, he can say with complete confidence later that Jeon Jungkook is the only reason he’s still alive. Because the only person in the room that’s ready for the unforgivable curse that’s shot though the open window, aimed squarely at Hoseok’s chest, is the boy who’d heard the call for death fall from its caster’s lips.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s across the room, launching his body at Hoseok’s over the dinner table and twisting in mid-air to throw his hand out toward the window. He’d never in his life attempted nonverbal magic -- not necessarily the most advanced of students -- but it’s said that wizards can create even miracles if they’re desperate enough. And this is nothing like the World Cup, when Hoseok had protected him from a nasty stunning curse -- the beam of light headed Jungkook’s way right now, in this moment of literal life and death, has been shot to kill. So desperation is exactly what produces the shield charm that emits from his entire body, exploding outwards and shattering all the windows in the house as it goes. The force of it blows them all back, throwing them to the floor and against walls with cries of shock.

And, while a shield is normally null against a curse so powerful, it seems Jungkook’s done more than just perform nonverbal magic for the first time. He’s produced a physical barrier -- an invisible pane of pure energy separating his enemies from his family. It takes out half of the kitchen as it goes, destroying the far wall completely and opening the house out to the cold night around them.

In the confusion of chaos and rubble, Y/n lifts her head from the kitchen floor, catching a glimpse of the group of people outside the house, all equally disarmed from the display of sheer strength they’d just witnessed. She counts 6 bodies, all donned in dark robes, and she knows immediately that this is a Death Eater attack.

Groaning, she drags herself to her feet, grabbing anyone she can get her hands on and pulling them with her, staying low to the ground. Jimin’s the first to follow, holding onto Y/n for dear life, but he can’t help the way he hesitates when he looks past the overturned dining table, the wood splintered and cracked amidst all the wasted food.

Because there in front of him, right where the initial wave of power had surged out from and disoriented them all, is something that is very much not human. When it rises to its feet, it stands to full height, and Jimin knows that it’s easily as tall as he is. Black fur as far as the eye can see, the end of its ears and tail painted grey -- its body practically ripples with strength as it moves, and it’s from behind a set of sharpened teeth and a massive jaw, so powerful it could probably break Jimin clean in half, that a low growl starts to rumble.

It becomes a terrifying snarl in a matter of seconds, those piercing teeth shining in the moonlight with deadly intent. Jimin can feel that he’s still moving -- that all of this is happening in slow motion as he runs for safety and that no time at all has actually passed -- but he feels his whole world stop, drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, when the beast shifts. Preparing to attack, it turns its head at the last moment to meet his eyes, and Jimin sees then that he knows these eyes. He knows the way they look him over with guarded concern and the way they turn away from him as soon as they know he’s unharmed, silently telling him to find his own way out -- after all, Jeon Jungkook’s always made it clear he has better things to do than look after Park Jimin.

Jungkook presses all his weight into his back legs, crouching low for a moment so suspended in time that Jimin doesn’t even see him leave. But then he’s gone, wind rushing past Jimin’s face and blowing debris everywhere as the wolf takes off. After another hard tug from Y/n that pulls Jimin’s focus back to the matter at hand, he only hears when Jungkook finds his first target, the ripping of cloth and the hellish cry of pain ringing in Jimin’s ears like a nightmare.

Tripping over pieces of the ceiling and walls -- the back half of the house essentially crumbling in on itself -- Jimin finds the faces of each of his friends. They’re all there with the exception of Jungkook, who seems almost feral, if the shrieks of death behind them are anything to go by. The group stumbles from the side of the house through a door that’s comically useless at this point, and when they circle around to the back, it becomes clear that there are far more than 6 Death Eaters.

The group that had led the attack has all but been taken out now, Jungkook nowhere to be seen -- but he’s certainly left evidence of his presence there. Jimin can’t tell if these people are dead or still dying, but he doesn’t have time to sort through the discarded bodies to check. Behind the cottage is a field of tall wheat that's surrounded by forest-- a massive expanse of land -- and when they look into this field to the top of a hill not too far away, there’s another wave of Death Eaters lined up, these faces rather familiar to just two of his friends. Jimin hears swearing behind him, and then Hoseok’s pushing past him roughly, only stopped by Namjoon’s hand clamping down around his wrist.

“Don’t, Hoseok! We can’t do this -- there’s too many of them. We have to run--”

“They just tried to kill me, Namjoon! In my own home!” Hoseok whirls around and gets in his face, eyes wild. Jin tenses next to Y/n, one of his hands hovering over his pocket where his wand is. When she follows his eyes, she sees that the line of Death Eaters has started to approach.

They move slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. As if they have nothing to fear, organized and protected against this mismatched group of ambushed friends. She watches as they approach like predators waiting for the kill, and she knows that this is no simple Death Eater attack -- it’s a massacre.

And then, just as silently as he’d disappeared, Jungkook’s returned. Their attackers are given no warning, only registering that the wheat around them is rustling when one of them is violently pulled down into it. He’s gone in an instant, his screams echoing in the night as he’s dragged through the dirt toward the house.

The moment Jungkook emerges at the edge of the field, the Death Eater is flying through the air and crashing into the remains of the house, slung from Jungkook’s jaws like nothing more than a ragdoll. He lands not a few feet away from them, and Yoongi’s jaw clenches when he recognizes the bloodied face of a fellow Slytherin. Turning to lock his gaze onto the line of his old classmates, he pushes past the group and summons his wand from within the rubble of his home with nothing more than the flick of his wrist. It flies from deep within the ruins into its master’s hand with ease, and Yoongi spins it between his fingers casually once he has it.

“I really hope you guys all know how to cast shields as powerful as Jungkook’s -- otherwise, we’re fucked.” The wolf in question falls into line with Yoongi, his whole body shaking from the warning growl forming deep within his chest. The rest of the group follows, facing their enemies head-on.

From Jungkook’s other side, he feels a warm hand press into the top of his head, and he knows it instinctively. He can also feel the cold length of a wand, hidden easily in the darkness of his fur and beneath her flattened hand. Y/n keeps him there for only a moment -- knowing they only have a moment -- and presses her fingertips against his skull as if to hold him back. As if to stall him just long enough to tell him to be careful. And then the moment is gone and she’s wrapping her fingers neatly around her wand, releasing him with a whisper.

“Go.”

--

None of them can say how long they’ve been there -- every second that passes is another that they could lose their lives, so it feels like they’re there a lifetime. They’ve huddled into a small circle, surrounded completely. Jungkook is mobile, weaving in and out of their enemies at too fast a speed to ever be hit by a curse. He’s taking them out slowly, dragging them back into the darkness one by one while the rest work just to stay alive. Unlike at the World Cup, where every enemy shot fired was red, these beams of lights are all hauntingly green, glowing in the night sky -- a sign that things are different now, death standing only a few feet away in the form of old friends.

Every killing curse fired is met with an equally powerful shield, a wall that shatters the moment it meets its mark. They’re cancelling each other out, evenly matched in a battle that won’t end until someone gets tired -- until someone makes a mistake. The only sounds come from incantations, spoken by those of their group that cannot cast silently.

Hoseok and Yoongi fight much like their opponents, masks of guarded silence -- a reminder that while they’re on opposite sides of the war, they were once very much the same. The difference, of course, is that their old housemates are now murderers without remorse. But that’s not their only problem.

Y/n suddenly stumbles next to Jimin, and he can’t even tear his eyes away from the Death Eater before him to check on her. He can only reach for her with his free hand, gripping her wrist in panic, which she rips from his hold with a groan. She only barely manages to raise her wand in time to block the killing curse headed right for her head. The force of her shield colliding with the curse so close to her knocks her back, and she falls into the circle with gritted teeth.

Jimin steps in front of her, closing the gap in their circle and allowing her a moment to recover inside their circle. But she never returns to her spot, only curling in on herself and gripping at her head with a cry of pain -- she knows this feeling. The feeling of her skull splitting, her body rejecting itself as it turns into something unnatural -- something unhuman.

But this can’t be happening. The full moon is not tonight, something she confirms simply by rolling over in the dirt and looking up at the sky, in excruciating pain. She can see clearly that this cannot be her reality, yet the popping of her spine as it dislocates itself is very much real. Reaching out blindly, she latches on to the first person she can find, her hand clamping down around Hoseok’s ankle and squeezing with all her might. He hisses above her and manages to glance down long enough to see an expression of pain he’d long become accustomed to.

“What the fuck?!” It’s the first time he’s spoken in ages, his attention back on his opponent as he works out in his mind how this is possible. There’s no time to reason through what he knows, however, because Y/n’s teeth are clenching so hard she’s afraid they might crack, her grip on his ankle tightening painfully. Hoseok makes a snap decision then, calling out into the night.

“Jimin, listen to me.” The boy’s on his left, so focused on the shield he’s casting that he responds only once he’s successfully blocked the deadly beam of green light.

“What is it, Hoseok--”

“You have to take her into the forest. Now.” His instructions are muffled by the sounds of a curse crashing into Namjoon’s shield, unheard by their enemies, but Jimin hears him clearly. He also hears the urgency in Hoseok’s voice, telling him there’s no time for questions. “It has to be you, Jimin.”

He knows then what Hoseok’s saying, what he hasn’t had the chance to confirm himself. Y/n’s transforming on a night other than the full moon, and they’re out of time. He calls for Y/n then, reaching back for her.

“Y/n -- baby, listen to me. We gotta go.” There’s a moment of nothingness, only her groans of pain, but then he feels her hand slamming down into his and gripping hard. And then his body is working faster than his brain.

Stepping forward out of the circle and straight for the man that’s been trying to end his life all night, Jimin swings his arm out, bringing a new shield up with him as he goes. It hits the Death Eater from the side, catapulting him through the air. Just as he’s in the downward arc of his fall, he’s caught suddenly, torso trapped in Jungkook’s jaws as the wolf leaps into the air to capture his next target. They crash to the ground not far away, hidden away in the wheat.

Jimin pulls Y/n to her feet, pointing his wand out into the field as he runs for the treeline.

“Fumos!” The effect is immediate, smoke pouring out of his wand and swirling around him in a dense fog. It keeps them hidden as they make a beeline for the trees, allowing them safe passage. Jimin chances a look over his shoulder and sees that the smoke hasn’t passed over his circle of friends, ensuring that they’ll still be able to see clearly and protect themselves.

Y/n stumbles again as they run, but Jimin’s hold on her keeps her going, and she registers that he’ll be there for her transformation. Panic seeps in through the pain, and she calls out desperately for him to stop, her vision leaving her. Jimin can feel her struggling against him, but he tightens his grip and forces her to follow. They’re close to the treeline by now, but it won’t be enough until they’re completely hidden. And, although he can’t see where the wolf has gone with his old enemy, Jimin steps in something wet and everything suddenly reeks of blood, so he knows Jungkook is near. Apparently, Y/n can smell it, too, because she’s struggling harder now.

“Jungkoo-- Jungkook, stop him!” Jimin grits his teeth and stops, turning to face his girlfriend and pulling her forward. She crashes right into him, the force of his sudden movement propelling her straight into his arms. Her eyes are wide open but her vision’s completely blacked out, which Jimin can see in the fact that she won’t look at him. But he doesn’t need her to.

Ducking low, he wraps an arm around her waist and throws her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of outrage as he races for the forest just ahead. She pounds her fists against his back, practically roaring with fury as she fights him. He only pushes on, telling himself he’ll let her be as mad as she wants later, if they’re still alive.

Once they make it into the forest, Jimin runs only far enough that he feels unseen before setting her on her feet. She’s immediately falling to the ground, crawling blindly away from him and clawing at the dirt in pain.

“Go away! Just go away!” Disappearing behind a tree, she swears at him loudly, looking for any outlet for her pain. Jimin only turns to the treeline, letting her curse him as he surveys the land around him for Death Eaters. All he sees is Jungkook in the distance, turning in circles in the field as if lost.

Jimin watches as the wolf races for their friends, sliding to an urgent stop and turning back again in confusion when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He sees when Jungkook’s ears perk up at someone’s call, and his head is turning in Hoseok’s direction. Hoseok’s lips move, giving instructions Jimin can’t hear, but he knows exactly what’s been said when Jungkook’s whipping around to look at the trees.

Interestingly, the wolf hesitates, moving forward before stopping to looking over his shoulder. It’s only a moment, but it’s enough for Hoseok to point out at the forest urgently as he blocks another curse. Jimin can read Hoseok’s lips clearly then as the older boy calls out to Jungkook.

Jimin will die if you don’t go.

The chill that runs down Jimin’s spine at that moment, an omen playing a cruel joke on him, only worsens when he realizes that he’s stopped being able to hear Y/n’s pained gasps. A low whine rings out behind him, and it’s with bated breath that Jimin’s turning slowly on his heels.

Towering over him with an icy gaze locked on him is Y/n -- rather, it’s the part of Y/n that has no idea who he is in that moment. The eyes that see him only see through him, completely empty of anything that isn’t primal. Where Jungkook’s eyes are still his own even in a wolf’s body, these eyes don’t recognize him, and Jimin knows that fact alone will haunt him forever.

Yet, he isn’t afraid of her. He’s only afraid for her -- for the way she’s still curled in on herself, still in pain. He’s afraid for the way she blinks, thoughts muddled and lost, struggling to find herself in the darkness of her mind. He’s especially afraid for the way she finally gives in, losing her will to fight for herself. Her pupils shrink and grow until she’s focusing in on him, and Jimin knows by the way she tilts her head curiously at him that he’s got her attention -- and that’s never good.

When she takes a step toward him, he mirrors it with a step back, and that alone seems to set her off. She moves suddenly, closing the distance between them easily. She leans down until her snout is pushed close to his nose, snarling at him as he stays frozen where he stands. When she raises one clawed hand, he barely has time for a final thought before she’s swinging down at him.

Well, shit.

Suddenly, Jimin’s flying through the air and crashing to the ground a few feet away, rolling to a stop at the base of a tree with a groan -- but he’s in one piece. Lifting his head, he finds that he hadn’t been sliced to pieces by his own girlfriend. He’d been shoved out of the way by a wolf twice his size, the wolf in question now standing where he had just been.

Jungkook’s got his teeth latched around Y/n’s wrist, growling loudly to keep her attention on him. They stand there a few moments, eyes locked in a tense stare-down of dominance. Y/n eventually raises her other hand, claws gleaming in the moonlight, but Jungkook only growls again, a warning. It stops her, as if recognizing this moment, and, although she seems enraged by the display, she lowers her hand anyway.

Ripping her other, trapped, wrist from Jungkook’s jaws, she lets out her own snarl and steps toward him, and Jimin thinks these two might really tear each other apart. But Jungkook’s been here countless times, and he’s still of clear mind, so he knows exactly what to do.

Crouching quickly, he snaps his teeth at her ankles, sending her backwards. She roars angrily, but he persists, snapping at her feet again and again until she’s finally scurrying off into the forest with a cry of outrage. Jungkook watches her go before rushing to Jimin, startling the boy out of his shock.

The wolf sniffs at the air around Jimin, knocking him around with his massive head as he pushes his snout into Jimin’s torso, checking for injuries. Jimin’s lost for a moment, wondering exactly why Jungkook’s expressing so much concern when Y/n should be his priority, but then he remembers exactly what it would mean if he had been caught by one of Y/n’s claws.

Once Jungkook’s done checking that Jimin won’t be turning into a werewolf anytime soon, he’s gone, disappearing after his sister. Jimin only sits there, bruised and battered but alive all the same. Then he hears someone yelling Taehyung’s name in the distance, and he’s on his feet.

Rushing out to the field, he stops at the top of the hill, his breath catching in his throat when he sees the scene down below. His friends are still surrounded, and, although the number of Death Eaters has been severely reduced thanks to the merciless animagus running around, there’s still too many of them. But before he can rush to help, something happens, all too fast to process -- and Jimin has the displeasure of witnessing everything from that hill.

Down in the circle, the rest of the group is fighting for their lives. Many of the boys have sustained injuries simply from their own shields exploding too close to them -- pieces of the ground and debris from the house are thrown around, catching on their bodies in surface wounds they won’t even notice until the next morning.

There’s a special kind of desperation spilling off of Namjoon and Taehyung -- the only muggleborns in that circle -- and it’s making one of them reckless. Namjoon’s keeping his cool, as he’s been in the Order for months now and has had the battle training, but Jin’s having to compensate for small mistakes Taehyung is making out of fear. The Gryffindor’s only a boy, a boy targeted simply for being born. This is the first time he’s ever been faced with his own reality, and he’s terrified.

So when he slips on a piece of rubble at his feet, the only thing that keeps him alive is the fact that he’d moved his head a quarter of an inch to the left just in time. The killing curse flies past him and through the circle, passing Yoongi on the right and hitting a mark just past him -- that mark is the Death Eater that Yoongi had been battling all night.

The boy crumples instantly, the light in his eyes gone. Yoongi watches as he goes, his mind blank as the body crashes to the ground. And then he’s turning on his heel, everything slowed and muffled around him. The Death Eaters have all stopped, equally shocked from what’s just occurred -- after all, they’re just boys, too.

Yoongi hears Jin yelling Taehyung’s name, and he sees Hoseok rushing for him. He watches as Namjoon starts to run to Tae and then stop, raising his wand and choosing to keep guard instead, realizing that their fight isn’t over. Yoongi watches all of it with wide eyes, thinking then that this scene would be very different had the curse hit Taehyung as intended. He spins, staring down at the dead body below him, thinking that this is what Taehyung would have been. This lifeless, empty corpse. And that’s just too much for someone like Yoongi to deal with.

In that moment, the strength of the silent marksman is broken, shattered from within as he fights no longer to protect his own life but those of his friends. In that moment, he proves to be much more worthy than he’d ever thought himself before, breaking through that perpetual tendency to hide himself away — but it comes at a price. Because it’s in that moment that Min Yoongi, for all that he’d tried to free himself of that cursed name, finally gives in to the bloodline he’d spent his whole life denying.

“Protego diabolica!” The spell is cast like the roar of a dragon awakened, enraged -- the first time he’s spoken an incantation in years. It’s ripped from his lungs against his will, uttered with nothing but the urge to destroy, the need to bring pain down on his enemies so that they may never hurt his family again. That dark magic — so forbidden, so evil — follows the command of his left arm, quite literally brought to life by the malice in his eyes and the sweeping of his hand in an arc around himself. And for the first time in the 7 years Jimin had known the shy, self-loathing Slytherin — so guarded from the vulnerabilities of life — he watches from that hill as Yoongi loses control.

The fire that flows out of his hand like water -- icy and unforgiving -- spreads out around Yoongi like a wall of pitch black rage. It passes right over his friends -- they flinch at the foreign magic and its caster, who seems equally foreign to them now. They watch with awe as Yoongi commands the fire, forming a protective circle around them with ease. It almost seems to feed off of his rage, growing with every breath he takes and shrinking with the fall of his chest. He is a snake no more -- a dragon birthed of fire and blood stands in his place.

Jimin watches in pained silence as one of his closest friends loses himself to the war -- but even now, he can still see that Yoongi’s still there. And it’s Yoongi that will have to deal with consequences later, but right now he’s doing whatever it takes to save them. And that includes exploding with anger the moment he spots Jimin still up on that hill.

“Get your ass in here!” The ring of fire seems to swell with his outrage, and Jimin is in no place to refuse. The Death Eaters are still shocked and disoriented by the wall of fire they’re now faced with, and Jimin uses that to his advantage. Racing down the hill, he leaps into the circle, the cold flames licking at his ankles as they let him pass, recognizing him as a friend to their master.

Having seen Jimin’s success at passing through the ring, two of the Death Eaters rush at the wall, unaware of the nature of this dark magic. The moment they make contact with it, the fire senses their intentions, reacting accordingly. Jimin watches as they dissolve into nothing, shrieks of pain ringing out into the air as the fire consumes them. When he turns, he sees that Yoongi is shaken by this, his eyes conflicted as he watches two of his classmates cease to exist, remembering exactly what kind of magic he’s just brought into the world.

But when one of the last Death Eaters attempts to cast another killing curse into the circle, hoping to get through, the fire seems to act not on Yoongi’s command but on his instinct -- and his instinct is to block it. The flames explode outward, concentrating into a wall of protection and destroying the curse. And then they reach further, snaking out to overpower the boy who’d cast the spell, consuming him and his plea for mercy.

There’s only one Death Eater left, standing just outside the circle. Yoongi locks eyes with him, sees the trembling boy staring back at him with fear. They see each other, remembering simultaneously all the times they’d eaten together at mealtimes and suffered together during exam season. They’d grown up together. Just how they’d ended up here, neither of them can recall in that moment, and it destroys whatever innocence they’d had left.

Yoongi finally looks out to the field, his eyes flicking quickly before returning to the Death Eater. The boy hesitates, eventually stepping back. After another moment, he turns, running for his life and never looking back.

When he’s gone, the ring of fire fades, the wall tumbling down until all that’s left is a ring of earth around them that’s been burned to a crisp. Yoongi crumbles then, falling to his knees and staring at nothing. Jimin and Hoseok rush to him, eyes scanning him in concern. They all remain silent, words unable to express what any of them are feeling. Finally, Yoongi lifts his head, still unable to lock eyes with anyone.

“Is everyone okay?” They don’t answer his question, Jin only scoffing in shell-shocked disbelief.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi looks at his best friend, and he knows Jin can see right through him. They all can. He doesn’t respond, and they fall to silence again. Surrounded by bodies and destruction, unable to comprehend what’s happened. Unable to fathom how inexplicably broken they’ve become.

Just when they’re ready to face each other -- when they’re ready to face the aftermath of this night together -- a howl rings out from the forest, pained and haunting. They all lift their heads to stare in exhaustion at the treeline, outlined perfectly by the light of a moon that isn’t full. Yoongi chuckles darkly, shaking his head as he rises slowly to his feet and dusts off his pants before turning to look at what's left of his home with a long sigh.

“This family’s a fucking mess.”

[cheesyficwriter]

I loved your last Rarry brotp fic! Can you please write one about Ron getting himself hurt during an Auror mission because he wanted to safe Harry? And Harry getting mad at him for saving him and getting himself in danger instead? I hope you understand what I mean 🤪 Thank you!

Hi there! Thanks so much for the request. I absolutely loved writing that drabble, and was overwhelmed by the pleasant response to it! Hope you enjoy this follow-up 😊💜

We Live - Rarry brotp drabble #1

CW: Talk of violence, injury, mild language

A True Partnership

In some ways, Harry believed that he and Ron had trained to become Aurors since they were 11 years old. Together, they were held accountable for any decisions made under extreme duress year after year at Hogwarts and beyond — quite frankly, they both, along with Hermione, should have been killed several times over by now.

For many years, Harry had an instinctual fight-or-flight response to the dire circumstances that presented themselves. He knew that every move he made affected his future, and the future of those around him in the wizarding world that he tried desperately to protect. 

Fast forward to the fall of 1998 when Harry and Ron underwent basic training together. During that time, they learned advanced tactics they would utilize in order to suppress any enemies, and were taught magical jurisprudence, ensuring that they apprehended criminals on legally valid grounds. For two men who consistently broke school rule after school rule at Hogwarts, this particular aspect of training was harped upon more than others.  

The Auror Academy was very stringent, and not for the faint of heart — Aurors needed a certain level of mental alertness and physical strength to engage in conflict. They had to have a willingness to act in high-stake situations. Split-second decisions would be made, with no certifiable way in those moments to determine whether or not those decisions would be the right ones. Training is meant to prepare Aurors for crises that may arise, but real missions out in the field often present the unexpected — what many don’t see coming. 

That’s what partners were for. A true partnership was built upon the following principles: trust, commitment, and shared meaning. 

Trust: Ensure that your partner unequivocally has your back in any situation, from a Dementor attack to preventing further mutiny, and will be there to cover up your blind spots. 

There was no one in the world that Harry trusted more than Ron Weasley, so his best mate was the obvious choice to be his partner out in the field. It took Harry a long time after the defeat of Voldemort for him to grasp that he no longer needed to be so guarded. In the event that Harry ever let down his defenses, he had full confidence that Ron would be there ready to assist. 

So, it shouldn’t have surprised Harry that there would come a time when he wouldn’t be quick enough, or stealthy enough, and Ron would be there to respond. 

It all happened so fast. One minute they were joking about pranking each other with puking pastilles, and the next moment they were surrounded by Death Eaters.  

“Harry, watch out!” 

A split-second decision. 

That single decision made by Ron to warn Harry of the danger distracted the ginger-haired man from his own, and a flash of red light shot straight through his abdomen. Harry watched in horror as Ron’s injured body crumpled to the ground. 

“No!” Harry shouted, and the fight to stay alive was a blur from there. All he knew was that he had to survive the battle — he had to survive and get his best friend, his partner, to safety. 

Commitment: The act of sharing a mutual appreciation. Both partners should be on board to protect each other for the long haul. 

Several agonizing hours later, Harry found himself pacing the floors of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s. 

A Healer finally came out to give an update on Ron. Although pretty bruised up, and drowsy from the pain potion, he was okay and conscious. 

Beside him, Harry heard Hermione let out a strangled cry of relief. 

They allowed two visitors in at a time, so Harry and Hermione rushed down the busy corridor and practically threw themselves through the door to get to Ron. 

He was sitting up in his bed, a large, white bandage wrapped around his stomach, and his leg was propped up by a levitating sling. Ron's face, although initially contorted in pain, visibly brightened once he saw both of them. 

Hermione wasted no time running into Ron's arms, who responded by giving her a weak pat on the back that was no doubt meant to be comforting. "Hi, love."

Hermione sniffled as she kissed his cheek and pulled away, stepping back to allow Harry a moment to greet his best friend. 

When Ron's eyes shifted towards Harry expectantly, he laughed, "I dodged a bludger there, didn't I?" His face fell as he spotted the furious expression on Harry's face. 

"You," Harry glared at Ron, pointing a menacing finger in his direction. "I need to have a chat with you." 

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry didn't give him the chance. 

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy left armpit were you thinking out there?"

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" Hermione piggy-backed off Harry's interrogation, a flurry of words streaming out through her mouth. "I mean, really Ron, out of all of the noble things you had to do, you think that—"

"Oi, knock it off, Hermione!" With a frustrated growl, Ron snatched his wand from the side table and whooshed closed the drapes around his bed, hiding Hermione from view. He then muttered a silencing charm for added effect.  

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Do you even realize what you’ve just done?” He didn’t want to be there to witness the aftermath of Ron’s decision to shut out Hermione. 

"I've already got you yelling at me, I don't need my girlfriend screaming in my ear, too, thank you very much,” Ron grumbled, letting his head fall back onto his pillow with a heavy sigh. 

Harry crossed his arms. "Well you wouldn't need us to chatter on as such if you hadn't very nearly kicked the bucket."

"Well, o'course not," Ron snapped. "I just saved your life, and all, but I'm the one who was in the wrong."

"I wouldn't have needed saving if you'd had just followed protocol and attacked those gits right away instead of worrying about me." 

"One of those fuckers had a wand aimed at the back of your head, what was I supposed to do?" Ron fought back. 

It was then that Harry realized Ron saw what he couldn't. His blind spot. A wave of guilt washed over him, and Harry knew he had no right to argue further.  

Ron looked down at his lap, his voice quiet. "When are you going to get it through your head that you can't always do it all by yourself, mate?"

The impact of Ron's words made Harry take a step back. The harsh silence that followed indicated to Ron that he was free to continue,

“We are a team. Partners. I know you’re so bloody proud, Potter, but you can’t expect to make the right decision every time. I am here to back you up. Always.”

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, overwhelmed by the love he felt for his best friend, his partner in crime, his brother. 

Shared meaning: An understanding or appreciation for your partner, and what values they stand for. 

Harry and Ron had managed their fair share of conflict over the years, finding the ability to compromise, solve problems, and take on the world together. They turned towards each other on a daily basis, whether it's to share a laugh over the strangest topics or provide emotional support. 

Their relationship went beyond a simple partnership. They were family. A unit. 

Harry choked out a laugh, "Okay, then. But it's my turn to be the hero next time, you hear?" 

A wide grin split across Ron's face. "Not if I beat you to it."

The drapes whooshed open again, revealing a very put out Hermione. "You two aren't honestly fighting over who gets to risk their life next, are you?" 

Harry and Ron share sheepish smiles, and a mutual understanding passes through them. 

Friendship is forever, and they will never stop finding ways to prove that. 

[siriuslyobsessedwith]

Pregnant!Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy

Hermione finds out that she is pregnant exactly 19 months after she started dating Draco. To the day: December 23rd.

On that fateful day 19 months before, all the longing looks and flirtatious banter had come to a head, and the night after one of their heated rendezvous, Draco strode obnoxiously into her office, slammed the door and asked a question.

“Granger, are you playing me for a fool?”

He had tossed himself elegantly onto a small leather duvet in the corner of her office, and his brow was quirked imperiously as his silver eyes bore into her.

She was busy, of course. She was on a fast track to become minister, and as head of the DMLE’s legal division, she was responsible for preparing legal defense and prosecution for aurors. And she was in the middle of a highly contentious case at the moment involving an at-large Death Eater and stolen dragon’s eggs.

Knowing full well it would annoy him, she responded without even looking up for the document she was editing: “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Malfoy. Care to elaborate?” She struggled to hide the grin that wanted to grace her lips.

Of course he played along. “Well, Granger, I’m speaking with regards to the meeting we had last night. I personally believed I performed admirably, as did you, and I feel we...work quite well together, no? Exceptionally well. And...”

His hand scratched the back of his neck. Hermione knew the tic well enough, and suddenly her interest was piqued. What did he have to be nervous about? They were quite...comfortable around each other, to say the least.

“I’m just going to say it: I-I’d like to take you on a real date, Granger. You know, you dress up and I tell you you’re gorgeous and woo you over Italian wine. I’m sure Weasley used other less sophisticated methods but—“

“I’m free tonight,” she interrupted, eyes sparkling with happiness. She kept her lips pursed to hide her childish excitement. Finally!, “Pick me up at eight?”

His lips open slightly in astonishment (shock?), he simply nodded and skirted out of her office. That was a wonderful night, leading into the wonderful weeks and months to come.

But now, 19 months later, Hermione is sitting in her office absolutely terrified. She’s cast the pregnancy charm over and over and over, and each time it’s come back positive. She needs to schedule an appointment with a Healer, find out how many weeks pregnant she is, she needs to start thinking about maternity leave, she needs to worry about the extra expense of a child.

And, of course, she needs to figure out how to tell Draco. But she doesn’t want to think about that. She cant think about that right now. The what-ifs racing through her mind are just too much for her to handle at the moment.

Now, because she’s Hermione Granger, she’s able to get into a Healer the same day. She swears the man to confidentiality, because the only thing worse than telling Draco is him finding out from someone else. She finds out she is 6 weeks pregnant (which explains the last 4 weeks of feeling like she had a terrible flu—how had she been so blind?), and then the Healer tells her, gently, cautiously, “It’s twins, Ms. Granger.”

Her heart stops; her mind swirls. Twins. Twins?! What is she supposed to do with twins? The thought of one baby is immobilizing, but two? And what if Draco doesn’t want them? What is he’s angry and he abandons her? Some part of her knows that this man who she’s spent that past-almost-year with would never do these things, but she’s terrified.

She knows she has another two weeks before she starts showing too obviously, so she walks silently out of the Healer’s office and starts formulating a plan. She can’t make it obvious to Draco that something’s off. But she needs to tell someone, and though she loves her friends, she knows not a single one of them can keep their mouths shut.

Her hand drifts to her lower stomach, and for a second she loses herself in the reality that she has two whole HUMAN BEINGS growing inside of her. She feels hope and fear and confusion rising in her throat, stinging her eyes, and she has to rush back to her office before she bursts into tears on the ground. 

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to the crying witch, Draco Malfoy is slumped elegantly on that same leather couch in the corner. 

Draco nearly has a heart attack. Not because she burst in so abruptly, but because she’s never cried like this before. At least not in front of him. He starts imagining what could have happened, what someone could have done to her, what he is going to have to do to said person—

She raises her head from her arms, revealing swollen eyes and tear-splotched cheeks, sees him, and promptly starts sobbing again.

“Merlin, Draco,” she pushes out between bursts of laughing-tears, “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say something? You’ve really caught me at the worst possible moment, and—“

“What happened, Granger?,” he asks, voice low and gentle, “Tell me what happened.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” she lies, eyes darting anywhere but his face. She rubs the tears off her face with the back of her hand and releases a breathy laugh. “Just a rough day, a bad argument, nothing major. I’m just being dramatic. Its--its nothing.”

His eyes darken. She swallows. It’s obvious he knows she’s lying. But what is she going to do? She thought she had two weeks to plan, to decide, to run away and start a new life in Nova Scotia (ok, she only considered it for a moment).

“Alright, sit back down,” she says, voice small and a little raw from all the crying, “I-um-I have something I have to tell you. And, I-uh-I just want-uh-you to stay calm while I explain, and then you can say whatever you like, alright? Ok, here we go. Um, so, you know how I’ve been feeling bad the past couple of weeks?” She pauses, swallowing again, asking herself if she is really going to do this right now, in this way.

He nods, silently. He stares at her with such intensity she thinks she might fracture into a million pieces.

“Well, turns out I’m not sick,” she mumbles, losing confidence, “I’m-um, well, I’m pregnant. There it is. I’m pregnant.”

She expects his heart to stop. She expects to watch him freeze, his eyes widen, his leg stop bouncing. He does none of these things. He just curses and starts grinning. 

“Well, Granger, you certainly know how to upstage a man. I came in here to ask you to marry me, you know? Exactly 19 months to the day since our first date. I had a whole romantic speech planned, I’ve got the ring right here, in fact, and our whole band of sorry friends are just down the hall waiting for my signal to come congratulate us on our upcoming nuptials. But I should have know, the Hermione Granger would certainly find a way to overshadow my grand proposal.”

His voice grows in volume and love and excitement and joy as he continues and grins at her knowing he scared her and knowing he just dropped a bomb, and she starts blubbering again, laughing at the two of them, at his botched proposal and her equally-botched pregnancy reveal.

“Yes,” she squeaks, getting up from her chair and locking eyes with him. “I mean, my answer is yes, of course. But, what do you think about, I mean...,” she looks down and her hands and eyes rest on her stomach.

And just like 19 months ago, he asks, “Do you take me for a fool, Granger? The Malfoys are an ancient pureblood family obsessed with lineage. I saw them--yes, I know its twins--appear on my family tree two whole months ago. And I’m not a bloody idiot, I noticed you throwing up in the mornings and not eating very much. You’re quite dense about some things, you know. I’ve been in agony waiting for you to realize.”

And she’s giggling uncontrollably now, almost hysterical, and she rushes over, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. His hands slip down to the small of her waist, tugging her to him, and he whispers in her ear, “We’re having twins, Hermione. Twins.”

And she whispers back, “Twins and marriage, Draco. We never do anything slowly, do we?” Happy tears glisten in her eyes as the heartbroken and frightened tears of earlier dry on her cheeks. 

And they pull apart and look at each other and know that, against all odds, they’ve found and built something so special. He pulls out the ring and she gasps and says yes over and over and over and he touches her stomach and she smiles and they walk out of the office together to find Harry, Ginny, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy looking at them incredulously.

“Well?,” Pansy demands, pursing her lips, “I expected this to take fifteen minutes max, but the two of you have been in there for at least double that? Botch the proposal, Draco?” 

Draco smirks playfully at her. “No, Pans, it actually went perfectly,” he lies smoothly as he squeezes Hermione’s small hand. “And it’s extra good that I proposed today, because otherwise our twins would have been the first bastard Malfoy descendants, and that would have been a tad embarrassing.” 

Draco thrives on the shock of his friends, and he feels pride building up inside of him, coursing through his veins as he imagines a future with his powerful, amazing wife and their undoubtedly-perfect children. He never imagined that after all the darkness and sacrifice and pain of his childhood that he could make such dreams a reality. 

And Hermione? She just fakes a gasp at Draco’s brash statement, pretending that she didn’t script his exact words just so she would get to see the shocked looks on her friend’s faces. 

Because honestly, taking things slow, being cautious, hesitating? That has never been their style. 

[romioneficfest]

The Promise

Title: The Promise

Prompt/Day: Moon/Day 8

Tumbler Name: 

Rating: G+

Brief Summary: Ron goes missing and Hermione reacts

Beta Credits: A & A

*****************

 The glorious spring evening was regaled with purplish red sky as the sun sank into the sea. The outline of the moon slowly carved its shape in the sky. Despite the spectacular view,  Hermione felt gloomy, emptiness billowing inside her.

It took her the entire day to painstakingly prepare a synopsis of their upcoming plan. As soon as it was complete she bounced out of her room, excited to share it with both Ron and Harry. She found only Harry, sitting near Dobby’s grave in one of his intense moods. There was no sign of Ron.

By the time the moon glowed in the sky, Hermione's anxiety for Ron’s well-being increased tenfold. Her thread of thought was broken when she was joined by Luna and Dean in her stroll along the shoreline, although her eyes anxiously roamed around to catch a glimpse of the ginger boy she loved…..

Pointing to a black rubber tube bobbing up and down faraway in the sea, Luna squealed, making both Hermione and Dean jump, “That’s a talking turtle. Dad says they sing lullabies to hungry sharks and lull them to sleep.”

“There’s no such thing as talking turtles,” Hermione snapped. She was way too worried to debate with Luna. Talking turtles could exist only in Lovegood's fantasy world, she frowned.  

Luna did not bother to respond to Hermione. She waded ahead of them clucking and waving her hand vigorously at the rubber tube in an attempt to catch its attention.

“What’s got into her?” boomed Ron’s familiar voice, making Hermione feel simultaneously shocked and relieved.

“Wrackspurts, I guess,” Dean quipped and both the boys laughed. Hermione gestured to both of them to stop laughing, but giggled herself.

“That’s like our old Luna. I like that girl. She has her heart at the right place,” Hermione’s stomach twisted in knots as Ron praised her friend. She tried to brush the feeling aside.

“Yeah, she’s always been fearless. Ginny told me about her,” Dean paused and then said softly, “I’m sorry… you know the night that Dumbledore died….that I didn’t come to fight against the Death Eaters. Maybe all of us putting up a fight together there could have made a difference today,” Dean could not meet their eyes.

Before Hermione could tell off Dean for his past mistakes, Ron said warmly, “There’s always a next time, mate.”

Dean smiled gratefully.

Hermione tried to imagine how Ron would react if she toppled him onto the sand, kissed him ceaselessly and told him how wonderful a person he was. Her face flustered with the thought. The tall ginger had the capability to swing her like a pendulum through a multitude of emotions within seconds.

“Well, Fleur wants you all inside for supper. Besides, it’s not very safe to roam around here out of the wards,” Ron said meaningfully.

Dean dragged a reluctant Luna towards Shell Cottage. Ron was in tow. But Hermione tugged him back.

“Where were you all this time?” Hermione poked her finger into Ron’s chest and huffed. She sounded bitter. It was absurd, but Ron's attention to any woman made her resentful.  

“What’s got your wand in a twist? For that matter, you are not carrying one as I can see, and you're out of the wards” Ron retorted. “D’ya realise how worried I was when I couldn’t find you inside the cottage?”  

Hermione was reluctant to give in. But her emotions welled up tears in her eyes and she bit her lower lip to stop them from trickling out.

“Okay, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to shout at you,” Ron softened his hold on her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Fleur sent me to Muriel’s place to fetch supplies. You know, with all of us here, she was running out of food. She didn’t want to make a fuss or make you all uncomfortable,” Ron said gently.

“That’s indeed very thoughtful of her. How’s your family? You’ve missed them, haven't you?” Hermione loved Ron’s family. She understood that he needed them. But she needed him more.

“All good,” Ron grinned. “They’ve collected muggle clothes for us. Old though, but they will suffice, I guess.”

“That’s great. We lost ours. Dean and Luna don’t seem to have any. I literally smell Dean’s slimy socks even in my sleep,” Hermione scrunched up her nose in disgust. Ron chortled.

“So, that’s what you found so irresistable about him. How long have you been doing these walks—I mean—you and him together?” Ron raised a single brow and smirked; but the playfulness in his demeanor did not quite reach his eyes.

“That’s bollocks!” Hermione said, indignantly.

Ron put his hand over his mouth and acted gobsmacked. Before Hermione realised the implication of her choice of words, Ron said innocently, "There's only a pair in here. Sorry, can't part with them."

“Ron!” Embarrassed, she scooped up a palm full of salty water and splashed it over Ron's face before running away from him, giggling.

Ron ran after her for his revenge. It did not take him long to grab her from behind with his strong, scarred arms.

“You barmy witch,” he cried.

"Don’t you dare!" Hermione yelped and wrestled to wiggle out of his grip.

Ron swept her off her feet and twirled her in the air. He dunked her in the sea till she was thoroughly drenched.

"Ron Weasley! Watch out for this," Hermione tittered. She kicked his shins and tickled him wherever she could reach, knocking both of them down on the sand, water sweeping over both of them. She was squealing in delight until she realised that she was propped up on her elbows over his chest, staring straight into his blue eyes. It was just the way she had imagined herself a few minutes ago.

Ron's left hand was wrapped around the small of her back. His right hand lifted his wand up in the air to prevent it from any damage. Hermione’s mass of matted curly hair with bits of sand stuck to the strands, enveloped both of their faces like a thick curtain.

Ron's gaze bore into hers. His wand was carelessly pointed at her. Hermione felt a warm glow as all the sand particles in her hair started emitting silver light. Ron's spontaneous magic was surreal. They were both shielded from the world by a constellation of stars.

Puffs of staggered breaths replaced the squeals of laughter. The sound of the waves were consumed by the beating of their hearts.

“You're like the moon, so beautiful" Ron murmured.

"Save your compliments for Luna, maybe Fleur or Lavender — Won-Won," Hermione scoffed, her voice loaded with sarcasm.

Ron kept on staring at her, but the enthusiasm in his eyes was gone; the glow of the glitters dimmed.  

Hermione knew she had just spoiled a beautiful moment of her life. Why do I always say the wrong thing?

Hermione rolled over her side to lie face up, staring at the moon and the stars; Ron's hand lying underneath her.

"It's been seven bloody years, Hermione. How much longer will we take to sort this out?" Ron groaned in anguish.

"I really don’t know why I do this. Sort this out for us Ron. Make it easier. Please!" Hermione pleaded.

Ron pulled her closer with a new found confidence. His body trembled against hers.

"Someday, when all this shite is over, yeah….I will," he stared into her eyes resolutely.

"Trust me, I want to do this right. For now, just know, this side kick is barmy for only one wee witch — a mental one and nothing's gonna change that."

Hermione brushed her hand over Ron's cheek and nodded. As they stood and walked towards the cottage, the glitters in her hair slowly faded away, but the promise he made stayed in her heart.

She never felt more content.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Four Little Sips

Day 28, Post #2

Title: Four Little Sips

Author: JohnMcHacker

Pairings: Harry/Bill/Charlie (platonic), Harry/Ginny (romantic), Gryffindor Quidditch Team (platonic), Fred/George/Ron (platonic), Ron/Hermione (romantic)

Prompt: In Vino Veritas

Rating: PG

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, Referenced death, Language

Note to admin: Thanks for organising, this is my first time submitting, sorry if I'm late or if it doesn't meet requirements. I have also posted to the AO3 collection.

* * *

You see, Harry had never really had anyone just a few years older to look up to. Alright, there was Hermione, but they were classmates and best friends and at roughly the same place in life, it wasn’t the same.

That summer of 1998, in the wake of all that pain and death and sorrow, the Weasleys pulled together and pulled him in with them. On a few occasions, this meant having a few drinks with Bill and Charlie, in various nondescript Muggle pubs in the vicinity of Ottery St Catchpole.

“Just because Kingsley cut you some slack doesn’t mean you have to take the offer,” said Charlie. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting Voldemort, one way or anoher. You deserve to take a break. Live a little. Or else, what have you been fighting for?”

Harry thought of several memorable sunlit days, and found he couldn’t really disagree.

“Or at the very least, know why you’re putting your life on the line, once again,” said Bill. “Well, alright, you were the Chosen One, you had your job to do then. But now that that’s over, you ought to think twice why you’re risking your neck on your own account.”

“Well, I think I’d be good at it,” said Harry. “And someone has to do it. The Aurors are short-handed and too many of Voldemort’s thugs are still out there.”

Bill shook his head, munching a handful of chips. “That’s not good enough. Merlin knows I’d love a crack at the bastards myself. But your neck’s not just your own now, Harry. Ginny has a say too. That’s part of what being together means.”

“Muggle birds ain’t bad,” said Charlie, nodding at a trio of pretty college-age girls gathered round a table across the pub. They caught him watching, giggled, and winked in reply. “Don’t limit yourself to witches. But if you do, don’t mess ‘em around, play fair, and come clean as soon as you can.”

“The most important part of my relationship with Fleur is trust,” said Bill. “We don’t have secrets, and she trusts that I won’t suddenly run off hunting Death Eaters or dragons or Hor... whatever. And I trust her not to do the same.”

“Family’s what it comes down to,” said Charlie, draining his glass.

“Family,” nodded Bill. “Your first responsibility.”

“My shout,” said Harry, because that was something else they had taught him was right, to stand his round, and he went to the bar to get the drinks. When he returned, they had moved on to other important matters.

“Free advice, Potter, take it or leave it,” said Charlie, tapping the side of his nose, “women; you’ll never go wrong if you please ‘em first, know what I mean?”

“Oi! That’s our sister you’re talking about!” snapped Bill, trying not to laugh.

“So what? She’s got fi... four of you looking out for her. Maybe I just want to see fair play.” Charlie winked at Harry. “Let me tell you about what I call ‘wandless magic’, and trust me, it is magic.”

“That’s it, you’re done, Perce is my new number two, it’s you that Mum and Dad should disown...”

“There’s more where that came from, Harry. You want to know how to beat Ron at chess? He can’t play gambits worth a damn. Stick with me, I’ll show you something called a Smith-Morra, aye?”

Advice, experience, honour, laughter. Maybe this was what it was like to have older brothers, thought Harry. It filled a hole in him he never even knew he had.

* * *

Oliver would never have allowed it, but Angelina Johnson was a more fun-loving kind of Quidditch Captain. She passed the word around quietly, and so the five Gryffindor players above the age of sixteen met in the changing rooms fifteen minutes before Potter and the younger Weasley were due to arrive. Of course it was the Twins who’d acquired the goods, however they managed it. Fred produced the bottle of Ogden’s from somewhere under his robes with a flourish, and George grinned toothily as he conjured shot glasses from thin air.

“Alright, I know it was my idea, but just the one, got it?” warned Angelina, pouring the drinks herself.

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Fred. George sketched a sloppy salute her way.

Katie Bell was practically trembling with excitement and nerves. “Oooh, this’ll be my first drink ever,” she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid to catch the light. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, looking around as if expecting McGonagall to burst out of a locker at any time.

“Course we can’t be sure,” said Alicia Spinnet. “That’s part of the fun!”

Angelina looked round at each of them, and shouted “For the Cup!”

“FOR THE CUP!” they chorused, and knocked back the Firewhiskey.

Two years later, the three Chasers were standing at the bar of the Hog’s Head, but they had Oliver back now, and Angelina knew somehow that that was important, they were going to go to Hogwarts and find Fred and George and Harry and reunite the whole Team, and it meant she had to do this. She leaned over the counter, rummaged through the grimy bottles and found what she was looking for.

“You’re mad!” said Oliver incredulously.

“Probably,” said Alicia cheerfully, “but we did this every match and still won the Cup, didn’t we? Sixth-years and above only, of course, we had standards,” she said, catching Oliver’s outraged look.

“Don’t tell me you’re going into a real battle and don’t want a drink, Oliver,” said Angelina calmly as she poured, and that was that.

Alicia and Katie and Oliver looked at her expectantly. Angelina searched for the words, and found there was really only one thing suited to the occasion. “Fuck Voldemort.”

“FUCK VOLDEMORT!”

And they did.

But oh God, the price they paid.

  * * *

The Leaky was too well-known so they usually frequented a tiny hole-in-the-wall further down the street. The clientele was younger and the enchanted jukebox played muggle hits as well as the Weird Sisters, Mega Maggots, and the Bent Banshees, and that was perfect for the Twins. Perhaps half the entire current range of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had first been dreamed up in this pub.

“Alright, alright, what about this, George? Prank greeting cards.”

“You’re crazy, Fred.”

“Cards that won’t stop singing. Howler cards. Exploding confetti cards. Exploding firework cards!”

George finished his beer and signalled to the barman for another. The barman hesitated, then poured as George slapped a handful of Sickles on the counter. “Confetti yes, fireworks, I dunno,” said George. “Cheers, Fred.”

“It’s brilliant I tell you. Mud in your eye,” said his twin brother, and they drank. Then, quietly, Fred asked: “How’s the family?”

“Same old. They’re doing well. You should see the sprogs, it’s a hoot,” snickered George. “Ron and Gin and Harry and good ol’ Hermione, sneaking around trying not to get caught shagging like rabbits. God, the sights I’ve walked in on...”

Fred chortled along with George, and he finished the pint. The bell over the door jingled and new customers came in, but the twins barely glanced that way.

“Speaking of which. About her... you should do something about it, George,” said Fred kindly. “I see all the signs and I know you do too. She’s waiting on you. Go be a gentleman, Georgey-boy, go on.”

George sighed. “Not you too. Look, I get enough of this crap from Bill and Charlie, alright?”

“You two need each other. Besides, it’s too quiet around the flat.”

All at once, George’s face crumpled. “You don’t get to say that. Not you. Not you! YOU don’t say that!”

Fred said nothing, he only smiled, and walked away. George turned his head quickly to follow him, but as always, Fred slid out the corner of his eye and was g...

And then it was another Weasley brother standing in front of him.

This time, it was Ron they’d sent. Good old Ron, lanky and solid and biting his lip in sympathy as he came to find his older brother sitting alone at the bar hunched over a half-empty glass. On the counter beside him was one untouched full pint, the frothy head long since evaporated.

“Come on, George,” said Ron gently. “There, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

She was a girl made of facts and reason.

That was just the way she was wired.

“Dutch courage,” she said to herself, eyeing the glass of probably cheap plonk as if it was poison. Which technically it was.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny.

“Dutch courage,” she repeated. “It’s a muggle term, meaning the confidence gained from drinking alcohol, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary. Although,” she amended, “it’s derogatory to Dutch people and we probably shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I meet anyone from Orange Tulip Land,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You certainly don’t need that sort of thing, Hermione, you’re one of the bravest people I know!”

Probably just hyperbole, thought Hermione, as that would be quite something, given that Ginny hung around with Aurors and Quidditch players and her boyfriend Harry Potter, or ‘His Excellency Most Spiffing Chosen Boy Who Lived To Kick Voldemort’s Arse’ as George called him. She picked up the glass, sipped it carefully, decided she quite liked the taste of Chateau Diagon Alley or whatever this was, and had a bigger swig.

Here’s a fun fact: it takes 6 minutes for the brain to react to alcohol.

Six minutes later, she didn’t think she felt any different. Warmer perhaps, but the New Year party was in full swing and Hermione thought maybe it was just the ambient temperature rising from all the people circulating, moving, dancing, talking, laughing.

Fun fact: drinking is ‘fun’ because alcohol lessens tension, eases social interaction, and reduces inhibitions.

Hermione sat in her corner and nursed her glass and knew she wasn’t really a social drinker, or any kind of drinker, or even at all ‘sociable’ to begin with. She envied how effortlessly Ginny and Bill and Parvati and everyone else were visibly enjoying themselves; Hermione would honestly prefer a nice book, a pot of peppermint tea, and perhaps with the company of...

Breathless from joking with Aurors and Obliviators and Patrolwizards and friends, Ron flung himself down beside her and threw an arm around her, and Hermione’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Alright there, Hermione?” He followed her gaze towards the wineglass. “Not poisoned, is it? Cause that’s no fun, believe me.”

Fact: I want to say I...

“That’s not funny, Ron, you could’ve died,” chided Hermione, although she couldn’t help giggling. “No, I just... it’s Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?” Hermione told him about English soldiers and gin and bravery, and the way he looked at her as he listened made her feel warm all over. “Nice. You know everything, Hermione,” Ron said admiringly.

“Not everything,” said Hermione wistfully. “I don’t know how to have fun at parties. Well, maybe that’s one more thing I do know now,” she joked lamely.

Fact: I...

Ron laughed at her probably atrocious attempt at humour, and said “Rubbish party anyway. Too many plonkers just wanting to be seen with heroes like Harry and Neville” (characteristically, Ron excluded himself from that category, Hermione observed) “and they’re only here because Kingsley said they absolutely had to be. I’d much rather have a quiet night in at home with you, Crookshanks, a nice fire, maybe a...”

No, I don’t know everything, thought Hermione. But I know this fact. “I love you, Ron Weasley.” And she grabbed him and snogged the hell out of him, ignoring the catcalls and cheers that rose all around.

Was it really the Dutch stuff, or was it all her own self, after all?

To be continued...

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: The Burrow

George Weasley x Reader

Prompt: The QWC attack leads you to the Burrow.

Word Count: 1522

Reader: Female

Warning: talking bad about the Malfoys, lol sorry

Masterlist Series Masterlist

=====

The group of you land on the ground with a thud. After waiting a few moments for the Golden Trio to appear, the sky filled with a dark haze. The green illustrations in the sign showed the Dark Mark and that was enough to send the five of you to grab the old boot.

No one says much as you make your way back to the Weasley's home. You have spent enough time at Cedric’s to determine you were going in the complete opposite direction of where his house was. You start to fall behind, your mind racing.

The situation at home is going to be an interesting one. Over the years, you’ve slowly learned the history of your family and their place in the First Wizarding War. They were strong supporters of the Dark Lord, your father being high in the ranks. It made sense, seeing as most of the values your parents have taught you were about the importance of blood purity and prejudice against muggles.

To your parents’ dismay, though, you didn’t latch onto those beliefs. You tried to fake it as much as possible at home or around Draco but it seemed to get harder and harder as the years went on. But, what if the years lead to another Wizarding War?

Before you could fall into that hole in your mind, a warm hand slipping into yours grabs your attention. You look up to see George has fallen back to keep you company. He sends you a small smile which causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Both of you continue to walk in comfortable silence, your mind slowly calming down.

=====

Entering the famous Burrow was everything more than you could’ve imagined. It’s better than what Fred and George have described to you. More magical than Hermione has told you. There’s a lot of organized clutter, some boots by the doorway, a lot of dishes hanging around and above the sink, the chairs at the dining room table where mismatched but it overall gave a homely feel. It was lived in and you could tell that each piece of furniture had a story. The Manor compared to this seemed like a cold, abandoned mansion.

“This place is amazing.” You whisper, gawking at the home. If you lived in a place like this, you’d never want to leave.

George shrugs, smiling slightly at your reaction, “It’s home.’

“What are you guys doing home so early?” A voice questions, a short plump woman comes walking out of the kitchen. You knew exactly who it was, Molly Weasley. You’ve seen her in passing during trips to Diagon Alley and at the train station, but you’ve never got a chance to meet the woman herself.

Mrs. Diggory soon comes up behind her, a teacup in hand. They must’ve been spending some girl time together with both of their families gone. “(Y/N), sweetie, what’re you doing here?” With that, you give a shy smile. Molly’s eyes trail down to George’s and yours intertwined hands and George immediately let's go.

“There was an attack,” Cedric announces, the mothers’ faces drop.

“It was the Death Eaters,” George says causing Molly’s eyes to snap to you. You move closer to George, knowing what she was probably thinking. As we all know, the Malfoys’ and Weasleys' history isn’t the best, making it very evident what she was thinking.

Cedric and Fred continue to explain what happened, how the Irish cheers turned into screaming and pleas for help. Fred tells how Arthur told the group to come back to the portkey and how they lost Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the way there. Cedric elaborates about Amos doing the same for him.

“Well, how did you end up in all this, (Y/N)?” Mrs. Diggory asks, a concerned look on her face.

“I snuck off from my family to see the twins,” You explain with a quiet voice, “it seemed my father and brother were focused on something else.”

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Diggory share a look, knowing what this means.

“Could you four give a moment while we speak with (Y/N)?” Molly commands, gesturing for you to come over to them. They all nod, Ginny going up the stairs while Fred takes Cedric outside. George goes to follow them outside but you grab his hand to stop him. You look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You’ll be fine, love.” He assures you with the nickname he always uses when you’re upset. “I promise my mother doesn’t bite… well, she doesn’t bite guests.” He jokes, trying to light up the situation. You smile a bit at him, he squeezes your hand before leaving you with the pair.

Molly watches the whole exchange with a small smile on her face, the twins have told her a lot about you. George being the more vocal one about it, trying to convince his parents through the years that you were nothing like your family. She’s even asked the Diggory’s about you seeing that you were a big part of their sons’ life at Hogwarts. At this point, she knows enough to determine that you had nothing to do with the attack.

The pair of mothers lead you to the table. It has a kettle sat on a hot pad with a half-full teacups sat nearby

“Sit down, dearie.” Molly gestures to the chair at the head of the table. “Would you like a cup of tea?’ She offers as they both take their own seats. You shake your head no, the events of today not making you have an appetite for anything.

“Tell us what’s going on.”

Looking down, you fiddle with your hands. You were still a bit shaken up. “I…” Finding the courage to finally speak after a few moments of silence, “Father didn’t want me to come but my mother said they had to take me seeing as he didn’t want me going with Cedric… Draco and my dad were whispering all day about a meeting place but I didn’t know what they were talking about… well until now.”

“I’ve heard the stories about my parents during the first war.” You admit, finally looking up at them. They both have a solemn look on their face, their motherly instincts kicking in. “I know my family’s history and I know what my last name means in this world but, I swear I wasn’t involved with the attack.”

“We didn’t think you were.” Mrs. Diggory says in a matter of fact tone, “Just because you have the Malfoy name, doesn’t mean you have to be like them all.”

A sad smile appears on your face, “I know but I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Rubbish.” Mrs. Weasley exclaims softly, “Fred and George for years have been talking about you and I know at this point you aren’t like them.” She confesses, “I know a great wizard on your mother’s side that stands for everything that they don’t believe. You don’t have a choice on who your family is but you have a choice who you are.”

You take a moment to process their words. Molly’s right. You’ve been trying to prove yourself for years but your last name has been keeping you back and it was finally time to not let that get to you.

“I don’t want to go home.” You quietly admit.

The mothers share a look as if silently communicating with each other.

“Well, that’s the dilemma, dearie,” Molly sets a hand on top of your own, “As much as we would both like for you to get out of that situation, your parents are… well,” She struggles to find the right words.

“Privileged and ignorant.” You finish for her, she lets out a light chuckle.

“They’re your parents.” Mrs. Diggory continues, “we can’t take you away from them. As much as Amos and I consider you a daughter to us, you aren’t legally ours. They’ll fight for you to come back home, your mother will fight for you to come back home.”

“But if they’re Death Eaters.” You start, your confidence coming back to as you beg. “Their loyalty to the Dark Lord trumps all and you both know that.” They share another look, remembering years ago. They both fought and lived through the First Wizarding War and have seen what it can do to people. “I don’t want to become a Death Eater, I refuse to even if that means never seeing my family again.”

“How about this?” Mrs. Diggory sighs, “When this school year ends, you can come live with the three of us.” She offers, you can’t hide the smile that blooms on your face, “You’ll be an adult and they can’t legally come after you... or us.”

You grin from ear to ear, “I would greatly appreciate that.” You sigh out, a heavyweight lifted off your shoulders. She returns the smile but you can’t help the excitement that bubbles up in your chest. You stand up and hug her, squealing a bit causing Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Diggory to laugh. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

[prongsies]

Flirt • Remus Lupin

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x Reader

REQUEST: Could I request a Remus x Reader? Reader is a well know witch and member of the order, which is how they met. She’s very suave, casually flirty, basically a female Sirius LOL. She has her sights set on Remus and they have both fallen for eachother but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her or something to that effect, so he’s dodging all her advances. However, shes pretty bold and persistent. Feel free to take creative liberty!! Thank you!! xx

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, mild language

________________________________________________________________

Being personally invited by the infamous Albus Dumbledore to be a member of the newly reformed Order of the Phoenix was an honor that you wouldn’t wish to reject. Being a member of the original Order before it disbanded, you were quite familiar with the risks it puts you in, especially now that you’re a renowned Auror.

“Oh, wow” You breathed out as you entered the household addressed Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Your eyes catch the rows of house-elf heads on the staircase walls, and the thick layer of dust on the furniture and fixtures, “This is a grim old place”

"You have my mother to thank for that" a voice joined you. You looked towards the threshold to what appears to be the kitchen, where Kingsley disappeared into. There stood a man, hair curling around his face, face sculpted by his goatee and the scruff of the rest of his beard growing around it. He offered a hand, "Sirius Black"

"(Y/f/n) (y/l/n)" you introduced, shaking his hand gently.

He walked aside to allow the other members to enter the room, stepping into the space in front of you with a glint in his eyes, "I'm surprised you didn't run at the sight of a mass murderer"

“Falsely-accused” You corrected, catching the smile forming on his face, “Kingsley filled me in on the way here - I do hope the Ministry does something about your case”

“I hope so too” He replied before motioning you to the threshold, allowing you in first as you prepared for the introductions about to come your way. 

Everyone was gathered at a long table, all ceasing their conversations to welcome her as she walked in. “Over there are Molly and Arthur Weasley” Sirius stepped beside you, fingers brushing the small of your back while his other hand gestured towards the group of red-heads sitting the farthest. “Those are their children Bill and Charlie - the others are upstairs”

“I believe you’ve met Tonks, Kingsley, and our dearest Snivellus - I mean, Severus” He snickered silently at the glare sent his way, before turning to the last person sitting nearest you - a mousy-haired man with scars littering his face, “and that’s Remus Lupin”

He smiled a tired smile towards you, a handsome look on him, before his eyes darted towards the door where Albus Dumbledore strode in, carrying stacks of parchment in one hand while his other shut the door. 

He welcomed you back warmly into the Order, asked how you’ve been after all those years, then proceeded to thank you for even considering rejoining. He proceeded to the main task at hand, assigning the missions, as he distributed the parchments towards all of you.

After the meeting, you were pulled aside by him, wanting to speak to you about private matters concerning the task he gave you. By the time you returned to the dining area, the table was already full of laughter from red-haired children (whom you could only assumed to be the Weasleys) as they watched Tonks morph her face into different animals.

“So (y/n)” Remus started when you chose a seat between him and Sirius, watching you as you started filling your plate. You turn towards him with both eyebrows raised questioningly, “Dumbledore mentioned you were in the first Order - how come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Oh, I was in between Auror training and Order missions then” You explained, taking your time to drink for your goblet, “I only returned to the headquarters to report back to Dumbledore and receive my next task - although a handsome man like you isn’t necessarily hard to miss”

“You’re clearly mistaken-”

“Not a chance!” You exclaimed, suddenly gaining the confidence as you straightened in your seat, “I remember you at Hogwarts before - a year above me. Always tucked in the corner of the library, you were, writing like you’re running out of time”

“An admirer” Sirius piped in, grinning.

“Clearly”

“How about me, though, (y/n)?” Sirius asked, playfully nudging your shoulder, “Did you happen to keep my devilishly handsome face in mind?”

“Eh,” You shrugged, “You have a really common face”

This erupted laughter from Sirius and Remus, and apparently from Bill too who had been watching the exchange in amusement. 

As dinner concluded, you stayed behind to help Molly with the dishes, engaging in a conversation about the original Order where you’ve worked with her late brothers Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Growing fond of you immediately, she insisted you stay the night, not wanting you to leave the house alone especially with how dark it is outside. 

Tired from your trip, you thanked her with a soft hug and a kind smile, before bidding the others good bye and retreating towards your temporary room for a good night’s rest.

___

Remus couldn’t explain the flutter in his stomach upon seeing you the next morning, hair unkept as you tightened the knots on your robe. It was far too early more, the sun barely up as you joined him in the kitchen, watching as he cooked breakfast for everyone.

“Smells amazing” You cooed as the scent of eggs and sausages filled your senses, “Merlin, what can’t you do, Remus Lupin?”

“Be a normal person, I suppose” He replied, giving you a half-hearted smile and a chuckle to indicate that he was joking.

You were aware of his lycanthropy - it seemed everyone in the Ministry of Magic knew about it, after a student’s parent in Hogwarts had let it slip (Of course Remus knew who it could be, but he didn’t wish to give a shit about it anymore). 

Turning back towards you, confused of your silence when he noticed your face softening. He immediately regretted making such a joke that could ruin the mood, but he was pleasantly surprised when you grinned at him.

“Who wants to be normal anyway?” You asked, making a move to wrap an arm around his and bring him closer. Seeing you smiling up at him made it impossible for him to fight his own grin back, his cheeks almost hurting. “Normal is boring - and you, Remus Lupin, are far from boring”

With that, you released him from your grip, greeting Molly Weasley good morning as she shooed the two of you away from the kitchen, wanting to continue cooking on her own. 

As everyone descended the stairs one by one, chatting happily among themselves as they ate their breakfasts, you found yourself caught in a conversation with Fred and George Weasley, who were more than happy to show you their inventions until Molly interrupted them by giving them the task of cleaning out one of the rooms.

You, however, have been convinced by Molly to stay at least until the childrens’ start of term, clearly loving having you around the house. Although hesitant, you agreed, roping Remus along to accompany you to Diagon Alley so you could purchase some extra supplies since you’ll be an extra head in the house.

He walked alongside you the whole time, keeping his distance yet allowing his fingers to brush your knuckles as your arms swayed. While he was busy, you couldn’t help but marvel at his beauty - eyes scanning over each scar that has silvered with age. They were a story of bravery, as you believed, how brave he is to conquer everyday despite his illness.

Catching you staring up at him, he couldn’t help but blush but he soon turned his face away from you, walking ahead and leaving you in the middle of the alley.

___

Eventually, your days in Grimmauld Place turned into weeks, and before you knew it, it was the night before you were to set out on your mission. To say you were nervous is an understatement, mainly because you’d be carrying out the most crucial of the missions Dumbledore had assigned - a mission that should lay out the foundations for the ones that should follow.

Being an Auror poses more risks as well, since there’s a high chance you’ve been the cause of many of the Death Eaters’ family’s imprisonment - and believe me when I say they can hold a deep grudge.

You found yourself unable to sleep, thoughts plaguing your mind about what may happen to you. You pushed your blanket away from you, putting on your slippers are you tried to go down the stairs as quietly as you can - until a floorboard creaked loudly underneath you.

“Well, that proved useless” You muttered under your breath before descending in a normal fashion. A chuckle sounded from behind you, startling you to the point where you’ve pulled out your wand from your pocket, aiming it towards the source.

It was Remus, watching you in amusement as you scoffed in his direction. Hiding your wand back into your robe, you continued your journey towards the kitchen, ignoring him as he mumbled an apology under his breath.

“I’m surprised you’re not flirting with me” He said, still watching you as you cast a silencing charm on the kettle so it wouldn’t make any noise and wake anyone.

Placing it over the heat, you turned towards Remus who was leaning against the table, eyes studying you as you placed two mugs beside him.

“I’m surprised you recognized flirting” You quipped, raising an eyebrow at him as he stared back at you with a smirk, “from how the last weeks had gone, you’ve been nothing but avoidant”

“You know, you’re very straight-forward” He strayed away from the topic, moving closer towards you until you’re shoulder to shoulder.

“Life’s too short not to say what you want”

“You remind me of Sirius far too much”

“As Molly had also said”

“Why don’t you pursue him instead?”

“Because I like you” You turned to him, a smile on your face as you stared up at him, seeing doubt cloud his eyes, but you were quick to place a hand on him in reassurance, “I like you - not Sirius, not... anyone else. You. It’s not that hard to understand”

“You don’t even know me” He mumbled, looking away, “I’m a monster - I’m a monster and I-”

“You’re not a monster - hey, look at me” You stepped in front of him, taking ahold both his cheeks so he meets your eyes again, “You’re not a monster. You’ve never been one and you never will be one. You’re Remus Lupin - a kind, generous man who gives as much as he can give. You’re adorably grumpy in the mrnings but you try to smile nonetheless, you snore even when you nap”

He chuckled at that, hands now coming up to cup your forearm as he relaxed into you.

“You’ve got an immense love for everyone around you - and a special and more intense kind of love for chocolate. You’re a fierce and selfless friend, and it’s an absolute honor that I’m allowed to even look at you every single day”

Remus was almost teary as you concluded your statement, his hands falling onto your waist as he looked at you with so much trust it made your heard want to burst out of your chest. He started leaning in, eyes closed, lips brushing yours softly - just a little more.

Until he opened his eyes. He pulled away, a look flashing in his orbs as he blinked a few times before he pulled away, body rigid. He stepped away from you as if you had burnt him, distancing himself to the point where he’s practically standing across the room. And without another word, he left, leaving you in the silence of the kitchen.

___

The ticking of the clock has been bothering Remus for ages as he sat on an armchair near the entrance, foot tapping against the floor in anticipation for your arrival. It had been more than a month since you left for your mission - which lasted longer than it should’ve.

No one had updates from you in fear of being exposed, and well, in that time span, guilt had bubbled into Remus’ stomach. You didn’t really leave off in good terms, since Remus walked out on you that night.

The morning after, you ignored him as you bid everyone farewell, taking your time with the Weasley children who seemed to grow very close to you. 

Shouts echoed through the entrance hallway as the door slammed open. It was Kingsley, holding you up as you coughed out blood. Sirius was the first down the stairs, followed by Arthur who immediately screamed out for Molly’s aid.

With Remus’ help you were placed gently onto the sofa, wincing as you applied pressure over the wound that had continued bleeding. 

“What happened?” Remus asked, turning to Kingsley whose robes were damp with blood, “Does Dumbledore know? Does-”

“He knows” Kingsley said, managing to remain calm as everyone fussed around you - Sirius coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water while Arthur sends a message out to the rest of the Order members. “She-she managed to do it but there were a tad bit of complications”

“Tad bit?!” Remus exclaimed, “How is- how is this a tad bid?! She’s bleeding out for Merlin’s sake-”

“Remus” Your voice called out.

His features immediately soften as he turned to you, seeing you beckoning him over as Molly finished up tending to you. Everyone understood to leave you two alone, all of them disappearing into the dining area to talk as they wait for Dumbledore to arrive.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better” You chuckled, wincing when you tried to straighten up. “Might’ve ran into a few snatchers on the way back, it’s nothing serious really”

“I was so worried about you” He mumbled after a few beats of silence, kneeling down to be at eye level with you as he held both your hands. “We didn’t- we didn’t really left things at the right foot”

“Well, you did embarrass me by leaving me in the middle of the kitchen” You teased, smiling when you see the faint blush forming on his cheeks, “But now that I think about it I might have come off a bit strong. I apologize, it certainly won’t happen again”

“No! I mean- I mean, no please don’t stop” He turned even redder.

You stared at him, a smirk forming on your lips, “You like it when I flirt with you, don’t you?”

“Yes” He shamefully admitted, biting back the grin forming on his lips, “Yes, I do”

“Well, you could’ve said something earlier before I set out on a mission!” You laughed, wincing again at the pain in your stomach, “I thought we would end up avoiding each other awkwardly for eternity after this”

“well, we could if you want”

“Sod off, Remus”

“I know it’s the wrong time to ask you this, with you in that state and the war going on” He started, his grip on your hand tightening, “But I’d really love it if we could start over? Maybe go on a few dates?”

“And fuck?” You suggested playfully, earning a laugh from him.

“And fuck” He added, nodding.

“Well, then,” You leaned down to give him a gentle peck on his cheek, “I’d love that Remus Lupin”

[secretkeeper13]

Secure

This fic is inspired by and a continuation of sorts to my Christmas fic, Wish. The fic contains some of my head-canon about what happened to Ginny in the Chamber before Harry arrived. In an abundance of caution, please note a potential TW for verbal abuse, similar to Ron and the locket Riddle in DH (but there is no physical or sexual abuse of any kind).

Also, this is the first time I’ve written full out smut without a fade to black, which was both difficult and intimidating! Thank you to @thedistantdusk for reading it and for your encouragement :)  

Read the first part below, or the whole fic on Ao3.

i.

The invitation surprised her a bit. They’d been sitting in the garden after her birthday dinner, still at the table, sipping their drinks and watching the sunset. The sky was ablaze with swirls of burnished red and bright orange, casting a warm glow across the garden. Harry was next to her, his arm draped across the back of her chair, his hand resting on her shoulder, her hand resting on the top of his thigh. Hermione was talking to them from across the table about the short holiday she and Ron were taking with her parents to the Lakes over the weekend.

“They’re really looking forward to it. I think they missed England this past year. And I wanted to do something with them before we go back to Hogwarts in a few weeks.”

At the mention of Hogwarts, Ginny felt a flare of anxiety. It’s still weeks away, she told herself firmly, trying to ignore the pit that had developed in her stomach.

“It’ll be nice to get away for a bit,” Harry said to Hermione, breaking Ginny from her thoughts. She could detect a hint of wistfulness in his tone. She knew how hard he’d been working lately with the Death Eater trials. He’d had to testify in nearly all of them. She gave his leg a slight squeeze with her hand, and he smiled at her.

“‘Arry and Ginny, you should come visit us at ‘ze cottage this weekend.”

Surprised, she looked up at Fleur, who was sitting next to Hermione.

“The weather has been beautiful, and a weekend by the sea would do nicely for you both, I think,” Fleur continued, confidence radiating from her tone, as always.

Ginny looked at Harry to see his reaction to the invitation. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulder almost imperceptibly, which she understood to mean why not?

“Thank you, Fleur; we’d like that. I’ll let Mum and Dad know.”

“Let me know what?” Her mother appeared behind Fleur as suddenly as if she’d apparated.

“Fleur invited Harry and I to stay with them at the cottage this weekend, Mum.”  

“Oh how lovely, dear. It’ll be beautiful there this time of year.”

She turned to Harry as her Mum bustled back off to the kitchen with an empty platter.  “Pack your trunks then, yeah?”

Three days later, they stood at the hearth in the Burrow, Harry holding their overnight bags, and Ginny holding a tin of biscuits she’d made with Mum earlier.

“Enjoy yourselves now,” her Mum said, hugging them both.

Ginny stepped into the green flames and re-emerged into the whitewashed walls of the sitting room of Shell Cottage, Harry following at her heels. She cast cleansing charms to remove the soot as Fleur and Bill entered from the kitchen.

Fleur embraced them both, kissing them on each cheek. Ginny hugged Bill and handed him the tin of biscuits.

“It’s nice being able to use magic out of school now, isn’t it?” Bill said, his arm still around Ginny.

“Well, it’s nice to be able to do it legally at least,” Ginny replied with a wink.

Bill laughed. “Not much for rules in this family, are we?”

“No,” Harry chimed in. “But I suppose that’s why I get on so well with you lot.” Bill chuckled and ruffled Ginny’s hair.

“Let me take you upstairs so you can put away your things,” Fleur said, ushering them to the narrow stairwell as Bill took the biscuits into the kitchen.

They climbed the steep stairs until they reached the landing. Fleur opened the furthest door to the right, revealing a small room with whitewashed walls and a window that looked out over the cliff onto the sea. The window was framed by airy light blue drapes. A double bed with a fluffy, white duvet was in the middle of the wall next to the window.

“I think you will be comfortable in ‘zis room. The view is very nice.” Fleur said holding the door open for them.

I take back every time I called her Phlegm, Ginny thought, surprised and overjoyed at the prospect of getting to sleep in the same room as Harry for the weekend without the usual sneaking around.

Harry looked over at her with a confused expression, clearly unsure as to whether they were meant to stay in the room together.

“Thank you Fleur, this is lovely. Harry, can you bring in the bags please,” Ginny said, trying to give Harry a hint.

Harry stood in the doorway, still looking puzzled. “Erm, are we both staying in this room?”

Fleur raised her eyebrow. “Unless you would prefer separate rooms?”

Ginny flashed Harry a look that indicated he’d better not be a noble idiot by passing up a weekend together in a shared bedroom.

“Oh, erm, no, I wouldn’t… I just wanted to make sure it was alright with you and Bill if we stay in the same.”

“You are both of age now, non? Don’t worry about Bill. He owes Ginny a favor anyhow.” Fleur smiled at her. “I did not forget ‘zat Christmas morning Ginny. What you did was very kind.”

Ginny felt slightly guilty, as she’d gotten five galleons from Bill in exchange for letting him and Fleur have a private moment in her room Christmas morning before last, but she certainly wasn’t going to mention that to Fleur now.

“I must go finish dinner,” Fleur said. “Come downstairs when you ‘ave unpacked.” She left the room and shut the door.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry, who still looked a bit stunned. “This is a nice surprise, isn’t it?” she murmured into his chest. “For a moment, I thought your stupid nobility was going to ruin it.”

Harry smiled. “It’s got limits. A weekend in a room alone with you....” he said wryly, and then a look of nervousness crossed his face. “But I hope it won’t be awkward with Bill. I don’t want to throw it in your family’s face that we’re… you know.”

Ginny snorted. He was adorably thick sometimes. “Harry, you do realize everyone in the family probably knows we’re shagging, right?”

“What?” Harry said, looking panicked. “We’ve been so careful. They’ve never caught either of us out of bed.”

“It doesn’t exactly take loads of N.E.W.T.s to figure it out, love. We told them we got together my fifth year, we’ve been inseparable since the war ended, they all know about your near-death experience-“

“Actual death experience,” he interrupted.

“Please don’t remind me. And to top it all off, you’re smiling and looking far too pleased with yourself most mornings. I don’t know if you remember, but you used to look like this,” she screwed up her face into what she thought was a spot-on impression of sulking, broody Harry.

He laughed. “Well, I’ve tried to be discreet, at least.”

“And we have, I’m just telling you, they probably all know.”

He sighed. “Well, hopefully it’s not too awkward with Bill.”

“It’ll be fine. And like Fleur said, Bill owes me one. Let’s go to dinner.”  

They had a pleasant dinner. Ginny, somewhat apprehensively, tried the Bouillabaisse that Fleur made, but found that she actually quite liked it. Bill and Fleur told them about their trip to France to visit Fleur’s family, and then the conversation turned to Harry’s first Auror mission, which was starting in a few weeks.

At the mention of summer’s end, a pit formed in Ginny’s stomach, and her mind wandered as Harry spoke. She dreaded leaving him to return to Hogwarts. Last year was miserable, of course, and for reasons far worse than just missing Harry. She tried to tell herself it would be easier this year- they could write to each other, he could visit her on Hogsmeade weekends, and they’d see each other over Christmas- but it didn’t change the fact that they’d be apart again. And this time, Harry would be working at the Ministry, surrounded by throngs of witches who would undoubtedly throw themselves at him, and he would no longer be distracted by fighting a homicidal maniac who wanted to kill him. Meanwhile, she’d be a schoolgirl stuck at Hogwarts- little Ginny, always the youngest- always the one left behind.

She knew that Harry loved her. She knew that he would never mess her about. But she couldn’t help the fears that crept in the corners of her mind- the fear that another year away from each other would be too difficult, the fear that being apart would result in growing apart. And her darkest fear of all, the one that hid and scuttled in the most shadowed corner of her mind, planted years ago by a silky-voiced stranger who she thought was her friend, was that Harry would realize that in his new, grown-up life, he could do anything he wanted, have any witch he wanted, and decide that he didn’t want her.

“What do you think, Gin?” Harry’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Oh um...” She flushed. “What were you saying? I’m sorry, I got distracted by the view.” She motioned to the window by the sink, which looked out over the sea.

Harry grinned at her. “I was saying I’d like to try to go down to the beach tomorrow at low tide.”

She smiled back. “I’d like that.”

They finished dinner and then went into the sitting room. Bill poured them wine, and Fleur brought out a tray of cheeses and the biscuits Mum had made. They ate and drank as they chatted and listened to the wireless. At some point, Bill produced an Exploding Snap deck, and they took turns playing against one another, laughing at the explosions and goading the loser to finish their drink.

Some time later, she sat cross legged on the rug next to the hearth, midway through a game of Exploding Snap with Harry, feeling slightly tipsy and pleasantly warm from the combination of the heat from the fire and the wine, when Bill approached and knelt down next to them on the rug.

“Alright, you two?”

“Fine thanks, just kicking Harry’s arse.” Bill chuckled as Harry shook his head playfully.

“We’re going to head up to bed. The windows are charmed so you can leave them open but nothing can get inside, so no need to worry there. Knock on our door if you need anything, alright?”

“Thanks Bill. Goodnight,” Harry replied.

“Night,” Ginny said, as she kissed Bill on the cheek.

When he was gone, Ginny looked at Harry from over the cards. “Your move, Potter.”

He smirked at her. “Potter now, is it?”

“I take thrashing you at Exploding Snap seriously, what can I say?”

She gazed at him over the cards. The rippling flames from the firelight reflected in his eyes, which were darker than usual.

“I think I should make my next move upstairs,” he said, his voice low, desire evident in his tone. Her stomach fluttered, and she bit her bottom lip.  With a swish of her wand, she sent the cards flying neatly back into the box. With a flick of his, he extinguished the fire.

They climbed the stairs to their room, being careful to tread quietly on the landing. The second the door closed behind them, she heard the click of the locking charm.

“Muffliato?” she reminded him.

“Already done,” he said.

He leaned down and crashed his lips to hers, kissing her passionately, one hand winding into her hair, the other caressing low on her back. He slowly walked her backward until her legs reached the bed, and she lay back, pulling him towards her.

She reached for the hem of his shirt, but he held her wrist to still her hand. “Wait,” he said.

She looked at him quizzically, one brow raised, unsure as to why he was stopping her. His cheeks flushed. “It’s just, erm, we’ve got the night…”

She understood him perfectly. “We’ve never had all night together before, have we?”

He leaned down and kissed her neck, then moved his lips to the shell of her ear and whispered, “No. And I’d planned on taking my time.”

Read parts ii and iii (NSFW) on Ao3.

[thusatlas]

Can we talk about Barty Crouch Jnr?

This tweaked bastard has been living in my head, rent free, since I read the Goblet of Fire - in 2005.

Think how much rent that is! 

You see, this malevolent set of cheekbones is not only a brilliant portrayal of a true psychopath, but he’s also somewhat responsible for Voldemort’s death. And it all comes down to one, beautiful, sweet, doe-eyed glow-up baby - 

Let me lay out fifteen years of thoughts here for you.

1. Is he a psychopath? 

Well first let’s define psychopath. I’ve spent much time toiling over this conundrum for my Masters (not as long as Barty Crouch Jnr but enough). Hollywood has made the image of a psychopath synonymous with Hannibal or Patrick Bateman, but let me assure you - that is a very, very small percentage of what would actually be considered a psychopath. According to the DSM - V, there is no such thing diagnostically as a “psychopath”. This is for two reasons: law and philosophy. Philosophically speaking, the MindBody Problem is still at the forefront of conversations about the conscious, and so when faced with the paradox of a psychopath, the MindBody problem freaks the fuck out. Briefly, this problem is that we as neuroscientists and psychologists can map most - if not all - the ‘hardware’ of the brain. So the mechanical actions like moving your arm or drinking some tea. The hard problem - the actual problem - is we haven’t got a fucking clue what the Mind is. It’s all a bit... ineffable (that is legitimately how we academically put it, Neil Gaiman = God). Religion says that the Mind is the soul. Science says - we haven’t got a fucking clue what it is; it’s qualia, its unquantifiable experience that effects your entire worldview and make you wholey unique from everyone else on the planet. 

And we can’t fucking find it on a map - hence its a problem. 

Now this ineffable, unquantifiable mind, soul, conscious whatever you want to call it, is the thing that directs your moral compass. Psychopaths seem to present behaviour that does not prescribe to the moral code that we, in our relative societies have agreed upon. There is evidence to suggest that they do not feel guilt, which is a key ingredient in Moral psychology (I direct you to the research of Jonathon Haidt). Within the law, internationally, individuals with psychopathic traits are perceived as being predicated to criminal behaviour - therefore, exempt from taking any insanity defence. Now within psychology, because of the law and philosophy, and the mindbody problem - IT’S VERY FUCKING HARD TO DIAGNOSE A PSYCHOPATH BECAUSE WE CAN’T DECIDE WHAT ONE IS, because of all of the above. It’s all very... grey.

But what we can agree on, is there is a list of qualities that you would usually find in a psychopath, these are measured on the PCL-R  (Hare 2003) and the PPI-R (Lilienfield and Widows 2005):  

Machiavellian Egocentricity

Rebellious Nonconformity

Blame Externalisation

Carefree Nonplanfulness

Social Influence

Fearlessness

Stress Immunity

Coldheartedness

Early behavioural problems

Lack of realistic long term goals

Juvenile Delinquency

Parasitic Lifestyle

As you can see, Voldemort was a psychopath, but I digress. Barty, not so sure, and this is earmarked with the fact that we don’t know the entirety of his character. By the time he’s outed the first time, he has a seat on the Wizengamot and Crouch Snr is all shocked - like he never saw this behaviour coming. It can be inferred that a) Crouch Jnr is a excellent liar, capable of manipulation those closest to him with machiavellian behaviour; b) probably quite a well behaved young boy. So I would disregard the idea of juvenile delinquency and early behavioural problems. 

And this scene stands as evidence that Crouch Jnr is capable of Rebellious Nonconformity as well as Blame Externalisation. We know that he was a politician prior and well liked, so I will again infer that he had Social Influence. I will also infer that he had a predilection for Stress Immunity given he was outed infront of the entire court room and his reaction was this: 

Not screaming and running for the high hills. I’ll raise you the fact that he was undercover as Moody for an entire year, rubbing shoulders with Dumbledore, and seemed pretty chill about the whole thing given that he was acting in, what I can imagine to be, was a very stressful situation. 

So as you can see, a fair argument could be made for Crouch Jnr to be diagnosed as a genuine psychopath. 

And yet we come to the reason why this has bothered me for fifteen years. 

2. The Character Development of Neville Longbottom

It’s a well loved narrative that Neville goes from the bumbling bucktooth first year, to the Gryffindor God slaying Nagini in the Battle of Hogwarts. 

...deceased. 

Anyway, years 1,2,3 Neville is still treated as the weakling: he’s forgetting books, he’s leaving Common Room passwords lying around so that they’re stolen by nefarious Kneezles who let in escaped convicts etc etc. Come forth year, we open with Neville stepping in the trick-step that everyone knows to miss and yet bumbling Neville, still doping along. At this point, you’re like, ‘na this kid is gonna die because he trips over his own shoelaces or something.’ 

And then that fateful Unforgiveable Curses lesson happens. 

For those who need reminding, here Neville offers up the Cruciatus curse to which Professor Moody - aka Barty Crouch Jnr, tortures a spider using it as a demonstration. Neville is stricken by the whole event because of his parents. After the lesson, Hermione hurries Ron and Harry (who haven’t really realised that Neville was that effected) to find Neville who staring at a wall in a side corridor or stairwell - I can’t remember which. Neville’s shellshocked, saying he’s fine but keeps talking about dinner. He’s in full trauma. 

Then Moody Crouch comes along.

3. The paradox

Moody Crouch then takes a traumatised Neville to his office, gently reassuring him, offering him tea and calling him ‘laddy’. Here, he tells Neville that Professor Sprout was singing his praises in Herbology and gifts him the book on African plants, I think it was. This book is what Harry and Ron see him avidly reading later. This is the start of his love of herbology, which then leads to him being the one to get Harry through the second challenge, which then allows Harry to go on and touch the portkey Triwizard cup. Whilst also setting Neville on the path of having confidence in himself. By book 5, Neville’s braver, he’s no longer forgetting things, and this only improves by the time we get to the Battle of Hogwarts where he becomes a literal Hero from a Greek Myth. 

So, Psychopathic Machiavellian behaviour would say, he needs to get Harry on side. You do that by showing that you care. So you go over-board punishing the known bullies and enemies:

Whilst being nice to Harry’s friends (Neville with the book). He could have deliberately orchestrated the Unforgiveable curses lesson, in the attempt to traumatise Neville so that he could then be the Hero and be seen looking after him by Harry. Then you use the friend as a means to ensure that Harry is able to get through the second challenge, by setting him on the path of plants. Ergo, you complete you mission and your year long con. You got Potter to the graveyard, to the Dark Lord - you’re the best little psychopath and nobody suspected you the entire time. 

BUT. He was nice. He was caring. He was tender with Neville. 

And if you remember, psychopaths also have a tendency to have a Lack of realistic long term goals, and have behaviours that display Carefree Nonplanfulness and Coldheartedness. Getting Harry to the cup had to be a sure-fire thing. The plan had to be solid. It is my belief that Moody Crouch had a plan in place for every trial, but I do not believe he was the puppeteer pulling the strings. The aforementioned plan has too many if’s and but’s. Too much causality. Too much left up to circumstance. I think if Neville hadn’t done something, then Moody Crouch would have, but it was never the intention for Neville to be his tool - just a happy accident. 

While he can be ascribed to portray some true psychopathic behaviours, I don’t believe that Barty Crouch Jnr was a psychopath. I think he was just rebelling in a really hard way from his Stiff, Loveless Father. Because this moment of caring, was a product of guilt. This was where Moody Crouch’s moral compass kicked in and he began to mentor Neville throughout fourth year (like a father) thus inadvertently setting Neville on a path to defeat Voldy-bollocks. 

Thus the paradox: the best teacher Neville Longbottom ever had was a Death Eater. 

And that just fucks me up. 

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[missdawnandherdusk]

Gryffindor Extensive Dating Neville Headcanons:

A/N: Y’all keep finding and requesting the characters I’m so soft for. Here’s my baby Neville who is an absolute sweetheart of a character and should be appreciated more. Requested by @maybenotjellytot (and it’s not letting me tag you, curse you Tumblr)

You know the drill, this is super long and super cute

You meet on the Hogwarts express. He’s stammering and clinging to Trevor for dear life

He’s so shy and blushing and tripping over his words that you can’t help but giggle and introduce yourself

“Neville. Me. I’m. Yes. Leville Nongbottom” You giggle again and he’s bright red.

“Nice to meet you Neville,” you smile brightly.

You sit together on the train ride and it’s sort of awkward but a good awkward. He starts to open up a bit about wanting to learn magic and that his Gran is expecting a lot from him.

You can sympathize with your overbearing well meaning pure blood grandfather

Then you’re both sorted into Gryffindor and it’s nice to have a friend. You find friends in the Golden Trio as well, but you’re always partial to Neville because he’s the first one who had the courage to say hello to you

Since you’re in the same house it means you have all of your classes together. Potions is rough for both of you and Snape just terrifies Neville—sure he was creepy but you didn’t really understand it. You still defended him though, even if it ended you in detention a lot

“You really don’t have to do this,” he stammers, meeting you after detention. “I don’t mind,” you smile and so does he.

You love Astronomy and he loves Herbology and you two are the biggest dorks. He knows everything about plants and you know everything about the stars

Soon you’re learning to ride brooms. It comes easy to you and Neville breaks his wrist. You take him to the infirmary flipping Malfoy off as you walk away sure Hooch took five points from Gryffindor for it but it felt good. The little prat

“There’s always one,” Pomfrey sighs and resets Neville’a wrist. You stay by his side all the while, reassuring him that he was amazing anyway.

“I can’t do anything,” he groans. “Some Gryffindor I am. I don’t belong here.” “Neville that’s not true,” you frown. “You belong in Gryffindor as much as Nifflers love gold.” You both blush at your sudden defense of him.

And honestly it’s nice to have a friend. When the weather turns colder and you’re freezing Neville gives you his gloves and tells you not to worry about it.

You study for exams together. It takes some time but Neville finally catches on to Potions when you (re)teach him the lessons. Snape doesn’t bother you like he does Neville you always want to ask him about it but never find the courage. Some Gryffindor you are, you think

The Christmas Holiday comes and you both hug each other goodbye, promising to write to another and his grandmother and your parents catch sight of the interaction and they tease you both about it all the time

“Mum he’s just a friend!” You whine. “Gran she’s just a friend! That’s all!” Neville dismays. Neither guardian is convinced.

You get Neville a Herbology book and spend time drawing a few of his favorite plants perfectly for Christmas and he gets you a monocle that works like a telescope and shows the night sky any time of day

You go to Quidditch games together and you both put in the same amount of effort into Gryffindor spirit but something is always slightly off to you about the house system that you don’t really tell anyone

You sneak up to the Astronomy tower most weekends and one time Neville catches you saying “you shouldn’t be here you’re going to get in trouble” you take his hand and pull him up the tower and let his hand go, marveling at the stars

“Aren’t they wonderful?” You sigh. “So many stories are written up there Nev, and every night they smile down on us,”

Neville doesn’t understand your passion for the stars but he loves the way you talk about them, like you knew each of the characters in the stories that the stars told

One night you find Harry and Hermione in the Astronomy tower and you’re surprised. Now thanks to Malfoy you all have detention.

In the Forbidden forest you’re paired with Neville and Hagrid and you both set off, terrified. Neville hated the dark and you hated not being able to see the stars. You hear a noise from behind you and jump into Neville arms.

You’re both blushing and awkward. As you apologize and he stammers something about not worrying. Gee some Gryffindors you two are

You’re the one who finds Neville after Hermione immobilizes him and after you undo the spell, you two go straight to McGonagall. Again, you take his hand and pull him through the halls on the way to McGonagall. When he explains what happened, you beam because of course he’s a Gryffindor how can he not see that?

At the End of Year Feast he’s awarded the ten points that causes Gryffindor to win and you hug him without a second thought and now you two are blushing and awkward again and everyone laughs at the two of you.

You write to him over the summer and it’s really nice to have him to talk to. He’s a bit more honest in his letters than he ever was actually talking and laments quite often about his grandmothers expectations and that he’s afraid of failing everyone—especially his parents.

That threw you off guard because you didn’t know anything about his parents and he clammed up about the matter whenever you brought it up so you dropped it a long time ago. You still didn’t ask because well, you figured he’d tell you when he was ready. You also tell him that he could never fail you

You send him a photo of the little garden you’ve started because maybe listening to him talk all those nights made something actually stick and you weren’t half bad at gardening and a bit of Moon Lace (a flower that only blooms under the full moon) for his birthday.

Boy does his grandmother ship you two so hard “Ask her out Neville! Be a man! Treat her with respect! I’d always knew you’d find some lovely girl,” “Gran we’re twelve,” “Nonsense dear boy. When you find a girl like that you don’t let her go,”

Now Neville’s worried about being around you because he feels pressured and maybe he does actually like you but he’s sure you only see him as a friend and he doesn’t want to lose you because his grandmother is right, he doesn’t want to let you go

You meet him on the Hogwarts Express again and you two sit together and all of those worries seem to fade because you weren’t just his friend you were his best friend and he wouldn’t trade that for anything

You’re also sitting with another girl—Luna Lovegood. A first year who has her head in the clouds who then gets sorted into Ravenclaw and you three become the “Silver Trio”

When every girl is enamored with Lockheart, you roll your eyes and scoff and Neville feels slightly satisfied at that.

Neville can tell that you’re saddened because you don’t have Astronomy this year, so he tries to cheer you up by sneaking you to the Astronomy Tower whenever he can manage

You spend those nights telling him stories about the ancient gods and heroes that the stars hold, and he gets lost in your words wondering what it would be like to live back then

When the Chamber of Secrets opens you’re a bit more scared than you let on. The only one who knows that is Neville.

When students start to get petrified, you’re hardly seen away from Neville because you don’t want to be next

Malfoy teases you about it and boy does Neville go off on him surprising everyone even you a bit because you knew he was brave but standing up to Malfoy was a different matter that bordered stupid and you’re a goner because if you doubted your feelings for him before you didn’t now

Neville isn’t the best with comforting people so he normally just ends up getting you plants/flowers. You have a small garden on your bedroom window filled with anything and everything and you care for and name each of them

Third year comes and this time you’re enamored with the new DADA teacher and Neville doesn’t get it and neither do you really. But there’s something about Professor Lupin that just draws you in. Of course you have no idea yet that he’s a werewolf and thereby connected to the moon and stars of which you adore

You love Lupin a little more when he teaches the Laughing Spell and makes a fool out of Professor Snape on Neville’a behalf

But now you’re sort of really worried because why in the world the thing Neville fears most Snape?

When your boggart turns into a mirror Neville worries too because what in the world is that supposed to mean?

It’s a late night in the Astronomy Tower that has you both blurting out “why is that your boggart?”

You both look down, scared to admit what’s deep inside. Neville gives in first and begins to explain.

“Snape was one of You Know Whos most trusted in the first war... my... my parents were—”

“Neville you don’t have to tell me if you’re not—” you quickly cut in

“No, I trust you. And... it’ll be nice to have someone understand,” You take hold of his hand and listen earnestly while he tells you about his parents and how they were driven to insanity by Death Eaters and that Snape reminds him of that every day because all he sees is bravery of his parents that he can never live up to and the one who forced it upon him

You pull him into a hug and just hold him close. You had no idea, but now that you did, it out the world into perspective for you a bit more.

“What about you?” He asked softly. “Why...?”

“The mirror,” you sighed. “I... I hate my reflection. It... it reminds me that I’m never enough. I’m not enough for my parents... or my grandparents... or other people. That I’m not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, brave enough...” you hug your knees. “Nobody wants someone who’s broken. No one wants a freak,”

“I do,” Neville’s words are sure and confident. “You’re more than enough for me. You’re... you’re perfect...”

There are tears in your eyes and you wrap your arms around him.

Now when you by the off chance catch your relflection in something, Neville is normally right beside you and all your fear and worries about not being enough fade over the next few years

The Fat Lady’s portrait gets attacked and you take Nevilles hand without thinking because it feels secure and safe. You side by side with Neville in the Great Hall that night and you’re thankful for the night sky that’s projected on the ceiling

You can’t sleep so you watch the faux stars. Neville sits up with you and asks you to tell a story because it calms him and you and now there are a bunch of students and some professors listening to your stories.

You’re absolutely outraged when Snape steps in to reach DADA but you quiet down when Neville shakes his head, silently pleading not to draw attention to yourselves. You sulk and dive into the lesson because it’s very close to the lore you’re used to reading.

Then you almost drop your quill because you realize why Snape has you reading up on werewolves. “Hey, what’s Professor Lupins first name?” You ask stammering. “Uh, Remus, I think,” Neville frowns. “You alright?”

You nod and rush out of the room as soon as the bell ring and Neville is chasing after you because you’re normally not this skiddish/flighty

You grab a book from your personal library—a book on classical mythology—and flip through the pages. “I knew it!” Then you hear a crash and a yelp. “Oh stars, Neville,” you realize because you know for a fact he’s forgotten that the girls dormitories are enchanted. You race down and find him sprawled out on the common room floor.

“I’ll tell you,” you help him up. “Tonight,” then you’re at war with yourself because you don’t know how safe it is to be out in a full moon but you trust Dumbledore and Professor Lupin enough that later you and Neville are up in the Astonomy Tower

“A werewolf? You think Professor Lupin is a werewolf?” Neville asks skepically. “Yes,” you confirm and you’re about to go into it again when Neville intervenes “No, no I trust you. I do... but what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” you whisper. “It wasn’t his choice... and he hasn’t hurt anybody...” “shouldn’t we tell someone?” Neville asks. “And out him? It’s not exactly easy to be a werewolf Nev.” you two just sit looking at the stars. The Neville reminds you that you both have an essay due for DADA for Snape.

“Oh! That wretched Snape!” You jump up. “Merlin! He’s making the entire class write how to kill werewolves for Lupin to read when he gets back!” You are absolutely seething and Neville has to stop you before you go and hex the stars out of Snape but Merlin does he love you for it

You refuse to write the essay. Instead you copy down all your notes about Roman mythology and Romulus and Remus and the She-Wolf Lupa and how all great heroes of Roman mythology start under the care of the She-Wolf

Remus is about having a nervous break down when he gets to your paper and now he’s sobbing because he’s reading your paper about heroes and wolves

You get full marks on the essay and Lupins deepest respect

Anyway

Neville stumbles through an invitation to Hogsmeade and again you laugh and accept and then before you know it it’s not just you two but an entire group of third years and you two can’t help but feel a bit disappointed

He followed you around the book shop as you pick up books and flip through them and you watch him marvel at the plants in a nearby shop. He goes back and buys you the book you were looking at and you buy him the vine plant. For Christmas. Obviously. As friends.

The holidays come and you’re both hesitant to say goodbye because of the fear lingering over Hogwarts but you part ways

You don’t spend a day without thinking of Neville is okay over the holidays and you send him letters constantly. He’s always worrying about you

When he visits his parents that Christmas he sits down and tells them about a girl he met who’s full of courage and stories and how kind she is and stubborn and brave and how they would adore her

His grandmother over hears and doesn’t tease Neville about it, but she has a deeper respect for you because you really have captured her grandsons heart

Malfoy is being Malfoy one day and you’re about to punch the git in the face but Neville grabs your arm. “It’s not worth it,” he whispers, “he can be wrong, but I know you and you’re not like him. Don’t stoop to his level.” and Merlin if you don’t melt on the spot and somber up

You figure out that Neville has the biggest sweet tooth after catching him in Honeydukes and you ask your (muggle) dad to send you Muggle candies and sweets for Neville to try. He always shares them with you and prefers sweets that don’t have an air of danger to them

You meet fourth gear on the train and your heart skips a beat because he’s grown about half a foot and his hair is shaggy and a mess and perfectly Neville and he still has Trevor and it makes you smile

He’s also freaking out internally because you’ve grown a lot over the summer and you’re in a muggle tshirt and jeans with an MP3 player and he’s just... wow. You two listen to music on the train ride this year and end up falling asleep on each other

At this point everyone including you is waiting for him to ask you out and become an official couple and every time you think he tries to ask you he stammers and freaks out and doesn’t because you’re just so perfect and pretty and popular and he’s not and he’s sure that you like someone else and he’s not much

He finally asks you to the Yule Ball... sort of.

“He’s been practicing dancing alone all month,” Rom jeers. “Must be some girl,” Neville is absolutely red and you can’t seem to look away from your dinner because you think he’s doing it for someone else because why wouldn’t he just ask you to practice dancing? You were best friends anyways, of course you would help him

You ask him who the girl is totally not jealous at all and he goes red and quiet again and you’re really worried now because you don’t want to lose him as a friend if he does like someone else

He finally admits that it is you that he wants to go to the ball with and you just stare at him not expecting that at all because you were convinced he liked someone else but no it’s you. Then it hits you. MERLIN HE LIKES YOU

He’s fumbling for an explanation and that it’s okay if you don’t want to go and a thousand other things and you just pull his tie and press your lips to his to shut him up. It’s awkward and uncoordinated but a perfect first kiss

You both can’t stop smiling the next few days because you’re finally together and there aren’t any walls between you anymore and it’s just nice to have your best friend back who is now also your boyfriend

Oh and you’re also going to the ball together. You smile about that too.

“It’s... it’s not much,” you flush looking down at your dress. “And it’s a bit muggle...” “You’re perfect,” Neville cuts you off and for once you believe the words and him practicing dancing really pays off because he’s bloody marvelous. You two spend the whole night laughing and dancing

Though everyone is staying on campus for the holidays because of the tournament Neville asks you if you want to come with him to visit his parents on the holiday. You smile softly and take his hand, nodding

You formally meet Neville’s Grandmother this time, not just passing by at a train station. She starts to scold Neville about doing something, but sees you clench your fist and take his hand and she pauses. 

You’re nervous and it’s written on your face and Neville thinks that it’s because of the entire situation and that his parents are well... but you quickly blurt out “What if they don’t like me?” Both Neville and his grandmother gape at you. His grandmother recovers first “a sweet brave witch like you? How can they not my dear?” 

You can see that Neville’s smile falls the father you walk into St. Mungo’s, so you take his hand and smile. He doesn’t smile but he doesn’t look so upset any longer. His gran leaves you two alone as you walk into the long room

“Mum? Dad? This is the girl I was telling you about,” And your heart just breaks for the one holding your hand. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom,” You smile and introduce yourself. “You have a wonderful son, and should be very proud,” and you realize just how brave Neville is for the first time in knowing him and Neville realizes that he never wants anyone but you by his side because you make him feel the bravest

You do visit him this summer. He lives in a downtown flat in the outskirts of London with his Gran. He’s got a garden in the small space out back and it’s filled with the most beautiful plants the moonlace you sent him is in a window box outside his bedroom 

he’s got a jar of old candy wrappers sitting on his dresser and you give him a questioning look. “They’re from my mum,” He admits “I... I don’t want to toss them but I don’t know what to do with them,” “May I?” You ask and he nods, looking slightly worried. 

You take one of the wrappers and easily fold it into a tiny origami butterfly. “My dad showed me how... we used to fold our gum wrappers...” soon each wrapper is folded into a little butterfly and placed into the jar again. 

Fifth year seems like a total fiasco between Umbridge and the ministry but you and Neville both love DA

You know he loves it because he feels like he’s finally making his parents proud. “You do that just by being their son, I don’t care what your gran says,” You whisper one night, looking at the old photo of the Order of the Phoenix 

You and Neville both get very good at defense spells and though you can’t sneak away to the Astronomy Tower that year, you do go to the RoR on quiet nights by yourselves and it’s just a huge greenhouse with a glass roof and walls where you can sit and watch the stars and maybe have midnight picnics 

okay i’m calling bullshit on JKR again neville has a corporeal patronus

It’s a lion, let’s be honest

When he does cast the patronus you let out a yell of victory and so does he. Then you’re hugging and the charm falls but he doesn’t care. Your patronus might be a five foot butterfly but its fine and terrifying 

You steal his sweaters all the time even though you think they’re god-awful but they’re always warm and smell like him and soft and you like people including your reflection knowing that you’re his and he wants you and chose you

Neville only gets caught by the Inquisitorial Squad because Draco  throws you to the ground and Neville breaks his nose a-la-muggle then helps you up

At the Ministry you and Neville are a force to be reckoned with against Death Eaters and he saves you from Bellatrix because damn if he’s letting anyone else he loves get hurt by her

But you’re one step ahead and jump in front of Neville just as Bellatrix sends the Cruatius curse at him and furious, Neville sends one right back at Bellatrix before lifting you into his arms

You’re not awake but you’re breathing. “Stupid brave girl,” He cries, holding you, carrying you away from the fight as the rest of the Order shows up

He stays beside your hospital cot and refuses to be looked after himself by Pomfrey until you open your eyes. “Nev?” You rasp. “Stars! What were you thinking!? Running in front of me like that!?” He yells, pulling you into his arms. “Couldn’t let her hurt you too,” your voice is shaky and broken and he finds himself crying because he loves you. “I love you too Nev,” you whisper out

Then proceed to yell at him about refusing treatment and he laughs, wiping away your tears and pressing his lips to yours. It’s caked in dirt and blood, but it’s the best kiss and he refuses to let you out of his sight

That summer you go over every Sunday for family dinner and to just hang out with Neville. His gran hovers the first few weeks, but boy is she smitten with you because you remind her so much of Neville’s mother

He comes to your muggle and magic home and is amazed at the farm house that you live in in the middle of nowhere and finally understands where your love of stars comes from because out in the country he could see everything

He loves your cat Moxy and asks why you don’t bring her to school and you explain that she’s not a familiar, she’s just a normal house cat. And he swears that you and the cat have a language of your own and sees you two have full on conversations and arguments and just smiles because he loves you

Your parents love him so much and adopt him into the family on the spot. You show him some muggle flowers and plants that are your favorite (sunflowers, marigolds, loquat trees hydrangeas). You two spend forever binging Disney movies because he’s never seen any and you’re not having that and despite the war looming overhead, it’s a moment of peace

Sixth year when Neville gets the invitation for Slughorn’s lunch on the train you practically have to shove him out the door because “We always ride together, I can’t just leave you, I’m not going.” “Neville I swear to the gods go!” 

He comes back, slightly sulking and you ask. “Just wanted to know my for who my parents are,” You dislike Slughorn on the spot. “Or maybe he wants to know you because you’re a hero,” You brush his hair from his eyes. It’s not hard to get the smile back into his eyes and on his lips

Sixth year is relatively normal for you and Neville, despite all of the fear and rumors spreading about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You are aware that the Golden Trio and the “chosen one” are up to something but for the moment you just want to go to Hogwarts, kiss your boyfriend, and pass your N.E.W.T.s 

And maybe you worry about Draco Malfoy a bit because you know he’s a prat but he just looks like death this year. Neville can’t deny that you’re right and aids your efforts to try and reach out to the Slytherin

Then Dumbledore dies and everything changes. Part of you regrets not doing something more, but part of you is grateful that you enjoyed the moments before, while you still could. 

Again you just want to punch Bellatrix in the face because at this point she’s frankly just annoying

You and Neville go to the funeral and you’re both stoic but gripping the other’s hand tightly. 

“It’s up to us now,” Neville whispers one night while visiting his parents, a common thing for you two recently. “Harry isn’t coming back next year.” You’re furious with Harry for skipping out on Hogwarts, but you know Neville is right, the school needs hope still

You two reopen DA and you start a support group on campus under Snape’s nose for the younger kids who need to feel safe and protected. The first years just break your heart because they’re so young and it’s just not fair that they have to go through their first year of Hogwarts like this

The Room of Requirement becomes a safe haven for anyone and everyone but especially you and Neville who really can’t seem to catch a break. You’re rarely apart when you can help it and have been sleeping curled up with another since the first week

You defend first years ruthlessly from the prats in Slytherin and still try to get through to them that it didn’t matter whose side they were on, this isn’t right and maybe Draco and a few others let you go a few times scot free

You and Neville still watch the stars whenever you can manage and story nights with you become a commonality amongst younger years who really just need a hero or fairytale to believe in and Merlin it does something to Neville when he sees first years curled up in your lap hanging on to your every word or fast asleep

You two are sort of honorary parents that year and all of the professors who still believe in the cause are on your side and giving you two anything you need to give to the younger kids

Patching each other up after “detentions” you decide somewhere along the way that if you ever make it out of this alive you want to do two things: marry Neville and become a Healer because you’ve got a knack for healing spells and potions

The Battle of Hogwarts finally comes and you both are more than ready for it. After helping the first years to safety you and Neville join the fight hand in hand. You’re terrified but you can’t help but smile at him because you remember a shy dorky kid from first year and now he’s a leader and everything you knew he could be

When Harry is pronounced dead Neville looks at you, despaired and kisses you. It’s desperate and fast then he kisses your forehead and runs out of the crowd to face Voldemort alone and you don’t know if you love or hate him in that moment

Luna catches you and boy is she string because you can’t shake her grip. “Watch,” She whispers softly. “He’ll be alright. He’s got a fighter’s spirit,” You want to argue and run out after him, but she’s right, he’s bloody brilliant on his own as you watch through tears

As soon as you realize that Harry isn’t dead you throw Luna off, call Neville’s wand to your hand and you’re back to back fighting off Death Eaters while scolding him about never doing that again “Yes dear,” He laughs. 

Then Nagani coils around your feet, making you fall  and scramble back, wandless. “Neville!” You scream, terrified. He looks around panicked for you and then at the ground. The Sorting Hat was inches from him, a silver handle with red rubies presented. 

He draws the sword and roars, killing the snake. You’re both panting and staring at each other. He helps you up and you pull him into another kiss before there’s an explosion behind you two. “We should...” “Yeah...” you chuckle and take his hand and dash off into the madness again.

The fighting seems to stop as Harry and Voldemort face each other down. You and Neville watch side by side, clinging to each other

As soon as Voldemort is gone you scream in victory and Neville takes you in his arms and you’re kissing again and for one moment everything is okay, because you’re both alive and free and it’s going to be okay. 

Then you quickly go around mending and healing those who need it, not stopping until Neville pulls you away from the infirmary and sets you down on a cot. 

“They need me,” You mumble into his shoulder as he takes a look at your wounds. “And they might appreciate it if you live long enough to help them,” There’s a soft smile on his lips as he patches you up and presses a soft kiss to each of your wounds.

There are too many funerals and too many tears and too many nightmares, but he’s always there beside you. And you’re beside him. You both expect to wake up in the room of requirement with Voldemort still alive, but it never happens.

You and Neville go and visit his parents again and together you tell them both what happens, together, because even if they’ll never understand the words spoken, it’s a reassurance to you and Neville that it happened and everything is over and that you’re alright

Neville still stammers through his proposal to you and you’re laughing and crying and saying yes because Merlin you love him to the moon and back 

You’re visiting his parents alone the day before the wedding and for a shining moment, his mother takes your hand and you see a light in them as she whispers “thank you,” then the light is gone and she’s back to her spaced out look

The wedding isn’t much, just school friends and professors and some family. Neville is in a sweater and you’re barefoot in your backyard with a bouquet of moonlace getting married under the stars

You speak on behalf of Draco at his trial and convince Harry and just about all of your friends as well, because Draco was a victim like the rest of you were

You decide that you want to open a place for all the kids at Hogwarts who need a summer/holiday home because it’s not safe at their homes or they don’t want to go home. Neville kisses you when you suggest it and starts looking into places to make your dream happen 

Harry offers Grimmauld Place and you cry and hug him because it’s perfect and soon all of the alumni from your year are working on fixing up a the place because they agree, there needs to be a safe haven for these kids

When he starts teaching at Hogwarts, you become a part of the staff as a therapist/Healer/on-hand mother figure to anyone and everyone. You don’t want kids like Draco or Neville or Harry to slip through the cracks, and though you can’t take down the house system, you can help kids while they grow up

You and Neville go out and see every new Disney movie in theaters, even before you have kids (and eventually you make your way to America to go to Disney World. It becomes an annual tradition)

You and Neville can’t have biological kids because of your injuries during the war so you adopt: first a little boy Perseus Frank Longbottom, then a little girl a few years later, Persephone Alice Longbottom. 

Every year on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, you and Neville stop classes that day and tell all of the students the story, hand in hand. Everyone gathers in the Great Hall as the Storyteller and her Hero paint a tale of love and loss and hope.

.

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[malfoymanortings]

silver tongue //part one

SUMMARY: charlie weasley was never the type to fall in love. his main focus has always been dragons. by the time he realizes he’s in love, it may be too late.

PAIRINGS: charlie weasley X fem!OC

i have one more part planned for this story. it’s yet another one that just begged to be written. hopefully you all enjoy it!

“weasley!” luminita stormed over to the red haired boy, who looked up at her with a panic stricken gaze. “would you like to tell me why maria just informed everyone that you were taking an indefinite hiatus?”

charlie weasley gave a reassuring pat to the month old dragon he had been tending to, before crossing the few feet left between him and lumi. she roughly shoved his shoulders, her mouth twisted in a furious glare.

“lumi, if you’ll just listen to me-“

“listen to what?! what reason could you possibly give me that makes it okay that you’re leaving us!”

her chest was heaving, and although she stood a head shorter then the tall muscular boy before her, she stood rather intimidating in front of him. he held up his hands in surrender, backing down in a similar way they had to do with angry dragons.

“i have a reason, if you would just let me explain... come to mine after work, alright?”

luminita nodded firmly, turning on her heel and storming back off towards her section of dragons. charlie watched her for a moment, a smile breaking across his face. his heart swelled in adoration for the romanian firecracker that he had gotten the pleasure of knowing during his years as dragon training.

a shot of fire just barely missed his head. charlie turned to see his dragon staring at his with its wide ember eyes, nodding its head towards its breakfast.

“okay, okay,” charlie grabbed the bucket, walking back over towards the baby horntail. “say no more.”

luminita and charlie had met while training at the romanian academy for dragon tamers. she was immediately drawn to the stocky redhead, who was so thoroughly covered in freckles that he appeared tan. he had been drawn to the honey haired girl with a loud voice that reminded him of home. she was a boisterous and adventurous student, and he was an ambitious and knowledgeable one.

they had quickly found they were the perfect pair when studying dragons, and that translated to their work on the field. they along with a handful of others had quickly rose to the top of the romanian dragon tamers, and when the others gave charlie a hard time for being british, luminita was the first one to defend him. they always had each other’s back.

which was why his sudden call for hiatus stung her so badly. he hadn’t ever mentioned to her that he was going to be leaving, not even a hint. charlie weasley was a man of dragons, nothing more in his life brought him more to joy. luminita was well aware of that. so it made no sense as to why he was suddenly giving it all up. it infuriated her.

charlie had left his door unlocked after work, and was sitting in his sparse living room when luminita walked in. she had changed out of her work clothing, she now wore a flattering pair of jeans and a artfully torn sweater that exposed bits of her shoulder, chest, and torso. her hair was stilled pulled back in a messy bun.

he admired her beauty in silence. he suspected she harbored feelings for him, but he wasn’t sure he felt the same about her. besides, who had time for dating when there were so many dragons to be discovered? their work work was far too hands on to ever even entertain the idea of a relationship.

his other teammates always made fun of him for that. billius, a man ten years older than charlie who he counted as his second closest friend next to luminita, gave him a hard time about his values. ‘if a beauty like luminita were interested in me, i think i may abandon the dragons altogether if she asked me. but lumi would never ask that of you or want you to. why don’t you give it a try?’

charlie always had the same answer. ‘the dragons need my full attention.’

luminita had never explicitly expressed her interest in him either. it was through the way he was the first she sought out after a particularly rough rendezvous rescuing dragons from the black market, the way she always brought a lunch for him because he never bothered, the way she smiled at him like he was only person in the world, that gave her affections away.

“well?” luminita strode into the room, sitting on the edge of his worn thrifted couch. “what on earth is making you give up the dragons?”

charlie stood, rubbing a hand across his face. he began pacing in front of the fireplace, the flames glinting across the silver scars that covered his arms from his numerous burns. to his chagrin, luminita somehow never managed to get burned by the dragons. it was something he always gave her shit for.

“you obviously know my family is in britain.”

“no shit.”

“well, you know voldemort is growing his army again.”

luminita nodded solemnly. charlie had confided in her many times of his fears that his family would be hurt while he was in romania. but that had never prompted him to leave before. did that mean he was leaving now?

“my family is part of an organization to take down his army of death eaters. i’ve been asked to recruit foreign members, and that means i’ll be on voldemort’s hit list when word gets back to him.”

“so you’re leaving?”

“no, i’m staying in romania to recruit members for the order my family is part of. but i need to go into hiding, because i’ll be targeted by death eaters.”

luminita was quiet. when she spoke again, her voice was tense and firm.

“i guess you have your first recruitment then. where do i sign?”

charlie supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. luminita was a fighter. it was part of why he was so drawn to her. but the thought of luminita getting hurt flashed across his mind, the thought horrifying him. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she got hurt or worse, killed, because he recruited her for the order. in his mind, her death or injury would be his fault.

“luminita, do you understand what you’ll be doing? voldemort is dangerous, he’s awful, and being part of the order puts a target on your back for him and his ruthless followers.”

“charlie, have i ever told you what happened to my parents?”

charlie paused. he had been expecting her to fight back and maybe accuse him of not thinking she was strong enough, but he hadn’t expected her voice to be small and her face to look worn. she had never mentioned her parents before either, and he never thought to bring it up. he shook his head.

“my parents were very prominent political figures. they wanted our aurors to help in the fight against voldemort, and they were beginning to gather a group of willing participants. voldemort caught wind, and had them killed.”

she said the words as though she had recited them a thousand times, mechanical. yet it was the first charlie had ever heard her speak of them.

“i’m sorry.”

luminita waved off his condolences. “point is, i know the risk. i know how things can go. but i’m a damn good dueler, and a damn good fighter. voldemort needs to be dead.”

charlie nodded solemnly. the thought of her hurt or dead scared him, but he had known luminita long enough that he knew she wouldn’t stand aside once she was given the chance to fight. his girl was a fighter.

“well, there isn’t anything you need to sign,” charlie teased, stopping in front of her and looking down into her pale green eyes. “you’re in.”

luminita stared back at him, her expression softening as their eyes locked. charlie looked away, turning to continue his pacing in front of the fireplace. luminita watched him from her perch on the arm of his couch, her head tilted to the side.

“you’re worried about your family.” she said it as a statement, watching his movements.

charlie nodded. “course. i’m worried for them, and now that you’re in... i’m worried for you.”

luminita snorted, standing up and shaking her head. “thought you knew me better, weasley. i can hold my own.”

“doesn’t mean i like the thought of you fighting.”

“well, look at it this way. even if i do die, the dragons will always be there.”

the words were bitter as they burned from her mouth, and charlie felt the sting as they fell out.

“that’s really not fair-“

“so when will you be back at work?”

she had her arms crossed, a look of forced nonchalance on her face. she eyed him casually, occasionally glancing down at his calloused fingers that were tapping against the back of his armchair.

“whenever the war is over, i reckon. for now i’m staying here in romania, but if the order calls then i’ll leave. i’ll always come back though. this is home.”

she shook her head, laughing humorlessly. “you could never leave the dragons.”

“i don’t think you would ever ask me to.”

she looked up at him again, her eyes dark. “you’re right. i wouldn’t.”

charlie felt something twist in his chest then, at the way her words sounded as they came from her pretty mouth in a sad declaration. he opened his mouth, his face apologetic, but she again waved him off.

“i have an early shift tomorrow,” she gave him a playful look, the solemn mood forgotten. “some of us still have to risk their pretty skin to the flames.”

charlie laughed, glad the mood was back to normal. “you’ve never even been burned! you still have your pretty skin!”

“so you think i have pretty skin?” she flashed a grin, raising her eyebrows.

“the prettiest.”

she laughed, shaking her head. she moved to the door, charlie following close behind. as she placed her hand on the door, she paused, her fingers gripping the worn handle tightly.

“i’m going to miss seeing you at work everyday.”

“we’ll still see each other.”

she laughed again, sadly. “it’s not the same. see you later, weasley.”

she left then, the door shutting behind her with a resounding click.

the following months passed by rather quickly. luminita helped recruit with him, as she had a fair amount of connections he didn’t. she also began helping him duel, to his surprise she was an excellent dueler. her steps were fluid and unpredictable, much like a dragon. charlie learned a lot from her. before long, a year had passed.

they had gathered a fair amount of allies. luminita had been a great asset to charlie and the order, with the previous connections her parents had left behind, she was able to get many behind them quite quickly. yet as voldemort’s reign waged on, things became dangerous even in romania.

voldemort had managed to get the alliance of most of the vampires, and all but a handful of werewolves. they were brutal and ruthless, and attacked their members who were more outspoken. as charlie was kept in hiding, luminita became a prime target for them.

charlie worried every day for her. but at least, she always came back.

the war raged on. in romania, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was in britain. it was only so rough for the outspoken order members because they were outnumbered by the covens of vampires and packs of werewolves. months passed by, and soon bill and fleur’s wedding at the burrow was approaching.

charlie and billius were discussing plans for the allies while charlie would be in britain. he planned to be gone for only a week, possibly less depending on how things were while he was there. he would be traveling alone, and luminita and billius were going to watch over things here.

“lumi is tough as nails, charlie,” billius shook his head, a laugh slipping out as charlie voiced his worries on being gone. “if you’re so worried about her and care so much, why haven’t you just asked her ass out yet?”

charlie rolled his eyes, rolling his sleeves up as he leaned back in his chair. “it’s not like that. not sure if you’re aware, but some people actually care about others just because they’re good people.”

“sounds like pussy shit to me.”

charlie gave him a look as the other man took a drink of firewhiskey, a smirk on the mans grubby face.

the door to charlie’s shack slammed open. luminita limped through, stumbling and tripping onto the wood floor. her torso, or maybe her back, was soaked and her hands were slick with blood.

charlie rose quickly before she had the chance to ask for help. he scooped her up gently, wincing when she moaned in pain.

“lay her on the table,” billius instructed, sweeping everything off the circle table with a wave of his wand. “i’ll get the kit.”

every member carried a magical first aid knapsack with them. one of their allies, maria, was an excellent healer. she had hand picked the best supplies to have on hand.

“lumi,” charlie laid her down gently, taking her face in his hands. “what happened, where are you hurt?”

“my back,” her eyes twisted shut in pain, tears leaked down her face. “werewolf. a pack, got me before i could apparate.”

a string of curses came from her mouth, and her body contorted in pain.

charlie ran through the date in his head. the full moon was still a week and a half away, so she wouldn’t be turned. but the wounds... they weren’t going to heal. he cursed loudly, grabbing the kit from billius.

“okay lumi, i’m gonna have to put you on your stomach,” charlie told her firmly, nodding to billius. the other man went on the other side of luminita, ready to help. “on the count of three. one, two... three.”

the two men flipped her over as quickly and gently as possible, but a scream still tore from

luminita’s throat. each scream was like a stab into charlie’s chest.

the men removed her shirt, displaying her bare back. it had a thick, silver scar from the middle of her back reaching just over her shoulders. it made charlie pause for a moment. that was a burn from a dragon. he hadn’t ever known she was burned, it was something she had always been praised for.

he forced himself to look away. the werewolf injuries were more important than an older burn scar.

eight deep scars ran from her sides to the middle of her back, four on each side. they met in the middle, raking down the rest of her spine. a shallow bite mark was just below her right shoulder blade.

he grabbed his wand, muttering a spell that wiped the blood away. it still spilled from the wounds, but it made it easier to see where to put the powdered silver and dittany.

together, charlie and billius applied the mixture, sealing the wounds and stopping the bleeding. they were still red and angry raised lines, but they were no longer bleeding. that was all they could do.

“alright, lumi, we’re going to lift you up, alright?” charlie informed her, before nodding to billius. together, they flipped her back over, and helped her sit on the table.

she had a few shallow scratches on her arms and her face, although those appeared to be just from branches or brambles. she was pale, much too pale, and charlie quickly dug for a blood replenishing potion.

“i have one, don’t worry,” luminita waved her arm weakly, pulling one quickly from the depths of her satchel. “takes like utter shit.”

“we’ll give you some firewhiskey to wash it down.” billius said, waving his wand to clean up her smeared blood from around the shack.

luminita swallowed the potion quickly, her face screwing up in disgust. “holy fuck, that’s awful.”

“you’re feeling better.” charlie said quietly, a rush of relief running through his body.

she nodded, taking a glass of firewhiskey from billius. she knocked it down in one gulp, grimacing from the taste. her hands were still covered in blood.

“let me run you a bath.” charlie murmured, deep in thought.

he didn’t wait for a response, instead, he left the room to his small bathroom. he ran the water just below room temp, knowing the werewolf injuries would be hot and uncomfortable in warm water. luminita wasn’t going to be happy, she preferred boiling hot water.

when he entered the room again, she was still sitting on the round table; her eyes shut with her mouth screwed down in a grimace, her hands clenching the sides of the wood. billius had cleaned up and put the kit away, his cloak was put on and he nodded to charlie.

“i’ll be by wednesday, same time.”

charlie nodded to him, and the man left, leaving the two alone.

“do you want me to help you to the bath?” charlie asked, walking over to luminita.

she shook her head, gritting her teeth and she got down from the table. he figured she would say no. she was too proud.

after making sure she was safely in the bathroom, charlie went to his room and got her clean clothes; a pair of his plaid pajama pants and his old holyhead harpies tee shirt. he set them outside the bathroom, along with a towel, and told luminita through the door that they were there.

he then busied himself with making tea, her favorite lavender and chamomile. he also heated up cozonac, a romanian sweet bread. he knew it was one of her comfort foods.

everything was set at the table by the time she came out of the bathroom. charlie was waiting at the table, sitting in his chair with a pensive look on his face.

she snorted, sitting in the chair gingerly. if charlie hadn’t known her so well, the spasm of pain that crossed her face could have been mistaken for annoyance.

“any reason you look like you’re trying to figure out a new species of dragons?”

his eyes flitted to her face, taking in her thinner appearance, the scratches from tonight, the slight bruising on her jaw. she looked so tired, so ragged.

“i want you to come with me to my brothers wedding,” he told her firmly, his expression set. “i need a plus one, anyways.”

she opened her mouth, and charlie knew she was going to argue. he raised a hand, cutting her off with a shake of his head.

“i really don’t want to take no for an answer. i need a date, and you need a break. billius and maria can handle romania for a week. we’re going. that’s final.”

luminita was silent for a moment, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. she gave him a smile.

“a date, huh?”

“is that the only thing you heard?”

she shrugged, tearing off a piece of her cozonac. “it certainly was the most interesting.”

he smiled, shaking his head. they ate in silence, the sound of their tea cups clicking against the table and the crackling of the fire the only sound in the small shack.

“how did you get burned?” charlie asked suddenly, nodding towards her. “i saw it when we fixed the scratches.”

“you didn’t fix them,” she muttered, her mouth once again screwed down in a grimace. “there isn’t any fixing them.”

charlie was quiet. he wasn’t sure what he could say.

“when i first was interested in dragons, i was a reckless stupid sixteen year old,” she began, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she recalled her story. “and i wanted to bond with a dragon. i figured if i could do that, i would be guaranteed a spot in the academy. but i didn’t have the training, and i wanted it done right then instead of waiting and gaining its trust. i nearly died... but i didn’t. all i was left with is that horrible scar. and now i just have more.”

“scars add character,” charlie assured her, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “i have plenty, but it just makes me look badass, right?”

“not really, no” she responded, although with the lift of her lips he knew she was joking. “my first though when i see you isn’t, ‘oh wow, what a badass’, it’s normally, ‘oh fuck, what does he need me to do now?’”

charlie laughed, running his thumb over her knuckles. “well, it’s a good thing we’re going to take a vacation, huh?”

“you really want me to meet your family?”

“of course i do. you’re basically my family.”

she nodded slowly, and drained the rest of her tea. charlie gathered their plates, placing them in the sink. he turned back to her, realizing he would have to sleep on the couch.

“erm, you can have my bed,” charlie told her, motioning towards his room. “i’ll take the couch.”

“nonsense,” she shook her head, nodding towards the room. “we can share your bed. i’m not kicking you out of your bed and i don’t think my back could handle the couch.”

charlie shook his head. “we aren’t going to sleep together-“

“no shit. all we’re doing is sharing a bed. big deal. what, are you a ten year old? it’s just a damn bed and we’re friends.”

“it wouldn’t be right-“

“oh what, too much of a pansy to share a bed with a girl?”

charlie narrowed his eyes. he knew logically that she said that only so he would be forced to agree, but he found he didn’t care to fight her on it. “fine. let’s go.”

they lay on opposite sides of the bed, with a pillow in between the two. he could hear her breathing, more ragged than usual. he was attuned to her usual noises. it made him on edge to hear a difference.

“charlie?”

“yeah?”

“i really care for you. i just don’t know how much longer i can wait for you.”

as he thought of a reply, the sounds of her snoring filled the room. he figured she was probably near sleep when she said the words, and she didn’t mean it.

he had to believe that.

two

[vivithefolle]

What is your opinion on the parallels between Ron and Neville, especially considering that they both suffer from drastically low self-esteem? People often draw similarities between their arcs, but it seems to me that as the book series went on, Neville gained confidence while Ron lost confidence. Am I missing something?

I think you pretty much summed it up.

You could say that Neville’s self-esteem was inversely proportional to Ron’s.

When Ron comes at Hogwarts, he’s feeling a bit defeated already, but his successes in the first book (where he kinda carries the team) and the second (where he gets a Special Award For Services To The School along with Harry) serve to build up his confidence, culminating with him getting his own wand in the third. Meanwhile poor Neville, while he stands up to Grabbe and Coyle and later to his own friends, is still seen bumbling around and being generally a laughing stock.

After the third book it’s kind of a turning point. Ron doubts Harry openly, makes a fool of himself due to Fleur’s Veela glamour and is pretty much getting slapped in the face by the narration. Neville however doesn’t get humiliated as much, and even gets to go to the Yule Ball without being publically humiliated.

In OOTP the chasm deepens. Ron is bullied horribly... and no one does a thing. Neville, meanwhile, gets McGonagall telling him he’s a great wizard and a promise of her standing up to his grandmother. OOTP ends with Neville having gotten his own wand, and Ron’s triumph over his bullies is eclipsed by his defeat at the DOM.

HBP pretty much spits on every character, even uses Luna Lovegood to convince us to feel sorry for Hermione who has assaulted her friend, and Neville is pretty much the only one to come out unscathed, because he was relegated to the background. He makes a comic relief appearance at Slughorn’s party and that’s all; he’s then here and present when it comes to fighting the Death Eaters during the battle of the Astronomy Tower. Ron is also there, but people seem to forget that Hermione and Luna did not participate much in that fight...

And DH... well, no possibility to see Neville bumbling at Hogwarts in DH now that we aren’t at Hogwarts, is there? But we are given first-seats to see Ron be moody and angry and a general ass... which anyone would be in the situation he’s in (as in, having your family/little sister liable to be executed at any moment by a corrupt government, being anaemic, and being led on a wild goose chase by an asshole who doesn’t seem to care at all about the fact that YOUR FAMILY MAY DIE THE LONGER THIS DRAGS ON), but somehow JKR insists that it’s Ron and only Ron being an asshole, case in point:

This was their first encounter with the fact that a full stomach meant good spirits; an empty one, bickering and gloom. Harry was least surprised by this, because he had suffered periods of near starvation at the Dursleys’. Hermione bore up reasonably well on those nights when they managed to scavenge nothing but berries or stale biscuits, her temper perhaps a little shorter than usual and her silences rather dour. Ron, however, had always been used to three delicious meals a day, courtesy of his mother or of the Hogwarts house-elves, and hunger made him both unreasonable and irascible. Whenever lack of food coincided with Ron’s turn to wear the Horcrux, he became downright unpleasant. - Deathly Hallows

So we have

Ron, however, had always been used to three delicious meals a day, courtesy of his mother or of the Hogwarts house-elves 

... but, um, Hermione too is used to three delicious meals a day, courtesy of her parents and the Hogwarts house-elves -

Hermione bore up reasonably well [...], her temper perhaps a little shorter than usual and her silences rather dour

Nevermind, Perfect Goddess Sue is perfect.

At the end of DH, we still remember that Ron behaved badly in the Horcrux Hunt because blah blah symbolism blah blah poor wee Harry blah blah catholicism parallels with St Peter denying knowing Jesus blah blah blah.

While Neville’s appearance as the fearless, epic Hogwarts leader is still a shock, but also a satisfying moment, especially when he gets his epic speech to tell Voldemort to go fuck himself.

... which leads many to forget that Ron did it before Neville (not that Neville’s speech wasn’t an epic, well-deserved moment of pure badassery).

"You see?" said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" "He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more. - Deathly Hallows

But people will mostly recall Neville’s speech. Because it lasts longer than Ron’s simple “he beat you” and Voldemort actually reacts to it, actually holds a conversation with Neville, while Ron’s scream is... mostly ignored. Even his breaking of Voldemort’s Silencing Charm doesn’t impact much, because another, stronger Charm is immediately put in place moments after.

The way Neville and Ron kill their respective Horcruxes is very different, too... Neville does it in an epic moment of badassery, set on fire and everything, and takes the sword from the Hat itself, mimicking Harry’s actions in Chamber of Secrets. It’s a pure, unadulterated moment of epicness, and nothing can taint its sheer badassery (especially if, like the rest of us intellectuals, you ignore everything JKR has tried to establish as canon after DH). Ron, however, kills his affiliated Horcrux as an act of... eugh... redemption over leaving Harry’s side (even though it was clearly the smartest thing to do since the dumbass didn’t even manage to destroy the Horcrux while Ron was gone, so here’s your proof that Harry and Hermione absolutely do need Ron because they’re incompetent nincompoops). Ron killing the Horcrux can’t be called triumphant or a victory, no matter what idiots blabbering about symbolically destroying his inferiority complex try to say - because yeah, symbolism is nice and all, but it’s not because Ron gets a symbolic victory that he’s miraculously cured of it, but hey who cares Ron can’t possibly have a mental illness cuz he’s not Harry haha!!

... Excuse me. I’m still bitter over... things.

Ron’s defeat of the Horcrux isn’t a triumph like Neville decapitating Nagini is. He’s humiliated in front of his best friend, whose opinion he bases most of his self-esteem upon. His dirty laundry is aired for Harry to see. And finally, when he destroys the Horcrux, he is left crying in the snow with Mr Emotionally Stunted for company.

How. The fuck. Do you call that. A victory.

Ron’s killing of the Horcrux is bittersweet. It’s only Harry and Ron, isolated in a small clearing, in the snow. Ron doesn’t get the sword from the Sorting Hat itself, which may make some people think it hasn’t been won properly, even though Ron displayed bravery (jumping into a frozen pond in the middle of winter) and chivalry (rescuing Harry) to obtain it, and Ron pretty much spends the whole time being terrified (of the thing that psychologically tortured him but hey, since when do we care about Ron’s feelings) then apologizing to Harry for leaving (and Harry accepting those apologies when HE TOO OWED RON SOME FUCKING APOLOGIES BUT NAH HARRY POTTER IS TOO SPECIAL FOR THAT).

While Neville’s killing of Nagini is nothing but badass, badass, and re-badass, with loads of people to witness it. It’s epic. Neville obtains Gryffindor’s sword “”“properly”““, by taking it from the Sorting Hat. And naturally, there’s nothing about Neville “redeeming himself for his betrayal of Our Lord And Saviour Harry Potter” to taint that success.

Yeah... at the end of it all, Ron is... not fine. Him “symbolically destroying his inferiority complex” is just fucking that, a symbol. But it doesn’t mean he’s miraculously cured his insecurities and all. It doesn’t mean he’s stopped being horribly fucking depressed. It doesn’t mean he’s not traumatized. But I forgot only Harry’s traumas matter (and Hermione’s, to a lesser extent... what am I saying, Hermione doesn’t get trauma, trauma is for losers, like Harry).

Neville is slowly but steadily built up in the background through the series (huh, kinda like Ginny... wonder why more people won’t point that out). His failures are so commonplace, and usually more in the realms of “accidental fuck-up” than “feeling offended and fucking up because of it”, that it’s hard to be angry at him. Meanwhile Ron’s failures feel more personal, because he’s so important to Harry and Harry takes Ron’s disagreements with him as personal attacks like the idiot fuck he is.

So, while Neville gradually gets stronger in the background, Rowling brings Ron down a little more in every book, because as the books go on she can’t bear to have Harry and Hermione fuck up, so Ron has to do all the fucking up so she can pretend the other two are perfect instead.

[theprodigypenguin]

Percy and Oliver were each others only roommates for seven years because they had no gryffindor boys in their year (the war so kids died or were never born) and like they absolutely had something going on put Percy fell for Penny and they still had this weird thing and then Percy and Audrey happened and then the divorce and Percy and Oliver were still friends and then became even closer and still ha this thing which just like turned into them being married even if they didn’t realize it at first

First of all it took me forever to confirm that Oliver and Percy were the same age. It seems like they are, I remember that in GoF Oliver had been put on the National Quidditch League Reserve while Percy had JUST started working for Barty Crouch. Okay yes, they’re the same age NOW, please forgive my following Perciver rant! Because I have some THOUGHTS!

So I never even considered they might be the ONLY boys in their room, but I love it so much wow! But here’s my canon of their relationship: Oliver is gay, Percy is bisexual, but Oliver was more comfortable with his sexuality. Percy went through a lot of anxiety about his sexuality, mixed with his stress at trying to be perfect. I mean why else would he take 12 OWLs? He’s trying to be everything for his family, for his mum, prove that he’s as good as Bill and Charlie, but he doesn’t take any time for himself. He focuses so much on being perfect that he doesn’t realize it’s practically killing him.

Oliver is way more laid back and chill, he’s very calm, and Percy would probably take a lot of comfort from Oliver being there. I definitely see them NOT getting along at first, because Percy is all neat and put together, he probably folds his socks, meanwhile Oliver is the kind of guy to sleep on top of the blankets and throw his clothes and books all over the floor. Percy would want to strangle him most days, but after mmmmaybe halfway through their second year? Percy starts to get used to Oliver, even looks forward to seeing him at school.

Percy tutors Oliver in some subjects, probably helps him pass his OWLs and NEWTs even, and Oliver teaches Percy to let loose a bit. I think Percy would immediately stiff up and go back to his usual self around his family/siblings, because he thinks he NEEDS to. He thinks he’s required to be the adult, he thinks he needs to be another parents. Probably because of Molly always going “why can’t you be more like percy” or “percy i’m glad you’re so easy, not like your trouble making brothers” or something like that.

Around Oliver he can be genuinely himself, and I can see Oliver offering to give him flying lessons (though Percy suuuuuucks at flying and that is funny to me).

Anyway, Oliver has always known how he felt about Percy, but Percy never really came to terms with it (though he definitely felt the same way, he couldn’t fully accept it). He’s definitely attracted to Oliver in every way, but he also likes girls, and it’s confusing to him because he’s never been educated about bisexuality, so he thinks there might be something wrong with him.

I think Oliver was his first kiss, but I also thing Percy completely rejected the fact he enjoyed it. I think when Ginny wasn’t herself (when she was possessed by Tom Riddle), he cried like a baby and was stressed beyond belief, to the point of not sleeping, so Oliver would lie in bed with him and let him vent. Even though Percy would never confide in anyone else, not even Charlie or Bill, he could always talk to Oliver.

Then they kissed, probablyyyyy at the end of their fourth year, and that’s when things get awkward between them. Percy doesn’t respond to any of Oliver’s letters over the summer, he starts seeing Penelope Clearwater, Oliver is heartbroken but “it was just a kiss anyway, it didn’t mean anything”. He says he’s happy for Percy, and Percy is angry because part of him unconsciously was hoping Oliver would fight him on it, say he should break up with Penelope and date him instead (Percy secretly wants Oliver to fight for him, yknow?).

Remember that’s the year Percy starts getting a “big head”, but I headcanon it’s because that’s the year he really starts being at odds with Oliver, and starts struggling so much with his sexuality as well as his studies, the stress to be everything. When he graduates he doesn’t think he’ll see Oliver again and it crushes him, so he buries himself in his work to the point of being near impossible for his family to deal with. He’s not pompous, he’s just hiding his grief and confusion by trying to succeed and gain the approval of the family he loves so FUCKING much.

And when he has his fight with Arthur and walks out, that’s it, that’s the final nail in the coffin. He stops thinking, really. Stops caring. Just goes through the motions and tries to survive, even though he doesn’t know why he’s working at the Ministry anymore. He doesn’t remember what his ambitions are anymore. He doesn’t remember why he’s supposed to care so much. He broke up with Penelope years ago, so what is he even DOING anymore?

At the Battle of Hogwarts, he runs into Oliver again after YEARS of not speaking, and Oliver is older now and super handsome and Percy is flustered but he can’t pay attention because he’s fighting Death Eaters. Then Fred is killed and Percy is beyond devastated. He turns entirely hollow, and when the war is over he just sits outside where it’s quiet and he stares out at the wreckage and ruins of the battle.

Oliver sits down with him and they’re alone, and they talk, and they talk about Fred, and Percy cries, and for a moment they both think there’s something, maybe, but then Percy gets swept back into the crowd of his family, and there’s no more time to think about maybes, because there’s so much to do.

Percy stays in the Ministry under Kingsley, because he wants to make things right, but he doesn’t enjoy it. He hates the work, it’s stagnant and boring and eating at him day by day. He meets Audrey after a few years (after everyone else has gotten married and had kids). They get along, they like being around each other, Molly makes a quip about Percy not being married yet, so Percy proposes to Audrey and they get married (because that’s what’s expected of him, right?).

The bit of life he feels when he gets married doesn’t last. Oliver isn’t invited to the wedding of course, though George asks Percy if he should send and invitation. Percy says no, and he feels guilty and uncomfortable. Doesn’t know why.

Molly is born first. Lucy is born shortly after. Percy is so focused on his girls that he starts to neglect his wife. He does it unconsciously, avoiding her and not meeting Audrey’s eye. He makes an offhand note about wanting to be a stay at home dad when Lucy is a few months old, and Audrey goes off. It’s a huge fight, and Audrey storms out. They divorce a few months later, and after that, for a while, Percy is a single dad working full time at the Ministry to take care of his tiny daughters.

He runs into Oliver by chance. I think it would be cute if they met at the Quidditch store in Diagon Alley. Percy is getting something for Ginny’s birthday, Oliver is picking something up for himself (he’s single and still playing Quidditch professionally, he’s very accomplished and successful). They hit it off like old friends who’d never stopped talking, they start hanging out more, Oliver takes to the girls immediately and the girls absolutely ADORE Oliver (Lucy especially has a special bond with him).

They don’t start dating till a few months later, and after that they date for several years. Oliver moves in with Percy and the girls, and they get married when Lucy is five. Percy FINALLY quits his job at the Ministry, Oliver retires from Quidditch and takes over Ludo Bagman’s job at the Ministry. Percy goes to therapy once a week and Oliver is insanely supportive and loving. It takes Molly a bit of time to accept that Percy is marrying a man, but Oliver is so charming, and Percy has never, ever, in his entire life, been so happy QwQ

Percy Weasley marries Oliver Wood who encourages him to quit a toxic job and become a stay at home dad while Oliver takes over as breadwinner because Percy has been through so fucking much and Oliver just wants the chance to take care of him and he does. He does take care of him. And their two precious daughters as well.

I love they.