#i bought my textbooks all the way back in september and THIS is when you decide to say something? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

troubatrain · 4 years ago

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i’d lie - m. tkachuk

a/n: this was the very first like super long fic i’d written for my own blog and tbh i still love it so i hope you guys do too :)

September 2019

The first time you met Matthew Tkachuk, you were running back to your apartment, mountain of textbooks in your hand. You’d run into a firm chest while trying to text your roommates back about dinner plans, your books knocking all over the floor. You apologized profusely, feeling awful for running into someone because you couldn’t get your head out of your phone. The stranger, who later introduced himself as Matthew, assured you it was fine and helped you pick up your books. You introduced yourself to him, thanking him for the help and making a light joke about how you weren’t paying attention. The two of you went your separate ways, but your mind wandered about the blue eyed stranger you’d run into that day.

The second time was definitely just a coincidence, and you were sure of that. You were grabbing a quick coffee before class, something you were in dire need of after your roommates came home well past midnight from a night out while you decided to stay in and study. You were waiting for your drink when you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around and meet Matthew’s eyes, laughing about how’d you run into each other just a couple of days later. The two of you made small talk, you explaining that you were just headed to class and him explaining he was grabbing an after practice coffee. When you asked him what sport he played, he looked at you in shock and laughed, explaining that he played for the Flames, you reluctantly admitted that you didn’t follow hockey much anymore, being just too busy. Your conversation ended quickly when you realized you had to run to class, telling Matthew you’d see him around even though you were sure you probably never would.

The third time was starting to feel like the universe was telling you something. You’d gone out with your roommates, celebrating a successful end to the fall semester. You were going to grab another drink when you felt someone grab your arm, when you turned around, ready to tell this guy to lay off, you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Matthew cracked a joke about how you’d seen him more times in the past week or so than his family and offered to buy you a drink. You took it, standing at the bar and talking to him for the rest of the night. You talked about school, your major, and your roommates. He told you about playing for the Flames, and how much he loved being in Calgary. When his teammates walked over to the two of you, chirping Matthew about talking to you, and when you roasted his teammate right back, Matthew told you that he was positive he was going to have a new best friend.

Matthew wasn’t kidding, finally getting your number at the bar that night and never leaving you since. It was slow, he started by inviting you out with his teammates after games, the boys becoming a permanent part of your life. Then you went to your first Flames game, in which Matthew scored twice and made you promise to never miss a home game after. After that, you were complaining about how loud your roommates could be when you really needed to get some work done, so Matthew gave you a key to his place so you could go there even if he was away. Matthew would send take out to your apartment if you’d had a particularly bad day or you would go over to his and cook for the both of you. He’d been there to help you study for finals, even though he didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about. You’d been there when the Flames got knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, holding Matthew while he ranted and raved about the game and how badly he wished they’d won. You went out to dinner with his parents when they came to town, you’d even made a trip to St. Louis over the summer. From an outsider’s perspective, and from the perspective of every person in your life, it seemed like you two were dating, but you felt like that ship had sailed and if it was going to happen it would’ve already.

You shake the memories of your friendship with Matthew out of your head as you turn the key to his apartment, sneaking in with the obnoxious decorations you’d bought. Yesterday, Matthew called you to let you know his contract was almost done and that he’d be back to Calgary for training camp the next day. You were excited, the contract debacle taking up more stress in your life than you’d liked. You’d sent the stuff down on his kitchen island, tying the red balloons you’d bought to one of the chairs and setting out the cake you’d bought that just says, “Congrats on getting PAID.” You hear the door creak open, and Matthew set his bag down by the door.

“Oh this is something,” Matthew chuckles, laughing at the small celebration you’d put together.

“Thought I’d welcome you back,” You laugh as he runs over to pull you into a hug.

“I really don’t deserve you,” He says, “Is that cake?”

“It is,” You smile, walking into the kitchen and pulling the groceries you’d bought to cook the both of you some dinner, “and dinner.”

“I really really don’t deserve you,” Matthew repeats, always appreciative of things you did to take care of him. Not that you minded it at all, the access to the quiet of Matthew’s apartment was enough to justify a few dinners, let alone when the two of you went out and Matthew insisted on paying the bill. While you never felt like you owed him anything, it definitely made you feel less guilty when you were doing something for him - even if it is just stopping him from eating out every night.

“You don’t, I know,” You joke, hip bumping him out of your way so you could grab a cutting board from his cabinet.

Matthew was over to the seats on the island, sitting in the one you’d decorated, “You’re going to be at our first home game right?”

“Of course, I planned my entire day around it,” You admit, knowing you’d made a silly promise to Matthew that you’d never miss a home game, “Why? Worried you’re going to bomb without me there?”

“I mean, yeah. I just-” Matthew starts, sighing, “After waiting for this deal and stuff I don’t want anyone to think it was a mistake.”

You didn’t realize your joke had actually struck a nerve. When you first became friends you didn’t think Matthew doubted his play or himself ever. He had a blind confidence, and he never let a mistake take over his whole game. It was something you actually admired, wondering if you could ever be that confident in yourself. But, when the Flames lost in the first round of the playoffs, and you’d gone to his place after the game, Matthew turned into a sad shell of a man in front of your eyes. That night you realized how much actually got to him, and while he listed off the mistakes he made in the series you’re heart broke with every word he said. The Canadian media wasn’t always easy, and it really bothered Matthew more than you think he even knew.

You turn around from the stove, “There’s not one person who doesn’t think you deserve your contract, and if they don’t I’ll personally tell them to fuck off.”

Matthew laughs, and your heart skips a beat, “I think I can do without you trying to fight anyone.” “Why? I’m absolutely terrifying,” You joke, your small frame wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

“You know what? You’re right,” Matthew says sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” You start walking around the island to wrap your arms around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’ll always be proud of you.” Matthew tucks his head into your arms muttering a low thank you. The two of you spent the night together, catching up on your summers over the dinner you made. He told you about the trips he’d gone on, and his summer antics. You’d gone on about the vacation’s you’d gone on, and the time you spent with your family.

October 2019

You walked arm and arm with Brittney, Sean’s girlfriend, into the Saddledome for the Flames home opener. It was Saturday night, and you knew with the Kings coming to town on Tuesday the boys would definitely be celebrating their first win of the season if they came out on top tonight. You were excited, hoping they’d be able turn it around before it became a losing streak. You head up to your usual seats, walking into the family boxes with Brittany, all of the team’s significant others and families out for the first home game of the season. After finally grabbing a drink and sitting down you look down at the nice, spotting Matthew’s mop of hair buzzing around the ice.

“So anything change over the summer?” Brittany asks when she sees you looking at Matthew on the ice, a curious look on her face.

“Still best friends,” You say, shaking your head at her comment. You’d heard it a million times, about how Matthew needed to have you at his games, sitting with the rest of the team’s families or how you were always at his place or vice-versa but you assured everyone who asked that you were just friends - because you were.

“Okay but you can be best friends and date, you guys know that right?” Brittany says, trying to make you see it from her point of view.

“Britt, I really mean it, we’re just friends,” You shrug, not really in the mood to continue defending yourself. You ignore the knowing look she gives you, already knowing that her usual comeback would be asking you why you’re getting so defensive.

By the time the third period rolled around, the Flames were up 3-0 and you were sure this was going to end as a win. When the period was finally over, you headed down to the locker with Brittany to wait for Matthew to head out.

He barreled out of the locker room, scanning the room to find you, running over and hugging you tightly, “We wonnn.”

You knew he was running on an adrenaline rush that he only ever got out of winning, “You did, are we going out tonight?”

“We are Y/N, Chucky can stay home,” You hear Sam Bennett’s voice behind you.

“Sam, what makes you assume I want to spend time with you?” You quip back before Matthew even has a chance to defend himself.

“You guys are really meant to be, you’re both cold as hell,” Sam says, shaking his head at the two of you.

You ignore Sam’s comment, turning to Matthew, “Ready to go?”

Matthew nods, leading the way to his car in the parking garage at the arena. You both slide in, you immediately grab his phone to change the music.

“You know it’s my car,” He says, already knowing you controlled the music in every car ride you took, despite who was driving.

“You know I don’t care,” You say back immediately, “Do you want to drop off your car?”

“No, you drink, I’ll just have a beer,” Matthew says, never wanting to let himself get too drunk if you were going to, afraid something might happen to you.

“But you guys won-” You start to protest only to be immediately cut off.

“But you had class all week, and don’t think I didn’t hear you stress crying after I went to bed the other night,” Matthew says, immediately shutting you up. You had a long week, and the idea of getting to go out with the safety net of Matthew taking care of you didn’t sound terrible.

“Fine, you win,” You say as you pull up to the bar you were meeting the rest of the team at. You walked in, immediately spotting Brittany and Sean from afar, walking over them wrapping Brittany in a hug.

“I’m really happy you guys are all back in town,” You say, still a little tipsy from the drinking you’d done at the game.

“Happy to see all of us, or just Chucky,” Sean says, giving you a look.

“Enough with that,” You snap, already having heard it from his girlfriend.

“Enough with what?” Matthew says, stepping behind you placing a drink in your hand.

“Nothing, Sean’s being a moron,” You say, leaning into his chest when he places a protective arm across your chest.

The rest of the night was an eventful one to say the least. You’d danced with the girls, Sam made you take more shots than a person should, and it was safe to say you were drunk to say the least. You finally walk back over to the table that Matthew was sitting at, talking to Noah.

“Matty, can you grab me another drink?” You ask, trying to convince him so you didn’t have to. You knew it wouldn’t take much and he nods and takes your empty glass without a second thought.

Once Matthew was out of earshot, Noah turns to you, “You’ve really got him wrapped your finger.”

“Noah -” You start to defend yourself again.

“Don’t Noah me,” Noah immediately cuts you off, “Admit it, you have to see what everyone else sees.”

“You know what? I do and yes, it confuses the shit out of me but Noah, I like Matthew, a lot, but I don’t think he feels the same way about me,” Your drunken confession slips, your hand immediately covering your mouth that you actually admitted it.

Noah looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh my god, I was right?”

You start to give him a lecture about prying into your business before he cuts you off, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, “Thanks Noah.”

Matthew comes back and hands you a water despite you asking him for another drink, you roll your eyes, knowing he’s just decided to cut you off before you got messy.

“Ready to go?” You ask, sipping the water.

“Whenever you are, are you going home or staying by me?” Matthew asks and you notice Noah shaking his head at the two of you.

“Home, I need to spend my Sunday studying,” You say, leaning back into Matthew from the barstool you were sitting on.

Matthew nods, grabbing your hand and walking you back out to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. The drive back to your place was short, and you wished it was longer, admiring how the streetlights made Matthew look incredibly handsome. You knew the small crush that you’d been haboring since you met him only made it’s special guest appearance after you’d been drinking, and you were going to let it take over even just for the night. When Matthew stops in front of your building, he tosses his car into park so he can walk you to your door, even though you always insist nothing awful will probably happen to you between then and the minute elevator ride up to your floor.

When you step in front of your door you wrap your arms around Matthew’s waist, tucking your head into his chest, “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

You feel him place a small kiss on your head, something he did often, “Anytime, get some sleep okay?”

You nod, “Text me when you’re home Matthew,” You say, using his full name to make yourself sound more serious. He laughs and heads back to the elevator while you walk into your apartment, walking into your bedroom and slipping one of Matthew’s old London Knights shirts on, passing out immediately.

November 2019

With November came an enormous amount of stress, the Flames weren’t playing up to their usual standards, losing five games on the road. Matthew was grouchy to say the least, you were always trying to cheer him up but there was only so much you could do while he was gone. You weren’t in the best mood either, the stress from school starting to build up. You’d spent more nights crying from stress in the comfort of Matthew’s empty apartment more than you’d admit to anyone, never quite feeling like you could catch up with all of your work. Which is why you were sitting on Matthew’s couch, head in your hands while you tried to finish the paper you had due at midnight when you hear him finally come home from his road trip, dropping his bag at the door with a bang, causing you to jump.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Matthew says, in a harsher tone he usually used. You could tell the losing streak was starting to get to him, his shoulders were tight, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

“Do you not want me to be?” You say, while Matthew never complained when you were at his place, you did understand if he wanted to be alone.

“No you’re fine,” He says, “Are you going to come to my game tomorrow?” Your heart sunk, you wanted to, but you couldn’t justify spending a night at the Saddledome watching him play when you had so much work to finish before the chaos of finals started. You look at his sad eyes, afraid you might upset him if you said no.

“Matty, I have so much work I have to do, I don’t think I can,” You say, closing your eyes as if that would lessen the blow, you open one, seeing Matthew’s face crushed in front of you.

“It’s fine,” He says, the words not sounding like anything was okay at all, “We’ll just lose - again.”

“Don’t put that on me,” You defend, not wanting to feel guiltier than you are, “You miss shit in my life all the time because you’re gone.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said it. It didn’t matter if Matthew was there or not, anything important in your life, he made sure you knew he was proud of you. If it wasn’t a flood of texts, it was a bouquet of flowers to your door. He made sure you never felt like he forgot about you while he was gone, and you knew you were just acting out.

You hear Matthew sigh, a sign he was trying to keep his temper in check, “Maybe you should just go.” “I will,” You say, gathering your things and heading towards the door, turning back to him one more time, “For the record, you’ll be fine whether or not I’m there or not.”

You didn’t sleep that night - at all. Your mind replayed that stupid little argument you had gotten into with Matthew. You’d never actually fought with him, sure you bickered, but as soon as you’d call him out on his shit, he would let it go and that would be it. He looked so hurt by your words, and you knew you owed him an apology. You tried calling, texting, you even sent him an email, but he was ignoring you and you knew it.

You lay on your bed, typing a paper for one of your classes while watching the Flames game, the Flames down against the Avs 3-2. You watched as Matthew got sent to the box, for the third time that evening, finally breaking his stick when he sat down. You knew he was frustrated, and you couldn’t help but feel like you might have had something to do with it. You turn the game off with five minutes left, not wanting to see Matthew’s face after they lost their sixth game in a row. You finally finish your paper, setting your laptop down and getting ready for bed. You slip into bed, ready to finally try and get some sleep when you hear Matthew’s voice from your living room, your roommate telling him that you were in bed.

He opens your bedroom door, poking his head through, “Can I come in?”

You nod, watching as he steps into your room, still in his gameday suit. He lays down, immediately putting his head into your lap, while your hands move to play with his curls.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to break the silence in your room.

“You don’t need to be,” He says, “You were right - you always are.”

“Not always,” You smile, watching as his eyes close under your touch, “Do you want to stay here? We can watch a movie - whatever you want.” Matthew smiles and you knew you’d said the right thing, knowing that after a bad game it’s better to distract him until he finally opens up, “Can I have sweats?”

“Open my top drawer,” You say, “It’s mostly your clothes anyways.”

Matthew laughs, opening the dresser and realizing how many pairs of sweatpants and hoodies you’d actually stolen from him. It wasn’t your fault he has the comfiest hoodies known to man, and that he always offered them to you when it got cold. He steps into your bathroom to change, coming back out and climbing into your bed, pulling you closer to him so you could snuggle into his chest, grabbing your remote and throwing on a movie on Netlifx.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere halfway through the movie you finally knocked out for the first time in two days, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms. The two of you blocking out the noise from the outside world.

December 2019

With December comes the craziness of finals, but you weren’t about to let it stop you from celebrating Matthew’s birthday in the most ridiculous way you could think of. You’d set up a full on surprise party, using Noah as your partner in crime. The Flames were lucky enough to have a Sunday off, allowing you to have Noah keep Matthew out of his apartment all day so you could decorate. You went all out with decorations and invited everyone you knew was important to him - even having some of his friends from St. Louis fly up for the occasion.

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for someone you’re not even dating,” You hear Brittany say, handing you the other half of the Happy Birthday banner you’d bought.

“He literally flew me out to St. Louis over the summer for my birthday,” You say, “I think the least I could do is throw a party.”

Brittany shakes her head at you, distracted by Sean carrying in drinks before she could make a comment about how you spent your birthday with Matthew and his family. You greeted all of the guests as they arrived, waiting for Noah’s text that him and Matthew were on their way. Once you got the text, you had everyone hide out, shutting off all of the lights. You hear them come up the hallway, opening the door to Matthew’s place. You all jump out and yell surprise, promptly scaring the birthday boy. He smiles at you, knowing you were the only person who wanted to make a big deal out his birthday in the first place.

“Thank you,” He says, stepping over to you after he greets everyone at the party.

“How did you know it was me?” You joke, “It could’ve been Sam.”

“Because when I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, you proceeded to tell me that’s fine,” Matthew says, “and I know you were lying.”

You laugh, he was always able to tell whether or not you were lying from your body language alone. It made it easier to just tell him how you were feeling, even if you didn’t want to.

The party was dwindling down by the time you saw Matthew again, his body swaying indicating that he was definitely drunk. You laugh, getting the last groups of guests to head out so you could clean up and get Matthew to bed.

Once you shut the door, pushing Sam and Noah out while they made jokes about you and Matthew walking down the hallway, you turn around to see Matthew grabbing himself a water.

“Alright birthday boy, let’s get you to bed,” you say, trying to move his much larger frame into his bedroom. You’d only ever had to do it once before, a night out after the Flames clinched their playoff spot last season that ended in Matthew puking outside of the bar, and you were sore from trying to haul him to bed.

“Will you stay?” He says when you finally get him to sit on his bed.

“I mean, I planned on it,” you say, gesturing to your bag that was in it’s usual spot in his guest room.

“No in here,” He argues back, crossing his arms like a child. You knew you shouldn’t give in, and you knew climbing into bed with him was only going to make that small crush worse, the crush already growing from the last time you’d slept in the same bed as him.

You sigh, walking over to his dresser to grab him some clothes, tossing them over to him, “I’m just going to go change.”

You walk across the hall to his guest room, slipping out of the jeans you’d been wearing and throwing on a pair of shorts and one of Matthew’s t-shirts. You tossed your hair in a bun, opening the door to Matthew’s room, seeing him in bed waiting for you. You smile, sliding into bed and cuddling yourself into Matthew’s chest as soon as you laid down.

“Thank you for the party,” Matthew whispers, hands twirling the ends of your hair.

“I told you, it wasn’t me,” You joke, finally letting sleep take over you.

January 2020

When Matthew got voted into the All Star Game, you made sure to tell him an obnoxious amount of time. You also insisted on blaring “All Star” by Smash Mouth in his apartment for an entire week before he told you he was going to take his spare key back if you didn’t stop. What you didn’t expect, was for him to insist you at least came for the actual weekend of the game. But once you found out that Brady was also playing in the game, you decided you should probably make the trip down.

You arrived Friday morning, Matthew making some time in the craziness of the weekend to pick you up from the airport, having you stay with him at his parent’s house. You arrive in the mass chaos of the Tkachuk household, his mom scrambling to get everything ready for the party they planned on having after the game on Saturday. You set your bag down, immediately running into the kitchen to see Brady and Taryn.

“Matt, you can leave now,” Brady says, wrapping you in a tight hug, “We’d much rather have Y/N here.” You laugh, missing the dynamic of seeing Matthew around his family. He was always more relaxed when he was with his family, even though he’d never admit that he actually did miss them during the season.

“Brady she’s my best friend,” Matthew says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest.

“To be fair, I like Taryn more than both of you,” You mutter between the bickering boys.

You spend your Friday running around with Matthew’s mom, helping her with the party as much as you could. You enjoyed your time with her, knowing that it made Matthew happy to see how much his parents like having you around. Friday and Saturday seem like a blur, the craziness of the All Star Game taking over. You spent most of the time with Taryn and the rest of Matthew’s family that came to town, many of whom you’d met the last time the Sens came into town. You finally arrive back at the Tkachuk’s Matthew riding the high from winning the actual game.

Once the party was in full swing you were dragged around the house by Matthew, introducing you to players he’s played with in the past. You had a long conversation with Mitch Marner, who you found out Matthew actually played with when he played for the London Knights. You spent the night of some of the best athletes in the world and you couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew kept you around when he kept company like his friends who played around the league.

You step in Matthew’s bedroom, trying to take a moment for yourself. You look in the mirror, and sigh, just not sure of why you were there in the first place. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while the thoughts of not being good enough found themselves creeping in your mind. You couldn’t help it, as your hands started to shake, you heard the door open and Matthew step into his room.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Why are you friends with me?” You ask harshly.

“What’s this about Y/N?” He asks, confused at your tone.

“I mean, you just, all of the people in your life are these accomplished athletes and are insanely good at what they do, and for some reason you choose to spend all of your time with someone who cries every time they get too stressed out,” You rant out, worried about how Matthew would react to what you were saying. You’d never let him in on this part of you, the part that’s doubtful and scared that one mistake could ruin everything you’ve ever worked for.

You feel Matthew grab your hand, pulling you down to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen, “I don’t want to spend my time with anyone besides you, please don’t ever think differently. You’re funny and smart and you care about every person in your life even if they don’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel like this ever.” You smile, trying to hide the butterflies you feel in your stomach when Matthew’s thumb grazes your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“Do you want to stay in here and hangout for the rest of the night, just the two of us?” Matthew whispers, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between you two.

You nod, climbing into his bed and waiting for him to join you, putting on a movie and pulling you into his arms. You knew there was a giant party going on outside of those four walls of Matthew’s childhood bedroom, but nothing could be better than laying in his arms just the two of you.

February 2020

After the All Star Game, you threw yourself into your schoolwork knowing Matthew was headed on a two week road trip. You’d spent the two weeks catching up on an enormous amount of work, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it once Matthew finally got back to Calgary. You were grabbing a coffee before your class, when your phone rang in your pocket - Matthew’s caller ID appearing on the screen.

“Helllllo,” You answer, excited to hear his voice - even if it was just over the phone.

“Hey, do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks.

“I do not,” you say, knowing for a fact Matthew knew you didn’t.

“We have this Flames gala thing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks, and you can hear Johnny and Sam chirping him in the background.

“Matthew, that’s in like two days!” You say, scolding him for not asking you sooner so you could find a dress.

“I know, I just kind of forgot about asking you, I told the team I was taking you though,” He defends, knowing he said he was bringing a date before he even bothered to ask you.

“Yes I will go, but please remember to give me some WARNING next time,” You sigh into the phone, “Now if you’ll let me go, I need to go find a dress.”

“I keep an extra card in my nightstand, use it,” Matthew says, “And before you say no, consider it a gift for not killing me for telling you last minute.”

Initially you laugh, knowing Matthew kept an extra debit card in his apartment because he lost his more frequently than a normal person should, but once his words settled in you began the usual protest you gave him when it came to money, “Matthew…” you start, ready to explain to him that you don’t need him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you.

“Y/N, just take it,” He says, “I’m really too tired for this one.”

You sigh, “Fine, but this is the last time.” “Whatever you say, I’ll tell Brittany to make sure you use it,” He says, and you knew he wasn’t kidding, “Bye.”

You mutter a goodbye back, texting Brittany that you were in dire need of an emergency shopping experience before the Gala on Friday. She laughed when you called, already having received a text from Matthew to make sure that she made you use his card.

The night of the gala you head to Matthew’s, carrying your dress and all of the things you knew you would need to get ready, tossing them in his guest room when you arrive. You head into the bathroom, promptly starting with your makeup when you heard him get in from the rink, yelling about how he was going to shower and heading into his room. You finally set your hair into loose curls and start to step into your dress. The off the shoulder black dress stopped right above your knees and fit you like a glove. Brittany didn’t even tell you how much is cost, grabbing it and paying for it on Matthew’s card before you could even look. But, the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt you felt. You slip on the nude heels you chose to wear, and call Matthew in to help clasp your necklace.

“Wow,” He says, stepping behind you, fastening the necklace to your neck, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Matty,” You say, turning out to take in the suit he was wearing. When you told him you decided to get something black, he was excited having had a dark maroon suit in his closet he wanted to wear, “You look alright I guess.” “I look alright?” He asks, lightly tickling at your sides, “You’re such a brat.”

You laugh, “You look super handsome, happy?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and leading you out to his car. The Gala was in full swing when you arrived, the room filled with his teammates, fans, and other important people in the city.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You hear Noah’s voice behind you while Matthew was over having a conversation with one of the team’s trainers who was at the event.

“What Noah?” You ask, ready for the comment about Matthew taking you as his date.

“You look like that and Chucky still won’t lock you down? He’s really dumber than I thought,” Noah says, gesturing to you.

“Don’t you have a date you should be complimenting?” You say back, knowing Noah had brought some girl to the event, even though they were never around long.

“Not one that looks as good as you,” Noah says, “So, still got that little crush.”

“Yes and I’m done talking about it,” You say, watching Noah’s hands go up in defeat as Matthew steps behind you.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asks, ignoring the face Noah was giving him for being so gentle with you.

You nod, grabbing his hand and following him out to the dancefloor. You place your arms around his neck while his move to your hips, swaying to the music. You look behind you, seeing Noah smirking at the two of you while dancing with his own date. You throw up your middle finger, not letting Matthew notice. The two of you spend the night with each other, dancing and having Matthew introduce you to a lot of people who were working in the front office with the team that you’d never met before. You couldn’t help but feel like something was changing between the two of you, especially when he kept his hand on your lower back while walking through the gala, or his hand gently stroking your thigh while you guys sat at your table.

March 2020

You never talked about how you spent your Valentine’s Day romantically slow dancing with your best friend at a Gala his team was throwing after that night. You couldn’t tell if thing’s had actually changed between the two of you, or if it was a result of the romantic atmosphere. Thing’s with Matthew had returned back to the normal routine, with the Flames in the middle of their playoff push, Matthew was around less, spending more and more time at the rink. You understood, taking the time to spend some time with your friends that weren’t him.

You finally both had a day off, deciding that you’d head over to his place to cook the both of you dinner. You arrive at his place before he does, placing your bags down and getting straight to cooking. You hear him come in, humming at the smells of the food.

“Hey stranger,” He says, joking about the fact that you haven’t been spending as much time together as you usually did.

“Oh please, you talked to me about your practice today on the phone for an hour, you’re hardly starved for attention,” You say, calling him out for being dramatic.

“I need all of your attention or I might actually die,” He says, wrapping you in a hug, “So what’s been up with you?” “Same old same old, this guy from my class asked me out on a date, I haven’t told him yes or no,” You shrug, moving back to cooking dinner.

“No,” He says, instantly, and you turn off the oven, turning around to face him.

“No?” You ask.

“I mean- uh- fuck,” He stutters, “You can’t go on a date with that guy I’m sure you’re too good for him.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “Matthew I know you live in a world where you don’t want me to get hurt, but I can’t not date because you don’t want me to.”

“I know, I just-” He starts before you cut him off.

“You what Matthew? Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t go out with this guy,” You snap back.

“Because I want you to date me,” He says quietly, “I wanted this to be better, you deserve it to be perfect, but I love you so much, and I can’t keep denying it any longer. I love when you spend all of your time here because I love spending time with you. I love that you get along with my teammates, and my family. I love when you get dressed up to go out, because I get to walk around with the most beautiful girl in the world under my arm. I was just terrified you didn’t feel the same way and that you’d hate me. Then when we were dancing at the Gala it felt different, like you were as into me as I’m into you.”

You uncross your arms, walking around the island to stand in front of him, placing your arms around his neck, “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” “Really? Cause I think I could do better-” Matthew starts, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. His hands move to cup your face, kissing you back slowly, the two of you melt into each other like you’d been made for each other all along.

“I love you too,” You mutter against his lips, feeling him smile.

“You’re not gonna go on that date right?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You laugh, “No, there’s only person I want taking me out on a date,” you joke, placing another kiss to his lips.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Matthew jokes back, kissing you again, solidifying how truly right it feels to finally be together.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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theweasleysredhair · 5 years ago

Text

The Way You Look At Her [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 3674

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Maybe there really is a fine line between hate and love.

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: Guess who’s backk! And with a cheesy, probably all-over-the-place Sirius fic. Enjoy!

+ + + + +

It was nearing 4pm; The Three Broomsticks was as busy as you’d ever seen it. But then, it was a Hogsmeade weekend and cold outside - of course everyone would want cover from the snow. You pulled your half full butterbeer to you and hoped no one would remember it was your turn to battle your way through the swarms of Hogwarts students and Hogsmeade residents just to get to the bar to buy more drinks.

A pretty bar maid passed by the table you were sat at, taking the empty glasses that had piled up in the middle, leaning forward to grab the last glass before weaving back through the people standing and laughing around.

“I just can’t believe that in a few months time, we’ll be leaving Hogwarts for good!” Lily said, shaking her head and frowning a bit. You glanced over at your red-headed best friend and nodded, “I know, it’s gonna be so sad knowing we’re not going back in September.” If you were being truly honest, none of you knew if you’d actually even be alive come September, due to the impending war and rise of Voldemort and his death eaters.

Sat beside Lily, James wrapped his arm around her shoulders. You’d never known them to be so happy, and you were so glad they had found each other. There were a few bumps in the road, but the couple had finally gotten together a few months back and had been the cutest couple at Hogwarts.

Which should make you happy. In fact, this whole afternoon would’ve been amazing, if not for the man sat two seats away from you, between Remus and Marlene.

He sat there, wearing his worn leather jacket, fingers curled around his butterbeer glass as he smirked at something James said, looking like a goddamn snack. Arsehole.

You scowled, looking down at your drink. Sirius Black was the bane of your existence, a plague in your otherwise half-decent world. A handsome, god-like plague, but a plague all the same.

“Another round?” You heard him announce as he looked around the table. “We better get going soon actually,” Remus noted, checking the time, “We’re due to head back to school soon.”

“C’mon, live a little, Moony! We all know we could just sneak back whenever we want. Let’s have another and wait for the snow to pass,” Sirius said as he stood up. Remus grumbled something inaudible under his breath, before replying, “Fine, suit yourself.”

Sirius smirked, looking around at everyone - all seven of you (James, Remus, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, and yourself) - before standing up, “I’ll be right back.”

You watched his retreating figure, glaring holes into the back of his head as he leant casually against the bar.

Merlin, you hated him.

“We all know that’s a lie.”

Your head whipped over to the source of the voice, your eyes fixating on James as you narrowed them slightly, “What’s a lie?”

“That you hate our Pads, we all know you don’t,” he shrugged matter-of-factly. You hadn’t realised you’d said anything out loud but...

“I do. He’s arrogant, he’s conceited, not to mention the most annoying and loathsome toad I have ever had the displeasure to come across in my life.”

“Now now, L/n! No need to be so feisty,” Sirius drawled.

You fought the need to roll your eyes. He passed around the butterbeers, everyone thanking him before you realised he’d missed you out.

“Think you bought one less than we need, Sirius,” Marlene said, looking over at him. He glanced at her before staring over at you. “Whoops, my bad, guess you’ll have to go without, L/n,” he said, feigning an apology.

You glared at him, clenching your fists under the table, before smiling sweetly and replying sarcastically, “No no, it’s fine, we all know how hard it can be to count to eight.”

Sirius sat, looking at you for a moment, tongue darting out across his bottom lip, before scoffing at you and shaking his head. He then shot you a cheeky smile as he pushed his own glass towards you, nodding towards it. He then turned away, starting up a conversation with Remus, Marlene and Dorcas instead.

You were silent, reluctantly taking the drink and running your finger around the rim of the glass.

James tried to hide his smirk by taking a sip of his butterbeer, before answering, “Just tell him.” Raising an eyebrow, feigning your confusion, you tap your fingers on the table next to your glass, “Tell him what?”

“That you like him.”

You nearly choked on air, “Well, you know, I would, but I don’t like him, so yeah I’m not gonna do that. But thanks for your suggestion.”

“You’re the one who always complains about him being with other girls. In fact, you can’t seem to stop talking about him, ergo, you like him!” James continued, Lily humming in agreement next to him.

You glanced over at the boy in question to find him deep in conversation - thankfully he wasn’t hearing what James was saying.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Look Potter, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I will spell it out in plain English so then maybe you’ll understand. I... do not... like... Sirius... Black. In a platonic or non-platonic way. I merely put up with him as I am quite fond of our friendship, though right now I am unsure as to why. Just as I am unsure as to why you’re friends with that asshat in the first place.”

James laughs, shaking his head, “You’re just saying that because you know deep down I’m right. If it’s any consolation, he likes you too.”

“Highly debatable,” you replied, pushing your glass away from you.

____________________

Monday mornings were the worst. Particularly this morning. You stumbled from your dorm room and into your common room, trying to do your tie on the move. You were already late, which meant that you’d have to miss out on breakfast, which means you’d have to sit through Slughorn droning on about potions whilst your stomach rumbled.

You grumbled to yourself as you shoved your bag onto your shoulder and ran towards your potions classroom. You’d be late regardless, but better to be five minutes late than half an hour.

“You’re late, Ms L/n. 10 points from Y/h,” Slughorn states as you enter the classroom in a hurry. You cheeks turn red as you realise everyone is staring at you. “Sorry Professor,” you ducked your head down, taking your usual seat next to Lily.

“As I was saying, today we will be starting a project where you will choose a potion and create it outside of classroom hours. You will be finding the ingredients and preparing the potions yourself, and you will be working in pairs for this-“ you looked over at Lily who grinned back at you, “- assigned by myself.”

There were hushed murmurs across the class at the revelation, getting louder as Slughorn read out names. Your heart beat faster. Please don’t put me with Black, please don’t put me with Black, please don’t-

“L/n and Black...”

You groaned, your head dropping to the table as you muttered out a string of curses.

“Why hello there L/n!”

”Oh for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, siting up and tilting your head back in annoyance, “Could this day actually get any worse?!” “Tsk tsk, language,” Sirius chastised with a smirk, leaning towards you and thoroughly enjoying the fact that you were less than impressed with the general goings on in your life at this moment in time.

He was so close to you that all it would take was you to turn your head and you’d be practically kissing him.

Stop thinking about kissing him! ____________________

You were sat in the library, waiting for Sirius to show up - that is, if he was actually going to show - flipping through a book on advanced potions and making notes on your favourites. You’d agreed to meet here as you had a free afternoon, however he was late - something you’d foreseen happening anyway but it didn’t make it any less annoying.

You’d been there a couple of hours before the library door finally swung open and Sirius strolled in, shirt untucked, collar up and him redoing up his buttons.

“Busy day?” You asked him sarcastically as you looked up at him, eyeing the lipstick stain on his neck. Your heart clenched, but you refused to think about why this was. He chose to ignore you, “I lost track of time.” “Clearly,” you commented, raising your eyebrows.

He scoffed, pulling his collar down, “Let’s just get this work done. What potion are we doing?”

“The Calming Draught. It’s one the easiest to collect the ingredients for, but just complicated enough to earn a high grade on,” you explained, looking back down at your textbook.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Sirius commenter as he sat down across from you. “Yes well I’ve been here for nearly three hours now, whilst you were off with some girl in a broom cupboard somewhere,” you offered him a sarcastic smile.

“Stop being so jealous L/n, it’s not a good colour on you,” he teased, offering you a lazy smirk, “Besides, you could be one of those girls in the broom cupboard if that’s what you want.”

You pushed your potions textbook over to him and gestured at him to read it. Looking at his handsome face, his chiselled jawline and the way he ran his tongue across his bottom lip as he started reading, you couldn’t blame the girls. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to say no yourself.

Over your dead body would you ever admit that to him.

“I can assure you that is the last place I’d ever want to be,” you lied.

____________________

About a week later, you were sat with Lily eating dinner when you noticed Sirius entering the Great Hall.

Lily noticed the change in your demeanour and tilted her head to one side, silently asking if you were okay. You gave her a nod and a fake smile, one you were glad she didn’t look too much into.

The black haired boy sat beside his friends at the end of the table you were sat on; you could hear them laughing and joking around. Allowing yourself a glance over as you took a sip of your drink, you saw Sirius was already looking your way, so you quickly turned back to Lily.

You were so focused on not staring in his direction that you didn’t notice that he’d moved to sit beside you, until you felt an arm brush against your own. You looked up at him, your heart jolting as you tried to keep a blush from forming.

“Sirius, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked carefully. “Can’t a guy sit next to one of his friends now?” He asked with a smile, grabbing some food and putting it onto his plate. You barely noticed Lily sliding down the bench towards James as you turned fully towards him, “I feel like you want something.

“I want a lot of things. Right now though, all I was gonna ask is if you got all the ingredients for that potion or if you need me to get anything.”

“Oh! I um... I managed to get everything already, I just need to start actually preparing it. I’m planning on using one of the potions classrooms after dinner, you’re welcome to join me.”

“Gladly.”

____________________

Sirius followed you into the empty potions classroom, watching as you brought out your textbook from your bag.

“Would you mind grabbing a cauldron from the cupboard please?” You asked as you set out the ingredients.

The black haired boy opened the cupboard at the back and grabbed a cauldron out for you, placing it on your table.

“I’ve got all the ingredients here, including lavender, peppermint and crocodile heart. It says if we do this correctly, the potion should be a blue colour,” you explained to him, turning and nearly jumping out of your skin when you realised how close he was standing behind you.

“Just let me know what you need me to do L/n and I’ll do it,” Sirius said, the corner of his mouth lifting up into a small smirk. You nodded, getting started on the potion.

You were just about to add the peppermint when you glanced over at Sirius, who was sat at the table, resting his chin on his hands and staring at you with an odd look in his eye.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” You said nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear and looking away from his gaze.

”Like what? ‘M not looking at you in any kind of way,” he shrugged innocently.

You raised an eyebrow at him before shaking your head and letting out a soft laugh, “Never mind.”

____________________

The morning after, you, Lily, James, Remus and Sirius were eating breakfast.

“Anyone got any plans for the summer?” Remus asked as he flipped through the morning newspaper.

“Well, I’m going to spend it with my Lilyflower here,” James spoke dreamily as he leant his head onto her shoulder. She raked her hand through his head before saying casually, “We’re thinking of getting married.”

Sirius choked on his pumpkin juice and Remus leant over to pat his back, “You’re getting married?!”

“We’re thinking about it. What with the war rising and all, we don’t want to wait in case heaven forbid something happens to us,” Lily explained. “We know we want to spend the rest of our lives together, so why not make it official,” James added.

“You’ll need a wedding dress! Oh there’s been some really lovely designs come out recently, we’ll have to take a look once we get back home,” You grinned at Lily.

“I want something simple I reckon, nothing extravagant, maybe a bit of lace,” she mused.

“That would suit you so well. There’s so many pretty designs, I saw a few when I was shopping with my cousin for hers - I think I’d want one of the ball gown ones, or maybe a mermaid cut.”

“That’s if you can trick some poor sod into marrying you,” Sirius muttered, though it was loud enough for the table to hear and you knew he knew it.

“You’re insufferable,” you scowled, “Why are you being such a git?” This earned a half-assed shrug from him. If Sirius was honest with himself, he didn’t really know why he was himself, all he knew was that as soon as he said it, he regretted it.

That, and he realised he kinda wanted to be that poor sod he spoke about.

“One thing for sure, I don’t think I ever went to get married,” he covered smoothly.

“Oh?” Lily asked, subconsciously running her hand through James’ hair, “You don’t?”

You looked up at him in curiosity too.

“Nah. It’s... it’s not for me. I couldn’t stick to one girl,” he shook his head. He was lying, he just didn’t want to admit the girl he would settle down with probably wouldn’t settle down with him.

“Oh right... I forgot who we were talking to,” you said, shaking your head. “What do you mean?” Sirius asked with a frown.

“Sirius Black: a new girl every night, no strings, no feelings. Never taking anything further. Leave them before they leave you right?”

That hurt him. Somehow, despite everything he’d been through with his parents, you sharing that you thought about him like that hurt more. He glared down at his plate. “Yeah, I’d prefer that than being like you. At least I know I’m wanted,” Sirius retaliated, not thinking about what he was saying until the words had left his mouth. He froze - why did he say that?

You gave a fake smile, and let out a humourless laugh, “I don’t have to deal with this.” Standing up, you grab your a few bits of food and bid goodbye to James, Lily and Remus - “I’ll see you guys in class.” - before heading out of the Great Hall.

“Y/n, wait!” Lily jumped up, running after you.

“Padfoot...” Remus shook his head at him. Sirius clenched his jaw, “What.” Sighing, James took a bite of his toast, “Just, sometimes you don’t know you’ve got a good thing when you’ve got it.”

“What are you talking about,” Sirius frowned. James nodded in the direction you had just ran off in. “Y/n?” Sirius said in surprise.

“I see the way you look at her Pads.”

Sirius scoffed, shaking his head.

”You look at her like she holds all the answers to the universe, like she’s your moon and stars, like you can’t bear to be without her. You like her. You do, don’t lie to me Pads, I can see right through you.”

Sighing, Sirius looked down at his drink, “So what if I do, she doesn’t like me like that.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” Remus let out a small smile as he turned the page of his newspaper. “See what?”

“You’re fucking oblivious mate.”

____________________

“I don’t know why I let him get to me,” You shook your head as you stood outside the bar. “It’s because you care about him,” Lily said gently, squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Yeah? Well I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care about him, or his stupid face or his stupid suits or his stupid... jawline,” you sighed.

“I... I think I love him, Lily. I didn’t think I did before, but I’ve realised I do. And he’s an asshole. An utter and complete asshole and I... I fancy the fucking pants off of him. And I didn’t even realise. He came into the library after clearly being with someone the other week, his shirt and shirt a mess and-and I got annoyed. I thought it was just because he as a person annoys me but I’ve realised... well it’s because I wanted to be her. Whoever she was.”

Lily wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a hug. “I think I’m just going to go to my dorm and skip class,” you whispered, hugging her back, “You head back to James and enjoy the rest of the day, okay?”

You pulled away, smiling encouragingly at Lily, who looked reluctant to let you go.

“I’ll come to check on you later,,” she finally said helplessly.

”I’m counting on it.”

____________________

“She likes you,” James said bluntly, shaking his head at his best friend. “What are you talking about?”

“She likes you. And you sleeping with other girls all the time hurts her,” James said as Lily rejoined the table.

“What? No it doesn’t,” Sirius shook his head, though he didn’t sound certain.

“Are you sure about that?” Lily asked. “Of course I’m sure, why would she care who I sleep with?”

”Why would anyone?” Lily posed the question pointedly. Sirius shrugged, staring down at his drink.

“For Merlin’s sake, she likes you Pads. Fuck, for someone so smart you sure can be stupid,” Remus said.

“Y/n doesn’t like me. Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius shook his head. He paused for a moment as the news sunk in, “Y/n likes me?”

At the nods from Lily and James, Sirius jumped up and ran out of the hall.

He sprinted towards your common room, dashing around a corner as he saw a glimpse of your h/c hair.

“Y/n! Y/n wait!”

“Y/n!” you heard your name being called out. You turned around to see Sirius chasing after you.

“What could you possibly want now? You’ve been nothing but a dick to me! I thought maybe we’d become friends through bloody working together but clearly I was wrong! So what is it? What do you want?”

“I want to tell you I’ve decided that maybe I might want to get married some day.”

“What? Why would I need to know that?”

“Because I’ve found someone I want to marry.”

Your heart clenched - that hurt more than you expected.

“I thought you ‘couldn’t stick to one girl’,” you pointed out bitterly, raising an eyebrow in surprise. He gave a small shrug, “Yeah well, maybe I’ve decided I want to.” “Why the change of mind?”

“Someone changed it for me,” he smiled.

You nodded, swallowing as you tried to keep the smile from falling off your face, “Why are you telling me this?”

He leaned forward and it was only then that you realised how close he was to you. Your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself getting lost in the darkness of his eyes. He leant down slowly, nudging his nose against yours as he brushed his lips across your own gently. You smiled sadly, pulling away from him slowly, patting him on his chest.

“I er... I should go...” you said softly, moving out of his arms and trying to walk away. Sirius’ heart clenched, “Wait!”

He followed you down the hallway, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back to him, “Why are you running away?”

“I’m panicking!” You looked into his grey eyes and tried to step back, but he held you close.

“Why?” He whispered, as if his voice would break if he spoke any louder.

“Because you’re Sirius Black, you-you sleep with girls and leave them soon after. I-I don’t want to be just another one of them,” you stuttered softly, closing your eyes and tilting your head down.

You felt him brush his fingers under your chin and slowing move your head up to face his as your eyes opened to meet his. He leant forward, his lips just about brushing yours again, “You’re not just another one of them sweetheart.”

“Then what am I?”

Sirius let out a breathy laugh and shook his head fondly. “You’re mine,” he murmured, before his lips were on yours.

#sirius #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #marauders x reader #marauders

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chandelier-s-notebook · 4 years ago

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Doodlewash April 2021 prompt 6: Raincoat

I promise there is correlation between the prompt on my story. It’s just really not obvious at all because I’m using the symbolism to inform the backing for my pieces. Other times I go literal, but not today.

--------------------------

Tubbo was nine years old and full of life. He lived in District 87 with his older brother and their adoptive father. His father happened to be Captain Sparklez; young boy who grew up in District 87 and made his way up the ladder at Hero Academy and became one of the top heroes, he was now in charge of District 2.

- - -

When Jordan Maron was a young boy on the streets of District 87 there was a vigilante by the name of StampyCat, and Jordan idolized him. He didn’t have flashy powers, he had really good reflexes and was known for always landing in a safe roll.

When Jordan was six, like all other children, he was told about the Hero Academy in District 5. Apparently, if you wanted to be a hero you could just apply. There were two sectors, powered and non-powered. Some twenty percent of the population had powers develop at puberty. Applications for Hero Academy happened when children were twelve.

Jordan always thought StampyCat was a hero and it wasn’t until his third year at the Hero Academy the difference between heroes and vigilantes was explained to him. But that just gave him more respect for the man; he was helping people informalized and was figuring things out on his own.

Jordan Maron graduated top of his class and was given a job in District 2. He took the name Captain Sparklez, and bought a penthouse suite in the nicest building in District 87 as soon as possible. District 2 was nice, but it wasn’t home. It would never be home. Once you’ve lived in the streets stealing apples at the end of the day from the market, District 2 seems like the fakest thing in the world.

The Captain’s new suite was very empty. He couldn’t live it in, most nights he ended up staying over time in Hero HQ anyways. It was home, but it wasn’t lived in. So Captain Sparklez went down and adopted a kid from the agency.

It was he told his friends and collegues.

Really what he did was he spent two months gaining the trust of an eleven year old boy until he learnt a name and the boy stayed over for dinner.

Eret didn’t like going in the building. He didn’t like the enclosed space that came with the elevator shaft or interior stairways. But Captain had grown up in the tenets of District 87, he liked a good exterior fire escape. And he had paid good money for one to be added to his building; attached to his balcony and provided access for every floor on the way down.

The day Captain Sparklez ‘adopted’ his boys, was when Eret climbed all the way up the fire escape with his four year old brother.

After two months of making sure he came home every night, Captain explained to his boys what he did for a living properly. He asked if they wanted to move to District 2, the school would be better and the area would be nicer.

Eret started shaking his head before looking to his little brother; everything he did was for that boy.

“No thank you,” Tubbo said. “Eret had friends. Let’s not move him.”

Eret let out a breath. “I’d like to stay here.”

“Good. Me too. But I just wanted to ask.”

When Eret turned twelve, Captain Sparklez asked if Eret wanted to apply for the Hero Academy. He saw how Eret would go out of his way to help others.

“No thanks. I’d rather be a vigilante.”

Captain blinked. “Okay. Yeah sure. That can’t be more dangerous than what I do. Let me just go dig up my old textbooks so you don’t go in blind.”

That was the first night Eret called Jordan ‘Dad.’

Of course Captain Sparklez was still a hero. And heroes were sometimes less heroes and more public figures. Honestly, that fact was why Captain really didn’t mind Eret being a vigilante, as long as they still communicated.

There was a charity event in early September. Captain and his sons were invited. He put them through their first suit fitting. There was little fuss which was nice, but Eret did have a new watch.

At the event, there were some of the new students at the Hero Academy. And Eret was put at the kids table with them. There were kids from all over, but he was Captain Sparklez’s kid, so he was placed next to the kids from small district numbers.

Tubbo stayed next to him.

The other kids didn’t bully him per say, but they did coin the nick name Eighty-Seven, and that stung. But Eret shrugged it off.

At the next event in October, Captain was to report directly after patrol, so Eret and Tubbo took the bus up to the event hall. It was raining, so the brothers had on their yellow raincoats. They walked up to the entry way to sign in.

Punz was from District 9, he was at the table at the September Gala. He waved to them as they approached the steps. He waited. Sue him, Punz liked this Eret kid. “Hey Eighty-Seven!”

Eret decided in that moment that he would own the nickname, not let it bother him. Let it become a term of endearment after a while. “Sup Niner!” Eret lazily said back. If he was getting called his district number than so would they.

Eret took off his raincoat and gave it to the attendant.

The attendant then held out his hand for Tubbo’s coat. The four year old took of the coat, shook out the rain, took off his blazer and put the coat back on. He dropped the blazer in the man’s hand. “Here you go!”

Punz stifled a laugh and handed the man his actual jacket. “Let’s go hangout with everybody else.”

#Captain Sparklez #Eret #Tubbo #Punz #Stampy #Vigilante AU #DoodlewashApril2021

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

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Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Three

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Straight up smut first thing in the fic, we startin’ off with a bang folks. Profanity, they stare at ur booty ;). Ur patience is TESTED by these rich idiots.

Chapter Summary: The great Maxwell lord is having trouble focusing lately, You have your first consultation with the famed Lord couple and realize their clashing styles and all around personalities may cause an issue (or cause you to kill somebody).

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @zeldasayer @readsalot73 @captainsamwlsn

Chapters: 1/2/3

(I will not stop using marilyn gifs for val she’s just so beautiful you guys hhhhh)

Max felt distracted. Muddled. He wasn’t sure what it was lately that had him in such a rut.

“Maxwell!” His secretary whimpered beneath him, his hand moved from gripping her hair to slapping over her mouth to try and silence her nails-on-a-chalkboard like voice. He wasn’t sure if anybody outside his office heard her, and if they did he couldn't care less. They knew by now to ignore any suspicious moans or groans and keep doing their job unless they wanted to lose it.

What she should have known by now is to never call him by his first name.

The company was doing good, it was doing great in fact. He and Valerie weren’t spending time together, which was usual, and Alastair was home for the summer. Nothing was out of place, so why did he feel off?

Maybe it was you.

That ridiculous seamstress with the even more ridiculous nickname and ridiculous outfits. I mean Stitches? What were you, a fucking dog?

Delilah, the secretary currently moaning beneath him like a cheap whore, tried to grip at his jacket with trembling hands as he pulled her closer and closer to her climax with each thrust. He slapped her hands away without even looking down at her, eyes squeezed shut as he chased his own release instead of attending to hers.

Valerie insisted he go to the “design consultation” with her today, which meant leaving his office in the middle of a goddamn work day to hear her prattle on about what color makes her feel the prettiest. Usually he’d stand his ground and refuse, but lately a break from work didn’t seem all that bad.

All because of his goddamn secretary.

The woman in question grabbed onto his wrist and cried against his hand, even muffled he could still hear her grating moans. Lately she’d been cuddly with him after each screw, trying to nuzzle his shoulder and ask for things like he was some pathetic sob paying for a sugar baby instead of her fucking boss.

He’d have to fire her soon, if her whiny voice didn’t do her in, the piss poor work ethic would.

But for a moment, when he looked down at her, with her back arched and eyes shut as she fluttered around his cock, he was reminded of that ridiculous seamstress, the little noise of surprise you made when he clamped a hand over your mouth, and just how soft your skin felt under his palm.

Maxwell would never admit this to anybody. But that image alone made him cum on the spot.

Maxwell Lord was a man who learned how to compartmentalize at a young age and never stopped doing so. He pulled out of the boneless woman beneath him, before cleaning himself up and tucking himself into his trousers while she laid against his desk, panting like a dog in the heat.

Not like she fucking did anything.

His ringed hand landed a stinging slap to her thigh that shocked her out of her blissful haze. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day, take my calls and let them know I won’t be back in until tomorrow.”

She blinked, watching owlishly as he grabbed his briefcase from his desk before walking out of his office. “Where are you going?” The way she sounded so disappointed and shaky as if he had broken a promise to her made him feel nauseous.

He didn’t bother giving her a response.

----

The moment his driver parked outside of the store, he saw a convertible drive up to the curb before stopping, he knew the cherry red color better than anyone, as it’s the same shade of the car he gifted Valerie for their five year anniversary.

She stepped out, avoiding the jump in the curb as she adjusted her hair and dress before her eyes landed on his car and flashed him a condescending smile.

Maxwell knew even though he was only two seconds later than she was, Valerie would still hold it over his head like a treat. He stepped out of the car, mindful of any gutter water around him this time and walked to his wife.

“I wish I could say you're fashionably late at least but-” Her blue eyes ran down his suit, brand name and costly before smirking. “-you didn’t even bring that to the table.”

He let out a short humorless laugh before taking the handle of the door.

“Oh? No witty remark about my outfit?” The woman feigned surprise as her husband raked his eyes down the baby blue dress that stopped just above her knees and fit her curves like a glove.

Valerie Lord held a doctorate and multiple books studying the human mind and the effects shaping childhood, she was an intelligent woman. Which meant she knew damn well just how good she looked.

She just wanted to hear him admit it.

“It looks good.” He said plainly, not hiding the way his eyes clung to the supple form of her thighs that she teased under a white sundress just last week.

The curve in her red lips was the closest he’d gotten to an honest smile from her in ages. “You should know. You bought it for me after all.”

“I’m a man of refined tastes.” Max answered simply before giving her an almost playful swat on the ass and opening the door for her.

The moment they entered the girl at the register from before, young and anxious, looked at them with wide eyes. A textbook laid open on the counter in front of her.

She gaped for a moment before Valerie smiled at her.

“Hello sweetheart.” His wife cooed, “We’re here for a consultation with the bosslady, mind letting her know for me?”

The girl pointed to an open door against the back wall. “She takes her consultations in that room.”

Valerie gave the young girl a quick pat on the cheek before walking into the room and calling out “Thank you dear!” over her shoulder.

“Did you have to talk to the kid?” Maxwell mumbled under his breath to his wife, who scoffed in reply.

“Well I wasn’t about to stand there in silence and scare the poor girl half to death like you were.”

Maxwell looked at her incredulously. “I was not scar-”

His denials were cut off upon entering the room, which was laid with multiple chairs surrounding a table, covered in books displaying different types of dress and suit styles, a few fabric swatches were spread out as well. But the main focus of the Lords was on you, currently bent over, digging through a large container in the corner of the room as you grumbled and huffed, hips swaying and ass raised high in the air as if presented to them like a gift.

One they admired greatly and for much too long to be deemed socially acceptable.

Valerie tilted her head to the side with a little hum, enjoying the view before her just as Maxwell did, before he eventually coughed into his fist to make themselves known.

You jumped up at an angle from surprise, accidentally thumping your head against the wall. A shouted curse left your lips as you rubbed your head.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” Maxwell droned.

“You're late.”

His wife smiled. “And you're exceptionally perky.”

“What?”

His elbow dug into her side. “What she meant to say was that we live busy lives. But we're here now so let’s get this over with.”

The three of you took seats at the table in the middle of the room, you handed each of them a design booklet before flipping open a blank notebook for yourself.

“Any initial idea’s the pair of you have?” You twirled the pencil between your fingers as you spoke. “Or at least any automatic no’s?”

“Nothing too loud.” Maxwell told you.

“Or too dull.” His wife added.

“No floral.”

“But don’t be afraid to use patterns.”

“No sparkles.”

“No tweed.”

“And absolutely no plaid.” They finished together. You stared at the list on your paper before blowing out a long breath.

“Alright. So you don’t want anything dull, but also not loud, but no patterns, but use patterns, nothing with sparkles, or tweed and-”

“No plaid.” They reminded you in unison.

“Uh, right. No plaid.” You didn’t enjoy them as separate people but somehow they were even worse together. “So is there anything the two of you can agree on wanting?”

“Color coordination.” Max told you. Your shoulders dropped with relief. Fucking finally.

“Okay. Okay that I can work with.” A steady stream of ideas began in your head. The accent colors of Maxwell’s suit would match the main color of Valerie’s dress.

“We’d have to match Alastair as well.”

Your pencil froze on the page. “Who?”

Maxwell’s brows cinched together. He seemed offended by the fact you didn’t know who was the poor bastard who got stuck with that ridiculous name.

“Our son.” He answered. “But don’t worry about making anything for him. He won’t be accompanying us anyways.”

“And why not?” His wife countered. She had turned in her chair to face her husband with an angry look. With each passing minute this started to feel more like couples counseling than a consultation to make them some fucking clothes.

“Because the gala is in September, dear.” His voice was so sickly sweet you could practically feel the patronization dripping off of it. “He’ll be back at the boarding school by then.”

Of course this kid goes to boarding school. Eventually you just zoned out their argument and began to draw up ideas. It’s probably better the kid is away from these two though. God forbid you meet what type of monster they made.

“For how much money you pay that damn school it’s a miracle you don’t know their schedule. He has a two week break in September at the same time of the gala.” “For what?” Max damn near shouted. At this point you abandoned your notebook and pencil in favor of rubbing your temples.

“I don’t know. Some dead president, I'm not on the school board!”

“Well maybe you-”

“ALRIGHT!”

The pair stopped arguing and shot back to you, eyes wide at the sheer audacity you had to shout at them.

Nobody shouted at them.

“I’ll make a suit for the kid, okay?” You explained weakly. “Could we please, just, get to the actual goddamn design you two want?”

Valerie stared at you, before looking at her husband who had the same “Well I’ll be damned” look on his face as her. She tilted her head to the side and he shrugged in response.

The heavy use of non-verbal communication they had just made you feel like even more of an outsider.

“Well I don’t see why not.” Maxwell sighed, grabbing one of the books in front and flipped through the suits in it. “I blocked out the rest of my day for this anyways.”

The pair spent the next hour and a half flipping through design books and pointing out to you what they liked and what they hated.

They seemed to hate a lot.

But you still learned enough about them to cross out some ideas and begin finalizing others. While Maxwell could wear a solid colored dark suit, he didn’t box himself in that way. He enjoyed a notch lapel type with pinstripes, and seemed quite partial to robin egg blue given how often he pointed out the color on other designs.

Valerie enjoyed solid color dresses rather than those with patterns on them, and while she often wore clothes made to hug her figure, each gown she pointed out flared out at the waist, reminiscent of a princess at a ball.

Their son, well you had no idea what the kid liked. But given he was a child, he probably hated most suits, as certain brands were just as scratchy as they were expensive, so you made note to find something especially soft to make it out for their child, who’s suit would most likely mirror his father’s.

Eventually you pushed away from the table, four pages full of notes and concepts as you rubbed your eyes. “I think that will be enough for today.”

“Poor thing.” Maxwell simpered with pursed lips. “Are we tiring the baby?”

Valerie slapped her husband’s shoulder. “Maxwell don’t be rude. Of course the poor girl is exhausted. Just look at the bags beneath her eyes!”

You spared a glance up at them to place a hand over your heart. “It truly is a blessing to be working with you both. A gift if I’m being honest.”

Valerie stood up from the table and set a hand on your shoulder as you walked them out. When she walked close enough you were surrounded with the citrus perfume she wore the last time she came over. “Oh we’re just kidding. You show a lot of promise Stitches, don’t disappoint and we might just keep you around.” She bumped her hip against yours with a coy smile, you did your best to ignore the funny flips your stomach did at the suggestion of them liking you so much they return for your work again and again and again.

“Which wouldn't be that hard.” Maxwell smirked at you and waved a blase hand through the air while the other opened the door for his wife. “The standards aren’t set very high given the fact that your own sense of style has you dressing like a hippie liberal arts teacher.”

The door slowly closed behind them as they walked to their cars, but before it could shut completely you poked your head out to say. “Those are some mighty big words coming from the guy dressed like a car salesmen with a secret latex fetish.”

Even with the door shut you could hear his wife’s shrieking laughter.

Authors note: Slooooowwww burrrrrnnn babey.Now that they consultation is done we can move on to these assholes just bursting into your store to “see your progress” and then TENSION WHILE GETTING THEIR MEASUREMENTS. Also Maxwell lord is so starved of actual chemistry and love that the mere thought of a woman he may be actually attracted to he BUSTS that second lmao. Alastair will be included in the fic!! Wrote headcanons for him last night n i got all soft and emotional. But no joke writing this fic and doing headcanons for it is honestly so fun and relaxing for me so if you want to be tagges or talk hcs PLEASE send them my way I love this ot3 of power bisexuals.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #Maxwell Lord x Valarie Lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #stitches #ww 1984 #ww1984 #pedro pascal x reader #x reader #imagine #Pedro Pascal #Maxwell Lord x You #Pedro Pascal x You #Pedro Character fic #WW84 #WW84 Fic

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sommniac · 4 years ago

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correcting misinformation regarding bts

I watched affectaed’s video the mistreatment of bts and was appalled by the misinformation in it. I posted a comment on the video but I also understand that a lot of baby armys have similar misconceptions, so I thought posting this on tumblr could gain more traction.

When I first got into BTS about three years ago, I found myself ensnared by a ridiculous amount of falsehoods and presented those lies as facts to others. I know that this experience is common and I just want to help others avoid this struggle. The source linked in the video’s description does not cover all the information in this video so I cannot verify credibility but a twitter thread is not exactly the pinnacle of ethos. I try to be as factual as possible by linking all my sources but even then I might get some things wrong here. Please do not hesitate to correct me.

Please do not send this video or this creator any sort of hate, mistakes happen and I highly doubt they had any sort of malicious intent.

All links are integrated into the text (ex: click “friend,” “former employee,” “Park Jinyoung, the head of the Big 3 company JYP Entertainment,” or “JYP even loaned artists for Big Hit to comanage like 2 AM to help them get on their feet” in the first paragraph for sources)

"Big Hit wasn't a large company with great connections"

This is partially untrue as, at the time of Big Hit’s founding, Big Hit's CEO and founder Bang Sihyuk was a friend, former employee, and former roommate of Park Jinyoung, the head of the Big 3 company JYP Entertainment. JYP even loaned artists for Big Hit to comanage like 2 AM to help them get on their feet. So although the company was small, they did have rather large connections.

Trigger warning for the next point: Mentions of r*pe, domestic abuse, and racism. The link to Fxxk You contains disturbing video and lyric content. Viewer discretion is highly advised.

"Their music bashed so many different forms of society and they were trying to thrive with that raw meaning in their music in an industry that was incredibly superficial."

Although partially true, this is a blanket statement clearly intended to discredit and dismiss the Kpop industry as a whole. The generalization renders this entire claim false. Even though they were the minority, many artists did create music with an important message. Back in the 90's, Seo Taiji and the Boys, the first kpop artist, wrote a multitude of socially critical songs like Come Back Home and Classroom Ideas, both of which went on to be covered by BTS. Gain, a member of Brown Eyed Girls, the oldest still active girl group, released Fxxk You, a song addressing rape and domestic abuse, just months after BTS's debut. Yoon Mirae, a rapper RM collaborated with on the song Bucku Bucku, discussed racism on Black Happiness all the way back in 2007. And those are just a few examples. While BTS is absolutely one of the larger artists that brought attention to important issues, they were not the first.

This is a point regarding the graphic of the music chart at 1:17 (shown below)

It may not have been intentional, but showing this 2015 chart is a bit manipulative considering it was surrounded by details from 2013. I will, however, note that this achievement was still quite impressive considering BTS is one of just two non Big 3 artists on that list.

"BTS were nominated for Rookie of the Year at MNet Asian Music Awards. However, even though they were the best-selling rookie group of that year, MNet refused to give them that award"

Sales success does not automatically entitle an artist to a win. In contrast, BTS won Artist of the Year in 2016 despite EXO having over 600,000 more album sales. To claim BTS deserved to win Rookie of the Year and Artist of the Year would be hypocritical based off of this sales criteria.

“In 2014, a year after BTS debuted, they attended their first real variety show.”

Ignoring the descriptor of a “real” variety show because who can really define a variety show as being “real,” BTS appeared on After School Club on September 25, 2013, over half a year before they attended MNET Beatles Code 3D (the shown variety show). In fact, they appeared on ASC twice before the Beatles Code 3D episode aired (not including Jimin and RM’s appearances the day after the airing).

“BTS won their first Grand Prize award at the 2017 M-net Asian Music Awards”

This is completely, blatantly false. BTS won their first Grand Prize, better known as a Daesang, in 2016 at MMA for Album of the Year for their album HYYH: Young Forever.

”As the industry came to realize that there was no stopping BTS, a lot of agencies tried to buy them from Big Hit Entertainment.”

I do not actually know if this is wrong because I’m having a lot of trouble finding any sources for this claim.

”SM Entertainment bought the boy group Infinite as soon as they started to become a threat to their boy group EXO.”

SM did not buy Infinite, they merged with Infinite’s company Woollim.

”The Kpop industry had no part in BTS’s success considering how they were the ones trying so hard to shut them out.”

The words “no part” render this statement entirely false. I find it appalling that, so quickly after (rightfully) bashing SM for reducing the KPop industry to a series of generalizations, this video turns around and generalizes the Kpop industry as hungrily claiming credit for BTS based on Lee Sooman’s comments. That is textbook hypocrisy. Additionally, it is outright false. Yes, the industry did significantly hinder BTS’s success, but it did not have “no part” in BTS’s rise. A majority of BTS’s original fans, the ones who got the group off the ground, were established Kpop stans and products of the industry that supposedly did nothing for them. More than that, BTS was on award shows early in their career when most artists never get to perform at any award shows. They performed at 2013 MMA mere months after debut. They even had a massive collaboration stage with Block B, a huge group (who were friends with RM predebut), in 2015. More than that, BTS won several best new artist/rookie of the year awards in their very first year. That’s more than countless other artists receive in their entire lives. So even though the industry wasn’t exactly kind to BTS, they absolutely played a part in their success by granting them a platform on some of the biggest stages in Kpop exceptionally soon after debut when considering their company’s small size.

Not all of the information in this video is incorrect but there are some egregious errors that undermine the point of this video which is that BTS suffered a lot on their rise to the top. Which is true. BTS has the most incredible underdog story in KPop. They are my role models and have gotten me through the toughest moments in my life for years. But that doesn’t mean we can just invent struggles, not when they had so many legitimate ones. In 2016 alone, there was EXOLs mass petitioning that took down the Blue House website after BTS’s MMA win; there was the Black Wave at MMA and GDA; and then there was the infamous May “Terror” Month. All of these moments were results of targeted harassment (although there is some debate over what really happened at GDA) and are entirely factual.

#bts #btsarmy #misinformation #correction #bighit #bang sihyuk #seo taiji #brown eyed girls gain #yoon mirae #bts mma #bts gda #bts mama #tw r*pe #tw domestic abuse #tw abuse #tw racism #idk how to tag pls lmk if i did something wrong #excessive link integration

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stanakaashiforclearskin · 4 years ago

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How You First Meet Them w/ Kageyama and Hinata

Pairings: Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou (separately) x gender neutral! reader

Style: drabble

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: slight angst for Kageyama

Kageyama Tobio

“Ugh, where is it?”

You had been frantically searching for your homework in your overflowing book bag for the past minute as your history teacher waited, arms crossed, in front of your desk.

“L/n, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to count it as late. Maybe if you were more organized it wouldn’t have come to this.”

As if on cue, the bell rang and class was dismissed. You had stayed up late writing your history paper that was due today, which resulted in you sleeping in and almost missing the bus. You had been rushed this morning and didn’t neatly put your homework into your bag as you normally did. And now, the paper you had spent so long working on would be counted as late.

Tears flooded your vision as you walked out of the classroom. It was lunchtime now, and on a typical day you would have headed towards the cafeteria to eat with your friends. But instead you altered your course and began to trudge in the direction of the gyms. At least nobody would bother you out there.

Leaning against the cold outer wall of Gym A, you slid down until you were curled into a ball on the ground. Sobs wracked your body. School had been difficult for you this year, seeing as you had been placed in Class 1-5, which was a college prep level. Somehow your teacher seemed to be getting less and less understanding, and you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to maintain your GPA for.

As your thoughts began their downward spiral, you felt someone trip and fall over your outstretched foot. You lifted your head and you were met with startling blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, I was in the way-”

“No, it’s my fault,” the boy said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He began to stand up, but stopped as he noticed his carton of milk splattered all over the concrete. You heard him swear lightly under his breath.

Wiping your red eyes, you picked up the empty carton and tossed it in the nearest trash can. The vending machine was just a few steps away, so you plodded over to it and bought two milks.

“Thanks,” he murmured as you handed him one of them. The two of you sat in silence sipping your drinks, the cool September breeze setting goosebumps upon your skin.

“I’m Kageyama.”

“L/n,” you replied. “Sorry about earlier.”

“Forget it,” Kageyama told you. “And, uh, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

A few hours later, as you laid in bed, your mind drifted back to the boy with the blue eyes. Maybe you would see him again.

Halfway across town, the boy with blue eyes tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. Grabbing his trusty bedside volleyball, he brought it into his embrace and tried once more to find rest. He dreamt of you that night.

Hinata Shouyou

“L/n could you stay after class for a minute?”

You glanced up at your teacher as you finished packing up your bag after the last class of the day. “Of course,” you said cheerfully.

You were in Class 1-5, and had the best grades out of all the students in it. Occasionally, you were asked to tutor students in lower classes, not only due to your high GPA but also because of your outgoing personality. Nobody felt stupid or less-than when they were around you, which was one of the reasons why you made such a great peer tutor.

“I have another assignment for you, if you don’t mind.” Your teacher began. “There is a student in Class 1-1 who needs some help raising their grades. Hopefully you can help them to do so. Here’s their information.”

She handed you a slip of paper with a name and contact information on it.

Hinata Shouyou, Class 1-1

Phone number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Email: [email protected]

“Okay, I’ll contact him later today,” you told her as you left the classroom. Grabbing your cellphone from your pocket, you typed in the number and sent a text to the student.

Hi! My name is L/n Y/n, and I’ll be your peer tutor. Please let me know when and where to meet up for our first session.

You’re about to put your phone away when it buzzes, alerting you of a text message.

Unknown number: HELLO IM HINATA THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I AM VERY GRATEFUL FOR YOUR HELP!!!!!!!!!! 😁😁😁😁😁😁ARE YOU FREE TODAY AT 3PM????? WE CAN MEET AT THE LIBRARY!!!!!!

A laugh escaped your lips as you reread the message. This boy seemed rather odd, but at least he was actually interested in doing the work. You responded to Hinata, letting him know that you would meet him then. School got out at 2:45pm, so you made your way over to the library and sat down at an empty table.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty. It was 3:05pm, and Hinata was late. Of course, it wasn’t by much, so you took a deep breath and tried not to stress over it.

A little while later, you peeked at the clock hanging on the far wall. It read 3:08. You reached for your phone to check for any messages, but a sparkling voice halted your actions.

“I’m so sorry! I got caught up with my club activities,” the voice said. “I’m Hinata Shouyou.”

Your eyes roamed over him, taking in his soft orange hair, his gleaming smile, and the messy papers falling out of his bag.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “Let's get started.”

It turned out that Hinata needed quite a lot of help in every subject. His worst class was English. Thankfully, that one was your best.

“Hmm, I think your biggest issue is actually organization,” you told him, eyeing his disheveled textbooks and notes.

“Oops,” he said, eyes bright with laughter.

You took your time showing him how to keep track of due dates for assignments, how to take neat, understandable notes, and how to properly study for exams. All throughout his tutoring session, Hinata listened eagerly as you spoke. He truly did seem to care for his grades; he was just busy.

“Wow, L/n! You’re so helpful! Thank you so much!” He exclaimed after a few hours of working together. He stood abruptly and bowed deeply.

“Oh, no problem, Hinata! I’m glad to help,” you said, somewhat surprised. “I look forward to working with you again.”

A blush settled upon his face as he righted himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Hinata squeaked, running off to practice.

You smiled to yourself, noticing the fluttering feeling in your stomach. Putting away your teaching materials, you secretly hoped that he felt the same way.

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boywizardscanbecute · 5 years ago

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Inseparable- Parts I-III

Hey Guys!! This has been on my computer for such a long time now and I wanted to break it up into parts so I could start sharing some of it with you guys! If you’re looking for a Harry Potter x reader, not a harry potter character x reader, this ones for you! It’s really really really long and I’m sorry, that’s just how I roll. Anyways, here you go! Let me know what you think!

PS- this is parts 1-3 and there are going to be five parts, carrying through the battle of Hogwarts with a small epilogue.

Summary: The reader is an orphan and her aunt is Arabella Figg. She grew up next to Harry and they become inseparable until they both realize they must go away for school. They are pleasantly surprised to meet again at Hogwarts. Throughout their schooling, Harry and the reader try but fail to push each other and their feelings away, in order to protect one another.

Growing up at number 6 Privet Drive was a quiet affair. Your parents died in the first wizarding war and you were left to be raised by your great aunt, Arabella Figg. She was left with strict instructions not to reveal your wizarding heritage. So each day crawled by at a snail’s pace as you waited for something exciting to happen in your life.

One day when you were five, you stared out of the bay window in the dining room. Like usual, you watched as Petunia Dursley stood tip toed looking over the fence into the other neighbors backyard. Your eyes wandered over to a scrawny black haired boy, who was weeding her garden. It wasn’t the fat boy. “Auntie who is that?” you asked her. Your old aunt shuffled over, peeking through the window. She brushed your hair affectionately and replied, “That’s Harry Potter. He lives with the Dursley’s, they’re his aunt and uncle.” You scrunch your nose considering the thought. “So he’s like me?” you asked. Your aunt lifted her eyebrows in question. “What do you mean y/n?” You didn’t hesitate in saying, “He doesn’t have any parents.” Your aunt smiled down at you sadly, “Yes my dear. He doesn’t have any parents.” You nodded and continued to stare out the window at the raven haired boy. Behind you, your aunt’s eyes glazed over as she thought about poor Lilly and James Potter.

On a hot day in July, the doorbell rang. Shuffling over, your aunt answered the door. “Hello Arabella,” the haughty Petunia Dursley stared down at her. “Petunia,” your aunt nodded her head curtly. Petunia sighed, “It’s diddykins birthday and we were wondering if you could take the boy.” Mrs. Figg smiled, “Of course, I’d be happy too.” Mrs. Dursley let out a sigh of relief and pushed Harry into the doorway. “Don’t cause any trouble,” she growled at him. She gave your aunt a brief smile and turned, racing back towards number 4.

Once inside, Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly. Your aunt smiled knowingly at him. Before she could get the chance, you stepped forward to introduce yourself. “Hi,” you held your hand out for him to shake. He took it shyly. “I’m y/n. y/n Figg.” A smile slowly formed on his face. “I’m Harry Potter,” he replied. “I know,” you said confidently. Your aunt chuckled. You had always been rather forward and today was no different. A cat meowed from the other room and you heard a crash and the telling shattering of dishes. “Bloody hell! Excuse me,” your aunt cursed, shuffling into the kitchen as fast as she could.

Harry stood, looking at you sheepishly. The first thing you noticed was his shockingly emerald green eyes. They stared at you from behind round broken glasses. “Your glasses are broken,” you tell him. He blushes looking down, “I know.” Noticing how embarrassed he was you immediately declared, “I like it.” He flashes a smile at you full of gratitude. You take his hand and slip out the kitchen door, into the backyard.

He laid next to you in the grass as the two of you pointed out different clouds and what they looked like. Once all the clouds were pointed out, a silence passed over the two of you. Quietly, you whispered, “I lost my parents too.” Harry turns to lay on his side, looking at you intently. That was the first time you noticed his scar. It looked as if lightning had struck across his forehead. Your first thought was that it was beautiful. Slowly, you raised your hand and traced the scar with your pointer finger. He flinched briefly, before letting you continue.

That day was the best day of your life. But it ended all too quickly. Hearing the car turn into the driveway next door, you frowned. A minute later a knocked rapped smartly on the door. Your aunt answered it as you stood quietly with Harry behind her. Petunia huffed impatiently, “Come on boy.” She turned and walked from the doorway, not bothering to look back and see if he was following her. Harry dragged his feet towards the door and took one last look back at you. “Bye Harry,” you waved. “Bye y/n,” he smiled. Turning, he walked down the steps and back next door. You stood in the doorway for minutes before your aunt gently took your hand and tucked you into bed.

From that day on, you were permanently fascinated with Harry. And each year he was sent to your Aunt’s on Dudley’s birthday, so that Dudley could monopolize his parents attention. But sometimes you just couldn’t wait to see him. So occasionally you would sneak over and help Harry with his outdoor chores. While pulling weeds one day, Harry studied you carefully. Sweat dripped down the edges of your face as you pulled on one with all your might. Finally it released and you fell back on the ground. Harry laughed, offering a hand. Pulling you up, he beamed at you. “You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had,” he gushes. You return his toothy grin, “You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had too.” He blushes. Nodding his head, he returns to his work and you follow suit.

One day, when you and Harry were both ten, you quickly noticed something was wrong. Peering out the window, you saw Harry on the stoop of number 4, his head in his hands. You raced out the door and up to him. “Harry what’s wrong?” you questioned. He shook his head, not answering. Wordlessly, you took a seat next to him. You knew Harry well by now and eventually he would open up. Almost ten minutes later he turned to you, slowly removing his hands from his face. HIs bangs were cut jaggedly all the way to the base of his skull. It was truly hideous. “Aunt Petunia said my hair was growing too unruly. And she cut it all off,” he sobbed. “Oh Harry,” you gasped. Hugging him, you let him cry on your shoulder. Eventually, he looks up at you, a gaze full of gratitude. You smiled in return. Lifting your hand, you placed your fingers where the hair should have been. Nothing happened for a minute, but then, his raven colored hair sprouted up under your fingers until it was lush and his bangs reappeared as if nothing had happened. You yanked your hand back as if it was burned. “What?” Harry questions you. You shook your head, fear in your eyes. Harry’s hand slowly reached up and he felt his bangs back in their place. “How?” he gasped. You shook your head. You didn’t know. Silently, you retreated back to your aunt’s house and slammed the door. And for the rest of that summer, you never talked to Harry again. That is until his birthday.

Before Harry’s birthday came, something extraordinary happened. Early one morning, you were woken up by a crashing at the window. Screaming, you called, “Auntie Bella!” She ran into the room as fast as she could. An owl waited, flapping its wings impatiently at the window. “Oh my word,” your aunt breathed. To your surprise, she opened the window, reaching out she took the letter from its beak. It was addressed to you. She read the letter to you and slowly began to explain the situation. Your parents were killed by an evil wizard’s forces. Your parents were wizards. You were a wizard, and you were expected to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your first thought was of Harry. You desperately wanted to tell him. You could explain why his hair grew back under your touch. But your aunt forbid it. She conveniently decided to forgo the fact that Harry was most certainly a wizard himself. So you kept your distance from him, but you wouldn’t forget his birthday.

You made him a present every year and this year, you made him a friendship bracelet. It felt stupid, you hadn’t spoken in nearly two months. You went to place it in the bushes, where you normally put his presents, but stopped, looking up at the sudden movement. Harry walked towards you. You turned to go but he called out, “Y/n please wait.” Turning back around, you let him walk up to you. “I have to tell you something,” he said softly. You nodded, letting him take your hand and lead you to the steps. You bite back a gasp as you feel a spark crackle between your palm and his. You kept your head down, refusing to look at him, but he gazed at you longingly. Finally you looked up and bit back a second gasp as you saw a tear in his eye. He squeezes your hand and begins, “Y/n I’m going away for school. I won’t be able to see you everyday. But I’ll see you over the summer.” He watches, gaging your reaction. “Oh,” you respond. His eyes implore you to say more, but your 11 year old self had been preparing to say goodbye for days. You stand and turn to walk back into your aunt’s house. With a final look you say, “Goodbye Harry Potter.” “Goodbye y/n,” he breathes back.

September the 1st came quickly and you followed your aunt’s instructions to get onto platform 9 ¾. Nearly all of the compartments were full, and so you slipped into the last empty one. You were joined shortly by a pale blonde haired boy and two rather fat boys that swaggered in, oozing with big egos. The latter reminded you of Dudley and you struggled to hide your disgust. Keeping your head down, you continued to read one of your new textbooks. Potions fascinated you, and you finished the book the day you bought it, but insisted on rereading it. After a minute you heard a cough, and looked up to see the blonde boy holding out his hand. You paused, and gently shook his hand. “I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy,” he smirked. Your eyes looked to the ground as you responded, “My names y/n Figg.” Draco removed his hand and introduced his friends as Crabbe and Goyle. All they did was grunt in response. You went to return to your book, but before you could Draco tried to create conversation. “I see you like potions. I’ve always liked it as well. They say that Slytherins have an affinity for potions, think you’ll be one?” Your eyebrows knit together. You knew of the houses, after you find out you were a wizard, your aunt implored you to learn about their world. “I’m not sure,” you responded honestly. Draco continues, “I’m sure I’ll be in Slytherin, both of my parents were. What house were your parents in?” You mumble, “My mother was in Slytherin and my father was in Gryffindor.” Draco’s eyes widen in surprise. He chuckles, “What an interesting match! They must get in rows all of the time.” Silence follows as Draco waits for you to respond. After a minute he sneers, “You know it’s rude not to respond to someone.” Looking up at him, you snap, “My parents are dead. I don’t have a family.” You hear his breath hitch and turn back to your book, forcing yourself to hold back tears. You would not cry in front of this rude, inconsiderate boy. Your mind was about to make a harsh judgement, deciding then and there to condemn the boy as a jerk, when he whispered, “I’m so sorry y/n.” You looked up and saw the sympathy in his eyes. Shrugging his apology off, he stands to go. “Where are you going?” you call out to him. He turns and says, “We’re almost to Hogwarts. We’ll let you change into your robes.” You nod your thanks. After your changed, Draco never returns. Your mind was filled with unease about him. He seemed like a great person to know, extremely intelligent, but you had the sense that he was a bully. Your thought was confirmed as you watched him push people over to get off the train first. You filed out, the last student to depart.

The groundskeeper Hagrid took you and the rest of the first years across a massive lake, towards a giant castle. You sat in a boat with three other girls, none of you bothering to speak. Everyone was nervous. Arriving below the castle, the giant man leads you all into a great hallway. Shortly after, a tall, stern looking woman entered in dark green robes. “Students,” she called for attention, “Students you will soon enter the great hall. I will call you in alphabetical order up and to the front. From there you will be sorted into your houses. I will return to collect you in a moment.” The students milled about and one voice echoed over the others. Immediately you placed it as Draco Malfoy. “So it is true, the famous Harry Potter, attending Hogwarts,” his voice made your breath stop, just for a moment. He said Harry Potter. And suddenly, you were sprinting through the crowd towards his voice, pushing people aside with your elbows. You screeched to a halt as you stared at the back of him. His raven hair was an unmistakable mess on top of his head. He stood in between a tall, gangly boy with fiery ginger hair, and shorter girl with the bushiest hair you’d ever seen. Malfoy briefly looked up at you, but refocused his gaze on Harry. He opened his mouth to say something else, but you spoke up before him. Your voice came out quieter than a mouse. “Harry? Harry Potter?” you squeaked. You watched as he froze at the sound of your words. He whipped around and his eyes landed on you. “Y/n?” he asked incredulously. Time seemed to slow as you drank in the sight of your first friend. Your feet acting of their own accord, raced towards him. He moved towards you as well, his feet traveling as fast as he could make them. And you smacked into each other, wrapping your arms around the other. Harry squeezed you to him as hard as he could and you squeezed right back. You had your best friend back. Pulling away from him, everyone looked at the two of you. But before an explanation could be made, Professor McGonagall came back and you all staggered into the great hall.

As names were called Harry leaned towards you, whispering, “You didn’t tell me you were a wizard.” You smirk. Nudging him, you reply, “You didn’t tell me either.” He shakes his head, lightly laughing. The ginger boy and bushy haired girl stuck close and you studied them with intrigue. They both smiled back at you, not asking for an explanation. Suddenly you turn to Harry, “Harry. What did Malfoy mean famous?” He immediately blushes and mumbled, “I’ll explain later.” You nod. “I hope we’re in the same house,” you blurt. Harry hesitates, but squeezes your hand and whispers, “I hope we are too.” Suddenly Professor McGonagall bellows, “Figg, Y/n!” you reluctantly tear your hand away from Harry’s and step forward.

You had no idea what to expect, and you began to shake as you sat on a stool. A hat, the sorting hat, was placed on your head. Among the crowd Harry watched with bated breath. A voice rang through your ears, but you were sure no one else could hear it. “Ahhhh Y/n Figg. Only child to Theodore and Ravena Figg. I see you have a great deal of courage and an urge to protect those you love, much like your father. Oh but your cunning and ambition is present in much, much greater amounts. Yes, I see it now, you are much like your mother.” Silently, you pleaded with the hat, “Please. I just got Harry back. I want to be with him, I want to help him.” The hat tutted, “And there’s that sense of protection again. If you insist.” You hear the brim of the hat open above your head and it proclaims out loud, “Gryffindor!” You beamed brightly. Your feet trembled as you stepped over to the table the cheers erupted from. Finding someplace to sit wasn’t hard. You immediately spotted three more ginger haired, freckly boys and pinned them as the brothers of the taller one that stood near Harry. You sat down next to one of them. Soon after, the bushy haired girl was also sorted into Gryffindor and she took her seat next to you. “Hello Harry’s friend. I’m Hermione Granger,” she shook your hand. “I’m y/n Figg,” you replied. The both of you turned and watched more of your peers get sorted. Malfoy was up. Draco’s eyes flickered over to yours and you watched as a sadness briefly passed over them. He had wanted to be your friend. Given your house rivalry that now seemed impossible. He was immediately sorted into Slytherin. You watched him walk over to the other side of the great hall. And then Harry was up. Hermione heard you gasp and she ran a hand affectionately up and down your back. Harry’s eyes found yours and they never left your gaze as the hat was placed on his head. You could only imagine the fear coursing through him, but you couldn’t hear the internal conversation he had with the hat. After a minute the hat frowned and shouted, “If you’re sure, better be…. GRYFFINDOR!” You jumped up with everyone else, screaming and cheering. Harry ran over to you and grinned ear to ear. You rubbed his hair, messing it up in response. After a beat, Harry turned to the red headed boys and said, “You must be Ron’s brothers.” They nodded excitedly. The three of them introduced themselves as Fred, George, and Prefect Percy. Fred cracked a smile, “Ron better be sorted into Gryffindor or he’ll break the family streak.” Turning to the front, Ron was luckily sorted into Gryffindor. He bounced over to the table and his brothers clapped him on the back. Ron turned to you and said, “You must be y/n Figg. I rode with Harry on the train and boy he never shut up about you.” You turn to look at Harry, who immediately blushes and looks down, rubbing his neck. Ron continues, “I’m Ron Weasley.” You smile and shake his hand.

Prefect Percy leads you into Gryffindor tower and you spend the night around the fire, chatting with the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione. Soon enough it’s time to go to bed. But that’s when Harry pulls you aside and tells you his story. And when Harry cries, you cry too. The evil wizard, Voldemort, killed his parents too. You sit with Harry by the fire until the last embers die out, and you each go to your dorms.

From then on, you and Harry were inseparable. You never let him out of your sight. Ron and Hermione quickly became some of your closest friends and the four of you journeyed through your years at Hogwarts. The balance amongst you was perfect. But during your fourth year, everything began to change.

Part II

The Quidditch World Cup. You were going to the Quidditch World Cup. Everything was a whirlwind as you traveled to the Weasley’s. Upon arriving at your seats for the World Cup, you spotted Draco. Your friends never questioned as to why Draco never picked on you, only them. He always backed off whenever you told him too. But lately it was getting unbearable. “Well well well, what do we have here Potter? Let me guess, did you sell your house to get these tickets?” Harry, rather smartly, ignored him. Ron however could get very heated. Ron moved in front of the three of you and growled, “Shut up Malfoy.” Draco’s eyes narrow as he eggs Ron on. Before a shouting match begins, you step in front of Ron and sigh, “Come on Draco, please leave it alone.” He rolls his eyes and mockingly bows, “As you wish.” He struts away after his father.

Ron turns to you and says, “I will never understand why he does everything you say. It makes no sense.” You just shrug, “I don’t know either.” “I think he’s got a crush,” Fred snickers. You shoot daggers at him as Harry eyes you suspiciously. Last thing you needed was for Harry not to trust you. He continues to study you for another moment before turning his gaze on the field, as the match begins.

Celebrating Ireland’s win, you danced around the tent with your arms reaching to either side of you. Spots filled your vision as you grow dizzy, but you continued to dance, filling your body and mind with bliss. Harry watches you from afar, and he can’t help but smile at how happy you look. Your gaze catches his and you smirk, beginning to move in his direction. He holds his hands up, “You know I don’t dance.” “Oh come on,” you pout. He rolls his eyes and takes your outstretched hands, letting you spin him around the room.

It was easy to sleep, your body filled with warmth from the fire whiskey you all drank. A blood curdling scream woke you from your state. Soon after Mr. Weasley rushes over. He pulls you from the bed and whispers urgently, “Go! Wake the others and follow the crowd out of the encampment. Go!” You hastily pull on your jeans and sweatshirt all the while shouting around you, “Hermione wake up! Take Ginny and go! I’ll be right behind you!” She questions you only for a second before taking Ginny’s hands and sprinting out of the tent. You follow them outside. Screams echoed around you and thousands of tents were on fire. Tearing your eyes away, you burst through into the boys tent. “Wake up!” you hiss. You’re met with gazes from Fred, George, and Ron, but there was no sign of Harry. “What’s going on?” Fred insists. Your eyes filled with worry as you say, “I don’t know. But we have to get out of here!” Fred and George rise quickly, raising their wands. “Where’s Ginny?” Fred’s features fill with anxiety. You push them towards the entrance saying, “I sent her away with Hermione already! Go find them and follow them out!” The exchange a single glance and are gone. Ron stands beside you and grips your hand harshly, questioning, “Where’s Harry?” You shake your head fervently, “I don’t know. We have to find him!” Ron gulps, nodding, “We need to stick together.” You squeeze his hand in response and the two of you sprint out of the tent.

Your eyes scan over the destruction before you and you gasp at the horror of it all. Your gaze is pulled towards the sky and beside you, you hear Ron stop breathing. “Is that…” you can’t finish the sentence. Ron gulps, “Yep.” The urge to find Harry increased ten fold. Your eyes searched frantically across the surroundings. The briefly pass over someone laying on the ground, and you stop, looking back at them. “Oh my god,” you whisper. Sprinting over to him, you crash onto your knees, shaking him on the shoulders. “Harry! Harry! You have to wake up Harry!” You pushed the thought out of your head that he wouldn’t wake up. “Harry!” you lightly shout in his ear. His eyes flicker open. “Y/n?” You pull him up immediately, dragging him towards the exit. Ron runs ahead of you, pulling you by your hand. Above you in the sky, a snake slithers out of the skulls mouth. “What’s happening?” Harry shouts in your direction as you continue to run towards the path everyone is on. “No time to explain!” you shoot back. Reaching the path where everyone is evacuating, you slow to a brisk walk. There were too many people. Ron and Harry both fell into step beside you. Flashes from behind you pull your attention away from moving forward. The last stragglers come sprinting into view screaming with terror as hooded figures chase after them, hexing them. Among them, you see Draco Malfoy. There is no fear on his face, he instead has his wand raised, and he makes his way over to you. The hooded figures close in and Draco falls into a quick pace beside you. He directs his attention at Harry and Ron and says, “Potter. Weasley, you have to get out her out of here!” Harry’s eyebrows briefly shoot up in surprise before he takes the message to heart. A spell whizzes past your cheek, leaving a burn in its wake. Another spell moves towards your direction. Draco pushes you aside with so much force that you fall to the ground, the breath knocked out of your chest. But the spell misses you as a result of his shove. You look up at him in disbelief. He saved you. Ron and Harry pull you up from the ground and pull you forward. You take one last look back and watch Draco as he stares at you intently. Turning around, you sprint into the crowd with Harry and Ron. “We have to find the others,” Harry shouts. Lucky for you, you see a head of bright red hair amongst the crowd. Forming a chain with your hands, you drag Harry and Ron towards the Weasley. It was Mr. Weasley. “Oh thank god,” he breathes, drinking in the sight of the three of you. He makes sure that everyone is there and announces, “Take this portkey back to the Burrow. Tell your mother I will be home as soon as I can. As a ministry employee, I must investigate.” So you travel back to the Burrow with the Weasley’s, Harry, and Hermione.

Late into the night, you sit on a couch in the Weasley’s living room, your head in your hands. Sleep was out of the question. The couch sinks next to you as someone else sits down. You could tell who it was though. Harry had this presence about him that was unmistakable. So you remove your hands from your face and look sideways at him. He studies you curiously. “Why’d he do it?” His voice comes out softer than a whisper. You answer, “I don’t know. I think he feels bad for me. When we were on the train, during first year before I had seen you, he sat in my compartment. He asked me about my parents and teased me about my parents being a Slytherin and Gryffindor. I told him my parents are dead.” Harry nods knowingly. His gaze brings a blush to your skin, creeping up your neck. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, Harry sucks in a harsh breath. You look at him as he says, “You got hurt.” His eyes fell. You raised a hand to your cheek, feeling the burn. “Harry, it’s not that bad,” you tell him. He nods, but you could see the self loathing behind his eyes. “It’s not your fault Harry,” you take his hand squeezing it. He raises the other hand to your cheek, and studies the burn intensely. Eventually, his eyes travel to yours. “Do you want to be friends with him?” his voice speaks barely audible. And maybe it was the way his hand held yours, maybe it was the way he looked so intensely at you or felt responsible for you; but whatever it was you said, “No. I have you.” Harry tries to hide the relief that spreads across his face, but fails. You chuckle, continuing, “You, Ron, Hermione. All the Weasley siblings a girl could want.” Harry laughs with you. His hand leaves yours as he rakes it through his messy black hair, a telltale sign of stress. Too nervous to put it back, he rests his hands in his lap. “Harry you need sleep,” you tell him. “You do too,” he responds. “Well then I suppose we should go to bed,” you stand. Harry follows. Stopping on the first landing, you go to Ginny’s door, where you were staying. Harry continues up the stairs and you call out softly, “Goodnight Harry.” “Goodnight y/n,” he responds. Ginny hears you come in, but says nothing. Slipping into your sleeping bag, you fall asleep peacefully.

The time came to go back to Hogwarts and you shared a compartment with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. As the trolly witch came around, you frowned at the sight before you. It was so unbelievably obvious the way Harry stared after Cho Chang. She was rather pretty. He silently pined after her, as if the moment between the two of you weeks before never happened. “HARRY!” Ron finally pulled him out of his daze. “Sorry what is it?” Harry blushes at being caught. “We need to go change into our robes,” Ron pulls him out of the compartment. You and Hermione silently change, though she eyes you suspiciously. “What’s wrong y/n?” she finally asks. Coming up with a quick fib you say, “I feel guilty for not thanking Draco. For saving me at the World Cup.” Luckily, she buys it. As the train pulls into the station, excitement buzzes throughout the students, traveling all the way with them into the great hall. Now you knew why.

Dumbledore announced the triwizard tournament. But when he instituted the rule that you must be of age, the twins groaned next to you. Each school, BeauxBatons and Drumstrang, made marvelous entrances. You suppressed a giggle as you watched Hermione quietly admire Viktor Krum. Meanwhile Ron pined after the BeauxBatons gals. Setting a deadline on the submissions of names to the Goblet of Fire, Dumbledore sends the students off to bed. You and your three friends walk quietly to the staircase when you notice Draco ahead of you. “You guys go ahead, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom. I really have to go,” you tell them. Ron and Hermione continue to Gryffindor common room, but it’s Harry you don’t notice who hides behind a pillar, watching you. You stride up to Draco and tap him on the shoulder. “Oh y/n. Hello. Feeling alright?” Draco asks, gesturing to the burn on your cheek. “Much better Draco, thank you.” He waits for you to continue. You look down as you say, “I just wanted to say thank you. For… for saving me from that spell that night.” Draco smiles, “Of course y/n. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.” You gasp at the statement. Leaving you to your thoughts, Draco travels towards the dungeons. Smirking, he throws back a, “Bye y/n,” in your direction. You stand frozen for several minutes. The first feeling you had was guilt. You knew how Harry would feel if he saw you talking to Draco. But then again, Harry was more focused on other girls these days. It felt nice to be appreciated. With a linger of a smile on your face, you turn and head to Gryffindor tower. Behind you, his presence unknown, Harry follows. Hot, seething jealousy filled the boy’s chest as he suppressed the urge to go down to the dungeons and beat Draco Malfoy to a pulp. But he decided not to tell you about what he saw.

When Harry’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire, Ron was furious. Actually, furious was putting it lightly. You watched with sadness as the rift formed between them. You tried to fix it, but Harry wouldn’t talk to you either. The group was falling apart. So you threw yourself into your studies. Hermione pestered you about why Harry wouldn’t talk to you but you told her honestly that you didn’t know. And even though he was nice to you, you tried to avoid Draco Malfoy completely, because all you wanted was your old friend back.

One day it became impossible to avoid Draco. Snape paired you with him for potions. In fact he paired every Gryffindor with a Slytherin, just to ruffle people’s feathers. Sighing, you picked up your books, walking over to the station Draco stood at. Harry stood two stations behind you. “Hello y/n. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Malfoy smiles. You return his smile and simply state, “Yea, it has.” Beginning to make the potion, you were surprised to find that you worked extremely well with Draco, and the work sped by. Dropping a peppermint sprig, Draco bent down and picked it up for you. “Thanks,” you mumbled. He placed it in your hand, his touch lingering on your palm.

Two rows behind you, rage rampaged in Harry Potter’s chest. The Slytherin beside him sighed with annoyance at being left to do all the work. But he couldn’t help it. His eyes were glued to the back of you. He studied the back of your head, your h/c hair frizzy with steam from the potion. He always did like your hair. It was always crazy, it could never be tamed and you almost always wore it up, with a pencil sticking out of it. The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come when he watched Draco’s hand linger in yours. Jealousy reared its ugly head as he thought, “I want to be the only one to hold her hand like that.” Harry couldn’t deny his budding feelings for you. But more than that, he knew that he would die without you as a friend. And so he pushed the feelings down.

With the first task quickly approaching, your worry for Harry’s safety grew. Sleep was hard to come by. And you could no longer deny the hurt you were feeling at the absence of your friend’s company. Hermione stood by your side, and would try to make Harry talk to you, but nothing worked. As people filed out of the common room and up to bed, you stared into the fire, the flames dancing in your mind. Hermione sat quietly with you. Harry had gone to bed early. Tears spilled over, and slid silently down your cheeks. Hermione wrapped her arms around you, rubbing circles on your back. “Please let me help,” she begged. You finally spoke. “Hermione. There’s nothing you can do. You tried and I really appreciate that. But he just doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” Hermione slammed her hands against the table, “But why?” You sighed, “I could feel him watching me in potions the other day. I don’t think he liked how well I worked with Draco. I told him I didn’t want to be friends with Draco. But after that I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t believe me. But the thing is, for only god knows what reason, Draco is nice to me. And I can’t bring myself to be mean to someone who’s done nothing to me.” Hermione nodded her understanding. She breathed, “Do you want to be friends with him, with Malfoy?” You squeezed your fist together angrily, “No! Not necessarily. I want my friend Harry back. But right now, it’s like Draco’s the only friend I got.” Hermione nodded once more. She stayed by your side for hours. Finally she whispered, “Why don’t you come to bed?” You denied the request, but sent her off to get some sleep, assuring her you would be fine.

You lost yourself in the fire, watching the dancing embers fly around. Your attention was turned however, when you heard something that sounded a lot like footsteps. You turned, watching for someone to emerge from a staircase, but no one did. A breeze brushed past your shoulder and you knew who it was. The portrait mysteriously swung open by itself as you lightly called out, “Harry.” The frame stopped moving, and closed again after a beat. You heard footsteps yet again. Standing up, you approached the source. When you stood right in front of him, you could actually feel his breath against your face. Reaching up, you removed the invisibility cloak. Harry kept his gaze directed at the ground. “Where are you going?” you whispered. Harry flinched as your breath washed over his face. You were standing so close. When he didn’t respond, you stepped backwards, walking back to the armchair. Harry stood still. “Hagrid says he knows what the first task is. He wants me to meet him in the forest,” his voice traveled to your ears. “Better get going then,” you tell him. He breathes in, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Placing the cloak back around him, he turns and leaves.

It felt like hours before Harry returned, but you couldn’t go to bed now. Because as awful as Harry was being towards you, you had to make sure he returned safely. The clock neared 4 am when you heard the portrait hole open. Harry’s feet shuffled over to you as he removed the cloak. You looked at him expectantly. “It’s dragons. The first task is dragons,” he let the statement hang in the air between the two of you. You nodded. Finally standing, your body stiff, you walked over to the staircase. Harry watched you from his place by the armchair. You turned and indulged your heart, letting yourself briefly glance at him. “Goodluck Harry,” you whispered. And you ascended the stairs into your dorm.

When the day came, you could hardly take any breaths. Worry for Harry consumed you. “Y/n, you have to come, please?” Hermione begged you. “Hermione,” you sigh, “I can’t. Harry won’t want to see me there anyways. I’ll just make him lose his concentration.” Hermione shook her head, “No! You’ve been friends since you were practically babies right? If you’re not there, then he’ll know somethings wrong, and that will distract him.” You hated to admit it, but she was right. “Fine,” you groan. You quickly finish your breakfast and bound back up to the common room. Changing into jeans and your Ireland Quidditch sweatshirt, you hastily braid your hair back into two boxer braids. On your way down to the arena, you ran into Draco. Lucky for you Harry wasn’t around to see the interaction. “What’s the rush y/n?” Draco grabs your hand and spins you around to look at him. You huff impatiently, “I’m headed down to the arena to watch the first task. It starts in a couple of minutes.” He crosses his arms, “Still rooting for Potter then?” You roll your eyes, “Yes Draco. I’m still rooting for Harry. By the way I didn’t appreciate those ‘Potter stinks’ badges. I know you were the mastermind behind those.” He raises his hands, “I admit, the idea was mine. Surprised you’re not wearing one though.” You sigh, tiring of the playful banter, “And why on earth would I wear one of those?” He shrugs, “Because you and Potter aren’t speaking anymore.” You open your mouth in surprise, “And how do you know that?” He laughs, “It’s insanely obvious.” You bite back a retort. It was quite obvious. Searching your mind for a response you say, “It doesn’t matter that Harry and I aren’t talking. I’m still going to support him. Because he’s my friend, no matter what.” Draco’s face falls at your response. He hesitates before raising a hand to lightly caress his cheek. “He doesn’t deserve you, you know,” he whispers softly. You turn away from his touch. Every look he gave you, every time he touched you felt like a complete betrayal towards Harry. Glancing at your watch you curse and say, “I have to go. Goodbye Draco.” And you race down the steps to the arena.

Time crawls as the first three champions face their dragons. Your breath hitches in your throat as Harry emerges from the champions tent. His messy raven hair waved unruly in the wind. And even from a great distance, you could see the fear in his eyes. He stood still for a couple moments, his eyes searching frantically through the crowd. They stop as soon as they land on you. And for a brief second, you thought you saw the remnants of a smile on his face. Harry inched towards the egg, the dragon nowhere in sight. But of course the dragon reveals itself, lunging at Harry. He summoned his broom and the battle with the dragon begun. The battle traveled towards the castle, the dragon breaking free from its chains. “Harry!” you yelp. Hermione and Ron watch the anxiety on your face with sympathy. You kept a death grip on Ron’s arm, digging your nails into his skin. “Ow,” Ron grimaces. But you don’t hear him. Harry was too far away now. He wasn’t even a speck in the distance. You waited for what felt like forever until you saw him emerge from beyond the bridge. Your grip on Ron’s arm loosened. Harry raced towards the egg and captured it with ease. The dragon was subdued. Harry stood triumphantly and his eyes once again traveled back to your own. But this time, you smiled at him, teeth and all, relieved to see him emerge unscathed.

That night in the common room, there was a party. Amongst the music and chaos, you managed to pull Harry aside. Wordlessly, you take his hand and pull him through the portrait hole, into the hallway. He smiles nervously at you. “Harry, I know you’re mad at me, I know that. But please let me explain myself,” you plead. “Okay,” his voice is soft like a feathery down comforter. “Harry I can’t begin to pretend to know why Malfoy is nice to me. My only explanation is the conversation we had first year on the Hogwarts Express, but Harry that doesn’t matter. You know me better than anyone. So you know I can’t be mean to someone who has done nothing to me. And it’s not like I stand aside and let him bully you. You know I always stand up for you, Ron, and Hermione. I can’t change who I am Harry, but I promise you, there’s nothing between Draco and I. He’s an acquaintance at most. The only friend I want right now is you. I miss you,” you finish by squeezing his hands. Harry smiles adoringly at you. “I’m sorry too. I can’t expect to monopolize your time when everyone wants the chance to know you. That was unfair and extremely selfish of me and I’m sorry. You’re kindness to everyone, that’s one of my favorite things about you. So I don’t care if you’re nice to Malfoy. As long as there’s nothing…. Romantic between you,” he finishes, blushing furiously. “There’s not,” you assure him. He lets out a long held in breath and pulls you into his arms. Surprised at his forwardness, you slowly wrap your arms around his torso, reciprocating the hug. He stroked the back of your head lovingly. It was heaven, this was heaven. And you couldn’t suppress the way your heart soared in that moment. But the moment was over all too quickly.

Back in the common room, everyone celebrates Harry’s victory. He was the center of attention, but it brought you joy to see his confidence return. You watched on with Hermione as Ron and Harry made up. Miraculously, things were back to normal.

Murmurs of the Yule ball buzzed amongst all of the students. Hermione was taking Viktor Krum, but she made you promise to keep it a secret. Ginny was going to go with Neville and soon it felt like you were the only Gryffindor girl without a date. Ron and Harry didn’t have dates either. Walking down the hallway, you sigh in irritation as a familiar voice calls out to you, “Y/n! Wait up!” You slowed your walk but didn’t stop as Draco caught up to you. He’d made a point to glue himself to your side whenever we could, and it made you extremely nervous, having just made up with Harry. Plastering a fake smile to your face you say, “What do you need Draco?” To your complete and utter surprise, Draco Malfoy begins stuttering. “I-I-I was w-w-w-ondering if… if maybe you would go to the yule ball with me?” Part of your heart feels extreme sympathy for him, but a greater part of your heart was devoted to another. And you knew how much pain it would cause Harry if you went with Draco. You shook your head sadly, “I’m sorry Draco. I can’t do that Harry. Maybe I’ll see you there though?” He manages a small smile and leaves your side without another word. Hermione comes barreling up to you and asks, “What was that all about?” “Oh nothing,” you lie. She studies you suspiciously for a moment before saying, “Anyways, you need to come back to the common room now. Something hilarious happened.” she drags you back upstairs towards Gryffindor tower.

When you enter, you see Ginny rubbing her brother Ron’s shoulders as he sits, pale faced and frozen. “Ron what happened?” you immediately ask, walking over to him. Feeling his forehead, and checking his pulse, Ginny stops you, “He’s not sick. He’s in shock. He’s asked Fleur Delacour to the Yule ball.” You gasp, “What did she say?” This is when Ron finds his voice, “No of course.” You squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry Ron.” Finally, you take a moment to look across the sofa at Harry. He looks as equally crushed as Ron. You stride over to him asking, “Harry what’s wrong?” He shakes his head, “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Come on Harry, please?” He sighs and redirects his eyes to the ground saying, “Well I went to the owlery and ran into Cho. And I thought she would be a great person to go to the ball with, so I asked her. Only she’s already got someone.” “Oh,” is all you can manage to say. You sit with him in silence, your arm around him, comforting him. Taking nearly ten minutes to work up the courage you begin, “Hey, uh, Harry-” your statement is interrupted by the Patil twins strolling by saying, “Hiya Harry.” Continuing you say, “I was thinking-” You’re once again interrupted by Harry this time, who is studying the Patil twins with increasing curiosity. “Hold that thought y/n,” he says as an afterthought as he goes after Pavarti and Padma. You watch from across the room as he asks him the same question you were about to ask him. He gestures to Ron as well and you knew that they had their dates now. You were alone. Hastily wiping away a tear, you rise and walk to the portrait hole, exiting silently. Harry’s eyes follow you, but he makes no move to follow as he can only focus on the relief of finding a date.

You wander the halls aimlessly, tears dripping down your face. Leaning against a wall near a charms classroom, you slide down and rest your face in your knees. Sobs rake your body and you feel something inside yourself snap. Footsteps echo near you, and you shrink into yourself. But instead of passing you, the footsteps stop and a body slides down the wall next to you. Draco’s voice shakes with anger stating, “He’s an idiot.” You slowly lift your head, wiping your tears. Draco reaches out and helps you wipe them away. And you felt guilt enter your heart again, but not for Harry. Guilt for turning away Draco. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your nose. He immediately replies, “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. He’s the one that should be sorry.” The two of you sit in silence. What happens next surprises you, but also comforts you greatly. Draco wraps an arm around you and gently pulls you into his side. You cry and cry, leaving wet tears on his crisp white shirt. Looking down at the tears you again say, “I’m sorry.” Draco laughs, a real genuine laugh, “Stop apologizing. You don’t have to apologize to me, okay?” You nod. Slowly, the part of your heart that ached for Harry to hold you this way, for him to treasure this way, shrunk away. At the same time the small part of your heart that always held a soft spot for Draco began to grow. After almost an hour of holding you and stroking your hair he whispers, “Come with me.” And you knew what he was referring to. The Yule Ball. “I can’t,” your voice cracks. Your heart wasn’t in it. You couldn’t do that to Harry. But Draco seemed to know how you think. Again he whispered, “Come with me. Stop being selfless for someone who doesn’t appreciate it. You’ll only torture yourself. Do something for you,” he pauses making sure the words sunk in. You still shook your head. He sighs, “Do you want to come?” You could lie and say no, you didn’t, but after all Draco had done for you, you refused to be anything but truthful. “Yes,” you said no louder than a whisper. A smile spreads across his face and your heart flutters, thinking about how you contributed to that beautiful smile. He takes your hand, “Then that’s all that matters. You want to go, so go. You deserve to do at least one thing to make yourself happy.” And you knew he was right. You thought of Harry and how you knew some part of your heart would always be devoted to him. As if Draco read your thoughts he said, “I’m not asking you to stop caring about him. I’m asking you to do something for yourself. To make you happy. Because it would make me happy.” And so you push away the part of your heart that loves Harry, because there was nothing you could do about it. Instead, you focused on the part of your heart that fluttered with the way Draco cared for you and touched you. He waited anxiously for your answer. “Okay,” you pause, “I’ll go with you.” Draco beams from ear to ear. Checking his watch, he easily picks you up off the ground and faces you. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. Blush creeps up your neck all the way to the tip of your nose. Draco sucks in a breath of courage and steps towards you, taking your small hands in his. He lightly presses a kiss to your cheek and steps back, dropping your hands. “Until then,” he tells you. And as you walk back to the common room, your hand touches your cheek where Draco kissed you.

Entering the common room, Harry immediately looks up at you from a chair by the fire. You don’t notice him right away, your hand still pressed to your cheek, remnants of blush lingering on your neck. When your eyes land on Harry’s, you remove your hand from your cheek and walk over to him. Sitting across from him you ask, “Were you waiting up for me?” He studies you intensely before replying, “Yea. I didn’t know where you went. And you said you had something to tell me earlier.” You scrunch your nose up. Shit. Making up a lie you say, “I was just going to ask if you needed help with your egg.” His face falls. “Right. Okay,” he forces a smile. “I see you found dates for you and Ron,” you return the forced smile. Harry nods, “Yeah. I just thought, since I can’t ask who I really want to,” his voice trails off as he looks at you hopefully. But your gaze is cast downward, and you don’t see him insinuating his desire to go with you. So he continues, “Since Pavarti’s a friend and everything….” You nod, “I get it. I hope you have fun.” “Thanks,” he mumbles. Awkward silence passes between the two of you. He doesn’t bother to ask if you’ll be going, crushed by the fact that you won’t even look at him. Even if he did ask, you’re sure you would have lied. It seemed you were destined to protect Harry’s heart, no matter how much it tortured you. Sighing, you rise from the couch and head off to bed. “Night Harry,” you say without so much as a backward glance. He stares after you, the longing in his eyes framed by his glasses. The door to the girl’s dormitory slams shut and you can’t hear him whisper, “Goodnight beautiful.”

The Yule Ball quickly approaches, just two days away! The confusion about your feelings towards Harry left you barely anytime to be excited about it. When you made up, he stated not wanting you to have a romantic relationship with Malfoy, and yet, he went and asked someone else. You couldn’t imagine why Harry couldn’t decide his feelings for you. The night before, you sent a note to Draco, requesting that you arrive to the ball late. You reassured him it wasn’t because of Harry, you simply didn’t want any attention. He sent a response back. Putting down your fork, you unfold the note and read his response: “You can try to fool me into thinking he’s not the reason why, but I know better. Nevertheless I will do as you wish, you’re simply too gorgeous to refuse.” At the last part of the note, blush creeps up your cheeks. You quickly fold it, shoving it in your pocket. But this didn’t go unnoticed by Harry. His grip tightened around his utensils and he mentally cursed himself for not being brave enough to ask you. Noticing his clenched white fists, you give him a small smile, hoping it will calm him down, and depart for Gryffindor tower. Harry visibly relaxes when you give him that smile, and he lets his heart flutter.

No one knew who you were going to the dance with, not even Hermione. When she came back from dinner, she waltzed over to your bed, sitting next to you. “Why won’t you tell me who it is?” she implored. You shook your head, “You get to keep secrets about who you’re taking from the guys.” She shoots back, “From the guys yeah, but not from you.” Sighing, you say, “Hermione please drop it. You’ll find out tomorrow anyways.” She raises her hands in surrender, “All right all right.” And you go to bed uneasy, filled with thoughts of everything that could go wrong tomorrow.

Getting ready for the ball with Hermione was actually somewhat fun. You put her hair up in a messy side bun and helped her with her makeup. When you were finished, you began your own. “You sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Hermione asks. “No, really, I’m alright. You go ahead,” you tell her. She smiles, squeezing your hand and giving a squeal of excitement, she departs for the great hall. You put on a little bit of makeup, extending your eyelashes and blushing your cheeks, but you kept it simple. Your hair was half up, as you twisted the sides back into a diamond encrusted barrette. The main event was your dress. Made of deep green satin, the skirt expanding around you barely brushing the floor, and your shoulders bare for all to see as it was strapless. Draco was sure to be pleased with the color as it pertains to his house. But that’s not why you picked it. The color of your dress nearly exactly matched the color of your dear Harry’s eyes. Slipping on flats, you departed Gryffindor tower to meet Draco.

The ball was already in full swing, and you slowly descended the stairs looking for him. He waited next to a suit of armor, by one of the side doors. Turning at the sound of steps, his jaw dropped at the sight of you. You sauntered up to him, smiling at his reaction. “Just the reaction I was hoping for,” you tease. He finally closes his mouth, taking a breath and says, “You look absolutely ravishing. Are you glad you came?” You pretend to ponder the thought for a moment before returning his smile, answering, “Yes.” Draco stands frozen by the image of you and you laugh, taking his hand and tugging him into the great hall.

Draco took you deep into the crowd on the dance floor, the two of you together catching looks from nearly everyone else. But you ignore it, momentarily happy. Another song begins and Draco offers you his hand. Taking it, he places his other on your waist and your other on his shoulder. And for a few songs, you dance properly with him, keeping an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. But then the music slows even more. And so Draco gently snakes his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Your hands meet behind his neck and you sigh in contentment. The thought of not being with Harry like this still broke you, but maybe, just maybe, Draco could help you heal. Holding you close he whispers, “I’m glad you came too.”

The music picks back up and Draco spins you around and around on the dance floor, eliciting endless giggles from you. It felt good to have fun, to feel joy, if even just for a moment. You pushed back the memory of spinning around in the tent at the World Cup like this with Harry. It was too painful. Planting a smile on your face, you continue to spin.

Across the room Harry sat at a table with a very grumpy Pavarti. Sure he danced with her for the first dance, like champions were supposed to, but afterwards he immediately found a seat to sulk in. As beautiful as Pavarti looked, Harry longed to see you there. His thoughts wandered to you and the time you made him dance with you at the World Cup. He smiled at the thought. Pushing through this bliss came Pavarti’s voice snapping, “Are you ever going to ask me to dance?” Harry looked at her and simply said, “No.” She huffed and stalked away, pulling her twin with her. Ron was no better. He silently pined after Hermione, letting the jealousy of her being here with Viktor stew inside of him. He too walked off, no doubt to go confront her.

Harry’s thoughts traveled back to you and he searched the crowd for you. Now that Pavarti had moved on, perhaps he could ask you to dance. He didn’t recall you mentioning you had a date. His eyes scanned the crowd and they stopped, resting on you. The smile on his face disappeared as quickly as it began to form when he saw who was twirling you around the dance floor. It was Malfoy. Hot anger rose up inside of him. You swore to him there was nothing romantic going on between the two of you. Clearly, you lied. He watched, filled with envy, as you giggled joyously, Letting Draco spin you around the same way he had that past summer. Tears of jealousy threatened to spill over his eyelids and in the moment he swore he would kill Malfoy. But then you looked at him.

When your eyes found his you immediately stopped turning, Draco stumbling from the abrupt change in motion. He stared back at you visibly upset, as if to say how could you. You retracted your hands from Draco’s and he looked at you, frowning. Harry tore his gaze away from you, marching right out of the great hall and into the snowy courtyard. You turned to Draco and said, “I’ll be right back. I’m sorry.” He watched you tear off after Harry.

Sprinting into the courtyard, you looked around for that familiar mess of moppy black hair. You spotted it, retreating into a path amongst the bushes. “Harry!” you called, but he kept going. Picking up your skirts, you raced after him. “Harry, wait!” you called again. He continued marching forward faster. “Harry. Please,” your voice cracked. And that’s what did him in. It killed him to hear your voice crack like that. To hear the pain you were in. But as much as he wanted to comfort you, Harry’s anger and jealousy quickly overtook him. He felt betrayed. So he turned around slowly, and waited for you to catch up. “I feel like I need to explain myself,” you breathed heavily. He crossed his arms. Protecting your heart you said, “No one else had asked me. And he was nice to me. I’m sorry.” The part you didn’t add was that you wanted to go with him, with your Harry. Like a final nail in the coffin, Harry said coldly, “I don’t care who you associate yourself with, romantic or otherwise. Do whatever you want, I couldn’t care less.” He turned, and left you standing in the snow, tears falling silently down your cheeks.

You sat down in the courtyard, the snow seeping through your dress, but you didn’t care. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. You’d lost the most important person to you. Eventually Draco came to find you. His footsteps crunched through the snow, growing closer to your hiding spot. Silently, he sat down in the wet snow next to you. “I’m sorry he ruined your night,” his voice echoed towards you. You were about to correct him, to tell him that it was your fault, that you shouldn’t have said yes in the first place, when you finally let yourself be angry. Harry was the one who didn’t have the courage to ask you. Harry was the one who had stopped speaking to you in the fall. He was the one who hurt you. Your heart began to harden as you slowly turned toward Draco. He looked at you with sympathy, though there was a ghost of a smirk behind his lips that told all. He couldn’t help but feel happy at the fact that he tore you and Harry apart. And you should’ve ran, you should’ve removed yourself from the situation, but you didn’t. Because you wanted to feel something. Anything. Draco’s face drew close to your own and you didn’t pull away. His lips pressed against yours, and you sat there and let it happen. You will yourself to feel something, anything for him. But all your heart returned was emptiness.

Draco took you back to Gryffindor tower and you climbed the stairs to your room, fatigue washing over you. Inside, Hermione sat on her bed sobbing. You immediately knew Ron must have done something stupid. Wordlessly you walked over to her, and cradled her in your arms. She returned the gesture and the two of you sat hugging as a fresh wave of tears came. Neither of you bothered to talk. You knew what Hermione was crying about and you suspected she knew what you were feeling as well. And it took a long time with the emptiness clawing inside you, but eventually you fell asleep.

The group dynamic changed yet again when you and Draco began dating. He was unbelievably possessive and managed to always have an arm around you whenever you were in Harry’s sight. Ron immediately grew angry with you and you watched as one of your best friends withdrew from you. Harry pretended like you didn’t even exist when you around. It was Hermione, sweet, selfless Hermione, who stuck by your side. She split her time between you and the others, and helped you however she could. School work became hard. Nothing seemed to matter anymore without Harry in your life. The second task was at the end of February and the day drew near. With each day, your depression also grew. You tried every potion in the book to cheer you up, to get yourself to focus on school, but nothing could mend your broken heart.

Draco did the best he could to make Harry jealous, and you let him. Because if Harry could become jealous, it might mean he still cared. Draco’s antics grew. It started with his arms around your shoulders, walking you everywhere. One day, you let him walk you down to potions. You could feel Harry’s eyes on the back of your head, almost sensing the anger coming off of him. After potions was lunch, and you said goodbye to Draco to go sit with your own house. Sure it was awkward, but because of Hermione you still sat near Harry and Ron. Pushing the food around on your plate mindlessly, you didn’t notice the pained expression on Harry’s face. You nearly let out a yelp of surprise when he briefly placed his hand on top of yours and said, “You need to eat.” Your eyes widened with shock, you looked up at him and nodded. Harry gave you a small, pained smile and left the great hall. Unfortunately Draco saw these events and followed angrily after Harry. A minute later you heard a bang from the hallway, making you jump. Hermione nudged you frantically and pointed at the Slytherin table. All the color drained from your face when you realized Draco wasn’t there. You scrambled up from your seat and sprinted, feet pounding against the stone, into the corridor.

Draco stood looming over Harry and you immediately felt scared. Because as angry as you’d ever thought you’d seen Harry or Ron look, this was a thousand times more intense. Your need to protect Harry blinded you and you ran up to Draco, placing yourself in between them “Draco what is going on?” you stepped towards him. All you could see was fire and rage ebbing off of him. He growled, “I saw Potter’s hand on yours.” Harry jumped to his feet and shouted, “Yeah? I’m not allowed to make sure my friend eats? She’s not your property!” And for a split second, you let your heart revel in the fact that Harry was fighting for you. But seeing the rage behind his eyes, you knew how dangerous this situation could be. Draco was seeing red, and you knew he wanted to kill Harry. Draco raged, “She’s not your friend! You don’t even talk to her anymore let alone care about her feelings!” At this, Harry fell silent. Draco stepped forward again and you knew you had to act fast. You allowed yourself to look at Harry, and you saw all the guilt he felt towards how he acted. But it didn’t matter, because you knew more than anything that you had to protect him. And at the moment that required convincing Draco that you were his and only his. You smiled at Harry sadly and turned towards Draco, sauntering up to him. His eyes switched from looking at Harry to you. You placed your hands on his chest and reached up, lightly caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch, the action seeming to calm him down a bit. Pulling his head down a little bit to look you in the eyes, your voice spoke softly, “Draco, I’m yours. Only yours.” His eyes still flashed with worry, so you reached up on your tiptoes and kissed him. He deepened the kiss by placing his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. The crowd that had formed watching the fight dissipated as you continued to kiss Draco. Behind you, Harry turned, sprinting for Gryffindor tower, tears in his eyes.

After everyone left the scene you pulled your lips from Draco’s mouth. Looking up into his silver gray eyes you asked, “Draco I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.” He nodded, kissing your hand. “Are you only with me to make Harry mad?” At that, Draco drops your hands and says, “I can’t believe you would think that!” His anger makes you flinch as his hands fly around, gesturing crazily. He sees you flinch and pauses, calming himself. Taking a breath he says, “No. I’m not with you just to make Harry mad. I’m with you because you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met and you deserve to be treated like the queen that you are. And I want you to be mine.” You smiled in response and kissed his cheek. What was meant to be a sweet sentiment left your insides churning with worry and disappointment. You wanted Draco to love you, to really care for you, but all he saw was a trophy bride, someone he wanted to take care of at best. Not someone that would be his partner, his friend. He wanted to take care of you, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted a partner, an equal. You wanted Harry. You silently wondered what made him this way. What changed from the 11 year old boy in the train compartment. As Draco walked you back to Gryffindor tower, fear nestled itself snugly in your chest. Deep down you knew that Draco would have killed Harry, had it not been for you intervening. Not only that, your friends could have gotten hurt. Stopping in front of the portrait, Draco planted a kiss on your lips and said, “Be good.” Almost like a threat. So you pulled him in for another kiss and said, “I will be.” His hand squeezed yours a little too tightly before he let go and walked away. You pulled your hand back, rubbing the pain away.

When you entered the common room, everyone stared at you. You tried to keep your head held high as you marched to the staircase. But the last person you wanted to see stopped you. Harry stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “We need to talk,” he said. He took your hand and you followed him back outside the portrait hole. You nervously looked around for any sign of Draco. When you focused on Harry, he asked, “Are you okay?” You tried to play it off, “I’m fine, really. I’m so sorry that happened.” He wasn’t buying it. Harry gently took your hand, and you basked in how good it felt. Not like the way Draco held your hand tightly, afraid you would run off. “Are you really okay?” he questioned. You looked into his magnificent green eyes, and you wanted to tell him everything. How sorry you were for all the fighting, how much you regretted going to the ball with Draco in the first place, and how much you loved him. But you knew you couldn’t. So instead you said, “Harry, really, I’m fine. I’m just sorry you got mixed up in all of that. I’m probably just going to distance myself for a while, that way Draco doesn’t try to fight you again.” Harry growled in response, “Let him try.” You smiled at the way he cared so deeply, but couldn’t take any chances. Sighing, you bit back tears and said, “Harry I have to. He would have killed you if I hadn’t been there.” Harry retorted, “I already have one wizard trying to kill me, what’s one more?” He was attempting to make you laugh. But time was of the essence. If Draco saw you with Harry there would be hell to pay. “Harry,” you urged, “I’m serious. I couldn’t live with myself if he hurt you. So for now, I’ve got to stay away.” Sorrow filled his features, thinking about you distancing yourself, staying with Malfoy. But selflessly, Harry worried about you. What would happen to you, how would you get out of that dead end relationship. “What about you? How will you get out?” Harry choked on his words. Holding back tears, you tried to be strong for him. Taking his other hand you replied, “I’ll be fine. I’ll find my way out somehow, I always do. I promise.” Harry nodded, wanting to believe you with all his heart. You lightly kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Goodbye Harry,” as you walked back through the portrait hole. Harry remained in the hallway, trying to prepare himself for the absence of you from his life as he faced the second task. Drawing a deep breath, he turned and walked back into Gryffindor tower.

The second task came and went, but you didn’t attend, instead, hearing about it from others. Hearing about Harry’s heroic act, saving Fleur’s sister, made you swell with pride. You spent most of your days in the library with Draco, the both of you being wholly dedicated to your education. Things with Draco got better, you could see that he did want to take care of you, but you still felt trapped. His worry for you grew when you began to spend everyday off piled under your comforter blocking out the world. One sunny May day, an owl screeched at your window. Reluctantly you pulled yourself from your covers and opened the window, taking the attached letter. It was from Draco and it said: Please come down to my room. I miss you. Sighing, you pulled on a pair of jeans and marched your way down to the dungeons to see your boyfriend. As you passed Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the common room, you could feel their eyes on you. Harry told them what you said. That you wanted to protect them. Both of them insisted on fighting to help get you back, so you could all be friends again, but Harry said you insisted. They watched as you walked out of the room. “There has to be something we can do,” Ron moaned. The closest thing you had to a brother, he hated to see you in pain. Harry shook his head, “I want to fight as much as you do, but I know she will put herself in the middle of it. I won’t risk her getting hurt.” Ron nodded, the evidence of Harry’s feelings for you beneath the words was lost to him, but not to Hermione. She smirked knowingly at Harry and he responded by turning back to the assignment in front of him.

Waiting for you in the dank corridor, Draco’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. Pulling you into his chest, he hugged you tightly. Somewhere, beneath all the layers of possessiveness, somehow, you knew he cared for you in his own way. “I was worried about you,” he breathed, squeezing you a little too tightly. “I’m okay,” you responded, voice void of all emotion. Draco looked down at you, and brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “Please talk to me,” he whispered, pleading with you. You didn’t want to talk. This man was making you feel trapped and responsible for other’s safety. And yet, he’s all you had right now. But you wouldn’t tell him you felt trapped. That would only cause an explosion. You sighed, admitting, “I feel tired.” He smiled at your sleepy face and said, “I can take care of that.” And so Draco picked you up, cradling you in his arms, and took you to his bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you felt fatigue sweep through your body. Draco snaked his arms around your waist, pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, “Goodnight my y/n.” You didn’t respond, the statement of you as his bouncing around your brain as you fell into a fitful sleep.

The final task approached relentlessly quick, and with it, your worry for Harry. You and Draco studied relentlessly for your exams, spending hours in the library, but that’s what you wanted. Because everytime you gazed upon Harry, he couldn’t hide the fear on his face. The third task was said to be the deadliest. Two nights before the final task, you walked through the portrait hole, sighing in relief as you just finished your last exam. You gaze happily upon the common room, there was a strong air of excitement. Your eyes fell upon the raven haired boy you so loved, sitting on the floor near the fireplace. You longed to go to him, to run to him, and bring him comfort. Harry looked up at you. And maybe you were imagining it, but you swore you saw a longing in his eyes. Taking a single step towards him, you stopped at the loud sound of knocking coming from the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Stopping in your tracks, you watch Harry’s gaze fall as he turns away from you. Frozen in place, you bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. Anything to step the tears. The knock comes again. So you turn, and step through the portrait hole. Draco is waiting impatiently on the other side.

“What took you so long?” he questions. Growing defensive, you hiss, “I was putting my books away.” He grabs your hand and yanks you towards him. “What is your problem?” he shouts at you. You glare angrily at him, “You’re suffocating me!” Rubbing your arm where he dug his nails into your skin, you back away from him. Draco advances towards you, and you feel a brief flicker of fear in your chest. “What did Potter say to you!” he shouts accusingly. Something snaps inside of you and you throw aside your fear. “Harry said nothing!” you shriek, “This has nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with you being a terrible boyfriend!” Hurt flashes across his face, but he buries it and continues, “That’s a serious accusation!” Hot tears spill over your eyelids and you shoot back, “It’s true though. And I think you know it too Draco!” Hot anger rises up inside of him. He shouts, “Well I can’t let you go back to him! How would that make me look!” He begins to pace through the hallway, tugging on his hair. You yell back, “Are you really so determined to preserve your image that you would keep me captive under your thumb, knowing that I’m unhappy!” Taking hold of the courage inside you, you add, “Draco. This isn’t about Harry. You don’t really care about me. You want someone that you can parade around on your arm, and that’s fine. But that’s not me.” Walking up to you he sighs, “Well what do you want?” “I want a partner. I want a friend. Someone that treats me as an equal. You know that’s not what we have,” you sob. Draco takes your hands in his, only this time there’s no malice, no possessiveness behind his grip. “Are we breaking up?” he asks you. Wiping the tears from your cheeks you ask in turn, “Are you going to hurt Harry?” Anger flashes across his face at the mention of Harry’s name. But slowly, reluctantly, he replies, “No. I’m not going to seriously hurt Harry.” You sigh in relief. He still waits for the answer to your question. Finally, you declare, “Draco we’re breaking up.” He bites the inside of his cheek and nods. Dragging his foot in circles on the floor, he stares at you awkwardly. Finally returning his gaze you say, “Goodbye Draco.” You watch as he turns and struts down the hallway, his cold exterior immediately returning. You bite back a laugh as you hear his voice call out from down the hallway, “Don’t expect me to stop teasing you lot.” Freedom flooded through you, making your heart soar. Your feet padded into the common room, and all eyes are on you. Blush floods your cheeks as you realize everyone must have heard the row you and Draco had. So you keep your head down and quickly walk up the stairs to your room. It’s Harry who tries to follow you, only to be rejected by the staircase and come sliding back down to the common room.

The night before the final task you approach Harry. You had no idea what you were going to say to him, but you wanted to show your support. Planting yourself in between Ron and Hermione by the fire, you say, “Hi guys.” Ron’s head shoots up in surprise, as does Harry’s. “What, are you allowed to talk to us again?” Ron asks eagerly. You chuckle and shrug off the question, “Don’t worry about it. I have it sorted.” No one questioned your response. Bliss filled you from your head to your toes as you catch up with your friends into the late hours of the night. Eventually Ron and Hermione wander up to bed, leaving you and Harry to sit together.

You carefully study the boy in front of you. Being his oldest friend, he couldn’t hide his fear from you. “Harry I’m scared for you,” you gasp. His emerald green eyes stared at you, dancing in delight. “I’m scared too,” he admitted. You took his hands in yours and pressed a kiss to the back of each one. With each kiss on his hand he sucks in a sharp breath. You could feel him shaking as he wordlessly pulls you into his arms. And for a while the two of you sit there, content in each other’s company. When it neared 3 am, you reluctantly tore yourself from Harry’s arms. He stood up beside you and you ask him one last thing before you go to bed. “Harry?” you whisper. “Hmm?” he looks up at you. “Stay safe Harry. For me please,” you plead. He gulps, and nods. You go to bed that night and your thoughts are filled with scenarios of what could happen to your dear friend. Not only that, your heart had rapid palpitations. You’d never been that close to Harry before. You finally fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day you, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley’s send Harry off early to prepare for the third task. His eyes linger on yours as he departs. Three hours later, you join your friends, walking down to the arena. Harry got to enter the maze first due to his points. You felt hopeless as he entered the maze. There was no way to know how he was doing.

45 minutes later, red sparks shot up from the left side of the maze. Someone needed help. “Harry,” you nudge Ron and Hermione, gripping their hands until their knuckles were white. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Ron tries to reassure you. But you saw the worry on his face. Breathing a sigh of relief, you watch as Fleur emerges from the maze. 20 minutes later, Viktor also emerges, but with no triwizard cup. It was just Cedric and Harry left. You sent good thoughts in Harry’s direction, but it brought extreme anxiety that you didn’t know what was going on in the maze.

An hour later, your head rested on Ron’s shoulder as you began to grow tired. But then there was a popping sound, the sound of a portkey, and in a flash Harry and Cedric were back. But something was wrong. Harry knelt on the ground beside a body laying in the grass. Beside Cedric. Even from the stands you could hear his shrieks of pain. “NO!” Cho’s voice echoed from across the stands. “Oh my god,” you raise a hand to your mouth in horror. Hermione immediately begins to shake beside you. “Cedric’s dead,” she chokes. Ron pulls her into his arms and comforts her silently. Before you knew what you were doing, your feet carried you down to the field. You ran towards Harry, but your body was thrown back by Mr. Weasley. You clawed at the arms around you screaming, “I have to help them! Please!” Mr Weasley holds you tight, murmuring, “There’s nothing you can do for them now. There’s nothing that can be done.” Your arms grew tired as you clawed helplessly towards Harry. Dumbledore swiftly descended upon the scene, hovering over Cedric’s body. Harry was soon swept away by Professor Moody. You watched on, helpless. Cedric’s body was removed along with his hysterical father. Dumbledore’s eyes scanned the field for Harry. You could see him piecing together important thoughts, but you didn’t know what they were. He swept over to you, “Where is Harry?” You replied, “Professor Moody pulled him away.” Dumbledore nodded, moving towards the castle at great speed. Mr. Weasley followed after him, releasing him from your hold. As soon as he did, you grabbed Ron and Hermione, and pulled them towards the castle.

Professor McGonagall forced the three of you to wait for Harry in Gryffindor tower. Both Hermione and Ron sat, thumping their legs restlessly in their seats. You pace in front of the portrait hole, marking out the same 10 steps. What feels like an eternity later, the portrait hole opens. Harry steps through, a ghost of his former self. You reach him first, throwing yourself into his arms. He stands still, arms at his sides, and lets you hug him. “Harry, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “I’m so so sorry.” You rub his back with one hand, and run the other through his messy black hair. Wordlessly, Ron and Hermione join the hug, cradling your friend, trying to protect him from the pain. You stand there for god knows how long. It’s Ron who finally pulls Hermione away from the two of you, and they go downstairs to get dinner.

When the portrait hole closes, Harry doesn’t let a single second pass before he throws his arm back around you, returning the hug. He nestles his head in the nape of your neck, and you feel the hot salty tears coming from your friend’s face. Suddenly, remembering something important, Harry clutches your hands, saying, “Y/n I need to tell you something.” “Okay,” you encourage him. Worry spread through you. Was Harry okay? What happened out there? He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, saying, “Voldemort was out there. He was reborn. It was an ambush. And…” he pauses. “Harry what is it?” you implore him. He sighs, “And his followers were there. Malfoy’s father was one of them. One of the main ones.” To Harry’s surprise, you curse loudly. You follow the outburst by saying, “I’m honestly not surprised.” Harry looks at you shocked and responds, “Y/n this is serious. You need to get out from under Malfoy’s thumb, I won’t let you put yourself in danger like that. I don’t care how much you want to protect me I-” you cut him off, placing a finger over his lips. He looks at you, eyebrows raised. Slowly removing your finger from his lips, you say, “Harry. I broke up with Draco three days ago. He promised not to duel with any of us.” You were floored as the sparkle returned to his brilliant green eyes. He somehow managed to joy, even though he just had to watch one of his peers die. “So you’re finished?” he asks. You laugh, “Yes we’re finished. I never really liked him that much in the first place.” “Then why did you go out with him in the first place?” Harry questions. Blush creeps up to your nose as you say under your breath, “I was lonely, I wanted to make you jealous.” Harry leans forward, “What did you say?” You blurt out, “I wanted to make you jealous Harry. I wanted someone to cherish my presence.” He lifts your chin up and makes you look him in the eye as he says, “I will always cherish your presence.” And now you looked like a tomato, the heat resting in your cheeks. It made Harry smile. Suddenly, you asked the question that burned inside of you, “Harry why didn’t you ask me to the Yule Ball?” It’s his turn to blush, and he awkwardly rubs his neck. “I wanted to,” he gushes, “I really did. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way I did.” You beam the largest smile at that boy, proclaiming, “But Harry I did. I do, I mean, still feel the same way.” He grins from ear to ear, replying, “I’ve always had those feelings for you.” Your bodies inch closer together as he works up the courage, placing a soft, slow kiss on your lips. Fireworks dancing between the two of you, you revel in the feeling of finally getting to kiss this boy. Something you dreamed of for so long. And when the kiss is over, the two of you depart for the great hall for Cedric’s memorial.

You hold Harry’s hand throughout the whole service, offering him your silent support, but somehow a silent agreement passed between the two of you to not speak to Ron or Hermione about the kiss. The ride back to King’s Cross is pleasant enough, for you at least, as you let yourself day dream of a summer full of kisses with Harry. But you wouldn’t get that summer because the very next day, you were sent with Ron and Hermione to the headquarters of the Order, and you were forbidden to leave Harry any explanation.

Part III

You immediately pushed back on your aunt’s decision to send you to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. But she insisted you were safer that way. And maybe that would have been okay if you could write Harry and tell him what had happened, but that was forbidden too. They didn’t want the location of headquarters or any other secrets being revealed. Drawing into yourself, you spoke to no one for the first month of the summer. Until Mrs. Weasley announced that Harry would be arriving at the house the next day. Anxiety flooded your system. This was brought on by more anxiety when you heard about Harry’s hearing. It was completely unfair. According to wizard law you were allowed to cast spells in front of muggles if it was in self defense. You rehearsed what you would say to him at least a hundred times. The next day moved by slowly, but finally Harry arrives.

You hear Mrs. Weasley send him up the stairs and you meet him at the landing. “Harry!” you hug him close to you. He returns the hug, but it’s different somehow. Pulling away you ask, “Harry what’s wrong?” He bites his lip and looks down, clenching his fists. It dawns on you that he is angry. “You couldn’t have written? Not once?” You reply, “Harry I’m so sorry. But Dumbledore said we couldn’t. I pushed as hard as I could to come home, but they wouldn’t let me. I’m sorry. I know you’re mad.” He runs a hand through his hair rather aggressively and ponders your apology. “Harry, please talk to me,” you whispered softly. His bright green eyes looked up at you and melted at the sight of your sorrow. “I can’t stay mad at you,” he sheepishly admits. Your face floods in relief. “Thank god,” you sigh. Harry finally returns your hug, holding you close to his chest. To your disappointment, Harry makes no move to kiss you. After he pulls away you say, “Ron and Hermione are worried sick. They’ll want to see you.” He nods and you lead him upstairs to see them.

Half an hour later you were sitting in the kitchen while Hermione raged, “It’s simply preposterous! Wizarding law states that you can protect yourself in the presence of the muggle if necessary! I simply cannot believe there-” Harry cut her off, “Hermione honestly, I’m glad you feel as strongly as I do, but I would love nothing more than to just forget about the trial right now.” She reluctantly nods. Silence passes over the table. Coughing, you turn to Mr. Weasley and ask, “Can we come with Harry? You know, for support?” Hermione smirks, looking down, but Ron is still oblivious to your feelings towards Harry. Mr. Weasley sighs, “I’m sorry but you can’t. Even I am not allowed inside the trial.” You frown, but accept his answer. Mrs. Weasley insists that everyone go to bed early. Lingering on the landing you watch Harry cross the hallway into the room he’ll be staying in. He glances back at you and sees you watching him. “Night Harry,” you tell him. “Night y/n,” he replies.

That night Harry’s head was full of nightmares. He dreamed that Voldemort found out how much he valued you, and he used that against him. Screaming, he shot up in his bed to see Ron looking at him. Sweat dripping down his chest, Ron looks at him with concern. “Harry are you okay?” Ron asks him. He gulps, “Yeah Ron, I’m okay.” Ron nods and goes back to sleep. Harry was lucky he hadn’t called out for you in his sleep, like he’d done before he arrived at headquarters. As he tried to go back to sleep, he subconsciously made a decision. Fueled by worry, Harry decided to not further your romantic relationship. Not only fueled from the need to protect you, Harry was confused about his feelings. Confusion, an emotion that was his constant companion, deterred him from his goal. He needed to focus on the trial and he needed to push against the Daily Prophet. The world needed to know, needed to believe Voldemort was back. The ministry had to get their heads out of the sand. And then afterwards, after the war, then he would tell you why he made the decision he did.

The next morning you woke up early to wish Harry goodluck. You padded down to the kitchen and saw Harry getting ready to depart. He dressed for the occasion and you couldn’t help but notice what a handsome figure he cut in the outfit. His back turned to you, you tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He turns around and stares back at you with bloodshot red eyes. “Harry, did you get any sleep?” He looks down, which confirms the answer you already knew. “Oh Harry,” you breath. Reaching up, you brushed a stray hair away from his forehead and he flinched. You tried to pretend like you didn’t notice. Mr. Weasley came strolling quickly into view. “Time to go Harry,” he announced. “Good luck Harry,” you squeezed his hand. He nodded, mumbling a thanks under his breath. Watching him depart, you couldn’t help but feel like something had changed over night.

Not taking breakfast, you shut yourself in the room you shared with Hermione. Hermione came knocking at the door not long after breakfast. She entered and sat down, looking at you. “Y/n what is it?” she asked. You looked up at her and she raised an eyebrow. “Hermione, I know you know about my…. My umm feelings for Harry. But suddenly, it’s like something changed overnight. He won’t even look at me.” She sighed and sat down next to you, taking your hand. “He’s probably just worried about the trial,” she reassured you. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” you said agreeing with her. But you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him was off.

Harry arrived from the trial looking visibly disturbed. He immediately went down to the kitchen to try to find Sirius, but you stopped him. “Harry wait!” you called after him, chasing him down the hallway. He turned to you, his face calming at your presence. “What happened at the trial?” you questioned. He replied, “I was cleared of all charges.” “Well Harry that’s great! Why do you still look so upset?” you pondered. He cleared his throat, “Because, at the trial, Dumbledore wouldn’t even look at me. Not even after I called after him. And something’s changed. The minister no longer looks at Dumbledore with respect. He keeps sinking his head in the sand.” “It’ll be okay,” you reassure him. He shakes his head, “It’s not only that. I need to tell you something.” He pulled you over in the corner by the closet, for more privacy. Your heart swirled in turmoil. Taking your hands, he stares intently into your e/c eyes, saying, “I know it wasn’t your fault that you were swept away for the summer. But after the attack and the trial, the wizarding world is changing. There’s a war coming. And I need to have a clear head. Sometimes I feel like I am all alone in this fight. And I know it’s incredibly selfish of me, but right now, more than anything, I just need you to be my friend. I can’t do this without you.” A sense of dread flooded your system, but somehow you understood what he was saying. Biting back your tears you said, “Okay Harry. I wouldn’t want anything to ruin our friendship. You always be my friend Harry.” He smiled knowingly at you. Turning to go, he pulled back your hand. “Y/n, I’m not asking you to wait for me, don’t wait for me. That wouldn’t be fair of me. Just be my friend,” he pleads. You smiled, a real genuine smile. “I’ll always be your friend Harry,” you gave his hand one last squeeze and departed for your room. Luckily, you were alone, Hermione was in the kitchen helping prepare dinner. Sitting on your bed, you tried to cry, to feel anything, but no tears came. Despite your feelings for Harry, you were surprised to be filled with gratitude. Because even though you couldn’t have him romantically, at least Harry was still your friend. Deciding to find a positive in the situation, you realized you were much better off than you were last year. With Draco, you couldn��t even speak to Harry or look at him. But now, you still had him in your life. And for now that was enough for you.

Departing for Hogwarts, Hermione notices that the spark between you and Harry had dimmed. When the boys left to change into their robes, she questioned you. “Y/n what happened? What did Harry say to you?” she urged. You decided to tell her. “We decided to just be friends. He needs that right now. That’s the least I can do for him,” you reply. She smiles at you, “You’re amazingly selfless. Are you okay?” You shrugged, “Yeah I’m okay.” She reaches for your hand, “Are you really okay?” You chuckled, “Yes, surprisingly I am really okay. He’s still in my life. That’s what matters.” The boys return and soon enough you arrive at Hogwarts.

The meal in the great hall was, as usual, delicious. It’s then that Dumbledore introduces two new teachers. “I am pleased to announce that Professor Grubbly-Plank has returned to teach Care of Magical Creatures while Rubeus Hagrid is away on temporary leave,” his voice echoes around the hall. You elbow Harry and shoot your eyebrows up at him in question. He shrugs in response as if to say, “I don’t know where Hagrid is.” The next introduction is far more worrisome. “I am also pleased to introduce Professor Dolores Umbridge who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore’s voice was strained. Harry hissed in your ear, “She was at my hearing. She’s Fudge’s secretary.” You frowned in response, Hatred for her already flowing. Her speech was nothing if not annoying. “What does this mean?” you pose the question to the group. Hermione gulps, “It means the ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.” Harry grimaced at the thought. As you went off to Gryffindor tower, you finally got a good look at the new teacher. “She looks like a toad,” you stick out your tongue. This solicits a laugh from Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Trouble awaited in the common room.

The confrontation between Seamus and Harry was surprising, to say the least. But Ron stood at his side, as did Neville. Harry gave you and Hermione a tired look and went up to bed. Hermione then headed for the staircase, asking you, “Are you coming?” “I’ll be there in a sec,” you bit your lip replying. Making a decision, you headed for Seamus. “Seamus can I speak with you for a moment?” you tapped him on the shoulder. He nodded and you pulled him over to a quiet corner by the fire. “I know the Daily Prophet can be easy to believe,” you began, but he held up a hand for you to stop. “If you’re just going to insult my mother too-” you cut him off saying, “No Seamus I wouldn’t do that.” He nodded for you to continue. “The Prophet can be easy to believe, I know that Seamus. But they’re lying. It’s coming, the war is coming. I think you know that. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can prepare to protect yourself.” His eyes glistened and he asked, “You really think he’s telling the truth?” Nodding, you said, “I know he is. There’s an overwhelming amount of evidence, but unfortunately, when someone wants to deny something, there’s no stopping them.” He nods. Confident you convinced him you departed saying, “Goodnight Seamus.”

The very next day Seamus apologized to Harry. Sitting for lunch in the great hall Harry pondered, “I wonder what could have convinced him overnight?” You smiled, a knowing glint in your eye. Raising his eyebrows he asked, “Y/n what did you do?” You chuckled, “I may have had a few words with him.” Ron laughed adding, “I hope you went easy on the poor bloke. You know you can be quite scary sometimes.” You put on a fake frown and punched him on the arm. “Just my point!” he exclaims, rubbing his arm.

The very first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson Harry already ruffled Umbridge’s feathers. The argument escalating Umbridge asks, “Who on earth would you expect to want to attack children such as yourselves?” “I don’t know, maybe Lord Voldemort!” Harry shouted. You placed a hand on his forearm. “Harry,” you whispered, “This is not a good idea.” He shrugged you off and continued to push against Umbridge’s claims that Voldemort was not in fact back until he got detention. “Nice work Harry,” you mumbled. He replied angrily, “She had it coming!” You just shook your head and bit back a laugh. That boy’s hot head always got him in trouble.

“Hermione!” Ron whined, “Please would you just let me copy your work?” You chuckled, watching Ron give Hermione puppy dog eyes. “Ronald that is not ethical!” she replied haughtily. 10 more minutes of pleading and she finally gave in. Yawning, you looked to the fire sleepily. Homework was finished, but you waited for Harry to return from detention with Ron and Hermione. The portrait hole opened and Harry stepped in, fuming with anger. He marched over to the fire and sat down with excessive force. Going to open his book, he began his essay for potions, not having the opportunity to do it before potions. It’s then that you saw his hand. Hermione did too. “Harry, what is that?” she exclaimed with worry. “Oh nothing,” Harry attempted to hide his hand from Hermione, but you were too quick. Yanking his right hand forward you gasped at what you saw. “Did she do this to you?” you asked, anger rolling off of you in waves. He laughed cynically, “Her own brand of punishment.” Holding his hand gently, you took your wand out and muttered, “Tergio.” The wounds slowly closed. “Thanks,” he shot you a smile, removing his hand and studying it. “Harry someone’s got to tell Dumbledore,” Hermione said urgently. He shook his head, “No. It’s done, it’s finished. Besides Dumbledore doesn’t even speak to me anymore.” Harry stood and went straight to bed.

The next day you heard shouting in the hallway. It was Professor McGonagall and Umbridge. It was clear Hermione told her what happened. Harry looked miserable and you silently sent your sympathy towards him. “What’s going on?” Cho sauntered up to Harry. Expecting jealousy to consume you, you had to stifle your surprise when you found none. Harry smiled at Cho, his eyes sparkling. Cho blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. You were pulled out of your daze when you were tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, Seamus Finnigan smiled at you. “What’s up Seamus?” you asked him. “Bad day to be Umbridge huh?” he laughed at the way McGonagall unloaded her fury on the pinkish looking toad. Laughing with him you replied, “Yeah I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that.” Chatting with Seamus, you forgot all about Harry until a loud cough came from behind you. Turning, you saw Harry standing there, dancing from foot to foot. “Harry what is it?” you asked immediately. “Hagrid’s back,” he replied. Without another beat he took off towards Hagrid’s hut, knowing you would follow. “I’m sorry Seamus I have to go,” you tell him as you rush off after Harry. Seamus followed you with his eyes, dazed at the way your h/c hair rustled behind you as you sprinted down the hill. “Nice talking to you,” he muttered to himself before turning around and grabbing lunch.

Hagrid told you about the battle with the giants. You were shocked to hear about his brother. “A giant brother? Hagrid, really?” your mouth was wide open. He corrected you, “Half brother. Name’s Grawp. Would introduce ye but he’s a bit agitated right now. So I’m keeping him in the forest for now.” “I think we’re very much okay with that,” Ron replied with a shaky laugh. “The war’s coming,” Hagrid said to no one in particular, gazing out his window. The four of you walked back up to the castle, leaving Hagrid with his thoughts.

“That woman is an absolute snake! Ughh!” Hermione yelled as she stomped angrily into the common room. “Hermione I’ve never seen you so angry at a teacher before,” Ron laughed at her small tantrum. She plopped down on an armchair near the fire. You, Harry, and Ron followed. Hermione looked like she wanted to say something bad. Finally she stated rather calmly, “If we’re not going to be taught properly, then we need our own teacher. Someone who’s faced the dark arts. Faced them and won. We need you Harry, to teach us.” Harry and Ron both looked surprised, but the more you thought about it, the more the idea made sense. “Absolutely not. Blimey Hermione I’ve had Voldemort come after me four times,” he scolded her. “And you won,” you found yourself blurting out. “Not you too,” Harry groaned. “Harry listen to me. We have to learn to defend ourselves. You know that,” you urged him. He sighed, “No one’s gonna want to listen to me. I’m a nutter remember?” It was Ron who spoke up this time. “They’ll come. Trust me.” Harry finally gave in and let Hermione coordinate the details. You spread the word in your own house, but had to get word to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. “Harry you can tell Cho about it and she’ll tell the other Ravenclaw’s. She’ll listen to anything you’ve got to say,” you tell him. He blushed at the mention of her name. “I’ll let Justin and Hannah know and they can let the other Hufflepuffs know. We’ll meet at the Hogs Head on Saturday,” Hermione finishes. You all agree and finally decide to get some sleep.

Saturday came and you left early for Hogsmeade with your friends. When the time finally came for the meeting, only about 20 people showed up. But it was more than you expected. Finally, Hermione decided to address them. “Well, you all know why we’re here. We wanted someone to teach us, a teacher with experience. Someone who’s faced the darkness and won. That’s Harry.” Harry stands and tries to sound confident. “When you say it like that, it all sounds great. But in these situations it’s not class. In these situations you’ve got one shot.” A voice spoke up from the back. “Perhaps you could tell us how Cedric died?” An unknown Ravenclaw. Harry groaned, “I’m not gonna talk about Cedric. So if that’s why you’re here you may as well go.” Nobody moved. Luna, bless her, moved the conversation on, “Is it true you can produce a patronus charm?” Harry, looking baffled, was silent. Hermione spoke up, “Yes. I’ve seen it. It’s amazing.” This seemed to encourage everyone a bit. By the end of the meeting you had 25 people sign up, including yourselves. Cho lingered, talking to Harry. Hermione and Ron argued about god knows what. A bloom of hope blossomed in your chest. Other people wanted to fight. The thought made you smile. Turning to go, you’re stopped by Seamus in front of you. “Seamus, Hi!” you flashed a grin at him. He beamed, rubbing a hand behind his neck and looking down. “What’s up?” you continued. He looked up at you and blurted, “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a butterbeer with me?” Turning to look back at Harry, he was red in the face as he tried to talk with Cho. It appeared you were both moving on. You reminded yourself that that was okay, you would always be friends. Smiling at Seamus, you said, “I would love to grab a butterbeer with you.” Boldly taking his hand, you led him out the door.

Sitting in the Three Broomsticks, you smiled at the situation you found yourself in. While you did spend the majority of your childhood pining after Harry, there was no denying that Seamus was quite cute, as well as goofy. In current conversation you found yourself laughing so hard your chest ached. “How do you manage to always set something on fire?” you managed to ask between wheezes. His face lit up at your laughter. Shrugging he chuckled, “I guess I just have an affinity for pyrotechnics.” That made you laugh even more. A snort erupted from your nose and you quickly covered your face, beet red. Seamus doesn’t hesitate in saying, “That was adorable.” You blush and he tentatively reaches forward, wiping butterbeer from your mouth. His thumb lingers on your lips. You look down, subconsciously leaning into his touch. He removed his hand leaving a fire in its wake. A cough comes from Madame Rosmerta as she announces, “The bar is closing,” with a smirk. “We should head back,” your voice came out a hoarse whisper. Seamus nodded and stood up, waiting for you. He held your hand as the two of you strolled back to the castle.

Stopping outside Gryffindor tower, Seamus turns to you. “Would you like to go out with me again?” he asks you. “Yes I’d love that!” you reply eagerly. He chuckles at your eagerness and boldly plants a kiss on your cheek. Without another word, he turns and enters the common room. You trail behind him, nearly tripping over the portrait hole. Grinning stupidly, you clutched a hand to your cheek where he kissed you, slowly walking over to where your three friends sat. “What’s up with you? Where’ve you been?” Ron asks. Shaken out of your daze you admit, “Seamus asked me away for a butterbeer.” Hermione squeals in delight. “And?” Ron implores you. Gossip was his guilty pleasure. “And I really like him,” you gush. Ron can’t hide his smile either. Your gaze falls upon Harry. He looks neither angry nor happy, in fact he looks rather distracted. “How’s Cho?” you tease him. He blushes and stutters, “I-I- d-d-on’t know why it’s so hard for me to talk to her.” You reply, “Harry, she clearly likes you. You can’t screw this up, she simply adores you.” He nods. Hermione and Ron sit silently. Letting out a big sigh you declare, “Well that was quite the long day, I think I’ll head off to bed now. Lots of things to do before the first official D.A. meeting.” “You know, I think that’s a good idea,” Harry replies. So you depart the common room for bed. Once you lay down, the butterflies in your stomach continue to soar and you say a silent prayer of thanks that your heart had enough room to fall for another.

Across the hall in the boy’s dormitory Harry tossed and turned, sleep couldn’t seem to come. Initially he was happy for you. And he still was. But he seemed to be getting nowhere with Cho. His constant companion of last year, jealousy, burned in his stomach. He knew it wasn’t fair, he told you not to wait for him, he told you to move on. Silently, he pined for you. Deciding to stay friends was supposed to bring him less confusion, less distraction, but know he was distracted more than ever. His dreams filled with the first and only kiss you shared.

Your next date with Seamus was lovely. Your feelings for him slowly covered the hole in your heart that longed for Harry. While a piece of your heart would always belong to Harry, you felt yourself healing, growing. Because you knew you deserved to be happy, Harry told you as much, and Seamus, He made you happy.

November brought mounds of snow to the castle as well as trouble. When Fred, George, and Harry got into a row with Malfoy for cheating in a match, they were all banned from Quidditch. Particularly furious with Draco for fighting back when he promised you last year he wouldn’t, you gladly took Fred’s place as a beater, promising to pay Malfoy back for it. Ginny filled in for Harry as seeker and Cormac McGlaggen joined as the other beater. One snowy morning, you bustled down the stairs into the common room, broom in hand, headed off for practice. Seamus stood waiting for you. “You know I have practice this morning right?” you asked him as you continued to make your way for the portrait hole. “Yes I know I just wanted to ask you something,” he replies as you continue walking. “What’s that?” you throw back over your shoulder. “I’ll tell you if you just stop walking for a minute,” he says cheekily. You turn around and smirk at him. “What’s up?” you ask. He smiles and says, “Will you be my girlfriend?” You laugh, “I thought I was already?” He bites back a cheeky retort and replies, “Come off it, I’m serious.” You grin like a fool, “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend. But now I’m late for practice and I’ve really got to go.” He plants a swift kiss on your lips and you leave Gryffindor tower.

The D.A. meetings went smoothly, and you were almost sad as the winter holiday approached, not wanting to leave the castle. At the last D.A. meeting, you worked on patronuses. “You have to think of your happiest memory. The strongest one you have. That’s the only way to produce a corporeal patronus,” Harry declares across the room. Closing your eyes, you thought about the day you became a wizard. Shouting the words, only thin blue wisps shout out of your wand. You groaned in annoyance. “It’s gotta be stronger than that,” Harry tells you in passing as he continues around the room. Thinking, you bite your lip trying to recall a feeling of pure bliss. Deciding on the day you met Harry, you pictured it in your mind perfectly. Shouting the spell once again, you sighed in disappointment. “Don’t give up. You can do it love?” Seamus winks at you. Deciding to try something different, you think about when Seamus asked you to be his girlfriend. But even that doesn’t work. “Ughh! I give up!” you decide. Harry walks over to you, sympathy in his eyes. “Y/n you can do this, I believe in you,” he says for only you to hear. You try to push the possibility to the back of your mind, but it creeps to the surface. Last year, when you kissed Harry. You could imagine perfectly what his lips felt like against yours. How soft they were, how sweet they tasted against your own, how it lit a fire in your soul. You whispered the words, “Expecto Patronum,” and felt a powerful surge from your wand. Slowly you peek open one eye, and then the other. Gasping you watched as a y/p appeared magnificently in front of you. “Fantastic y/n!” Harry praised you. You had only a second to revel in his praise when Seamus, your boyfriend, came over to you giving you a kiss. “Wonderful job darling,” he tells you. “Thanks,” you reply. It was growing late and the lesson was soon over. You watched as Cho lingered around Harry. “Let’s go back to the common room,” Seamus pulls you back to reality. Taking one final glance at the raven haired boy, you take Seamus’s hand and walk back to the common room. Guilt filled your system. Harry kissing you shouldn’t have been your happiest memory. But you weren’t surprised at all that it was. It seemed you could never escape the hold that Harry had on your heart. Seamus, noticing you sulking, pulled you into his lap in a big cushy armchair. His long arms wrapped around you, tickling your sides. Giggles erupted from your mouth as you grew breathless from the tickling. “Seamus please,” you begged between gasps. He chuckled replying, “Never,” as he continued to torture you. The portrait door swung open and Seamus’s tickling stopped. You settled more comfortably in his lap, nuzzling your head into his chest. He planted a wet kiss on the nape of your neck sending shivers down your spine. The pleasure was cut short when Harry strode into view. He looked dazed. “What happened?” Hermione asks him. “I kissed Cho,” he blurted. “Well that’s a good thing, right?” Ron inquired. Harry looked extremely confused. “Harry? Go on tell us about it!” Seamus bellows. Harry looks to Seamus, finally noticing you laying in his lap. You thought you saw envy flash across his eyes, but shake your head, deciding you imagined it. “Well, she was crying. About Cedric. So it was sort of wet. And uncomfortable,” he finished. You immediately burst out laughing, snorting as you covered your mouth. “That’s hilarious!” you continued to laugh. Harry studied you thoughtfully. He always liked the way you snorted if you laughed too hard. So did Seamus. Harry began to laugh too. “I suppose it was a bit hilarious,” he chuckled at himself. You smiled at his laughter. Soon it was time for sleep. Seamus pulled you close into him and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You sighed, trying to find comfort in his arms. But the guilt of the source of your patronus creeped up in your throat.

Across from you Harry watched your intimacy with Seamus. Once again it brought up waves of jealousy and envy he didn’t even think was possible. He wanted to hold you in his lap like that. He wanted your arms around his neck like that. More than that he was dying to kiss you again. To ask you to be his. But it wasn’t fair to you. He was constantly on death’s door and he refused to put you through that kind of pain.

Saying goodbye to Seamus for winter holiday was hard. Especially because you’d be spending your holidays with Harry at the Weasley’s. When you arrive at the Weasley’s, you’re happy to see Mr. Weasley doing so well, recalling his encounter with the snake in the ministry. You felt whole, surrounded by all your dear friends whom you considered family. For brief moments with Harry, you forgot about the shame you should feel about Seamus. Similarly Harry forgot about his kiss with Cho. Of course you were all brought crashing back down to reality when you returned to Hogwarts.

Walking into the entrance hall, you saw Seamus standing there, looking for you. “Seamus!” you called out to him. He met you with a gigantic smile. Your heart soared to see him, and you felt relief that you still had very strong feelings for your boyfriend. He barely had time to hold his arms out to catch you as you ran giggling, jumping into his arms. Peppering his face with kisses he chuckled, “Merlin y/n you’re gonna suffocate me.” You pulled back to look at his face and saw his gaze of pure adoration. You pressed your lips to his and kissed him until you couldn’t breath, not caring who saw. Behind you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked on. Ron made a face of disgust, he still had some maturing to do. Harry radiated sadness, tears pricking his eyes as he watched you slip further away from him. Hermione looked to Harry, waves of sympathy displayed on her face.

As February rolled around, everyone was buzzing with gossip about Valentine’s Day. The week before Valentine’s Day Harry strolled into the common room. Planting himself in his favorite armchair, he sighed loudly. “What’s gotcha down Harry?” you asked him. Like normal now you sat in the other chair on Seamus’s lap. The closeness reminding you just how much you cared for this boy. Harry groaned, “Cho asked me to Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop for Valentine’s Day.” You bit back your laughter and Seamus stuck out his tongue. “Isn’t that that girly place with all the frilly decorations and terrible tea?” Seamus asked him. Harry nodded. “My sympathies,” Seamus responded. No longer able to contain your laughter you giggled, “That’ll be torture for you Harry.” He made a face at you, “Haha very funny.” Seamus chuckles along. Then he asks you, “Y/n please tell me you’re not going to make us go there for Valentine’s Day?” It was your turn to stick out your tongue. You said, “Hell no! We’ll go to the Three Broomsticks. Drown ourselves in butterbeer.” Seamus couldn’t have adored you more. “The perfect girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Harry once again looked on with envy. Harry suddenly stood, no longer able to watch you with Seamus. “Well I’m off to bed. Night guys!” He plastered a fake smile on his face and went upstairs. You couldn’t help but notice that something was off about him. Then Seamus distracted you with his lips.

On Valentine’s Day you headed to Hogsmeade with Seamus. Dressed in an Ireland Quidditch sweatshirt, jeans, and boots, you took Seamus’s hand and walked to the Three Broomsticks. 2 hours into your endeavors you couldn’t stop the giggles from the amount of alcohol in your system. Seamus’s voice came through the foggy mist in your head, “Why don’t we go back now?” “Okay,” you continued giggling. He took your hand and lead you out the door. Tripping over the door frame he laughed and muttered, “You’re helpless.” “Carry me,” you responded with puppy dog eyes. “Oh alright,” he responded. You drunkenly hoisted yourself up onto his back, as he piggy backed you all the way up to Gryffindor tower. Harry was nowhere in sight, though Hermione and Ron frantically waved the two of you over. Ron, smelling the alcohol on you coughed, “No need to ask where you’ve been.” You rolled your eyes at him and asked, “What’s going on?” Ron looked on the verge of laughter while Hermione looked stressed. “Harry’s date with Cho,” Hermione began, “It didn’t really go well. Horrible actually.” “Go on,” you urged. She sighed, “He was so awkward and well, she kept asking about Cedric. So Harry lashed out saying he didn’t want to talk about it. She immediately began crying, begging for information. Harry told her he wouldn’t be Cedric’s replacement and he left her there. In the tea shop. Crying.” “Poor Harry,” you whispered. Hermione nodded. Her and Ron went to bed while you cozied up to Seamus by the fire. Eventually sleep overtook the both of you and you fell asleep, snuggled under his arm on the couch.

The next morning at breakfast it was clear that everyone had heard how terrible Harry and Cho’s date went. Most of the Ravenclaw girls gave him the cold shoulder. When you sat down across from him Harry looked bashful as he asked how your Valentine’s Day was. “Harry,” you paused resting a hand on his, “We heard about the date.” He hangs his head in shame. “Everyone knows,” he groaned in irritation. “So safe to say that’s over then?” Seamus asks him. “Pretty sure she hates my guts,” Harry replies, his eyes lingering on you.

Interrogations from the high inquisitorial squad about secret organizations began the next week. You had the unfortunate opportunity to be questioned by Draco Malfoy. “Dating Finnigan now I see,” he spat at you from across the desk. “Treats me loads better than you ever did,” you shot back. Draco’s hard exterior briefly faltered at the comment. He waved his hand at you and said, “Get out of here.” “You don’t have to tell me twice,” you smirked and skittered away from Umbridge’s office. Talk of the weapon increased in the following days. Harry knew the weapon was at the ministry, and he was desperate to get to it before Voldemort. “Harry it’s going to be alright,” you tried to reassure him. He looked at you and offered a weak smile. Harry turned in early, something he rarely does. Something was up. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The next day it was clear as to why.

The tension was high in the room of requirement. Harry announced, “So I know that Umbridge is still interrogating people. So I think we’re going to have to cool it with the meetings-” Before he could finish there was a knocking on the other side. “What the?” Ron looked puzzled. Everyone was confused. Pulling the Marauder’s Map out of his back pocket, Harry let out a low swear. “It’s Umbridge, waiting for us. It’s an ambush,” he told the room. Students looked around in panic and chaos soon ensued. Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad invaded the room. Students ran in all directions. But she got what she wanted. Ripping the sheet that said Dumbledore’s Army, she grabbed Harry by the collar, escorting him from the room. His eyes flashed to yours as he was dragged away. “Run,” he mouthed. You obeyed his wish and took off sprinting towards Gryffindor tower. Slamming the portrait behind you you were met with Hermione, Seamus, and all the Weasley’s anxiously awaiting news. “She took Harry. And the sheet that says Dumbledore’s army,” you spoke breathlessly. Some nodded. Seamus stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. “I was worried sick,” he whispered. It pained your heart to hear that when all of your worry was focused on one boy right now. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed. Seamus wordlessly forgave you and stroked your hair, comforting you. Silently, an agreement passed over the room to wait for Harry to return. When he did, the look on his face told all. “Dumbledore’s gone. They wanted to send him to Azkaban so he left,” he spoke. “Umbridge is headmaster now.”

Everyone in the D.A. was assigned detention because she got a hold of their list of members. Looking back, it seemed rather stupid to have that displayed. Every member of the D.A. soon got a taste of what it was like to write in their own blood. 5 hours later, you emerged with the others from the great hall, as you held the sleeve of your robe against your hand to stop the bleeding. Cho attempted to speak to Harry but he waved her off. “Harry,” you ran to catch up to him, “What was that about?” He was visibly angry. “Cho was the one who told her about the D.A.” You gasped in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you tell him. “Don’t be,” he replies, “She’s too emotional to deal with.” You laugh at his comment. Seamus was comforting a first year and decided to take him to the infirmary. “See you later,” he called in your direction. So for once, you got to walk alone with Harry back to Gryffindor tower. “How have your visions been Harry? Have you been getting any sleep?” you asked him, the worry clear in your voice. He shrugged looking down. “You haven’t have you? Harry you can’t let him in, you heard Dumbledore he could use the visions against you!” you scolded him, but the care in your voice was clear. “It’s not that easy sometimes y/n,” he sighed. You paused, looking him over. His anxiety and fatigue was so clear you were surprised no one else noticed. His eyes were rimmed red, puffy as if he’d almost been crying. You could tell by its display that he’d been tugging non stop on his hair. “I’m worried about you Harry,” you spoke softer than a whisper. His green eyes shot up to meet your gaze so fast it left your head spinning. They were filled with hope. A look you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Arriving at the portrait hole, you stepped through, Harry followed. The two of you sat on the couch, the common room empty. Most had gone to Madam Pomfrey to be healed. Harry resisted the urge to scratch at the scabs covering his hand. “Here let me help you with that,” your voice spoke softly to him. “Tergeo,” you hummed the spell, healing his hand. You could feel his eyes on you the whole time. “Your turn,” he said, gently taking your hand in his. You looked down at your hand, the same words etched into your skin, “I must not tell lies.” The cuts were deep. Risking a look up at Harry you bit back a gasp as you saw the tears on his cheeks glistening. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Instinctively you reached your hand up and wiped his tears away. He leaned into your touch. Despite logic telling you to pull away, you left your hand against his cheek. He grabs your hand, holding it tight. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I promised myself I wouldn’t let you get hurt. And now you have,” his voice breaks. Trying not to cry yourself you lift his chin up, forcing him to look at you. “Harry,” your voice comes out surprisingly level, “Harry it is not your job to protect me or keep me safe. I promise you I can take care of myself. It isn’t your fault that this happened. You were helping us.” He goes to dispute what you said but you don’t let him. Honesty time. “Harry I took it upon myself last year to protect you. And look at where it got me. I was miserable and I was also in an abusive relationship for 5 months too long just because I was worried about your safety. And I see now that you didn’t want that for me. I’m telling you I don’t want you to put all this guilt on you.” Harry looks at you, trying to find an argument to what you’re saying. But your logic was sound. You finally bring your hands back in your lap, looking down at them. “I couldn’t stand to watch him get to be with you, it was torture.” You shot back up in your seat, sure you had heard him wrong. “What did you say?” you asked him urgently. For once he didn’t hesitate. “It was torture. To see him with his arm around you. To see him get to kiss you. I wanted to kill him. I really did,” he states this plainly. Matter-of-factly. “Harry-” you’re immediately silenced by his lips on yours. This was a new, different Harry. A Harry who cupped your cheeks with his hands and kissed you with as much force as he could muster. His hands wound their way into your hair and he clung onto you for dear life. It was so easy to get lost in Harry’s sweet lips, but then it dawned on you that you were kissing Harry. While you were dating Seamus. In the wide open common room. You pulled away immediately and pushed Harry’s hands away. “Harry we can’t do this!” you hiss at him. He looked at you, eyes searching you for an explanation. “Harry I’m with Seamus now, what are you doing?” He pleads, “Look I know I messed up. The timing isn’t ideal, I know that. But I can’t do it. I can’t watch you be with someone else. Not when I want to be with you. Not when I want to hold you and kiss you and care for you. I want to be the only one for you.” Your tears fall freely now. This was everything you ever wanted to hear. But the timing ruined it. Harry goes to take your hands but you stand up now, backing towards the wall. “Harry. This isn’t fair. What are you doing to me? You told me not to wait for you! You told me to move on! So I did, I moved on. And now you want to take that back?” you questioned him, a biting tone coming out. “I’m sorry y/n. I really am. I have wished everyday that I could take back what I said after the trial. But I can’t. You are my first friend, my best friend, the most important person to me. And I want to be with you.” There it was. The cards on the table. He wanted to be with you. Only there was the small matter of Seamus. Harry looked at you expectantly. “Harry. I’m with Seamus now. What do you expect me to say? I worked so hard getting over you, just being your friend. What I have with Seamus is real, I can’t just throw that all away,” you told him. He takes a deep breath. “Y/n, I have feelings for you. But more than anything I want you to be happy. If Seamus makes you happy then I want that for you. But I know you y/n. I’ve known you since we were five. And I know you feel the same way too.” He looked at you, expecting you to deny it. But you didn’t. Even if you had, Harry would know you were lying. The portrait hole opens and bandaged students begin to file in. “Please just think about it?” he begs. “Fine,” you reply. The hope in his eyes as he leaves your side tears your heart apart.

Seamus soon wanders up to you. “Hey love,” he kisses your cheek. “Hi,” your reply is void of emotion. He doesn’t seem to notice and you sit with him in his lap, like usual, by the fire for a half hour before he leaves to work on homework. When he does, you put your head in your hands, fresh tears spilling. All you could think about was how Harry kissed you. And how your patronus came from memories of him. The passion you felt towards Harry, was incomparable to anything you felt towards anyone else ever. You knew you couldn’t make a decision without some help. So you recruited Hermione. Pulling her to a quiet corner in the common room you hiss, “Hermione I need your help!” “What is it?” she asked, concern etched on her face. Suddenly, you became nervous. Hermione was the brightest witch of your year. Surely she would figure out who you were referring to. “Hermione have you done any research on patronuses?” She nods eagerly, “Loads. What do you need to know?” You gulped, “What does it mean… what does it mean if the memory you use to produce a corporeal is a specific person?” She considers the question for a moment. “It can mean a lot of things. Most relevant it means they are probably a large source of your happiness. Can I ask what the memory was?” You blushed. “I don’t know Hermione, it’s kind of sensitive…” your voice trailed off. “Y/n,” she squeezes your hand, “I’m your best friend. You can trust me.” Slowly, you nodded. “Alright, well it’s a kiss. Not my first kiss, but my first kiss with this person.” “Was it with Seamus?” she smirked at you. The color drained from your face. “Ummm, not gonna say,” you muttered. It’s then that she begins to connect the dots. “Oh,” her hands fly to her mouth in shock. “Alright Hermione you know it’s Harry. So what do I do? What does it mean?” She racked her brain for thoughts and came up with questions. “Did you try other memories?” she asks. “Yes. I tried when I first became a wizard. Then I tried when Seamus asked me to be his girlfriend. I even tried when Harry and I first met and that wasn’t strong enough. I’ve experimented with it since then and the only memory that works is Harry and I’s first kiss,” you babble. She smiles at you knowingly. “A patronus can change when you fall in love, but you’ve known Harry since you were five. And if that’s really the only thing that works to conjure it, then I think it’s pretty obvious how you feel,” she says gently. You suck in a breath, “Hermione even if I was falling in love with Harry, it doesn’t matter. Seamus and I have been dating for 4 months and I think he might love me. That wouldn’t be fair to him.” She sympathizes, “Y/n, I’ve always admired your kindness but the truth is that the cruelest thing you could do now is string Seamus along. It’s only fair to tell him how you’re feeling.” “Arghhh why do you have to be right!” you shout in the air. Hermione chuckles. Hugging you she says, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Let me know when you do.” You give her a small smile in return. You began to pace up and down the hallway. It was too late to do it tonight. You’d have to speak with Seamus tomorrow. Stepping back into the common room you saw Fred, George, and Seamus conversing suspiciously in the corner. “What are they talking about?” you ask Ron. He sighs, “Not sure. I think they’re planning some sort of special distraction for Umbridge during O.W.L’s tomorrow.” You grin, “Genius.” Subconsciously you felt guilty. You didn’t want to ruin Seamus’s day of fun. But Hermione was right, you couldn’t leave him hanging. It wasn’t right.

Waking up, you looked for Seamus in the common room, but couldn’t find him. He must have gone down to breakfast already. Walking into the great hall, you saw him sitting near Fred and George. “Seamus, can we talk for a sec?” you asked him. He nodded. Taking his hand, you lead him out of the great hall. When you had privacy Seamus asks, “What’s wrong darling?” Darling. He didn’t deserve this pain. He was so sweet. Tears pricked your eyes. “Seamus we have to talk,” you choked. He brushed a tear away saying, “Go on.” His kindness was too much. “Seamus I think I’m in love with someone else. And that’s not fair to you. And I just can’t continue to go out with you when I have feelings for someone else. I’m so so sorry Seamus. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, tears soaking his shirt. Soon, his own tears began to mix with yours. You looked up at his pained expression. “Seamus are you okay?” He sniffled, “I’ve never cared for somebody like I do for you. And I hate to let you go. And I want to be angry but I can’t. If I had that much history with someone I’d have trouble not falling for them either.” His answer floored you. “Wait you know who it is?” you asked incredulously. Seamus half laughs, “Y/n. I know you focused on me while we dated and I appreciate that. But Harry, Harry is really really bad at hiding jealousy.” You looked down, ashamed. “I never meant for things to happen like this,” you whispered. “Stop apologizing,” Seamus tells you, roping you into a hug. You stand like that for at least 5 minutes, cherishing how sweet Seamus was. Finally, he breathes, “So are you gonna start dating him right away?” You looked up at him, “No. Seamus this isn’t about him, well maybe it is a little bit, but I didn’t want to string you along when I realized I couldn’t fully commit. I tried very hard but if I can’t dedicate myself to you fully, that’s not fair to you.” He nods. Sighing, you wiped your tears and turned to enter the great hall again. “Are you mad?” you asked him as the two of you walked in. “A little bit,” he responded honestly, “I didn’t want us to break up, but I appreciate your honesty. I’ll try to keep the anger to a minimum.” You laughed, “Thanks Seamus.” Before sitting down, a little further down the table he says, “Watch out for some fireworks today,” a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh I will,” you call after him. Harry and Ron looked at you with intense gazes. They wanted to know what happened. Ignoring the looks, you turned to Hermione. “I did it,” you whisper to her. She patted your hand. “You did the right thing,” she replies. You nodded. Ron groans loudly, “Merlin’s beard y/n what the bloody hell happened?” You sigh, “Ron it’s really none of your business. However I will tell you because I know how pestering you can be.” Ron smirks in triumph. “Seamus and I broke up. It was mutual and quite possibly the best breakup I’ve had,” you admit. Ron’s mouth is wide open, Hermione pats your arm comfortingly, and Harry avoids your gaze, trying to hide his stupid grin. “Geez, I’m sorry that happened,” Ron tells you. “Honestly, it’s okay. I’m okay, but thanks,” you respond. You finish your breakfast in a hurry and rush up to Gryffindor tower to cram in some last minute studying before your first O.W.L’s. Harry races after you, making an excuse to the group.

Footsteps echoed behind you, moving closer. “Would you slow down y/n!” Harry calls after you. You turn around at the top of the steps, letting him catch up. “What is it Harry?” you pretend to be annoyed. He stops in front of you. “Well? You and Seamus broke up. What does this mean? For us?” he asks eagerly. You sigh, “Harry just because I broke up with Seamus doesn’t mean I’m going to run into your arms the second I’m single. I broke up with Seamus because I didn’t want to string Seamus along when I have feelings for someone else.” “You have feelings for me?” his voice rises in excitement. You punch him in the arm, “Of course I do you dummy!” He laughs. For a moment, you revel in the hope rising in your chest. Then you remember your exams. “Harry we need to study before exams,” you take his hand dragging him towards Gryffindor tower. He pulls back, “I’d rather spend this time talking to you.” You chuckle, “Come on Harry.” He follows you up to Gryffindor tower.

Three hours later every fifth year sat in the great hall taking their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. After reading the questions, you were confident none of you would have passed without Harry and the D.A. As Umbridge collects the exams, there’s an explosion from the hallway. Turning around, you smirk at the others. It must have been Fred and George’s prank. Suddenly 2 figures zoom by on broomsticks, chucking fireworks everywhere. The great hall echoed with explosions. “So that’s why Seamus was involved,” you chuckle to yourself. Fred shouts over the noise, “Oy! Follow me!” Everyone rushes out of the hall, Umbridge screaming after them. The biggest fireworks you’ve ever seen explode in the sky above the bridge. They were beautiful, more unique and creative than anything you’d ever seen. Surely a Weasley invention, much like the skyving snack box. You cheered with the rest of your classmates as they finished the fireworks display. You turn around to tell Harry that you hoped Umbridge’s eyebrows singed off, but he’s gone. “Harry?” you look around the crowd of students. “Harry?” you call out again. Then you see him, nearly passed out against a pillar. Running over, you kneel down in front of him. “Harry what happened?” you ask urgently. You hear Ron and Hermione approach from behind. Gently brought back from his daze Harry says, “He’s got Sirius. He’s got Sirius in the department of mysteries.” Before you could comprehend the situation Harry sprints off into the castle. “Harry wait!” the three of you call after him. He continues up the stairs but you finally catch up to him, grabbing his hand. “Harry wait! There has to be someway to check and see if Sirius is really gone. We can’t walk into a trap.” Harry paces, raking his hands through his hair. An idea flashes across his face. “We could go to Umbridge’s office! Her fireplace is the only one the floo network isn’t monitoring,” he tells you. It wasn’t the best idea, but it was the only one you’ve got. “We need a look out,” you state. No sooner than saying that do Ginny, Neville, and Luna come running in your direction. “What’s happening?” Ginny asks. “Sirius is in trouble. But we have to check and make sure Harry’s vision isn’t a trap,” you explain. “Keep lookout,” Harry adds. They follow you up to Umbridge’s office. Sneaking in, you stand by Umbridge’s desk while Harry kneels in front of the fireplace. “What’s this?” Ron picks a bottle up from Umbridge’s house. You examine the bottle carefully. No label. Uncorking it, you give it a whiff. “It’s veritaserum,” you state. A truth dawns on you. “Harry, Umbridge must have used the veritaserum on Cho,” you say. But Harry isn’t paying attention. He’s calling into the fire, the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, but no one is answering. “Hello! Sirius? Professor Lupin? I think he’s going after the weapon-” Before he can continue there is a commotion outside. Dolores Umbridge comes bursting in, more toadlike than ever. Behind her Draco, Crabbe and Goyle drag Ginny, Neville, and Luna into the office. She slams Harry into a chair, wand pointed directly at him. “What is this weapon you speak of,” she hisses at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry shoots back. She didn’t like that. Flicking her wand Harry’s chair is shot back into the wall. “I will ask you again Mr. Potter, what is this weapon you speak of?” Harry makes no move to speak. “Very well. You leave me no other choice. What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she speaks into the air. “What are you going to do?” your voice is laced with worry. She smirks at your worry. “Perhaps the cruciatus curse ought to loosen your tongue,” her voice dripping with malice. You immediately moved in Harry’s direction, but were held back by another Slytherin. “Harry no!” you screamed. He sat there, face expressionless, bracing for the curse to hit. To your surprise it’s Hermione who screams out, “Tell her Harry! Tell her or I will!” Harry shoots daggers at her. Umbridge Turns to Hermione and says, “Will you lead me to said weapon?” Hermione grits her teeth, “Promise not to hurt Harry and we will lead you to it.” Umbridge hums in a sing song voice, “Time to take a little field trip Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. The rest of you lot will stay here under watch.” You watched as Harry slowly got up. His eyes turned to you. “Find a way to escape,” he mouths. You gave the slightest head nod. He then departs behind Hermione.

You began scraping your mind for anyway out, but nothing came to you. 10 minutes went by and you watched the others trying to come up with a solution as well. All seemed hopeless. That is until you shoved your hands in your robe pockets. You could feel a candy in your pocket. But not just any candy. A skyving snackbox candy. You carefully put the candy in between your fingers and displayed it for Ron to see, who happened to be looking in your direction. Smirking, he nodded his understanding, fishing one out of his pocket as well. You caught Ginny’s attention, but it took ages to catch Luna and Neville’s attention. Their eyes were scrunched shut in concentration. Finally you let out a huff of frustration and they looked up. Their eyes traveled briefly to what was held in your fingers and flickered back forward as if they saw nothing. The time was now. Redirecting your gaze to Ron you signal him with a tiny nod. Without further ado you pop the puking pastille in your mouth. Ron does the same. Your body’s reaction to the magical treat was immediate. Puke covered the walls. It was disgusting. A small consolation was that you managed to get almost all of your vomit on Draco. When the inquisitorial squad released their grip, the five of you raced outside.

“Where are we going?” Ron shouted towards you. “I don’t know! We’ve got to find Harry and Hermione!” No sooner had you replied that when you saw two figures in the distance, coming to meet you. “Where’s Umbridge?” You breathlessly ask Harry. He shakes his head, “Centaurs. No time to explain. We’ve got to get to the ministry.” Luna chimes in dreamily, “We can take the thestrals.” She briskly walks off into the forest, leaving the rest of you to follow. Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Hermione couldn’t see them. “How are we supposed to ride them if we can’t see?” Ron’s voice shakes with concern. So you, Harry, and Luna helped to guide the other four onto two thestrals. Luna rode her own and you cautiously slide yourself on top of the last thestral, behind Harry. When the thestral takes off, you nearly slide off the back. “Bloody hell,” you hiss, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist to hold on. Harry smiles. His voice comes through the air softly, his lips lightly brushing your ear, “You okay y/n?” The whisper makes you tingle. “I’m okay Harry,” your voice trembles. Winds rush past your ears and the cold seeps into your bones. Shaking, you push yourself in closer to Harry. A smile spreads across his face. With your face nuzzled into Harry’s back, you let yourself deeply inhale his scent. It was heavenly. Harry smelled like pine trees with treacle tarts. After about ten minutes, the thestrals descend towards London. “Doing okay back there?” Harry’s voice soothes your nerves. You kiss his shoulder blade through his sweatshirt in response. The landing is surprisingly graceful. With some help from Harry, the others are able to get off the thestrals. You wait patiently on top of your own. Harry steps over to you, holding out a hand to help you down. The thestral was much higher up than you expected it to be and you harshly fall on your feet. Stumbling, Harry grips your shoulders. “Okay?” You nod. He turns to the group and says, “Let’s go!” The six of you follow him as he sprints towards the visitor’s entrance.

Descending in two groups, you all look expectantly at Harry. “Department of Mysteries is the lowest floor,” he says walking towards the lift. Descending deep into the ministry, the fear in your chest grows as the lift gets closer to your destination. It is so eerily quiet as the group creeps towards the door. “Is that it Harry?” Hermione whispers. “Yes,” he replies. The door swings open when you approach. “Lumos,” you mutter. The others follow suit. Thousands of rows of shelves await you, glowing orbs blink back at you. You can’t see an end to the room. “What is this place?” Ginny wonders. Hermione blurts, “They’re prophecies.” Harry stands frozen, unsure of what to do. “Harry, in your vision, where did you see Sirius? Was there anything you can remember about it? Any sort of marker?” He concentrates, trying to recall. His green eyes blink open, “I remember the row. They all have numbers.” Looking up, they did all indeed have numbers. Without another word Harry sprints off, his eyes falling on each number. “Harry!” Ron calls after him. There’s nothing left to do but follow.

“96….97,” Harry’s voice concentrates on the numbers. Rounding the corner, Harry’s eyes fall to the floor. But there’s nothing there. “Harry what’s going on?” Hermione asks. This time its you who puts the thoughts together first. Harry was tricked. Sirius wasn’t even here. “Sirius isn’t here Harry. We need to get out. Now,” you urge him. Turning to go, you’re stopped by a hooded figure that approached. In fact many of them approached. “It appears that you’ve made a grave error,” a voice sneers from behind a mask. Without a doubt, it was Lucius Malfoy. Cackling laughter came from other areas around you as more figures approached. “We’re being surrounded. This whole thing, it’s all been a set up,” you hiss to Ron, who stood next to you. “Yep,” his voice says back, quivering slightly. “We need to get out of here right now,” you declare, backing towards Harry, you try not to have your back turned to anyone. Neville approaches Harry from the left, one of the many glowing orbs in his hand. “Harry, its got your name on it,” Neville holds it out for Harry to see. “Perfect timing Longbottom, just as dumb as your parents you are,” Bellatrix laughs. Your heart went out to him. Harry had told you that Bellatrix was the one to torture Neville’s parents to a point worse than death. “Now, Potter. Hand over the prophecy,” his voice is calm and level. Harry looks to Ron, Hermione, then you. You shake your head ever so slightly, your message clear; no. It became evident very easily that the prophecy was the weapon Voldemort was looking for. “Run!” Harry shouts. Your footsteps break out loudly, the seven of you racing back down the aisle. Death eaters quickly followed. “Reducto!” Ginny chants, sending a powerful wave of magic back behind her. You stare stunned at her sheer power. A slow clinging sound began, growing louder quickly. Hundreds of prophecies began to fall from the ceiling high shelves, shattering glass echoing through the chamber. The rain of glass grew closer and the dark wizards disappeared into the air. But you were sure they would come back. Stunned into still posture, the impending doom alluding you. Ron was the one who pulled you out of the daze. He grabbed your hand, yanking you towards the door. Flying through the door, a dropping feeling enters your stomach as the seven of you fall, flying through the air. “Arresto momento!” Hermione’s voice screamed. Stopping inches from the ground, your body hangs in the air. Then it drops the last 6 inches onto hard rock. Dusting yourself off, you pick yourself up off the floor, and then pull Ron up as well. Turning towards the stairs that inevitably lead back up to the ministry, you push Ron forward, eager to exit this dreaded place. It’s Harry that pulls you back from your hasty exit. “Don’t you hear those voices?” there's awe in his voice. “What are you talking about? Harry we need to get out of here?” you walk in his direction. Though you couldn’t hear the voices he was referring to, you saw what he was staring at. A large archway revealed itself, gray mist swirling just beyond it. “What the….” your voice trailed off. “I can hear them too,” Luna comments. But Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville and yourself only heard silence. “Harry,” you grab his hand, “Harry I’m not sure what voices you hear. But we need to leave. Now.” He turns at the sound of rushing through the air. Black blurs cover the air, descending onto the group of you like darkness. Everything turns black.

Amidst the blackness, someone yanks you up by your hair, causing you to yelp out in pain. “Harry!” you call worriedly. No response. Eventually, the blackness fades as you’re pulled back into someone’s body. Adjusting to the new light you glance around and gasp. Around you each of your friends were held up, wand at their throat, by different figures. All except Harry. Lucius Malfoy stood in front of the black haired boy, his hand held out. “Now. Mr. Potter, I’ll only ask you this once more. Hand over the prophecy, or watch your friends die.” You could see the fear displayed clearly on the poor boys face. Harry had a big heart and you knew what he would do. Nevertheless you shouted, “Harry don’t do it!” Perhaps this was a mistake. The wand of your captor jabbed sharply into your throat, causing you to choke. Seeing you, life hanging in the balance, Harry sighed in defeat. Before he could hand it over there was a cracking noise. Sirius Black appeared behind Harry. “Step away from my godson,” Sirius’s voice comes across clearly. Next thing you know Sirius punches Lucius swiftly in the face. Chaos ensues as more members of the Order appear, freeing you from your captors. “Find the others and go take cover! Wait for my orders!” Madeye bellows at you. Adrenaline carries you to find the others. You come upon Ron first. “We have to collect the others and take cover! Madeye’s orders!” Ron takes your hand and searches for the others. “Ginny come on!” you motion her to follow. Eventually, you’re all waiting Madeye’s orders as you hover behind a rock. Your eyes follow the action. Of course Harry stood fighting Sirius, taking down each of Voldemort’s followers one by one. “Harry! Please come on!” you beg him, but your voice doesn’t seem to reach him. “Nice one James!” Sirius’s voice exclaims. Harry looks at him in confusion. He was not his father. And that pause, the pause Harry made at confusion, would haunt him forever. Because in that pause the worst possible thing happened. The words, “Avada Kadavra,” traveled across the room. A green light sparks in your vision, hitting Sirius squarely in the chest. The ghost of a smile appears on his lips as his last look is placed on Harry. His body disappears behind the veil in the archway. And then he was gone, lost to the cruel grip of death.

Cries of agony fill your ears. It takes you a second to realize they come from your own mouth. Soon they mixed in the air with Harry’s own cries of pain. Never had such a somber sound passed through your head before. It wasn’t a moment you would soon forget. Harry’s heart must be ripped out of his chest. All of your logic and intuition were pushed to the back of your mind. Your feet instinctively moved towards him, but halfway there you were swept off your feet. Two arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you back from racing up towards Harry. Brief hatred coursed through you at the arms who kept you from comforting Harry. Pushing as hard as you can against the arms you shriek, “Let me go, let me go!” It was Ron, Ron was protecting you. “Shhh, y/n, shh. He’ll be alright,” Ron attempted to comfort you, but kept a firm grip around you. “I need to help him,” you sob. Ron tells you, “Bellatrix is still there. You need to not put yourself in danger.” He was right. It was Bellatrix’s voice who shrieked with laughter, “I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!” Red hot raging anger courses through you and deep down you know that if given the chance, you would have killed her. Harry must have been thinking the same thing because he rips himself from Lupin’s grip, racing after the woman who killed his own godfather. Despite the protests and arms of your best friend holding you back, you followed him back through the ministry.

Bellatrix’s taunts are the only thing that can be heard in the dark of the night. She skips cheerily down the hallway, Harry’s form racing after her. You could almost see the pure hatred rolling off of him in fumes. “Crucio!” Harry blasted the spell, rather incorrectly, though it managed to knock Bellatrix to the crowd. The air changed around you, something evil was coming. Harry stood over her form, his chest heaving with emotions. You watched, stunned into silence. A voice creeps through the air, “You know the spell Harry. You saw her kill him. Do it.” You stifle a gasp by biting your inner cheek. It was Voldemort. He appeared as if traveling as tiny particles through the air, slowly collecting into the form of the darkest wizard of the age. And as much as you thought you knew the feeling of fear, nothing compared to the emotion that coursed through you now. Voldemort knocked the wand from Harry’s hand. He was defenseless. Creeping out from behind the wall, you went to help him. Invisible to Voldemort as you stood behind him, you moved forward with absolutely no plan coming to mind. Harry’s eyes briefly passed over you and the look told you one thing. He didn’t want you to reveal yourself. Pleading silently with your gaze, Harry risked mouthing a firm “No,” in your direction. Before Voldemort could question what was happening, a floo grate down the chamber lit with fire, and a familiar wizard dressed in periwinkle robes and half moon spectacles emerges. Dumbledore. “Oh thank god,” you sigh in relief. Per Harry’s wishes, you moved back behind the wall. “It was foolish for you to come here tonight Tom,” Dumbledore speaks with a soft edge in his voice. Dumbledore moves in front of Harry, protecting him. “Albus Dumbledore what a surprise,” the dark wizard’s voice drips with sarcasm. “The aurors are on their way,” Dumbledore proclaims. Grinning, Tom replies, “By which time I shall be gone, and you shall be dead.” Wands move quickly, spells flying everywhere. You’d never seen more complicated magic in your life. Each spell cast had increasing complexity, but where also easily deflected by each opposing wizard. The fight was going nowhere. Fire sprouts from Voldemort’s wand and shoots towards Harry. Dumbledore counters it with a wall of water. Harry, stepping forward to help, is pushed back by Dumbledore and falls to the ground. The spells cease and silence settles uncomfortably over the room. And just like you saw before a substance of shattered glass and sand moved across the floor, towards Harry’s fallen form. “Oh god no,” you muttered. Biting down hard on your lips, you debated what to do. Then that awfully calm and dark voice spoke again. “You’ve lost old man,” the voice spoke about Dumbledore. But the voice came from Harry. It was possessing him. And that was all the motivation you needed. Whether this would be your last moment or not, you only thought of Harry, of how he needed to fight this.

Sprinting hard, you ignore Dumbledore’s stern shouts for you to stand back. Crashing down on your knees, you ignore the stabbing of shards of glass against your skin. “Harry,” you call out to him, trying to pull him back to the surface. He seems lost in the darkness that fills him. You brush a strand of his messy black hair from his sweaty forehead. As much as panic filled you, your motivation to make Harry come back to you was overwhelming. Continuing to brush the hair from his face you repeat softly, “Harry come back.”

Inside Harry’s mind was complete turmoil. When Voldemort possessed his body, he felt darkness swirling inside him, spreading through every inch of his body. As the darkness grew, so did Harry’s willingness to give into it. A muffled voice pushed through his head, though he could barely hear it. Then a hand brushed his forehead, leaving fire in its wake. It alerted the smallest part of his mind, something was wrong. And in all the fire and destruction he could see behind his eyes, a shining light surrounded by a beautiful angel. And as the beautiful angel grew more clear in his vision, she spoke softly to him. “Harry, come back,” her hand brushed his forehead in the exact same spot he felt something on his actual forehead, outside the vision. It gave him the urge to fight the darkness.

Dumbledore watches over your shoulder. “He’s fighting it,” he murmurs, “Keep talking to him.” You do as your told. Truth be told you would do anything to help Harry. “Harry please come back to me. You can fight this. You can do this,” you speak encouraging words. His body stirs. “Harry don’t let him win. You are so much stronger than him. You are the only one that can do this Harry,” you plead. The most beautiful thing happens. The teenage chosen one opens his green eyes and looks at you. Voldemort increases his hold on Harry, and the boy shudders, a darkness clouding his eyes. “Harry,” you lean closer, desperate for him to come back to you. “Harry keep fighting. Please keep fighting because I would be lost without you. Fight so we can be together,” the last sentence comes out barely audible, so only Harry can hear you. His brows furrowed, as he tried to push the darkness out of his system. Slowly, Voldemort retreated, reforming standing over Harry’s body. “You’re a fool Harry Potter. And you will lose everything,” he threatens. There’s a flash and aurors step through the floo grates. Voldemort looks up to find Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic staring back at him. He disappears. People rush around you, taking stock of the situation. Your eyes are glued to Harry’s. He gently sits up. Studying him intensely, you check for any lasting damages. Before you get the chance to finish looking him over, he pulls you into a hug and squeezes you tighter than ever. You struggle to hold back the tears in your eyes. “Harry are you okay?” you manage to choke out. His voice is equally full of emotion as he says, “Sirius is gone. And it’s my fault.” The anguish in his voice would haunt you for far longer than that night. “Harry James Potter,” you pull back and look him in the eyes, “Harry this is not your fault. Sirius’s death is not your fault. You can’t blame yourself.” He looks away, refusing your comfort and punishing himself for tonight’s events. Aurors close in and begin to question Dumbledore. Your friends approach cautiously. Hermione looks to you, asking with her gaze if they should say anything. Wordlessly, you shake your head no. Harry was extremely fragile right now and you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Harry sat on the stone floor silently, his gaze fixed on the ground. The only comfort he would let you give was your hand resting gently in his own. Time was passing in an incredible blur as the situation resolved itself. Soon it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

Back in the common room, Harry won’t speak to anyone, not even you. When it’s become clear that Harry won’t talk, everyone goes to bed. Except you and Harry. As the last person leaves, you turn and study the boy before you. The anguish on his face was indescribable. It was clear Harry was blaming himself, though he couldn’t have known what had transpired tonight. “Harry,” you begin. He interjects, “Please. I can’t talk about it. Not yet. It’s too painful.” Pushing past your own pain and sympathy for him you reply, “Then at least let me comfort you?” He nods, and crawls towards you on the couch. Opening your arms, you welcome him into your loving embrace. Harry’s shoulders softly shake, his body quaking with sobs. Running your fingers through his hair, you let your own tears fall onto his shoulders. You’re not sure how long you sit like that, minutes, hours; it didn’t matter. Pulling back to look at Harry’s face, you offer him a smile. “Harry, I’m not going to tell you it’s going to be okay because I don’t know that and I don’t think it will be. This war is coming and it’s not slowing down for anyone. But the one thing I can tell you for sure is that you won’t be alone. You’ll never be alone,” you tell him. His tears slow and he stares into your e/c eyes with gratitude you’d never seen before. Your hand is shaking as you reach forward and gently wipe the tears from his cheeks. When you let your hands drop, Harry holds them in his own. Silence passes between the two of you as you contemplate where to go next. “You’ll stay with me?” Harry asks you, his voice barely audible. Feeling his eyes on you, you look up and see a longing there that was stronger than ever before. And every ounce of you felt the same longing for him that he displayed in his own eyes. “I’ll stay with you,” you answer, “I’ll never leave, I’ll never waver, I will never stop supporting you. You’ll never be alone again.” And if it’s possible even more gratitude fills his gaze. The shy five year old boy who lived next door briefly flashes in front of you as Harry sheepishly looks down blushing. “I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve you,” he admits. You laugh, “Yeah aren’t you lucky.” And a smile shines on Harry’s face. In that moment you vow to yourself to do anything you can to make Harry smile like that again. You begin to realize how late it is, but neither of you make a move to get up. “Would you stay here with me?” you ask Harry. Because maybe you could sleep alone but you’d be damned if you’d let Harry be alone right now. He answers your question by reclining on the couch, holding up his arm for you to curl up next to him. Laying under his arm, you wrap one of your own around his chest. His breath comes shallow, nervous at the close quarters he now experienced with you. But sleep took the both of you, and you surrendered to it gratefully.

You woke slowly, your eyes adjusting to the hazy sunlight shining through the window into Gryffindor tower. “Harry,” you whisper, trying to wake him up. He doesn’t stir. “Harry,” you whisper again, peppering his cheek with kisses. His eyes flicker open, allowing you to gaze at the beautiful green that stare back at you. He sits up, pulling you up with him. He stares into the embers of the fire, a glaze passing over his eyes. “Harry, what is it?” you put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs, “I thought that I would be able to live with Sirius. I never thought I’d have to go back to Privet Drive.” Your face falls, you hadn’t even thought about Harry having to go back to the Dursley’s. “We don’t have to. You know we can just got to the burrow,” you say softly. Harry shakes his head, “Dumbledore told me I at least have to go back there before I go to the burrow.” “Well I’ll be there too. Don’t worry. And then we can go to the burrow together.” Harry squeezes your hands in thanks. Hermione and Ron approach the two of you. “Coming to the feast?” Hermione asks hopefully. You look to Harry. He speaks up, “I don’t think so Hermione.” Her face falls and ron interjects, “Well, I’m not very hungry either. We’ll stay here with you.” Harry smiles. Ron really was a great friend. “No Ron really it’s okay. You go ahead,” Harry assures him. Reluctantly, Ron nods. You watch him and Hermione go down to the feast.

The train ride back was uneventful. Hermione and Ron played exploding snap with Ginny while you sat quietly next to Harry, watching the game. Harry’s hand never left your own, but it was silently accepted that no one should ask because Harry needed you right now. And your hand didn’t leave his, not until you pass through the barrier. Being back on privet drive, well it was strange. Things had changed. You and Harry were together now, whatever that meant. But Voldemort was stronger than ever, and privet drive wasn’t safe anymore. So it was your Auntie Bella that explained what would happen next.

She told the Dursley’s that you were a wizard. She also told them that you and Harry would leave for the burrow in the morning. They were relieved to be rid of him. “How will we get there?” you ask. She replies, “Dumbledore will apparate in the morning. 9 am sharp, be waiting outside by the lamp post.” So you say goodbye to Harry and spend the last night you ever would in your childhood bedroom, Tossing and turning at the events to come.

#harry potter x reader #Harry Potter #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter imagine

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

It’s All About The Game (Part 3)

Pairing: OC X Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 12K

Summary: Changbin is back from his family’s villa and Kayda is surprised that the handsome boy is still interested in pursuing her. Kayda, encouraged by her new friends, is willing to try this whole dating thing. Unfortunately, nobody ever told her that turning down Seo Changbin for prom would turn into such a cataclysmic event.

August

Life without Jisung is a summer’s day missing sunshine, clouds obscuring the crystal-blue sky with ugly gray layers threatening to fall at any moment. It was a lack of fresh air after being stuck inside a room watching the walls as they slowly caved in around you. A unique kind of pain that I felt deep in my soul because there is nothing to stop it from hurting.

A new academic year was right around the corner and I had not spoken to Jisung since last semester. He never responded to my sudden message back in June, leaving me to anxiously worry about him while I prayed to receive any form of communication to alleviate my concerns. At this point, I was willing to accept anything from him even if it was just one word sent directly to my inbox.

But those places where Jisung had left a noticeable absence in my heart were sternly occupied by Changbin, even if our summer together meant video calls and late-night text messages. Our relationship was still tentative, somewhere bordering between an intimacy shared between two people who considered themselves as more than just friends. A kind of relationship that I had never experienced before, but Changbin was surprisingly willing to give me space when I would ask, demonstrating himself to be a reliable confidant. Despite our rocky start together, I was now certain of my feelings for him. And without Changbin present over the summer, I was desperate for him to come home.

Of course, I don’t want to insinuate that Changbin’s friends weren't an acceptable company, inviting me to join them for dinners or to attend a movie together. But it wasn’t the same as being with Jisung and Changbin even as I tried to remain enthusiastic when Felix would randomly invite me out to play basketball. I’ve always been bad at hiding my feelings and I knew the others could pick up on my melancholic mood.

Thankfully, Changbin had finally sent me a well-appreciated message promising that he was planning to return the Sunday before school would start.

From Changbin:

I’ll come by and see you, Reynolds.

I schooled my enthusiasm, patiently waiting on the porch steps until Changbin’s car finally came into view, rolling to a stop along the sidewalk. Resisting the urge to run down the driveway, I concentrated on keeping a neutral expression, allowing a genuine smile when Changbin finally stepped out of the driver’s side door. “Reynolds,” he said, voice achingly familiar as I eliminated the distance between us, falling into his open arms. His heart was beating just as fast as mine, synchronized to the rapid rise and fall of our chests pressed together. “I missed you,” he said, pulling back to attach his lips to mine, kissing me with an urgency I had never experienced with him before.

I was caught off-guard, but Changbin’s grip remained persistent around my waist, swallowing my protests as I gasped into his mouth. But Changbin always had a way of easing me into these new and imposing situations, leading me by the hand while he demonstrated with an eagerness that was practically infectious and impossible not to share. “Changbin,” I finally managed, breaking our kiss because I was starting to grow light-headed. “You should warn a girl next time.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he said, warm against the side of my neck. “You definitely should have come with me, Reynolds.”

I grinned, unable to resist his charms. “Maybe next time.”

“Do you mean it?” he asked, eyes wide as he pulled back enough to meet finally look at me.

“Depends on how well you behave,” I teased him because this was the special dynamic I shared with Changbin and his returning smile told me that I wasn’t the only one who was aware.

“Honestly, Reynolds, it’s not a big deal,” Changbin said, maintaining a firm grip on my hand as he pulled me down the hallway.

It was easy enough for him to say since he was used to the attention. “Everyone’s looking,” I whispered, blushing under the watchful stares of my classmates.

“Let them,” Changbin insisted, pausing next to his locker. “They’ll get used to it.”

“But I won’t,” I complained, silently encouraging Changbin to exchange textbooks faster. “What if they ask questions?”

Changbin snorted. “Really? Why does this bother you so much, Reynolds?”

“It doesn't,” I insisted, straightening my stance. “I’m just not used to everyone paying attention to me.”

“Well, they’re all a bunch of gossips,” he said, whispering directly into my ear as if unaware of the effect it would have on me. “Let them talk.”

Changbin resumed his hold on my wrist and the two of us walked to first period together, finding a pair of desks at the back of the room. I quietly pulled out my used textbook, dusting off the cover. Meanwhile, I had yet to notice the way Changbin was currently looking at me. “What?”

He tapped his pencil against the side of my book. “Where did you get that, Reynolds? It looks used already.”

“That’s because it is,” I said. “I bought it online from an older student.”

“You shouldn’t use that,” Changbin declared, snatching the book from me with precision, elbowing his new edition in my direction. “Use mine for today. I’ll just buy another one.”

“Changbin,” I started, hesitantly considering the book. “I don’t want you to pay for something so expensive.”

“It’s not that much, Reynolds,” he insisted, but I could definitely offer protest because I saw the price for a new edition on Amazon. “Besides, you’re the brainiac anyway. You deserve this.”

My cheeks heated at his words. “But it’s really nice.”

“Of course it is,” Changbin said, flipping open the cover before pulling off the lid to his pen. “And now it’s yours.”

I watched as he scribbled my name across the front page. It almost physically hurt me to watch him devalue the textbook in one fatal swipe. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Changbin insisted, expression warm as the instructor walked into our classroom.

I relaxed as the familiarities of the instructional setting eased me into a new lecture, complete with an impressive PowerPoint. I took notes diligently, ignoring the way Changbin would study me instead of the screen, chin propped in his upturned palm. I shook my head of the distraction because I had a shining 4.0 GPA to protect, a one-way ticket into the best colleges.

At the sound of the bell, I let out a deep breath while tucking my notes and Changbin’s expensive textbook into my bag. “I’ll see you at lunch, Reynolds,” Changbin said outside the classroom, holding me close for a moment longer than necessary. I waited until he was out of sight before hurrying in the opposite direction.

The front office was busy and I was growing impatient because I only had a ten-minute break before my next class. Still, my curiosity far outweighed the idea of receiving a late notice from my teacher. I was desperate for any information about Jisung, kindly asking the office secretary if she could tell me if Jisung was still enrolled. She offered me a bored nod, searching through the files on her computer while thoroughly testing my patience.

“Jisung is taking the semester off,” the lady informed me. “He’ll be back next term.”

“Really?” I questioned immediately. “Do you know what happened?”

“I can’t give out that information,” the lady said dismissively and I knew when I was pushing my luck.

September

Changbin and I settled into an easy routine. Since basketball had yet to start, the two of us often spent time at his house for hours after school. It was usually with great persuasion that I was able to leave at night because Changbin was growing more and more determined that I should just live with him. But I enjoyed spending time with Changbin even if it meant doing homework while he would (not so subtly) watch me from over the top of his textbook. In any case, I liked what we had together and Changbin was surprisingly nice to be around once he dropped the arrogant facade he insisted on maintaining for our classmates.

“What do you want to do, Reynolds?” Changbin asked me the moment we stepped inside his bedroom.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have an essay due tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Changbin acknowledged, lying across his bed with a sensual stretch.

“Can I borrow your computer?” I asked him shyly because I hated asking Changbin for something like that, but the library was crowded during this time of day.

“Of course,” he nodded, eyes closed as if considering the possibility of falling asleep while I was working.

I switched on his monitor, waiting patiently for the screen to load. Changbin had a really nice computer, equipped with a hard drive that could load dozens of applications with ease. It was fun to multitask when I had the ability right at the touch of my fingertips against the raised keyboard.

I relaxed in his office chair, thinking about the best way to open my assignment, when an obscene moan resounded through the speakers. I was immediately at attention, watching in horror as a scandalous video started to play right in front of my eyes. Almost immediately, Changbin was behind me, muttering a curse as he closed the browser with a resounding click!

We were both silent as I continued to look straight ahead, unable to forget the images I had seen. “Sorry, Reynolds,” Changbin finally apologized, leaning against the side of his desk with obvious shame written across his face.

“It’s okay,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve just never seen....that.”

“You’ve never watched porn before?” Changbin asked, appearing entirely surprised by such an innocent revelation.

“No,” I said, gaze dropping from his.

“It’s not so bad,” Changbin said and I realized it sounded less defensive and more like someone trying to convince me.

“I mean,” I started, looking for the right thing to say. “I get that a lot of people watch it.”

“Yeah,” Changbin. “You know how we were talking about trying new things, Reynolds?”

I swallowed hard. “I remember.” It was a frequent topic of our summertime conversations.

“Maybe we could watch it together sometime,” he said, sounding more nervous than I was used to hearing from him.

“Really?”

“Only if you want to,” Changbin said. “Just as a next step or whatever.”

Honestly, the idea of watching porn was so incredibly taboo to me that I was surprised I could still form coherent sentences. “Okay.”

Changbin considered me for a moment, eyes searching my own. “Okay.”

October

Basketball workouts had started early this year because my coach was more determined than ever to push our team to the state championships. Apparently, she had a lot of confidence in the new players she had recruited. But whatever the case may be, I was suddenly spending a lot of time in the gym after school, body sore as I forced myself to run an extra mile before it was time to adjourn for the day.

On one such occasion, I was preparing my bag when I noticed that Changbin had entered the gym from the side doors, ignoring the envious stares from my teammates. I could see the perfect shine to his fancy docker-brand shoes in my peripheral vision. “Reynolds,” he said, drawing my attention.

“You stayed late?”

He nodded in response. “My parents are going out of town this weekend.”

“Oh?” I questioned absent-mindedly, zipping my bag closed.

Changbin cleared his throat. “I thought you could come over Friday night to uh-” he broke off as if unable to finish his sentence. I looked up at him, a silent invitation that he should continue. “Maybe try what we talked about before.”

I immediately caught-on to his implication, suddenly feeling far too flushed in the warm gymnasium. “Sure.”

Changbin nodded. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” I assured him quickly, rising to my feet only to be met by his eyes suddenly very close to mine.

He was looking for something and whatever he found must have satisfied him. He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. “6:00, don’t be late.”

Changbin answered the door far too quickly for my expectations, standing in the entryway looking absolutely handsome wearing jeans and a t-shirt. We both paused, staring at each other for far too long considering how bitterly cold it was outside. “Uh...” I swallowed hard, “can I come in?”

“Right!” Changbin said, stepping back to allow me enough room to squeeze into his house. “We can go upstairs,” Changbin added, reaching for my hand to guide me to his bedroom. His hold was appreciated because my legs were shaking and I felt a few seconds away from passing out against the wall.

“It’s warm,” I remarked, ignoring the obvious way he had set up his room, couch covered with blankets while his laptop was sitting atop the desk.

“Since you’ve never watched before,” Changbin started, getting right down to the matter at hand, “I just picked some of my favorites.”

“Okay,” I said because I didn’t know how else to respond to the idea of Changbin’s favorite porn videos.

“We can sit down,” Changbin said, already half-way to the couch before I could even blink. I followed him slowly, trying to relax against the cushions while he pulled his computer closer, typing in his password before the home screen appeared. “You can...just relax,” Changbin said, pulling up the first tab to a familiar scene and I quickly realized it was the same porn I had accidentally discovered on his computer before.

“Okay,” I managed again, wiping my sweaty palms against my jeans while the video began to play. And I visibly shuddered at the sight of the actors already undressed on-screen, the woman arched dramatically as a male knelt behind her. “This is fast,” I observed, glancing at Changbin briefly only to startle when I realized that he had been looking at me.

He moved away quickly. “It’s good though.”

I didn’t know very much about sex with the exception of the unforgettable health education classes in middle school and my mother’s half-hearted effort of talking me through my first menstrual cycle. Back then, the idea of maturing was especially horrible with the added pain of cramps and bloating. But what I did know, thanks in large part to curious research, was the very basics which quickly manifested themselves on-screen when the male actor started to hammer his cock inside the moaning woman, hips moving at a rapid pace.

Changbin swallowed hard, hand pressing against the hard swell of his obvious erection through his tight jeans. The actress on-screen let out an exaggerated moan and I blushed furiously, squirming next to him on the sofa that suddenly seemed far too small to handle the two of us. It was difficult enough to watch the video without knowing that Changbin, the object of my affections, was also aroused. The same Changbin that I had once dreamt about doing those exact same things to me and the reminder was enough to get my blood pumping, crossing my legs against the sudden heat.

I studied Changbin now, watching the way he pressed down against his cock straining for release. “That looks uncomfortable,” I remarked without much thought, only realizing my words when he met my gaze. His eyes widened slightly when he read my expression and I nodded my consent because I didn’t know what I was doing anymore, but I really liked the way Changbin’s entire body seemed to flush. I watched as Changbin managed to pull his pants down to his thighs, grabbing his cock free from the confines of his underwear, holding it with a tight grip as he fisted the engorged erection. And I couldn’t take my eyes away from the unexpected sight, studying his movements with an unblinking gaze.

“It’s alright you know,” he said in a gruff tone, eyes wandering down to my lower-half. “If you want to do the same.”

I let out a shaky exhale, reaching down for the button on my jeans. What was I even doing? This went beyond everything that was expected of me, but the thought of touching myself was almost too much to resist, especially when Changbin had given me permission. I tucked my pants down to my knees, reaching into my panties because I wasn’t comfortable enough to go any further with an attentive Changbin sitting right next to me.

Meanwhile, Changbin maintained a steady rhythm, fist moving up and down with well-timed movements. His gaze had moved from the screen to where I had tentatively started to slowly rub circles against my clit, head thrown back to remedy the weight of his attention. He released a groan that somehow sounded way better than the practiced sounds of the actors on-screen and I pressed down harder, aching for a release from the built-up tension permeating the space separating us by only a few inches. If I moved just enough, I would be pressed up against him, feeling the way his biceps flexed as his hand moved on his cock.

The video on-screen was close to ending, and I sped up my movements, hearing a low grunt from Changbin who had managed to release sticky white semen across his hand. The visual alone was enough to take my breath away, circling faster until I felt the warning signs of my orgasm, closing my eyes to enjoy the accompanying feeling of divine pleasure from being stimulated just right. And when I reopened my eyes, Changbin was watching me as if he intended to never look away.

November

Changbin and I didn’t really talk about our unexpected pornography session, if that’s what we were to call it, but I had no time to linger on the subject. We were both suddenly busy, seeing less of each other as we both focused on our respective basketball tryouts. Because if there was one thing that Changbin and I shared in common, it was our commitment to the game.

For this reason, I was completely unprepared to see Changbin in the parking lot, leaning against the side of my car. “Fully Licensed now, Reynolds?” he asked me with a smirk.

“Very recently,” I agreed, pausing in front of him. “Your practice ended hours ago.”

“I went out to eat with some friends,” Changbin said. “But I really need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding at him in encouragement.

Changbin sighed heavily. “Tryouts are over this Friday. Wanna come over to celebrate afterward?”

I agreed easily, unaware of the evident tension in Changbin’s shoulders. “That sounds nice.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin hesitated and that was enough to catch my attention. “I want to ask you something.”

“Hmmm?” I encouraged him to continue, puzzling over the indecipherable look in his eyes.

“When you come over...” Changbin started, “maybe we could try getting each other off this time?”

I wasn’t expecting that, feeling my entire body stiffen at his intimate proposal. “Oh....”

“We don’t have to,” Changbin quickly added. “If you aren’t comfortable.”

But he was bad at masking his disappointment which might explain why I was so readily accepting when I nodded my head slowly. “Let’s do it.”

Changbin’s eyes widened, but a smile managed to break free. “Really?”

“You’ve been very patient with me,” I said with a shrug before mustering a look of total determination. “I’m willing to try.”

“You act like I’m asking you to do something impossible,” Changbin teased. “I’d never force you to do anything, Reynolds.”

He was always so earnest, and if we were to talk about things that were impossible, then saying no to Changbin like this was very high on the list. “When can I come over?”

Changbin leaned in closer, cologne heavy against his jacket. “How about now?”

I was a complete mess, moving constantly on Changbin’s bed while my boyfriend did his best to make me feel more comfortable. He brought me a glass of water at my insistence and even a plate of snacks that his mother had prepared. My fingers curled tightly around the glass while I reached for a handful of the little sandwiches that reminded me distantly of a fancy dinner show scene from a television series. It was a nice distraction until Changbin pulled his shirt off, messing around with his speaker to start playing music in the background. “It’s hot in here,” he offered in explanation and I merely nodded as I forced even more food into my already stuffed mouth.

“Do you have any homework?” I asked, trying to make conversation despite how obvious it was that Changbin was not interested in school, dropping a container of lotion onto the bed next to me.

“Not really,” he said.

“Essays,” I whispered, trying not to stare at his exposed chest.

Finally, Changbin joined me on the bed, tucking away our snack try on the floor before stretching out his limbs in a way that had me almost choking on my water. “Come here, Reynolds,” Changbin grumbled, and I let out a rather unattractive squeak when Changbin planted me on his lap, pressing our foreheads together. “This is better, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I agreed, holding tight to his broad shoulders for stability.

Changbin reached down, thumbing across his belt. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm,” I nodded, watching as he carefully undid the intricate clasp of his belt buckle, unzipping his pants before letting out a sigh. It only served to heighten my awareness, hands moving across the smooth, muscled skin of his upper body. He was quiet for a moment and I realized that he was waiting for me, eyes focused from beneath a curtain of brown hair. “I’m not sure what to do,” I told him honestly.

“You’re doing fine,” he said with a gentle kiss that was obviously meant to serve as reassurance, especially once his fingers made quick work of the button and zipper attached to my own jeans.

“Changbin,” I said, closing my eyes as I helped him pull down the waistband, grabbing onto him tightly as I carefully maneuvered out of my jeans, leaving me feeling far too exposed for my personal comfort.

“Relax,” he whispered, raining soft kisses across my lips while his fingers smoothed down my sides. “This is your pace.”

I nodded furiously, forcing myself to open my eyes when I felt his fingers latch onto my panties, tugging them down my legs with slow and practiced movements. A whine was muffled against his neck to hide my embarrassment, especially when his hands grabbed my ass to pull me closer. “It’s okay,” I said when I felt him pause, waiting for my permission to continue.

“So beautiful,” he said, fingers delicately parting the folds of my throbbing sex, thumb offering a tentative stroke across the pleasurable organ.

“What about you?” I spoke into his skin.

“Watch,” he replied, using his free hand to direct my chin. I obeyed his request, keeping my eyes open when he reached into his underwear to pull his cock free from its confines, fully erect in his hand.

He tucked the waistband of his boxer short beneath him, stroking up and down in rapid succession. “But you’ve seen it before,” he teased, noticing the vibrant blush painting my skin.

“It’s different,” I said.

He nodded in understanding, jolting me in surprise when his thumb began its slow circles around my clit. “I’ll take care of you, Reynolds,” he said, allowing me to tuck my head back in against his shoulder.

“So good,” I made sure to tell him, releasing shallow pants as I fought to control myself, focusing on the rough force of his thumb moving harshly against my throbbing sex. Occasionally, he rutted against me, reminding me that his cock stood waiting for attention, red and furious against his smooth stomach. I held my breath as I reached down to gingerly touch my fingers against the curious bead of white collecting at the slit of his cock. Changbin let out a harsh gasp, stilling my movements as his free hand came down to take a firm hold of mine, manipulating my fingers to spread out across his erection, directing them into a position he clearly liked if the ragged moan he let out was any indication. “Do it like this,” he said with a husky tone, moving the hand that now fisted his cock in delicate strokes along the full expanse of his throbbing organ.

“Does it feel good?” I asked shyly, enamored by the gorgeous flush to his cheeks, the beautiful sweep of his bangs stuck against his forehead.

“It does,” he stuttered, obviously fighting to hold back as he continued to pleasure me in return. “Are you close?”

“I think so,” I exhaled, feeling the familiar symptoms of my impending orgasm take complete control over every rational thought raging through my head as I tried to keep a mental image of this Changbin permanently stored away.

“I want you to cum first,” he practically begged, looking at me with so much affection that I could barely breathe.

I leaned into him more, encouraging his practiced movements as I allowed my hips to tentatively thrust in time to his strokes. Everything was hot and wet, an intimate exchange of precious oxygen as we both struggled to keep ourselves together. “I’m here,” I tried to convey, grasping tightly to the short locks at the back of his neck, fingernails digging in slightly as I rode out my orgasm with a barely restrained moan. My head fell against his broad shoulders, hand still worshipping his erection until I felt his entire body tremble against mine, something thick and warm leaking around my hand.

December

Changbin was absent from school the following Monday to visit a college with his family. But I took advantage of the unexpected opportunity, confronting Felix because he was close friends with Changbin. If anyone could be considered a reliable friend, then it would definitely be Lee Felix. But that still didn’t prepare me for the nonchalant way he regarded my question. “So what?” Felix rolled his eyes with a dramatic flourish. “You jerked him off, is that really a big deal?”

I blinked rapidly, surprised Felix was treating it so carelessly. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Good, that means the awkward part is over,” Felix said with a wink. “Now, you can do fun stuff.”

“Fun stuff?”

“Like actually fucking,” Felix said and his blunt honesty nearly had me choking.

“This isn’t what I meant by advice.”

Felix shrugged. “Most kids our age have already done way worse.”

“I guess that’s true,” I acknowledged, briefly considering the possibility that maybe I was overreacting. “When should we...you know...”

“Fuck?”

“Don’t say it out loud!” I whined, checking over both my shoulders to make sure nobody had overheard the two of us.

“Christmas break is coming up,” Felix said, pushing his lunch tray aside. “Why don’t you plan for something then?”

“Me?” I asked with a squeak. “How can I plan for something like that! I have no experience.”

“Well, Changbin insists on taking things slow,” Felix explained. “Which means only you have the ability to take your relationship to...that level.”

“What would I even do?” I asked.

“Don’t worry,” Felix said with a smirk. “I can always help you plan.”

I grimaced at the idea. “Isn’t that too personal?”

“Changbin is one of my best friends,” Felix said. “You have nothing to worry about, Kayda. Just listen to me and everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

“Felix,” I said. “How do I even bring something like that up? When would I have the opportunity?”

“Bringing it up is easier than you think,” Felix said. “You just need to be more confident when you talk about those things. As for the right opportunity...” Felix trailed off as his eyes landed on my cell phone. “Come outside with me.”

“What for” I grumbled, but still obediently followed Felix into the picnic area next to the main parking lot. Felix was engrossed in his own phone, barely paying me any attention until he suddenly paused next to the fence.

“Okay,” Felix said with a smug smile. “Any moment now.”

I frowned, waiting for further explanation until the ringing of my phone disrupted our conversation. “Hold on,” I said, holding up the screen so that he could clearly see Changbin’s contact name.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Answer it!”

I gave him a wary look but accepted the incoming call. “Hello?”

“Reynolds,” Changbin said. “I have a proposition for you.”

My entire face heated as I immediately misinterpreted his implications. “Wh-what?”

“My parents invited you over for Christmas eve,” Changbin said. “We always have dinner with our family.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized Changbin wasn’t asking for anything too intimate, especially considering the last time I stayed at his house. But then, I immediately tensed when his request was fully processed in my head. His family? The idea of meeting another Seo was incredibly intimidating and I rightfully panicked as I put my hand over the receiver to explain the situation to Felix.

“Your opportunity,” Felix whispered.

“But...it’s his family...”

“Yeah, but you can put my plan into action,” Felix said.

“You already have a plan?”

“I told you I would help.”

I was still hesitant when I told Changbin that I was fine with meeting his family. I was putting my trust in Felix who had proven to be a reliable source thus far during the short amount of time that I had known him. Meanwhile, Changbin’s resounding excitement was palpable, but Felix's accompanying look of mischief certainly did no favors to the steady thrumming of my heart.

Changbin’s house looked like an extravagant affair straight out of the Great Gatsby and I was Nick Carraway driving up in my shitty car that easily paled in comparison to some of the sports cars lining the driveway. There were people everywhere, standing outside in social circles while chattering with glasses of expensive wine, spilling out the front door with their gorgeous dresses and handsome suits. I already felt out of place and I still hadn’t killed the ignition.

I immediately pulled out my phone, pulling up Changbin’s name before bringing the device against my ear. “Reynolds?” he answered from the other end.

“Uh...” I cleared my throat anxiously. “I’m here.”

Changbin snickered. “Okay? I’ll meet you out on the front porch.”

He hung up without another word even though I was only seconds from begging him to find a way to sneak me in through the back entrance. Instead, I tried for a deep breath, checking my hair briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Hello,” I bowed to a woman who had pulled in behind me. She blinked twice before turning away without any further acknowledgment. “Perfect,” I grumbled because it was exactly what I was expecting.

Nevertheless, I found the courage to navigate the crowd of guests to stand awkwardly on the porch by myself. At least, for the most part, Changbin’s family and friends were more content to ignore me. This was certainly fine by me because I definitely didn’t want the additional attention. “Where is he?” I sighed, standing on my toes to look for Changbin over the towering stances of the rich assholes who were intent on blocking my view. Finally, I spotted Changbin from the doorway, nodding politely at the people who stopped to speak to him.

Changbin’s familiar smile eased my nerves as he eventually made a path to greet me properly. “Oh, wow, Reynolds,” Changbin said, eyeing me up and down as I stood on his front porch.

“It’s weird isn’t it?” I asked, fidgeting with the hem of the dress that Felix insisted I wear to the dinner.

“No,” Changbin immediately protested, reaching for my hand to pull me inside. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” I murmured quietly, suddenly all too aware of the sounds of intermingling voices emerging from the living room.

“I want you to meet my mother,” Changbin said, grip unwavering as we entered the maze of well-dressed faces conversing over wine and tasty finger foods being passed around on serving trays.

“Your mom?” I spluttered, wishing I had the strength to pull away from Changbin and hurry back outside where I the guests had the decency to simply ignore my presence.

“She’s been asking about you,” Changbin said. “I think she’s curious.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh,” I agreed, easily recognizing Changbin’s parents standing together near the fireplace. After all, these were the same people who I had unfortunately met when Changbin had rear-ended my car Freshman year which suddenly seemed like an entire lifetime ago.

“Changbin,” an elderly woman screeched, holding out her arms in a friendly demeanor. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Since Thanksgiving,” Changbin gruffed, but still allowed the woman to squeeze the life out of him as if he was used to the treatment.

“And this must be Kayda!” the woman said, finding my eyes from over Changbin’s shoulder. “How are you, young lady?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said shakily, glaring at Changbin who was clearly mocking my stuttered response.

“Don’t be nervous,” the woman said, pulling me closer by my arm. “Changbin talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” I questioned, studying the boy in question who was now talking to his father, hands tucked away in his pockets.

“My grandson tells me that you play basketball too,” the woman grinned. “And that you’re very smart.”

I blushed at the compliment. “I try my best.”

“She’s a genius,” Changbin suddenly declared, tossing an arm around my shoulder.

“So we’ve heard,” Changbin’s mother said and I felt myself subconsciously straighten my posture.

“We didn’t meet on the best of terms,” his father reminded me and I winced as I recalled the accident as if it had just happened yesterday.

“I’m good friends with some of your teachers,” his mom said. “They’ve mentioned you before. I can only assume that you’re much brighter than you like to give yourself credit for.”

“Ah,” I laughed, pressing myself even closer to Changbin’s side because I was entirely dependent on his strength at that point. “It comes naturally.”

“If only Changbin could share your passion,” his mother sighed. “All he wants to do is play basketball.”

“Well, when it earns him a scholarship,” his father added and I could clearly see how proud he was of his son’s accomplishments.

“Are you hungry, Kayda?”

“Maybe a little.”

Changbin’s mother smiled. “Binnie, take Kayda to the kitchens. We can talk later.”

Changbin’s arm was a helpful guide, pulling me along as I waved to his family members. I only glanced away once I realized we were moving upstairs. “Where are we going?”

“Do you want to go to my room?” Changbin asked and I immediately nodded my head. Changbin smiled, reaching for my hand before graciously excusing us from the crowded room of his relatives. It hadn’t been so bad, but I was still worried about embarrassing myself in front of the same people who controlled one of the country’s biggest enterprises.

Changbin’s room was a quiet sanctuary, and I made myself comfortable on his bed while he messed with the elaborate sound system connected to the generous speakers. Music began to fill the room, distracting me from the party still progressing downstairs. It was something familiar that Changbin liked, but I was too distracted to recall the name of the artist he deeply admired.

“What do you want to do, Reynolds?” Changbin asked as he joined me on the bed. I recalled my conversation with Felix from school, reminding me that this would be the perfect opportunity to explore his suggestion. Changbin must have noticed the way I nervously drew my lower lip between my teeth, catching me around my waist to pull me down on top of him. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“I want to try something,” I admitted nervously, looking down at Changbin lying pliantly beneath me on the bed.

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded. “Whatever you want, Reynolds.”

It was always so easy with him, but I still struggled to convey my expectations. I remembered Felix’s words, reaching down to run my hand down the front of his dress pants. Changbin’s eyes widened in surprise, reaching out to capture my wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever I want,” I reminded him and he scoffed at my cheeky attitude.

“You know what I meant, Reynolds.”

“It’s no big deal,” I lied, and Changbin was quick to read through the fabrication, sitting up despite my faint protests.

“What’s going on with you, Reynolds? You know you can be honest with me.”

“I know,” I started, flustered beyond belief with the way he was looking at me. “I talked to Felix the other day...”

“Ah,” Changbin interrupted. “You don’t have to listen to him. He always thinks he knows everything.”

“But I liked what he said,” I insisted. “I want to try it.”

“Try what exactly.”

The words were still embarrassing even in my head so I whispered them into Changbin’s ears. Immediately, my boyfriend’s mouth dropped open in shock. “He said that?”

“As a suggestion,” I said, fidgeting nervously because of his reaction.

“You don’t have to, Reynolds,” Changbin said, delicately using one finger to lift up my chin. His gaze was sincere.

“I know,” I nodded solemnly. “It might be...interesting?”

Changbin chuckled at my choice of words, deft fingers already working apart the button and zipper on his dress pants. “We’ll see if you think it’s really interesting,” he said, pulling both his pants and boxers down to his ankles before allowing them both to fall into the floor.

“I want to,” I insisted, looking down at his exposed cock.

“I’ll help you,” Changbin said. “But it might be easier if I was on the edge.”

I nodded frantically, moving into the floor while Changbin made himself comfortable, fisting his cock as he parted his thighs. “How should I start?” I asked him.

“You can just try the tip?” he said, clearing his throat when I abruptly leaned in closer, opening my mouth to wrap my lips around the stream of pre-cum steadily leaking from his slit. “Woah,” he gasped, both hands grabbing my hair tightly. “Easy.”

I ignored his warning, taking in more of his impressive girth, tongue exploring the taste of him. It wasn’t bad, but I certainly wouldn’t declare it as one of my favorite moments with Changbin. My inexperience was obvious, saliva dripping from my lips, focusing on breathing in through my nose since it was proving difficult with his cock in my mouth.

“Shit, Reynolds,” Changbin moaned and the sound almost made up for the bitter taste coating my lips. “You won’t hurt me,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Just-just don’t use your teeth.”

I heeded his warning, but it forced me to hollow my cheeks. However, that seemed to only please Changbin whose hips stuttered in place, fingers providing an unforgiving hold on my scalp. I moved my head up and down his cock, listening to the advice he offered and trying to ignore the light-headedness that warned me that I desperately needed to breathe. I pulled off for a moment, inhaling fresh oxygen while Changbin maintained his hold, barely allowing me time to recover before he was encouraging me to swallow him again. Testing my limits as my nose brushed against his pubic bone, but it was far too much and jerked back in surprise when I felt him at the back of my throat. “Be careful,” Changbin said, sounding like he was completely out of breath despite the fact that I was doing most of the work. Still, it made me feel almost proud of myself to be affecting him so much, especially when I was the one who lacked experience. “I’m close,” he said. “Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to swallow.”

I heeded his warning, pulling back from his cock to take in heavy breaths while Changbin reached behind him for a tissue, wrapping it around his erection before jerking himself to completion. Afterward, the two of us could do nothing but stare at one another in obvious wonder at the new discovery we had just made together. Breathing hard as the music continued to play in the background.

January

“My mother asked about you,” Changbin said with a grin. “You made a strong impression.”

The two of us were currently driving my car to the mechanic shop, an extra layer of jackets to compensate for my broken heating. “I did my best,” I said, adjusting my sunglasses slipping down the brim of my nose. “Everyone was intimidating.”

“That’s just because you let them intimidate you,” Changbin said, reaching for my hand across the console. “You never had anything to worry about.”

“Easy for you to say,” I retorted. “You’ve been living with them for your entire life.”

Changbin laughed. “Okay, but I would be a good judge of character. Trust me, you were the star of the party.”

“Against Seo Changbin?” I gasped. “The most heavily recruited point guard in the state?”

“My accolades paled in comparison to you,” Changbin said. “My parents were thrilled when I told them what your GPA is.”

“Well, I guess that gives me more motivation to study,” I said, pulling into the empty parking lot of the mechanic shop.

“You can study with me,” Changbin pouted and I resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him when he looked so adorable.

“Let’s go inside,” I said, ignoring his question in exchange for the quaint little store attached to the mechanic’s garage. Inside, I found an immediate contradiction between my boyfriend and the shop that had been around since my dad was a kid. It was almost comical, how much of an outsider Changbin looked in the moldy shop, Gucci-toed boots scuffing against the linoleum floor in clear disparity.

“This is the place?” Changbin asked me.

“We’ve gone here for years,” I said, walking up to the bored, middle-aged mechanic slowly flipping through a magazine.

“Name?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“Kayda Reynolds,” I said. “I made an appointment online.”

The mechanic sighed, reaching for the faded keyboard attached to the computer monitor that belonged exclusively to the 90s. “You’ll have to redo the form,” the mechanic said, irritation leaking from his tone. “Most of the information is incorrect.”

“I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized. “Is there a way to do it here?”

“We don’t keep forms in the office,” the mechanic dismissed me quickly, returning his attention to his magazine.

I was more than ready to head back home, deciding that my father would probably have more luck than me when it came to these things. But when I reached down for Changbin’s hand, I noticed that my boyfriend was glaring at the mechanic. “You have a customer here who needs work done. Why the hell does it matter if the form is wrong?”

“We require the information on the form for all appointments,” the mechanic said. “It’s written at the very bottom of the screen.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you could still work on the car and she can send you the form later.”

“Changbin,” I said, tugging on his jacket sleeve. “Let’s just go.”

“How the hell do you even stay in business if you won’t work on the cars from paying customers?”

“Sir,” the mechanic rolled his eyes, “your girlfriend filed the report, not us. It’s not the shop’s fault if she can’t read the fine print.”

“Say another word and I’ll make sure you wake up in a hospital.”

“Changbin!”

I practically drug the incensed boy outside the body shop, planting my hands on my hips as I fixed him with a reprimanding look. “You can’t say that!”

Changbin glared in the direction of the shop entrance. “Those assholes shouldn’t be allowed to treat you that way. I told you to go to my guy.”

“I can’t afford that place,” I retorted.

“I’ll pay for it,” Changbin declared. “Hell, I can buy you a better car, Reynolds.”

“Changbin,” I sighed, “you can’t just buy me things like that.”

“Why not?” he asked, perfectly earnest as he appraised me.

“Because I don’t want you to,” I said. “This isn’t even a big deal, I’ll just have my dad take care of it instead.”

“Reynolds,” Changnin glowered. “They shouldn’t talk to you that way. I wouldn’t give them another cent of your money.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Why are you so mad? I don’t even care about them. They always act that way, but they do decent work at cheap prices.”

“I’m mad because they disrespected you,” Changbin said. “Right in front of me! Next time, I’m taking you to my guy and I don’t want to hear anything about money.”

I was surprised by how upset Changbin was, so I quickly agreed with his request because I didn’t want to ignite his anger any further. Of course, I knew that my father could handle any future problems, but Changbin didn’t need to know that. Because he had finally allowed me to take his hand, slowly leading him back to my car.

Jisung returned to school for the beginning of the spring semester. I saw him in the parking lot, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat of his car. My first instinct was to call out his name and run across the parking lot like a scene from a melodrama to demand one of his familiar hugs. But I knew we stood on shaky ground, and I could only watch from afar as he walked by himself to the school’s main entrance.

I needed to figure out a plan to confront him because I was feeling increasingly desperate the longer I was forced to pretend like Jisung and I were just simple acquaintances. What happened to our vacation together during Christmas last year? With the exception of our shared kiss, I had never felt closer to Jisung, sharing intimate secrets and desires by the warm fire of his family cabin. But instead of growing our friendship, I could feel us moving apart in entirely different directions and it was nothing short of painful to watch Jisung ignore me.

What could I do to convince him? I wondered to myself, ignorant of my boyfriend’s impending approach until his arms were wrapped around my waist. “Reynolds,” he said, offering me a chaste kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Freezing,” I replied, deciding not to share Jisung’s return with Changbin. “Did you finish your math assignment?”

Changbin’s apparent look of guilt told me everything I needed to know. “We had lat practice,” he reminded me, but I was having none of his potential justifications.

“You promised,” I said, fixing him with a stern glare.

“It’s my last class of the day,” Changbin pouted. “Will you help me at lunch?”

I hesitated because I had planned to confront Jisung at lunch, but I suppose it was better to figure out what exactly I needed to say to him first. “Okay,” I said, groaning when Changbin pulled me against his side. “But you need to focus! You won’t be able to play in any more basketball games if your grades slip.”

Changbin sighed as if he had heard the same lecture before. “Look, I promise that I’ll do better.”

“For me?” I tried again.

“For you,” Changbin agreed. “Just as long as I get my reward later.”

I blushed at his tone. “As long as you behave.”

But Changbin was clearly pleased with how flustered I was, smirking in that familiar self-satisfied manner. “See? A compromise.”

I bit my tongue to hold back a sharp retort considering that Changbin probably had greatly misinterpreted what a compromise really entailed. But my boyfriend was in a good mood and he started chattering away about a tournament his team was participating in that weekend. Meanwhile, I was consumed with thoughts of Jisung, determined to restore our friendship.

February

I would never consider myself a courageous person, but right now, setting my tray down across from Jisung’s, I felt just like an action hero. “Jisung,” I said quietly, shivering when we finally made eye contact. “You don’t mind, do you?” For a moment, I briefly entertained the possibility of Jisung asking me to leave, but I was willing to accept the potential risks. Because this was Jisung and I desperately wanted him to be a part of my life again. “Sungie.”

He glanced up at the nickname, expression blank. “Did you need something?”

I bit my lower lip because it was clear that Jisung wasn’t going to make this any easier on me. “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively.

“Jisung, I don’t understand what I did wrong,” I said. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll do anything to make up for it.”

Jisung returned his attention to his tray. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” I said, swallowing down a whine. “I’ve been sending you messages.”

“I got them,” he said shortly. “I don’t know if you even realized, but I took last semester off.”

“Of course I noticed,” I said, offended that he would insinuate otherwise. “That’s why I was so worried. Ever since I started dating Changbin...”

Jisung stiffened at the mention of my boyfriend and suddenly everything clicked into place. “Are you mad that I’m dating Changbin?”

Jisung cleared his throat. “I don’t care who you date, Kayda.”

“Don’t do that,” I said sternly. “I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t care.”

“What exactly do you want from me?” Jisung bit out harshly, pupils blown wide with his anger.

I wilted under that rage, folding my hands together in my lap. “This is hurting me, Jisung. I just want my friend back.”

“You hurt me just as much,” Jisung retorted, sliding his lunch tray out of the way as he glared at me. “I really liked you, Kayda, and you just pushed me away. Now, when it’s more convenient for you, I get an apology?”

He was right, and I struggled for something to say. “Jisung,” I finally sighed. “I know you’re right. Look, I’m really bad when it comes to apologies. I can never figure out the right thing to say, but I care about you a lot and if I did anything to make you think otherwise, then I want to try and make things better.”

“It’s not so simple,” Jisung said, but his expression had softened. “After the kiss, I thought we might have something more than just friendship, but you insisted that day...” Jisung broke off, appearing conflicted as he shook his head. “Things got worse with mom and then she passed away over the summer. I was forced to take the semester off and I had to do it without you.”

I’m sure the tears in my eyes matched the steady waterworks filling the corners of Jisung’s beautiful eyes. “Jisung,” I managed softly. “I’m sorry things broke down between us because I would have been there for you over the summer. In fact, I’ll probably regret this for the rest of my life.”

Jisung tersely wiped away a stray tear, blinking rapidly as he struggled to compose himself. “It’s done, Kayda. There’s nothing left to regret.”

“Of course there is,” I said, reaching across the table for his hand. I let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away. “I miss you a lot, Jisung. You’re very important to me and I’d really like it if we could still be friends.”

Jisung took a long time to respond and I allowed him every second to think because I was determined to win back his trust. Finally, after an excruciatingly long pause, Jisung managed a slow nod. “I miss you too, Kayda.”

I offered him a warm smile, curling my fingers through his own. “You want to come over after school?”

He nodded again, soft eyes meeting mine from across the table. “I’m willing to try again for you.”

Jisung and I started to spend time together on the weekends, driving together through the countryside or reclaiming our former spot in my backyard tucked away beneath the trees. We talked a lot about Jisung’s mother and it was reassuring that Jisung appeared to be, for the most part, at peace with her passing. He was still obviously sad, speaking in a whispered tone when he talked about how hard it was to accept.

“I should’ve been there for you,” I said.

Jisung shook his head. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath because it felt like everything was starting to return to normal. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung said. “I might need a suit rental.”

“Why?”

“Prom is coming up,” Jisung said. “Even if nobody asks me to go, I still can’t miss out on my senior year.”

I shrugged indifferently. “I don’t care about prom.”

Jisung chuckled. “Yeah, but your boyfriend might.”

“I feel like Changbin could care less about a stupid dance,” I said.

Of course, only in hindsight can I look back on my words and regret them because the very next day at school, Changbin approached me in the parking lot with his hands behind his back. “Reynolds,” he said. “Guess what?”

“Hmmm?” I acknowledged, busy shuffling through the notes I was planning to lend to a teammate.

“Hey, look at me,” he insisted softly.

I entertained his request. “I feel like you’re planning something elaborate.”

“Maybe,” he giggled and I narrowed my eyes because Changbin only ever got this way if he was feeling particularly mischievous.

“What did you do?”

He brought both hands forward, holding an impressive bouquet of flowers between his hands. “Reynolds,” Changbin smiled, extending the flowers in my direction. “You should go to prom with me.”

I took the flowers since he was practically shoving them at my face. “Prom?”

“Yes,” Changbin agreed with a nod. “We have a lot to plan. What do you think about matching colors?”

I laughed at his enthusiasm. “Plan? Changbin, I don’t really want to go to prom.”

His smile vanished in an instant. “What?”

“I’m not that interested,” I shrugged, opening the door to my car before carefully laying the bouquet across the front seat. “You can always ask somebody else.”

Changbin was quiet for far longer than I was used to, but the way his jaw clenched spoke louder than words. “That’s fine, Kayda,” he said, shaking his head as he took a step back. “I don’t care.”

“Binnie,” I tried, reaching out for his hand but Changbin just ignored my attempts to pacify his anger, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning his back on me.

March

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I glanced up at Felix in surprise. “Huh?”

“Why aren’t you going with Changbin to prom?” he demanded, foot tapping against the floor impatiently.

“What’s the big deal with all of you?” I grumbled. “I didn’t want to go to prom in the first place.”

“Kayda,” Felix groaned as if I physically exasperated him. “Of course it’s a big deal! You don’t understand how important this is to Changbin.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a stupid dance.”

Felix gasped. “The audacity!”

“Felix, I’m not in the mood for a lecture, okay? I’m telling you that it’s not a big deal.”

“Alright,” Felix sighed, disregarding all formalities as he sat down next to me. “I guess you need a reminder.”

“Reminder?” I repeated, already tired of the conversation.

“Do you know how hard it was to get the two of you together in the first place?” Felix asked. “Impossible.”

“We’re together now, aren’t we?”

“Exactly! And you’re clearly oblivious to just how proud that makes Changbin.”

“I wasn’t aware you were a therapist,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I’m trying to eat in peace.”

“Kayda,” Felix said. “Listen to me, Changbin has wanted you for a very long time. And now that you two are dating, he wants to do everything that normal couples do, and that includes going to prom together. Don’t you know how ridiculous it looks for the school’s basketball star to miss out on prom!”

“I doubt Changbin cares about that,” I scoffed.

“But he does care about you, and in his mind this is like the perfect opportunity to show you off to everyone,” Felix said. “Prom has always been important to Changbin, and he was so excited to ask you to go with him.”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?” I grumbled, jerking my gaze free from the intensity of Felix’s scowl.

“No, I’m just trying to help my friend. I didn’t know that would mean reminding his girlfriend that he had feelings too.”

“That’s enough, Felix,” I snapped, pushing my chair back as I stood up from the table. “I don’t have to take this.”

I was a storm of rage on the inside, seeing nothing but red, when a familiar voice sternly brought me back to Earth. “What’s going on over here?”

Jisung was standing at the end of the table, glancing back and forth between Felix and me. “Nothing,” I grumbled, grabbing my tray and brushing past Jisung without another word.

But Jisung followed me regardless, catching up to me in the hallway after I deposited my tray at the counter. “Kayda,” he said, grabbing my arm to force me to stop walking.

“What?” I said, spinning around with my arms crossed over my chest.

“Why are you yelling at Felix?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

I sighed because it felt like everyone was trying to worm their way into my private life. “It’s just something with Changbin.”

“The thing with prom?” he asked.

“How did you know?”

“Everyone knows,” Jisung admitted. “I guess it’s like a big deal or something.”

“Felix told me that I made a mistake,” I said. “But it’s my life and he has no right to interfere.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jisung shrugged. “I saw Changbin yesterday in the parking lot. He looked pretty upset, and you weren’t glued to his side like usual...” Jisung trailed off as if waiting for me to fill in the gaps, but I determined not to give in this time. “Alright, look Kayda, I know what happened with Changbin, and I guess you’re probably tired of hearing about it.”

“Exactly!” I sharply retorted.

“Okay, but can you at least tell me why you turned him down? Do you really hate the idea of going to prom that much?”

“It’s not that I hate it,” I sighed. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal. I would honestly rather stay at home.”

“Even if it hurts his feelings?”

“So now you’re against me too?”

“No, no,” Jisung said, waving his hands around frantically. “That’s not what I meant at all, I just think you should consider that it might mean something to Changbin, even if it really doesn’t matter to you. Yeah, you might not like the idea of going, but it’s obvious that it means a lot to him. Maybe you should think about it that way instead of everyone turning against you.”

I froze upon hearing Jisung’s blunt honesty. “But now it’s like a whole thing and I don’t understand what’s wrong with everybody!”

“Well, if I know Kayda Reynolds, then I can only assume that this probably has a lot more to do with you being stubborn as opposed to refusing to give in to peer pressure or whatever you’re thinking.”

I considered his words, shoulders falling as I realized that Jisung was right. “I’m just tired of being told what to do.”

“I get that, but this involves more than just your feelings, okay?”

I hated that he was actually making a lot of sense. “So what should I do now?”

Jisung smirked, wordlessly pulling out his cellphone. “How do you feel about dress shopping?”

I pulled up outside of Changbin’s house, smoothing down my dress while trying not to trip on my heels as I walked to his front door. “Deep breaths, Kayda,” I encouraged myself, reaching out for the doorbell as I waited patiently on the outside porch.

I hesitated when the door finally opened revealing Changbin standing on the other side. “Reynolds?” Changbin immediately questioned me.

“Get dressed,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone. “We can still make it on time.”

Changbin didn’t move from his spot in the doorway. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Prom,” I groaned. “It starts in an hour.”

Changbin took a step back, clearly reeling from the encounter. “You want to go to Prom? I thought you insisted otherwise,” he said with a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry, Changbin,” I said, looking down at the sharp point of my shoes. “I didn’t realize how important it was to you.”

Changbin was silent for a moment. “So you just decided to show up here without calling me first?”

“I thought it would be better to surprise you,” I told him honestly, finally mustering the courage to meet his gaze. “If you still want to go. I’d totally get it if you, like, shut the door in my face or something because I probably deserve it after the way I treated you.”

Changbin’s gaze softened. “I’m not going to do that, Reynolds.” He sighed as he seemed to consider my proposal. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be in the car,” I told him excitedly, thrilled that Changbin had opened up to my proposal. The next time I saw Jisung and Felix, I owed them a thorough extension of my gratitude.

“You’re driving?” Changbin scoffed. “That wouldn’t have been my plan, but I kinda like it when you take control.”

“Well, hurry up,” I said. “We don’t have all night.”

“Says the person who gave me no time to get ready,” Changbin said, but his smile seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I prepared nice transportation for you,” I said while retreating down the stairs. “My dad’s car actually has heat.”

Changbin laughed. “Stop distracting me, Reynolds. I thought we were on a time constraint.”

“We are,” I said, reaching into my pocket for the keys. “I’m giving you time while I try to make things as glamorous as you always imagined them.”

Changbin didn’t say anything, far too busy leaving the front door wide open while he rushed to change his clothes. Meanwhile, I was ensuring that everything was ready, switching the music to his favorite genre and reaching down for the messy boutonniere that Felix insisted was mandatory. As Changbin had desired, I made sure that my corsage matched in color, even going out of my way to splurge on a ridiculous clip to wear in my hair.

Jisung and Felix were both adamant that they help me plan for the occasion, and despite their annoying habits of perfection, I knew everything would only prove to benefit my night with Changbin. Even I threw away my usual inhibitions, spending more money on my prom dress than I would usually allow, especially since I was only going to wear it for this one occasion. I grinned as I thought about Changbin’s reaction. He would be the first to tell me that the money meant nothing because it was okay to indulge when the occasion was just right. Changbin always had that ridiculous sense of self-confidence that at one time might have infuriated me, but now I only saw it as another aspect of his character which I was unwittingly falling for with each passing day.

“Ready, Reynolds?” Changbin asked with barely concealed enthusiasm, fussing with his hair in the rearview mirror.

“Hey, you look fine,” I insisted, swiping his hand away before throwing the car into drive.

Prom might be a time-honored tradition, but that didn’t equate to the formalities that most people expected. In fact, the minute we walked through the door, I was greeted with the sound of some over-played pop song and a mirage of teenagers abandoning their high heels just so that they could grind on their partners. Well, I shouldn’t have anticipated anything different when it came to my fellow classmates. But this night was about Changbin, and I allowed him to drag me from couple to couple, talking with his teammates while I tolerated the envious glares sent in my direction from the masses of Changbin’s admirers. “Here,” Changbin said, handing me a plastic flute of punch. I took it gratefully, savoring the cool taste of the liquid as it soothed my hoarse throat. “Should we sit down?” Changbin asked and I nodded in agreement.

The two of us had been talking for hours, flitting from one person to the next like the social butterfly Changbin liked to be. We met Felix on the edge of the dancefloor, forcing him to take a break from what might have amounted to a stroke if the younger continued his dalliances. Felix was practically drenched in sweat, eyes wide with adrenaline. “Are you having fun?” Felix yelled at us with an unnecessarily loud tone.

Next, we found Minho and Hyunjin surrounded by a group of younger Freshman girls, soaking up the attention with smug expressions. “Laura,” Minho listed off, pointing to each girl in succession. “Katie, Amanda, Lisa...Amy?”

Finally, I convinced Changbin to give me a moment with Jisung. “Did you come alone?” I asked him.

“I came with a few other guys,” Jisung sighed. “But I think they abandoned me.”

“Poor baby,” I said, unable to resist squishing his cheeks between my hands.

“It’s fine,” Jisung whined, but I could tell he liked the attention. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He went to find us a drink,” I said, scanning the perimeter of the room. “Is it fun yet?”

“It’s alright,” Jisung shrugged. “But I think you might’ve been right about prom all along.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? If you go to one dance, you’ve been to them all.”

“I thought it might be different,” Jisung said. “Since the school actually paid for the caterer.”

“And the food?”

“Kinda gross.”

I laughed at his observation as Changbin joined the two of us with a drink in each hand. “Hi,” I grinned, leaning against his side.

Changbin leaned down to brush his lips across my forehead before offering Jisung a courteous nod. “How’s your night?”

“Interesting,” Jisung said. “I’ll see you two later.”

Which brings me to the present, perched neatly in Changbin’s lap while we took a break from the commotion in the empty lounge. My eyelids were growing heavy and I took the liberty of claiming Changbin’s shoulder as a suitable pillow. “This is tiring.”

Changbin’s arm tightened around my waist, bringing us even closer together. “I know you only did this for me.”

“Are you crazy?” I asked. “This is like...the most fun ever.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kayda,” Changbin said, fingers sorting through the mischievous strands of hair bothering my eyes. “I’m really glad we came.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, unable to hold back a yawn. “I wish I had more energy.”

“It’s cute,” Changbin said, ignoring my protests as he kissed me softly. “Thank you for entertaining me.”

“It’s my job,” I said. “But, if it’s okay with you, I might need to find a nearby audiologist because my ears are ringing at this point.”

“Let’s get you home,” Changbin said, offering me another kiss which I gratefully accepted.

April

There was a noticeable optimism following the events of prom, a sense of complacency settling amongst the student body. Despite the drama that offered a precursor to the evening’s events, I noticed that most people seemed happier, especially the seniors who would be graduating soon. This included Jisung who had managed to make-up his lost semester by promising to dedicate himself to summer school. In any case, the opportunity meant that Jisung would no longer be attending school with me next year and I was rightfully chastened by the thought of never seeing my best friend again, which is why I was determined to spend as much time with him as possible.

The two of us frequently liked to get together at my house, spreading out a blanket in the backyard like we used to do, laying together quietly under the steady influence of the warmer weather. “I like the spring,” Jisung said, stretching his arms above his head. “There’s always more sunshine.”

“Hmmm,” I agreed with him, distracted by the edging drowsiness eclipsing my ability to form rational sentences.

“I got my acceptance letter today,” Jisung said. “If I pass my summer classes, then I’ll start Community College in the fall.”

I perked up at this information, opening one eye to glance over at Jisung. “You won’t be going far away?”

Jisung smirked. “Not at first. I plan to transfer eventually, but this seemed like the right start.”

“I’m proud of you, Jisung,” I said without a single ounce of malice. Those hard feelings between the two of us had dissipated like the morning frost chilling the discarded leaves decorating the grass. Instead, all that was left was a beautiful trust that cemented us together as equals in every sense of the word.

May

The end of the school year was growing closer with every passing day, and Changbin and I had started making a habit of spending time after school at the park. The two of us liked to walk the trails together, talking about whatever it is that we found interesting. This could be anything from Felix’s new girlfriend to the topic of Changbin’s conversation with a college recruiter who was more than ready to offer him a scholarship to play basketball. I was proud of him, but I was also wary of the impending topic of our Senior year and what might happen when we both graduated.

Changbin didn’t seem to notice my anxieties, talking openly about his dreams. “The dorms were pretty small,” he said. “I wanted to stay off-campus or something.”

“They won’t let you?”

“Freshmen have to live together,” Changbin grimaced. “I’m not sure I want a roommate.”

I grinned because Changbin acted every bit like the only child who was never forced to share with a sibling. “It might not be so bad.”

“Maybe,” Changbin replied distantly, silent for a moment before pausing next to the lake. “We’re going out of town for the summer again,” Changbin said.

“That’s not surprising,” I attempted to tease him, but it was difficult when Changbin looked so serious. “You leave every year.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin said carefully, watching me through cautious eyes. “You should come with us this time.”

His words were met with silence while I took a moment to admire the way the sun reflected off the smooth surface of the lake. “It’s your family vacation.”

“Yeah? Well, I want you to be there,” he said, tugging my hand as if trying to convince me.

But Changbin should know by now that it took little to convince me when it came to the school’s revered sports celebrity. “I’ll go.”

“Really?” Changing gasped, managing to look completely taken aback by my simple acquiescence.

“It sounds like fun,” I shrugged, but I was hardly indifferent, especially once he leaned down to offer me a gentle kiss to seal my promise.

#mostlycompetent #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #seo changbin #stray kids seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #changbin #changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut #changbin smut #seo changbin imagines

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slash-em-up · 5 years ago

Text

Priceless pt. 3

Once again, TW for blood, torture, and child abuse are in effect!!

I’m playing around a lot with as-of-yet unofficial canon, so bare with me because I am a thirsty woman and cannot wait for the Coll3cted to get my Asa-torture kicks...

Here’s Pt. 2 if you need to catch-up...

—————————————————————-

There comes a point in every child or young adults life when they truly realize what kind of person their parents are.

For most, this occurs over the course of many experiences – rights of passage into adulthood where they are either taught to succeed, left to their own devices, or given faulty council. It’s generally a mixed bag. Hopefully, the parents try their best; but through their own experiences may not always give the wisest or most expedient advice.

Asa found out what kind of man his father was very early on.

He recalled vividly the brisk September evening when he arrived home from school, nearly in tears, and presented his father with the first test of the year. He’d received a B.

The Emory patriarch said nothing, glancing from his young son, then back down to the slightly wrinkled paper.

Finally, the silence was broken.

“Let’s go for a drive, son.”

Asa could not have been more surprised when instead of berating him for his academic failure, his father drove him to the corner store and bought him eight shiny glass bottles of his favorite soda.

Having anticipated punishment, Asa was elated. Promising he’d study even harder for the next test as father and son strode back into the families home; placing their purchases on the floral-print kitchen table.

“I’ll never get a bad grade again, father.”

The older man smiled.

“I know you won’t son. Now, let’s pop open those bottles.”

Asa was confused. The soda was warm. Mother wouldn’t approve.

He watched in consternation as his father pried the metal lids off of each and every bottle, laying them out neatly on the table.

He gathered them up and handed them to his son.

“Now Asa, there are eight of these. I want you to lay them down flat in the corner over there. Side by side in two rows of two.”

Asa obeyed.

“Now kneel on them.”

The young boy stuttered and balked. The sharp, pinched metal of the bottle caps shined in the dim light of the kitchen.

He looked imploringly up at his father, who had risen from his seat and walked to join him.

“Father, I…”

SMACK

Asa’s head swirled in pain as his father’s palm landed harshly on his cheek.

Giles Emory gripped his son soundly by the collar of his shirt and forced him down onto the sharp metal. The boys thin trousers doing little to protect his skin from the biting edges.

Tears were pulled unwillingly from the kneeling child, unable to hold them in as the bottle caps were driven deeper into his kneecaps as his full weight was deposited on them.

He flinched as his heavy textbook was dropped loudly next to his quaking form.

“Now, study son. I know you’ll do better next time.”

———————————————————————

Some twenty odd years later, Asa stared down at the small scars the bottle caps had left and was reminded of the type of man his father was.

Blood streamed from his most recent memento – as his father had taken a hammer to his bound hands, carefully inserting four long, thin nails in between each of his metacarpal bones; muttering under his breath “…fish hooks and staples, it’s like you wanted them to get away…”.

Asa’s gaze rose to look at you, still tied across the room from him – watching with sick fascination as Giles circled him like an artist contemplating where to place his next brushstroke… or a predator looking for the juiciest bit of flesh to bite off.

On the few occasions he’d brought you to the Argento you’d held yourself together admirably at the sight of his collection. The only indication of discomfort you’d shown him was a slight shiver and a quick request to leave the rooms you found most distasteful. Another check on the long list of reason why you were his, and his alone. Strong stomach.

He prayed you’d be able to maintain that stoic façade during this particular tête-à-tête with the elder Emory. Any sign of weakness could draw his attention to you – Asa knew, he’d done the same on many, many occasions to the couples who’d fallen into his own web.

He would definitely have done the same to Arkin’s family if he’d had the chance. If he got out of this, he wouldn’t hesitate to do everything in his power to burn all the thieving interloper loved to the god damn ground.

Arkin sat in the far corner, watching with crossed arms and a disturbed expression as Asa was contemplated like a specimen by his father. After that first encounter, Arkin hadn’t lifted a finger against him – preferring to keep his hands metaphorically clean, despite his insistence that he’d make Asa feel ‘everything he’d felt’ before he killed him.

And Arkin called him a pussy…

At least his father kept things interesting. If Arkin had continued, Asa probably would have just fallen asleep during the smaller man’s attempts at torture.

He’d give his father credit for being creative, at the very least.

Speaking of which…

“Mr. O’Brian, if you wouldn’t mind, I could use your assistance with this next bit.”

Despite his body language practically screaming of discomfort, Arkin didn’t hesitate to rise and join Giles over Asa’s bloody form.

“Thank you. Now, if you’d be so kind as to hold him down – he might try to thrash about at this next bit and that would be unfortunate.”

Asa thought that ‘thrashing’ might be a bit of an exaggeration… Sure, the long, thin cuts the elder had sliced deep across his rib cage weren’t exactly pleasant but…

Giles grabbed a finochietto retractor, and Asa understood why one might suspect he’d take issue and try to get away.

Asa groaned as the metal was inserted into the incisions and tightened against his ribs… Giles began to twist the instrument, and Asa screamed.

——————————————————————

“Hold him please, Mr. O’Brian!”

Asa was definitely making it difficult to keep a hold on him, and Arkin’s shaking hands didn’t help as the thief watched in horror while the older man continued to spread his sons ribs wide before peering into the bloody hole he’s created.

Arkin couldn’t help but wince as Giles flicked a finger carelessly against one of Asa’s exposed rib bones, making the younger man flinch hard and cry out in pain as his internal nerves were prodded and pressed.

He felt his stomach begin to turn as the elder Emory started to whistle, grabbing up a heavy gauge needle and some thin copper wire. Like he was doing fucking arts and crafts instead of torturing his own son.

Asa passed out – shock and blood loss taking it’s toll - as his father inserted the needle and ran it in a quick tight loop around one of his ribs – still whistling.

Arkin let out a low exhale.

“… fuck…”

A quick glance over at the second restrained body in the room showed that you’d turned away from the bloody scene as much as you could. Your face hidden in the grimy shoulder of your sweater.

Giles didn’t seem to care as Arkin released the body of the unconscious man before stepping gingerly over to you – too focused on wrapping the copper wire to what looked like a small car battery.

“…hey…” he softly prompted.

A hard stare through a sheen of tears met his own.

“Are you happy now?” You queried quietly, trying to keep your voice low so the Emory patriarch wouldn’t hear.

“Does this make up for anything?”

Arkin didn’t respond.

A small sneer found it’s way to your lips as you looked up at the thief.

“I didn’t think so. It wouldn’t, even if you had the balls to do it yourself…”

Your eyes briefly wandered back to stare at the man you’d tied your life and your heart to.

Arkin felt his heart plummet in his chest at your next words.

“If you bring Satan to fight Lucifer all you’ll end up with is two demons and double the regret.”

#the collection (2012)#the collector (2009)#the collector x reader #asa emory x reader #asa emory #arkin o’brian #jessica writes #horror movies #tw: child abuse #tw: torture #slasher fiction

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missbugaboo · 5 years ago

Text

That Other Guy (6)

“Why does it matter so much to you? What’s so terrible about Adrien Agreste that you can’t stand him as your competition – even though it changes absolutely nothing for you? What in magic’s name makes him such a hateful rival?” Or, Chat Noir finally learns who Ladybug’s dream guy is, but somehow, he’s not pleased at all. For more reasons than one.

LadyNoir, Adrienette.

fanfiction.net / AO3

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Chapter 6: We Need to Talk

The photo shoot was a catastrophe, no pun intended.

Not objectively; after all, the morning was clear, with no more than a few clouds passing over their heads and the warm September sun that had rose no more than an hour afore. The lightning was spot-on, the temperature pleasant, while the team began and finished their work enthusiastic, despite the early hour and the tight schedule they undoubtedly needed to follow.

Adrien was surrounded by competent yet friendly people, in a scenery that could be called nothing but soothing, and following instructions that turned out to be the simplest he'd faced in a while.

And yet, it was a catastrophe.

It was a disaster.

He wished he could blame it on the absurdly small amount of sleep which, by the way, was exactly the excuse he'd used whenever someone asked him if he really was feeling as well as he claimed to. He knew they would notice the change in him as soon as they laid eyes on him - after all, it was there job to ensure that his looks were impeccable and thus were more than critical about what they saw; and so instead of pretending there was no problem at all, he clung to the one cause that seemed both probable and safe.

He was grateful to see it work, when quite frankly, he'd been more than dubious about his success.

After all, the dark bags under his eyes that required much more make-up than usually were one thing - the hollow, unseeing gaze was something else entirely.

They seemed to have bought it, however and went on with their plan without as much as a comment about his obvious lack of professionalism (though he sure was going to hear about it at home). They did his hair and put on his make-up, dressed him up like the doll he was and placed him wherever they thought he looked best.

Again, none of it was bad; it was routine, that's all.

Business as usual, for everyone but him.

"So, how much longer before we can go home now?" Plagg asked with a yawn, sticking his head out of Adrien's bag and gazing at the boy expectantly. "I'm hungry. And keeping a kwami hungry is a risky move, kid."

Adrien glared down at him with a frown.

"Get back inside before someone notices you," he muttered under his breath, hiding his lips behind a water bottle, while he prayed inwardly that everyone was too busy to notice him having yet another conversation with his accessories. "Also, there were at least two whole rolls of camembert in my bag, it should've kept you full for a day."

"Yeah, there were three actually. I ate all of it."

"All of it?"

"Look, it's not my fault I have a fast metabolism."

"You have an eating disorder, that's what you have. It's an addiction that I shouldn't encourage," Adrien was relentless. "What's more important, however, is that the amount packed is exactly what you usually need, so I don't understand how you could devour it so quickly. And I haven't even transformed today!"

"You did last night, though, didn't you? And given the emotional state you were in for most of that hellish patrol, you can be sure it wasn't exactly the time of my life, either. I don't remember you feeding me any cheese after we'd come home and since I can be considerate and tactful, I didn't treat myself with any while trying to talk to you. Oh, and I don't think I've had a chance to have a proper breakfast in the morning, with you storming out of the room like you did, only to wait for Nathalie for twenty minutes because - surprise, surprise! - we were there too early."

Adrien snorted discreetly.

"You could have very well had that meal after I'd gone to sleep," he answered viciously. "It's not my fault that you've decided to flee the moment I did, and for reasons you can't even explain to me."

"Pettiness doesn't suit you, kid," Plagg retorted calmly. "Also, I didn't flee. And surely not immediately after you'd gone to bed."

"That's not the point here."

"No. The point is that you're still mad and you're blaming everyone but yourself for it."

Adrien's glare grew even more steely. "Only yesterday you were talking about how I can't take all the blame and now you're giving me this?"

"Yes."

"You're contradicting yourself, Plagg."

"Not if I mean you should stop looking for the guilty party in general," was his companion's even answer. "Also, I think your make-up lady is coming."

He was gone before Adrien could utter a single syllable, hidden at the very bottom of the bag, safe from the curious eyes of said lady as well as the the young model's glares. Adrien sighed deeply and raised his hand to rub his face wearily - and then put it back down, remembering all the beauty products that were currently covering his face.

Smearing it all over his face right in front of the make-up director was hardly a good idea.

The shoot continued for a little more than an hour after that. When it finally finished, Adrien was sure he had never been this exhausted after so little work in his life, and that there was absolutely no exaggeration on his part in that regard; so when he was, at long last, told that it was all, he felt like he could quite literally kiss the photo shoot director in thanks for that news. That, or to crash on the ground and fall asleep that very second.

Considering that the director was about three times his age, the second option was far closer to his wish.

Still, as alluring as taking his nap right there and then was, Adrien stood firmly, determined not give the team any more reasons to worry - or worse, to call his father and ask him for the cause of his son's awful state.

So now he was back on the bench, pretending to be reading his history textbook, while he waited for the Gorilla to pick him up. He was aware of the glances and smirks (as well as the few awed sighs) he'd thus provoked, knowing full well that people expected him to fiddle with his phone rather than study, and especially in such a busy, noisy place. Not to mention, after the work he'd just done.

And yet, just this once, he wasn't in the least tempted to look at the device.

"You sure you don't need to check that?" Plagg asked in a dramatic whisper, as if he knew that he was supposed to be hiding but at the same time realised that his voice wouldn't have been heard in the mix of sounds around them. "Your phone's buzzed about ten times so far. Doesn't that mean it's something important?"

"No, it just means that Nino still hasn't learnt to write long messages and texted me a bunch of short ones instead," Adrien replied with an impatient sigh.

Gosh, just let him study.

"I know you're not reading this anyway, so you may as well drop the act and focus on me."

The glare Adrien gave him in response truly was a murderous one. "What have I told you about reading my thoughts?"

"You asked me not to do it, and I'm not. But I don't need to, either. It's written all across your face."

The boy let out a growl. One of his fellow models, who happened to be passing by on that exact moment winced, taken aback. She glanced down at him with an odd look on her countenance.

Adrien wanted to curl up and die.

"Sorry," he mumbled, fixing his eyes on the book in his hands, praying that the girl wouldn't linger around and just moved on with her undoubtedly more interesting life.

Luckily for him, she shrugged and did just that.

Adrien sighed again, and this time it was full of relief. Maybe it was a good thing that the fashion industry was were all kinds of eccentrics gathered.

At least no one paid attention to all the weird things he did.

He shifted his gaze to the textbook once more, determined to actually read the words printed on its pages, no matter how many more disruptions might come in a way. He was not going to look at his phone; he was not going to look around, searching for his bodyguard. And he sure as hell wasn't going to give Plagg the satisfaction of meeting his imploring stare again.

As if that changed anything.

Yet, he was to be unmoved. Despite the feeling of his kwami's gaze burning on his side as well as the noise said kwami was making (purposefully, no doubt), he didn't even stir, all the more intent on looking unfazed. He moved the book a little closer and pushed his bag under the bench with his foot without as much as peeking at it. He turned the page with the same fake-serene expression reflecting on his face.

He was fine, he was cool. There was no reason why he shouldn't be.

He was -

"I think Marinette is calling you, kid."

He was none of these things.

Several things happened at once then. The textbook Adrien was holding so firmly suddenly fell out of his grasp and landed next to his feet, only to be accidentally kicked away by him when he stood up rapidly and turned towards Plagg with the same violence characterising his moves. His eyes were wide with shock as he stared down at his bag; his hand shook when he reached out for it and took out the phone which, to his surprise, showed no sign of missed calls.

The few messages from Nino - ones he had already expected - were all he could see on the screen.

And yet, his heart was beating fast, his body stiff while he simultaneously felt trembling inside. With his gaze fixed on the phone and blood pumping in his ears, he nearly missed it when Plagg quietly cleared his throat.

Nearly.

Adrien looked at his companion and realised that what he'd been told was a lie, a ploy meant to provoke a reaction on his part. He frowned, annoyed and opened his mouth to scold the kwami for playing tricks on him in this way; yet, Plagg clearly wasn't going to let him beat him to it.

"I think we need to talk, kid," he said with a mixture of gravity and firmness. "And now."

Adrien couldn't help but swallow painfully.

He was screwed.

They didn't talk, however, and not due to Adrien's reluctance towards the subject. He was not going to give in to Plagg's suggestion of course (which, considering his deadly glare and infinite power of destruction, was more of a threat, really), not without putting some fight first, anyway; though he also realised that such a fight could not be of much use when his friend was so intent to have that conversation.

The very thought of having it made Adrien dizzy.

He was rescued by the sudden arrival of his bodyguard, who pulled up not a moment after Plagg had uttered the damning sentence. Aware as he was that this barely meant pushing the dreaded talk away for a while, Adrien couldn't help but sigh in relief, silently vowing to repay the Gorilla whenever he got the chance.

Now, however...

"Sweet block of cheese, I thought that ride would never end," Plagg said, once again making sure that his yawn would be heard just as much as the note of boredom that resonated in his voice. "To think that today of all days would be when we got caught in a traffic jam."

"It wasn't that bad," Adrien contradicted him, before glancing at his watch. "We're still earlier than I thought we'd be. Not as early as to make it to the current class... but enough to be left waiting for the next one to start. We've got about twenty minutes until that."

"Oh, now that's fantastic. You can finally tell me all the things I need to know without the risk of anyone overhearing."

Adrien set off towards the entrance with a grunt. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"And I told you that I didn't care about your whims."

"What about my needs then? And weren't you supposed to be nice and tactful for once?"

"I'm always concerned about your needs, kid," Plagg retorted with renewed seriousness. "Which is precisely why we must talk; preferably before you walk inside and run into someone."

Before you run into Marinette, Adrien's mind readily supplied.

He wanted to bang his head against the door.

"Do we really have to?" he asked weakly, with his hand frozen on the doorknob and his forehead really coming close to resting against the wooden surface. "Will it really change anything?"

"It's not about changing anything, Adrien."

"What is it about, then? What's the point in going back to it, in reliving that horrendous time once again, if it's not going to make things better? Do you really just want to drag me through the mud so I remember how awfully I reacted last night?"

Plagg landed on his hand and shook his head with conviction.

"You know I don't. But there are things you should face before meeting up with anyone. Things you should think through before anyone asks you about them."

"All I've done since we quarrelled was think things through, Plagg," Adrien contradicted him. "Also, it's not exactly like I can talk about this entire situation with anyone without revealing my superhero alter ego, which we know isn't an option. If anything, I should come up with a good excuse for feeling unwell, but then again, if the make-up crew bought the one about lack of sleep, there's no reason to believe that Nino or Alya won't."

"And what about Marinette?" Plagg suggested with a meaningful look.

"Well, she will have to accept it, too," Adrien as much as spat, a new, sudden wave of anger overcoming him against his expectations or will. "Just because I've figured out her identity doesn't mean I'll share mine with her at the first given opportunity. Not to mention, I hardly feel like having her comfort me right now. Maybe it's unfair, maybe it's rude; but I just can't talk to her today."

"Yeah. Because you're disappointed it's turned out to be her."

Suddenly, all reluctance on Adrien's part was gone.

If that's how Plagg wanted to play it, then so be it.

He wasn't going to run anymore.

"Okay, you wanna talk? Fine," he agreed out of the blue. "I'll tell you everything you want to know and explain everything you can't grasp on your own. We'll find a place to hide until the next lesson starts and talk for as long as the time allows. In return, you'll promise me to stop nagging me about it later on. And I mean it: no sly questions, no meaningful looks and certainly no suggestions that I should go speak to Marinette about anything."

Plagg allowed himself to smile wearily.

"I can work with that," he consented eagerly. "So long as you don't hold back, either."

"I won't," was all Adrien cared to say, before finally pushing the door open and entering the hall.

Plagg followed right behind.

#my writing #fanfiction #MLB #ladynoir #adrienette #yeah i bet you thought you'd get some answers by now #sorry to disappoint #but i promise you'll get them in due time

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 16: congrats Apollo you’re not back in hell. this case, you’re only on the margins of it.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

Among the ethical questions Apollo has pondered in his time as a lawyer, “is it wrong to search for a new job on my current employer’s office computer?” is the least consequential and least dire one. Not that he’s thinking of leaving the WAA, not at this moment, but being stuck spinning in a chair while Phoenix and Athena go out to investigate - it might not become a trend, but it might be, and he’ll need to prepare a contingency if it does. If he, the lawyer who got this place renamed from Wright Talent Agency to Anything Agency by being the first lawyer in seven years to work within its walls, who put the pieces together for Phoenix to let him get his badge back, gets squeezed out of it.

Fine. He’s used to it. Foster home after foster home and before any of them a home in the mountains of Khura’in, Apollo doesn’t fit, Apollo goes away to the next place that will take him for a little while longer.

But Phoenix is only so reliable and some part of Apollo suspects that he’ll get yanked away by the fae and leave the case suddenly on Apollo’s shoulders, and instead of pondering the ethical question - the answer is, he doesn’t care if it’s wrong, but he’s not going to do it because Mia would know and he’s not going to test a fae queen’s patience - he sets to work researching the scene of their crime. The Shipshape Aquarium’s website prominently displays what they call the Aqua Tunnel, a glass tunnel that runs under the aquarium’s largest tank, allowing a full view of fish to the sides and right above their heads. Apollo’s stomach churns just seeing the pictures of visitors standing there, illuminated blue in the dark, water all around them held back only by glass that can’t be thick enough to put him at ease. It looks like drowning feels.

So it’s almost like a good thing that this is the case that he’s been squeezed out of.

Then Athena texts him to tell him that their client is an orca, one of the marine animals on display and performing at the aquarium, and the dizzy lightheadedness that the Aqua Tunnel instilled in him turns to dizziness from the breathless laughter wheezing forth from his lungs.

The woman who had shown up on their doorstep really didn’t say much specific about her friend and her case, did she? Apollo desperately wants to see how Phoenix bluffs his way through this one and is desperately relieved that he’s only involved in this case from the margins. Athena tells him that she wants to hear later about the time Phoenix cross-examined a parrot; their human client (Athena says human, anyway, because she needs to distinguish from their orca client, but they probably can’t say for certain yet, human) mentioned it as the real actual reason she came here looking for Phoenix Wright.

Apollo drags his feet across the carpet to bring the spinning chair to a halt - wait, maybe this is why he’s so dizzy - and heads for the shelves back behind Phoenix’s desk. His oldest cases, and a few that he acted as Mia’s assistant on, and a few of hers even before he was a lawyer at all, rest there, and Apollo had read through some of them again on the really slow, lonely days before Athena was here and while Trucy is at school. He knows exactly where to find that one, the one where Phoenix cross-examined a parrot to defend the future Chief Prosecutor and get a forty-year legend of a prosecutor indicted on murder charges.

(How many legends has Phoenix torn down in the strangest of ways, as a rookie, while disbarred, a force to be reckoned with no matter his personal circumstances?)

The parrot’s name was Polly. Apollo sort of hates that as much as he hates everything else about Phoenix’s chaotically stupid bluffs working out for him, and that this is what he so admired about Phoenix from the start. It’s a lot less fun to be the one behind the bench, bluffing frantically, than it is to follow it in a transcript.

He drops the file on Athena’s desk and sticks a pen in the relevant part so they can review it later. Her last update said that they’re going to do their own investigation to find possibility of a human culprit, so that the orca won’t be put down, and it’s radio silence from there out. Apollo goes back to the aquarium website. Trucy sends him photos from the wrestling match she and Jinxie are attending; she won’t be back until early evening.

The other bookshelf out in the front room is where the fun happens. He’s found the same book there twice, sure, but almost never with the same cover. A weathered leather-bound tome, cracking along the spine, surely a grimoire full of old fae secrets, contains Mia’s taxes. A textbook cover proclaiming this a study of real estate law contains biographies of famed stage magicians. The only ones that stay the same are the thin picture books slipped in between matters of law and magic: Deauxnim, all of them, Elise or Laurice. Bored again, he thumbs through one, marveling at the elaborate illustrations, and the pages are cold to the touch. On reaching the end, a loose sheet torn from a sketchbook slips out, drifting feather-slow to Apollo’s feet. It’s a simple painting, three people and no background rendered in pale watercolor - a man with stark white hair and a visor that makes him look like he stepped out of a comic book, a beautiful woman in a suit jacket with a magatama around her neck, and another, older woman with hair tightly bound up on the top of her head and the same soft smile, albeit wearier and more lined, as the first woman. His eyes keep drifting back to the woman with the magatama, the yellow dot on her lapel that might be an attorney’s badge, her knowing brown eyes. The page, then the book, he slides back where they came from, but he can’t close the cover on the sensation that he’s supposed to know who she is.

Every time he thinks he’s dug into every nook and cranny of this office, turned up every little scrap, there’s always something new. He hasn’t had the chance - that makes it sound like he wants to be doing this instead of being so bored out of his skull that he ends up hunting through decades of paper - to explore the shelves since Athena came to the office. The last notable anything he found before her arrival was an accordion folder containing receipts for what looked like every single thing Phoenix ever bought from September 2016 through the next six months. What neurosis created that habit?

He glances back at the spine of the picture book, still holding the image of the middle woman’s watercolor eyes in his mind. Mia? Could she be? He doesn’t ask, not out loud, and she doesn’t give any hints.

Back at Phoenix’s desk, where the desktop computer is, the overwhelming blue of the aquarium website mocks him and his memories of water rising up over his head, and he spins the chair away and stares at the back wall, the sun-faded movie film poster that doesn’t show a title, and the shelf of case filings. He doesn’t care if Phoenix wants him to man the office tomorrow - he is not missing this case for the world, not because it’s Phoenix Wright back in court for the first time in eight years, but because he desperately wants to know how this orca matter pans out. (And okay, maybe he does want to see what Phoenix is like behind the bench when he’s not backed into a corner, his life on the line against a serial murderer, no other choice in his eyes but to become the thing that Kristoph framed him to be seven years earlier. Maybe Apollo’s still looking to find the legend he admired within the man that he knows.)

His phone, left on his desk, begins buzzing and continues buzzing. Someone’s calling, probably Phoenix, because he’s the only one who calls regularly instead of texting. What sort of trouble has their case run into, or maybe he’s wondering if Trucy’s back yet because she can be somewhat unreliable when it comes to letting anyone know where she is. But the name displayed on screen isn’t Phoenix - it’s Klavier.

They’ve never spoken on the phone before. Apollo’s heart seizes up, beats out a swift staccato rhythm. What the hell is going on that he would call? “Hello—?”

“Tell me your boss isn’t defending an orca.”

Apollo collapses into his desk chair, nearly tipping it off of its wheels. “Where did you hear about that?” he asks. “That’s not - please tell me that’s not a - a timeline constant, or whatever, that you didn’t see it happening, or - tell me you’re not prosecuting the orca!”

Klavier laughs. “Nein, Forehead, I am not sure even you could convince me to take that to court.” His chuckle continues for a few moments after but trails away into silence, long enough that Apollo wonders if the call has been dropped. Apollo inhales to say something and Klavier cuts across him, maybe coincidence that they chose the same time to speak, maybe not. “Herr Samurai told me about it. He’s the one prosecuting that whale of a defendant.”

He starts laughing again and Apollo groans. Determined to not give him any more satisfaction, he simply asks, “Blackquill doesn’t have an office space, does he?” He’d dismiss the thought entirely on basis of common sense, but Klavier has to have spoken to him somehow, and common sense would have a convicted murderer not prosecuting at all. Who’s to say what they’re doing over at that building?

“He does not, but he was here to speak with the Chief Prosecutor over some or another matter, and stopped by my office before he left to tell me that your boss’ first case with his new badge is…” Klavier makes a dismissive, disgusted noise from the back of his throat.

“The client when she showed up at the office didn’t say that her friend who needed defending was an orca.” Apollo has a sudden need to defend Phoenix against Klavier’s disdain, not least because that disdain sounds particularly like someone else. “Though, I mean, when he and Athena found out, yeah, that was a, uh - a choice, they made, to continue.”

“You aren’t working this one?”

“No. I’m stuck back at the office.” Like they’re a real agency that is going to have clients show up more than once every three months. “Missing out on a free trip to the aquarium” - and all the fun drowning phobia that could come with it - “but at least I don’t have to figure out the defense plan for a killer whale.” He doesn’t mind a challenge, finds all the outlandish challenges in the past have made him a better lawyer, but it’s a killer whale. It’s there in the name, and he can’t ask it for its testimony to get its side of the story, put that together with the rest of the evidence, with what he sees and hears. A client who only spoke a little English, and pretended not to have even that, sure. An orca might be taking Phoenix’s “have total faith in your client” mantra a little far.

“Which aquarium is this?” Klavier asks. “There’s the two big ones around here, ja?”

Apollo spins his chair back to his desk, finds that he doesn’t have the computer here, or his laptop up, and racks his brain for the name. “It’s the Shipley” - no, that’s the victim’s name - “Shipshape Aquarium.”

“Ach, the pirate one.”

“You’ve been there?”

Apollo hasn’t - there had been been a middle school biology class field trip that his foster family of the time couldn’t afford to send him on; they had five kids in that house and naught to spare for any class trips. Clay came back with a googly-eyed shark keychain that Apollo still has clipped to his bag, and the proclamation that the aquarium was “totally lame” and if they wanted to see fish they could go to the pet store and walk through the fish section for free.

(And then they did, and then they couldn’t stick to their for free part of the concept and bought a betta fish that lived for four years after they did extensive research on the proper care and tank setup, which caused Apollo to take up a crusade against the store for the little plastic containers they kept the poor fish in, and then Clay said again, not for the first or last time, that he should be a lawyer because he could get really passionate about arguing and his surname made the whole deal better because with a surname like Justice you have to be either a lawyer or a criminal, basically. That was two years after he left Khura’in, after he was starting to realize it might be a long, long time, if ever, until he returned, but he had never stopped thinking about being a lawyer, not because of Dhurke but because of Clay, who never knew Dhurke. He just knew Apollo. And he thought that would be the career for Apollo, not because he was Dhurke’s son, but just because of Apollo.)

“Mhm.” Klavier sounds more subdued than usual. “Ja, I have. Many times.”

“You don’t strike me as a fish person.”

“That could be because I’m a human person, do you think?” He’s laughing again, but again, it falls off quickly. “It was Daryan who so enjoyed the aquarium, not I. You didn’t suppose his shark aesthetic was an accident?”

“I never really thought about it,” Apollo admits. Maybe that’s not quite true - the thought had passed his mind, and then gotten shuffled away as many more important impressions of Daryan replaced it - namely, that he was an asshole, and probably a criminal. And then actually a criminal, another of the people Klavier loved who turned out nasty. “Though I guess that makes sense.” If there’s anything that could make that hairstyle make sense.

“We went there often, even after we were celebrities - every time we’d come home from a tour, less and less as that was, especially as I started traveling for reasons that weren’t tours, we’d visit that or the other aquarium around the city. Hard to sneak through the crowds when you’re famous, admittedly.” He gives another softer, sadder laugh. “The fans coming up for autographs made it harder to play our favorite game of harassing each other about what fish looked most like the other one.” A thoughtful pause, where Apollo thinks he’s dwelling on the times passed with someone no longer around in the same capacity as his memories, mourning a friend turned into a monster - and maybe he is, but the actual words he follows up the silence with are, “I’m not sure what fish I’d call you. Something very small and very red, surely.”

“Ugh.” Just when Apollo wants to be charitable to him, and sympathetic. “You’re hilarious.” He tips his chair back and stares at the ceiling. They’re not in court, but he’ll never let one of Klavier’s statements go unchallenged. “I know exactly what you’d be.”

“Oh?”

Apollo grins as he says it, the one that Trucy always teases him for because she says it’s his texting Prosecutor Gavin look and she’s sort of correct, but it’s more like a roasting Prosecutor Gavin look. “A clownfish.”

His jab is rewarded with a strangled, choking laugh.

Apollo toys with the idea of asking him why he didn’t glamour himself free from the squeeze of the crowds, but decides not to. He’d never told Daryan about his history and the abilities he had - that, Apollo remembers, Klavier saying he never had the words to tell his best friend and then he was gone. (Apollo remembers him saying that because Apollo, without the words to tell Clay about Dhurke, sympathizes.) Maybe he didn’t want to so obviously display his secret in front of his friend. Maybe he liked the attention, the screaming adoring fans, back then before Gavin was the name of a murderer, too. He had nothing to hide from back then.

So instead, the prior part of the conversation that Apollo circles back to is, “So Prosecutor Blackquill came by to let you know, specifically?” Any angle he looks at it seems like one of Blackquill’s manipulations, a stab into that open wound of Klavier’s mistake. Something to use against him, measuring his reaction, assessing the best way to get under his skin - tell him Wright is back in the legal world, tell him that Wright is making a mockery of the legal world with an orca, and watch and wait to see if there are fireworks.

“He did specifically wish to let me know, but it is not as though we have never spoken with each other before.”

“Right. And you thought he was pleasant enough, or whatever.” Should that surprise him? Klavier’s best friend was Daryan, an utter asshole, after all - and Klavier can be a real dick in court too.

“He is not unpleasant, which is something not quite the same, especially not as we are lawyers. I think he may just have wished to see my reaction as I found out about what your boss is up to.”

If he isn’t being manipulative, he’s simply a troll, and yeah, that sounds like the conclusion to draw about Blackquill. “You’re right,” Apollo says. “That probably would’ve been pretty funny to see.”

“Hmph. I don’t imagine you were any more composed - you probably yelled loud enough to wake the dead, ja?”

Yes, he had yelped “What?” to the empty office, nearly dropping his phone as he did, and the longer he takes to come up with a retort to counter that assessment, the more Klavier is going to start laughing at him. “How do you suppose Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth feels?” Apollo asks. “He’s done this thing allowing him back in court for whatever reason and now Blackquill’s using his freedom to prosecute to take an orca to court.” Klavier doesn’t respond, just laughs at that, but Apollo can’t laugh for more than a moment. He rubs at some stray ink marks on his desk and adds, “Do you have any idea why he’s set this all up?” he asks. “Let Blackquill do this? Not the orca specifically, but prosecuting at all”

Klavier goes quiet. “I presume, as do the few colleagues I’ve spoken of this with, that he thinks the verdict was wrong - that he hopes, in some convoluted manner, to clear Herr Samurai’s name and overturn his conviction.”

“You think?”

“I respect Herr Chief greatly and would at least like to hope that there is some reason to his actions.” Right, this is Edgeworth, not Phoenix. Edgeworth’s the one who’s not a cryptic fae bastard. “I could not tell you what I think, myself.” Bitterness coats his words as he adds, “I am not known to be someone good at guessing if someone I know is capable of murder.”

“I…” Apollo clumsily searches for some kind of condolence. “I don’t think anyone is.” Klavier talks to him about these things because he knew Kristoph, too, but sometimes Apollo thinks that Klavier forgets that he did know Kristoph, too. That it wasn’t his brother, no, just his boss, but still blindsided him. The evidence was there but otherwise Apollo never could have guessed - he just chose to believe the evidence. But what if it was a friend, now, a brother, a coworker - if Clay was accused, if - or Trucy, Phoenix again, Athena - if there was evidence to it, what would Apollo do? He doesn’t know.

“You have your Truth, though. I suppose that makes it a little easier, wouldn’t it, ja? You see and you know they are lying - know more than they are saying, are involved, did it.”

“Yeah, but it could be any of those options, like you said. It’s not necessarily just, did a murder.” He pushes off from the desk and starts slowly spinning his chair again. Everyone has secrets, but they’re probably not all murders committed. It’s all context, during cases, and he’s a defense attorney, he’s supposed to trust his client, but everyone else caught up in a thing— “Not that it helps me with Blackquill.”

“Too secretive even for our eyes - ja, he’s a bit of an odd one.”

“A bit? A bit? Do you say that because you’re already so far out there odd that he only seems a bit—”

“Ja, ja, you work for an ‘Anything Agency’ that is defending an orca—”

“I’m not defending the orca!”

“You are an accomplice. All of you are guilty. Blackquill is prosecuting the orca as well, and all of you are a bit odd.”

A bit. Understatement of the decade. “And you’re still a clownfish.”

Athena’s car pulls into the lot before Trucy gets back, which means that Apollo could’ve just shut the place down for the day and gone with them to the aquarium and it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing but that he had time to talk with Klavier. Not like anyone showed up with another case.

“I got to feed an orca!” Athena’s shout begins before she has thrown the door open. “But the penguin hated me.”

What, exactly, is Apollo supposed to say to this? “I’m sorry?” he offers, and behind Athena, Phoenix snorts stifling laughter. “How’s the case for tomorrow looking?”

“Eh.” Phoenix wiggles his hand noncommittally. Athena presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “We’ve got enough of a possibility to get it to go to trial, but nothing more than that, and that’s probably just in part because Prosecutor Blackquill is a lunatic.”

“Is he really that bad?”

That’s a young woman’s voice asking that question, but Athena has been face-to-face with Blackquill and knows exactly how bad he is, and Trucy heard her and Apollo complain about him for weeks after Mayor Tenma’s trial. Phoenix steps into the office and aside, and behind him stands a girl maybe Trucy’s age, with a soft round face and big gray eyes, her light brown hair pulled up in tight twists. Her clothing looks like Iris’ robes, with a shorter hem, down to the large beaded necklace from which a magatama hangs.

Oh. Oh no. Do all the fae dress like this, or is this one of the relatives that Iris mentioned to them in Nine-Tails Vale?

“I’ll let you make your own determination from the gallery tomorrow,” Phoenix says. “If you’re coming. If not, we can catch you up but I’d rather go over the case again with Apollo and see if we can figure anything out.”

“Of course I’ll be there tomorrow!” The girl claps her hands together. “Your first trial in ages, Mr Nick! I wouldn’t miss it!”

“Who’s this?” Apollo asks. He sounds calm, really, he thinks, and then Athena shoots a quizzical look, eyebrows pressed together and turning up where they meet, at him. Of course. He can’t hide, not from her, but either she hasn’t registered the similarities between this girl and Iris, or she’s been assured, by Phoenix, by spending some time with this girl already if they all came in together, that she’s not terrifying.

Not any more than the fae are, conceptually, for what they all have the powers to do.

“You can call me Pearl!” The girl inclines her head forward politely. Apollo notes that she didn’t say that’s what her name is, just that’s what she goes by. “I’m a friend of Mr Nick’s!”

Her clothing, her careful wording of an introduction, and now an odd nickname (nickname, don’t think the pun, don’t acknowledge it) for Phoenix. Add it all up, and he doesn’t like the sum. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Apollo.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Her language is formal but not stilted; it sounds like the most natural manner of speech, coming from her. Mr Nick. She’s just polite, then; polite, refined, almost regal in mannerism, her every movement stepping further into the office made with deliberate care. She tips her head back, her expression serene, scanning the air of the office like she’s looking for something.

“Pearls is an old friend of mine who we ran into at the aquarium,” Phoenix explains, with no indication of whether she’s a human “old friend” or the other sort. “She gave us some help with our investigation.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much of anything.” Her cheeks start to turn pink and she quickly brings her hands up over her face. “It was just good to see you lawyering again! But you haven’t gotten any better at keeping your office clean.” She lowers her hands, one of them falling only to her mouth to chew on a thumbnail, and she surveys Trucy’s magic props spread out on every available surface. “Why doesn’t she just keep everything in the Magic Panties and take out whatever she needs only when she needs it? They’re already enchanted and there’s no cost to using them, and poor Mystic Mia has to look at all this!”

“Huh?” Athena asks. “Mia, that’s - she was your boss, wasn’t she, Mr Wright?”

Which is when Apollo realizes that he hasn’t ever mentioned Mia to Athena, and from the expressions on Phoenix and Pearl’s faces - slow dawning surprise for the former, and narrowing eyes, rising anger, for the latter - Phoenix hasn’t told her, either.

(He feels awful that he feels some sort of - satisfaction? No, that’s too strong a word. Relief, a little bit - that Athena wasn’t told the secrets off the office. That Phoenix isn’t always good at communicating with her either.)

Instead of sitting down and mapping out the case, their evidence, and their plan of attack for the trial tomorrow, as Phoenix clearly still wants to, he sinks into the couch with a long sigh and explains Mia’s continuing presence to Athena, the way he did for Apollo and Vera last year. (“So that’s why the lights did that this morning!” Athena exclaims, and Apollo is really curious what she thought was going on otherwise.)

Pearl sits primly next to him, hands folded neatly in her lap, watching Phoenix without ever blinking. “Mystic Mia is my cousin,” she says when Phoenix has finished his brief summary - nothing in it new to Apollo, but Athena next to him sits hunched forward with her elbows on her knees, her hand cupped over Widget as though ready to start a therapy session based on whatever emotional testimony she finds in Phoenix’s words. “But she left to become a lawyer when I was very small and I don’t remember her very well.”

“Oh!” Athena sits up suddenly. “If she’s your cousin, and she was a faery, then you’re…” She doesn’t finish the statement, either waiting for an affirmation from Pearl before she speaks it into truth, or being extra cautious with the idea of not asking or accusing her what she is. But Pearl nods, and Athena slumps back against the couch and says, “That makes me feel so much better about the smelling blood that you did back when we were investigating! That’s so much less weird.”

“That still sounds kind of weird, whatever you’re saying,” Apollo says, literally biting his tongue a second later as the fear of telling one of the fae that she’s weird - even a true statement as that is - takes hold. A bit odd is such an understatement.

Pearl, though, does not react to that, and Apollo doesn’t hear about the blood-covered coin until later. In the moment, the door violently bangs open and Trucy barges in, a huge grin swallowing up her face, excitedly shrieking, “Pearly!”

The apartment door creaks open and the approaching footsteps stop abruptly. “Bad day, huh?” Clay asks.

“Mmph,” Apollo says, his face pressed into the couch cushions. He considers leaving it at that but knows that Clay won’t let it go, and a second later the door closes and the weight of his best friend settles in on his legs. Apollo turns his head to the side, unable to see Clay but at least able to be heard without yelling. He doesn’t have the energy to yell. “My coworkers are defending an orca in court.”

“Like, a whale? Like that kind of orca?”

“Is there another kind.”

Clay cackles. “Holy shit.”

Phoenix sends the kids off long before he leaves the office himself, pondering a whistle and a bloody coin and a looped fifteen seconds of security footage and a dead man still without an official autopsy report. That’s the first thing they’ll be slapped with at the trial tomorrow, and if they’re unlucky it’s going to turn out to show that the manner of death wasn’t blunt force trauma at all and they’ll be in deep shit with nothing to bluff on from the outset. If he’s really unlucky, they still won’t have finished the autopsy, as late today as it was ordered, and he and Athena are going to get through a good case before the full report arrives and smashes their every conclusion to bits.

He leans his head in his hands, staring down at the surface of his desk as though he can divine the answers from the scratches in the wood. “Mia,” he says, “what am I doing?”

Silence answers him. He lifts his head and looks out the window, to the bare empty rooms of the long-ago closed Gatewater Hotel, that whole damn lot cursed because that’s what happens to a place when it’s used as a staging ground to frame one fae royal for the murder of another. He’d been glad that particular branch of the Gatewater went under, as he’d stopped leaving these blinds open and really did miss the sunlight shining in through, even if he still had to pull them shut when the night became dark and the cold yellow city light cast a pool on the ground that night after night still marked where Mia died.

How does he get over the death of someone who’s only sort of gone?

“I did this for Edgeworth,” he continues, “but now other people want my help - Sasha, and Athena, and - I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I should. Do you think defending an orca is going to make me any less of a laughingstock? Maybe it’ll be better publicity for me. People think orcas are cute, right?” He doesn’t have much opinion, but Athena and Pearl and Trucy all seem to agree. “Maybe that would put some trust back to me after, y’know, having to set up an entirely new legal experiment just to get Kristoph convicted. That really looked good for me, huh, makes me seem real honest.”

He leans back, hangs his neck over the back of the chair. “How long were you chasing Redd White for, anyway? Was that when you left Grossberg’s, when you found out that he was the one White bribed for information about your mother? If you’d been chasing him for seven years and came up with no solid connecting evidence, just a list of names - would you have given up fighting in an honest manner? How many people could he have blackmailed into suicide in that time - is it wrong to stop someone like that, even with—?”

Even with forged evidence. Fudge it here and there for the safety of innocent people because sometimes the guilty are too damn smart to be found out. That’s not why the devil forged evidence, but it certainly is what the Demon Prosecutor’s mantra was. No way to know, so damn them all.

“Or,” he asks, “are you a better person than me? Would you not fall so far?”

He should probably get home soon, make dinner for the girls before they just eat cookies and bagels. Pearl doesn’t have Maya’s appetite, thank god, and hosting her doesn’t send him bankrupt and empty the entire pantry. It’s been so long since she last dropped by that even if he did have to shell out for a five-course feast tonight, he’d do it. Trucy adores her, and vice versa. It’s good for them to get to see each other again.

He makes sure to leave the computer on, cursor blinking on an open document so that if Mia has anything to say, either to the case or the latest installment of Phoenix’s forever-ongoing personal crisis, she can let him know. (Right after her death, Maya left the computer on, slept on the couch, and in the morning before she came to cheer Phoenix on in court found flip reciept and suicde folder compile names. And she had dutifully followed her older sister’s last, typo-marred instructions, cryptic as they seemed at first, but when the surrounding cards were played, it made sense, and Mia saved Phoenix’s life for not the first and not the last time.)

He flips the back room lights off and sees, standing next to the couches, between Phoenix and the door, the Gavin hellhound.

Phoenix lets out a shaky breath. Like he wasn’t doing a good enough job of reminding himself that he’s an imposter walking back into the courthouse tomorrow, spot who doesn’t belong, and the convicted murderer doesn’t either but Edgeworth’s put them both back there because he believes in them. But Edgeworth’s faith doesn’t change the past, only the future, and he’s only one man against the multitude of specters literally haunting Phoenix.

“What do you want?” Phoenix asks the barely-corporeal fae hound. Feathery plumes of white smoke drift off of her tail and the backs of her legs, her edges blurred against reality, the classic archetypal image of a ghost. She opens her mouth wide enough that she could probably fit her jaws halfway around a basketball, pulling her lips back, showing off her teeth.

He has no idea when Kristoph summoned her - at what point his patience gave out and he reached to the magical heritage his blood allowed him, binding for himself a hound bred for the Wild Hunt. He first ever saw her after Kristoph was in jail, and he out, when he and Trucy noticed the beast stalking them, never coming close, never making a threat, but observing, studying, gathering information for someone. And he first saw her teeth when she yawned, and through the Sight she changes just slightly; shining gold tips the ends of her misty fur, and her teeth drip and bleed with the rotting red of death, the kind of curse Kristoph cast. It all snapped into clarity that instant, whose monster this was, and where the dark red marks of teeth in Zak Gramarye’s neck came from.

She didn’t kill him. That isn’t what her kind are bred for; they don’t kill their prey themselves. They flush out their quarry and chase it back to their masters, herd it in and corner it, to let the handler deal the final blow. Zak came back to Los Angeles because of the statute of limitations was about to run out, and magic that lies in contracts often runs parallel to the laws of human land, but he also came back knowing that he was being watched, being followed, being hunted, and Phoenix knew by who but not how. Didn’t know how until he saw the dog whose lineage was dedicated to the hunt and her teeth that left the impression of her pursuit.

Zak Gramarye died by a blow to his head, but the jaws of death were tight on his throat before then.

He tried to play it cool, for a while, what with her haunting his apartment and the office every so often but then more when Apollo was there and then not at all. Don’t let her smell fear, bribe her with human food, the way Phoenix knows to befriend the fae. It took him a long time to understand why she was still around - she wasn’t pursuing anyone, hadn’t sunk her teeth into a new victim, and Kristoph was shut away in iron. He figured she should be gone.

And he really should’ve figured out what Klavier was - a stolen human child, replaced by Kristoph, who Phoenix knew long ago was a changeling - when, after the verdict came down, he watched Kristoph laugh and Klavier flee and the dog followed Klavier. Fae hounds are bound to one master only, always, until they’re set loose or die, and she was Kristoph’s but followed Klavier. She shouldn’t have been able to shift allegiance like that, and she couldn’t have, not to anyone else but Klavier, because the Gavins - they were the same to her.

Knowing that Klavier is the man commanding the hound, or just letting her wander loose to her own devices (however a creature like her, so bound up in the will of one master, makes determination of what she wants to do herself) doesn’t make Phoenix feel any better at her presence. Not today, and not this time of night when ordinarily, no one would still be here.

She pulls her ears back, jaw opening again, but instead of keeping her head level, she turns her open mouth toward the floor and gags. The horrible sound grates down his spine like claws and his throat like broken glass, like he’s the one choking. With a last wet cough, something yellow falls from her throat, and she snaps her long, disproportionate jaws shut, lifting her head back up to look at him. She licks her lips with her long black tongue, weirdly solid against her wisping fur, and smacks her mouth open and closed a few times. Then she noses whatever-it-is toward Phoenix and looks up again, expectantly.

“Fine,” he says, squatting down so that he can get a better look at it without turning his eyes entirely away from her. It’s an attorney’s badge, its gold plating flaking off to show duller silver below. A well-worn attorney’s badge. “Huh? Is this Kristoph’s—?”

Cold to the touch, cold in his palm, he turns it over. Eight years later he still knows that number by heart.

“Why did you have this?” he asks, his words choked out around his heart risen up into his mouth. He’d ask why she ate it, but that just seems to be a thing that the fae do. Why she had it is the same as why she ate it: because she had it. But why? “Did Kristoph take it when I had to turn it back in to the Bar Association?”

He still doesn’t actually know what happens to a badge of someone no longer a lawyer - he decided he didn’t want to know, mourned the ambiguous fate of his badge, whether it was melted down to become part of a new badge for a new attorney who wasn’t a fuck-up, or had the numbers shaved off and gold plating reapplied and new numbers engraved to become a new badge for a new attorney who wasn’t a fuck-up, or just got dumped in a box for record-keeping about attorneys who are fuck-ups. “Did he send you in to take it for him? Like a trophy?”

He has no way to know where her hollow red eyes are focused. She’s nearly nose-to-nose with him and showing no sign that she understands a word he’s saying. Even if she does she probably can’t convey it back to Klavier, as though he would know the answer either. What person alive has spent more time with Kristoph than either of them, and they don’t know him at all.

On the off-chance that Klavier can actually hear what is being said to his hellhound, or if he knew that she had swallowed Phoenix’s attorney’s badge, he looks her in her empty eyes and says, “Thanks.”

She spins about, her tail swinging right into his face and through it and it feels like a faint misting of snow, the powdery top layer gusted up by the wind, and streaks straight through the closed door, out of the office.

Leaves Phoenix sitting on the floor, and his heart in his hand, tiny and tarnished and ice cold.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles #weekly updates until i get thru my nano buffer is my plan

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