#i followed a rude duck specifically because i knew eventually they would duck

[tielt]

.

[adam-banks2024]

Deja Vu

Part 1

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly

He’s insufferable

He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.

He is insufferable.

And I have to deal with him.

Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago. 

I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.

Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.

When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.

“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.

To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness. 

I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.

Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say. 

“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?

He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”

I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.

“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.” 

Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.

My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”

He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”

“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work

Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”

I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”

Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.

“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.

He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--” 

“That I’m not good enough…”

He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.

“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”

I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.” 

He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up. 

Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.

“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.

The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.

It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?

“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”

I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.

He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”

I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”

I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”

He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face. 

I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path. 

“What do I get out of it?”

The audacity.

“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”

So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”

He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Watch it.” His voice was stern.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”

Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”

[harrysweasleys]

a place for us // d.m

Summary: I’d like to request a Draco x reader please, she’s the plus one to the golden trio & Malfoy actually has a crush on her since 1st year but never tells her even though she comes from a pureblood family too. In the 6th year she’s the first one who noticed how drastically Malfoy has changed and decided to investigate & that’s how she founds him in the room of requirements and they just bonded, Draco really opens up to her and they meet in secret every night plus a kiss in the end maybe? Thank you

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: dudes i’m so close to 600 followers i love you all. thank you so much for sticking by my work. also so very sorry it’s taking me ages to get around to these requests. writer’s block, ya know? but, enjoy!!!! xoxo 

— —

As you watched Draco pick absentmindedly at his quill during Potions, you knew something was wrong. He had been acting off all year. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of Potions now that Slughorn was the Professor, but this didn’t excuse why he had been sulking the entire first month that school had returned. 

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice caught you out of your trance, causing you to snap your head in his direction with a startled expression. You suddenly became dizzy, needing to blink rapidly to regain control of your head.

“Yeah?” you asked, pretending like you hadn’t just dozed off while staring at Draco for nearly five whole minutes.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “We’re partners for — you weren’t paying attention, were you?” The clear disappointment on his face made you feel awful, but you couldn’t help it. You were intrigued by Draco’s lack of boasting. For five years now, you had spent classes with him where he had spent the entire time bragging about his status and wealth, and now he was just silently sitting at the back of the class, head in his hands and his mind clearly distracted

“I was too,” you snapped back, furrowing your eyebrows and turning to face Ron and Hermione, who were also paired together and beginning to jot down instructions.

“Then,” Harry leaned his elbows on the table and stared you down, “what potion are we making?”

You squinted, trying to think of what you had picked up from the short time you payed attention to Slughorn, “Draught of Living Death?”

Harry groaned, “Lucky guess.”

You grinned, proud of your shot in the dark, and stood up to collect the ingredients, bringing your copy of Advanced Potion Making with you to search the stocked shelves.

As you turned around to go back to your desk, arms filled with ingredients, you nearly crashed into a body.

“Oh, I am so sorry—” you grimaced, wanting to smack yourself over the forehead for being so clumsy. Luckily, you hadn’t dropped any ingredients, but you felt like a fool nonetheless.

Draco smiled softly down at you, “My fault. Didn’t notice your arms were full.” He proceeded to maneuver around you and collect his own ingredients, gently pressing up against your arm as he did so.

You shuddered, choosing not to look back and glance at him before speed walking back to your station, where Harry was preparing the cauldron.

“You alright?” he asked, peering up at you quickly before picking at the ingredients.

You nodded, forcing yourself to continue staring down at the table to avoid looking at the Slytherin boy. Something about him was just incredibly off and despite not really being friends with him, you wanted nothing more than to figure out what was going on in that pale head of his.

When class came to an end, Slughorn deeming yours and Harry’s potion the best one in the class (Hermione scowled at Ron), you waited behind to walk with your friends, who were approaching you slowly after cleaning up their desk.

“Naturally, Ronald,” Hermione scoffed, discreetly rolling her eyes, causing you to chuckle.

“What? I’m just saying!” he argued back, holding his hands up in fake surrender, “If you drank Draught of Living Death as a dead person, you’d return to life! It’s called Living Death. So, of course, Zombie.”

“That’s what was going on in your mind during class?” you couldn’t help the bubbling laughter as the four of you exited the class, turning down the hallway with the crowd, “Charming, really. No wonder Harry and I beat you guys.”

However, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a specific blond head rushing in the opposite direction. It was rather odd, considering your next class — Defence Against the Dark Arts — was also with the Slytherins.

“It’s what’s always going on in my mind, Y/N,” Ron deadpanned, looking over to where you were now staring, “What’re you looking at?

Hermione and Harry had now stopped walking, moving out of the way of the onslaught of students, being careful not to get trampled.

You turned back to face your friends, “I — need to pee, yeah, I need to pee.”

Despite your super unconvincing voice, they nodded at you and Hermione spoke up, “We’ll meet you in Defence class, then.”

“Right, yeah,” you mumbled, waving a quick bye and taking off in the current of students, unfortunately going against the tide as most of them were heading the opposite way.

You cursed yourself for being curious. Dodging students left and right, gripping onto your backpack to avoid having it get knocked off your shoulders, you eventually made your way into the clearing, adjusting your disheveled robes before continuing on.

Looking left and right, you couldn’t find Malfoy anywhere, but you were almost certain he had taken the left corridor. So you did the same. Luckily, you avoided coming in contact with anyone, rushing down and turning the corner.

As you turned, you saw Malfoy’s figure at the end, rounding another corner up ahead. You followed him, keeping your eyes peeled for anything that could give away what he was off to do.

He was by no means a star student, but skipping class wasn’t exactly ‘normal’ for him. In the five years you had known him, you had only noticed him skip class twice and both times were due to Quidditch injuries.

Yes, you had noticed both times he wasn’t there. Not because you wanted him around, but because he usually made his presence very well know, especially around your friends — who he seemed to strongly despise, despite the fact he had never been rude to you.

You continue following him up the stairs and down more empty hallways. You had never seen the school this empty, but that was because you had never decided to take a stroll while you were supposed to be in class.

Finally, after walking for what felt like ten minutes, Draco stopped abruptly and stared at a wall. You ducked, hiding behind a statue, and peered out through the tiny window you had.

He was staring at this blank stone wall, but you knew exactly what it was. You had been there countless times the year before where Harry had held practices for Dumbledore’s Army.

Why Malfoy needed the Room of Requirements was beyond you. He had always managed to get his way with Professor Snape, surely he couldn’t be doing anything proper or good behind those doors.

You watched as he stalked in, careful to double check if anyone was near him before the doors slowly started to vanish.

It was now or never, you thought.

So you bolted.

The doors were barely able to fit you as you squeezed through, the door turning into a wall behind you and disappearing completely. You stayed quiet as you turned around, ready to face a pissed off Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Room of Requirements was completely different from how you had seen it last year. Instead of a wide open space with mirrors and books on Defensive spells, it looked like a storage room.

Chairs, books, desks, anything and everything you could think of, were piled up to the ceiling in rows. The dust was unbelievable — your throat was already beginning to tickle after your first breath.

Not only could you not see Draco, but you could barely see anything with the amount of junk that was in this room. He had probably taken off down one of the rows, but which one, you had no clue.

You decided to head down the furthest right, passing old desks and books along the way. The smell of dust and decay got stronger along the way. You had to keep your eyes on your feet to avoid tripping on scattered objects.

Once you passed an old bookcase, you heard quiet muttering. Draco’s head came into view, along with what appeared to be a triangular cabinet. His head was leaned up against it, muttering silently, his shoulders shaking and his arms lying limp at his side.

“Malfoy?” you whispered, suddenly becoming very much aware that he probably didn’t want you following him.

He spun around, eyes wide. It was hard to tell since he was naturally so pale, but his complexion seemed even more ghostly than usual.

“What are you doing here?” his expression changed from shocked to anger, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

You stammered, trying to find a reasoning that wouldn’t make you come off as a stalker, “Are you okay?”

That wasn’t exactly smooth, but his face seemed to soften. He looked you up and down, visually calming when he noticed your wand wasn’t in your hand, nor did you show any signs of accusing him of anything.

“Is Potter hiding around the corner?” he hardened again, standing stiff and placing his right hand inside his coat as if ready to grab his wand and defend himself any second.

“No, no, he’s not,” you raised your hands, “I’m alone. I just... sorry I followed you in here.”

He slowly removed his hand from his jacket, letting it fall limp at his side once again. Despite Draco being one of the most intimidating and feared students in the school, not once had he ever made you feel out of place. You figured it was probably because you were a pureblood, and your family did have a decent status in the magical world. He would torment your friends, calling Harry awful names — even going as far as calling Hermione a mudblood.

You should hate him. Everything about what he had done screamed awful, rude, bully, dangerous, but he had always been kinder to you, softer even. And somehow, deep within your heart, you knew you couldn’t hate him.

It was annoying, really. Every time he and Harry were in the same room, tensions would go through the roof. Draco would spit insults at your friend, but turn to you and greet you or bid you a good day like a normal person.

Ron would often rant about their disastrous encounters with him in the common room after everyone was asleep, and you’d sit quietly and offer no input.

One of the moments you realized Draco was nowhere near as bad as he seemed was during the Triwizard Tournament. When Harry was under water — Hermione and Ron having gone missing as well — the notorious Draco Malfoy had comforted you. Had told you everything would be alright. That your friends would be safe.

Really, there was no way you could hate him after that.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked, eyes darting to the ground to avoid eye contact. You were honestly surprised he wasn’t angrier. He had always had a short fuse around most people.

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to word it, “I was, uh, worried.”

His eyes snapped up to you and he scoffed, “You? Worried about me? Right.”

“I am,” you pressed on, “You’re not okay. I can tell. I just thought I’d try and find out what was wrong so I could... help, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. You did want to figure out what was wrong, but you weren’t sure how you could be of any help to him.

“Well, thanks, but I don’t need your help,” his voice had more of an edge now, clearly a sign he was becoming fed up with your presence. Maybe it was a mistake following him.

“How do you know? Maybe it’s something I can relate to. We both have a lot of pressure, being purebloods, you know,” you crossed your arms as you spoke, slightly offended by his tone of voice.

He rolled his eyes, “This has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t understand. I can handle myself.” Although his face was hard, steady, cold, you could tell that his eyes were pleading. Pleading for someone to care, to set him free.

“I can tell you’re lying,” you approached him slightly, trying your best not to seem as if you were cornering him, “Try me. Maybe I’ll understand.”

If you weren’t close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes were watery, becoming red as he clearly fought back his emotions.

“You think you would understand? You think anyone can possibly understand this?” he raised the sleeve of his left arm, revealing a dark tattoo on his forearm, the symbol immediately recognizable.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you took a step away from him, mind becoming hazy as your eyes were glued to the Dark Mark etched into his pale skin.

“You — you have the mark,” you breathed out slowly. You couldn’t fathom why he’d have it. You knew his parents were Death Eaters — hell, everyone knew that — but why Draco? What could he do while he was still at Hogwarts?

“Yeah, thanks, almost didn’t realize,” he spoke through gritted teeth, rolling his sleeve back down and finally letting his emotions free. A tear slid down his cheek as he faced away from you, frustrated at himself for being so vulnerable around another person.

You were still frozen in your spot. You thought he had maybe been dealing with depression, anxiety, pressure, fear — but never this. You never in a million years thought that he was dealing with the Dark Mark. 

“I’m so sorry,” you found yourself saying the only thing you could think of. It was true, you were sorry for him, but there was nothing that could be done. Once the Mark was on, was there even a way of removing it? It was unheard of, really. Once you pledged your undying fidelity to You Know Who, it was that or death from then on. Thinking of that, you couldn’t blame him for being quiet and distant all term.

You found yourself approaching him even more, feeling thankful he didn’t pull away, and did the only thing you could think of in the moment.

You hugged him.

Your arms wrapped around his waist slowly, noticing immediately how he tensed under your touch. When your arms were fully wrapped around him, you rested your head against his chest, hearing the violent thud of his heartbeat.

“What are you doing?” he asked tensely, his body completely rigid at the strange showing of affection.

“Hugging you,” you replied, voice slightly muffled by his clothing, “You can hug back, y’know.”

He hesitantly raised his arms and draped them around you, not fully hugging you just yet. But as his mind caught up with him, he pulled you even closer to his body, as if all of a sudden, you were the one thing grounding him to reality.

“Do you not like it? I can stop,” you chuckled humourlessly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your rash movement. If anyone saw you hugging Draco Malfoy, your friends would shun you for life.

He shook his head, “No, no, it’s not that. I’ve just — I don’t get these often.”

Your heart broke for him, “Well, I can give them to you.”

You replaced your arms around him even tighter and he relaxed at your touch, letting his head rest atop of yours. For such a strange encounter moments before, this seemed an oddly intimate way to end up.

“Thank you,” he whispered, arms still wrapped tightly around you. You had to do a double take. You were nearly certain you had never heard him apologize before. Was this what it felt like to be accomplished?

“Don’t thank me,” you muttered, slowly pulling away from him and tugging at the hair that got caught in his buttons, “I just always find hugs make me feel better. Thought I’d give it a shot. And I know I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through, but I am here. If ever you need anyone. Talking, listening, I’m good at it all.”

He forced a smile, cheeks more flushed with colour, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Even though you had just found out he was now a Death Eater, you didn’t fear him. You didn’t feel like you should be running in the opposite direction and warning Harry and Dumbledore. You didn’t feel like he should be kicked out, expelled or killed. In that moment, he was vulnerable, scared, human. You just wanted to help.

“I should probably head to class before Harry thinks I’ve been attacked,” you tried adding humour, but it didn’t seem to work.

Draco’s frown deepened, “I’m not going to attack you.”

“I know,” you reassured him calmly, regretting your joke, “I just don’t want Harry and Ron and Hermione to come searching. We’ll keep this a secret, yeah?”

He gazed up at you, a light smile on his lips, “Don’t exactly want the world knowing, so yeah. Thank you.”

You nodded curtly, unsure as to how to continue the conversation, “Well, I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself. Please.” You shot him a genuine smile and he returned the gesture, eyes locked on you as you disappeared from sight and out the door.

As you left the room, you let out a deep breath, leaning against the wall and processing what had just happened. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. A Death Eater. He wasn’t even old enough to do magic outside of school. Did that mean he had to do his Dark Arts in the school?

You shook your head, not wanting to dwell too much. The more you overthrought the situation, the more you’d be tempted to warn Harry. But you highly doubted Draco’s purpose was to harm Harry when You Know Who wanted to do that himself.

Beginning your speed-walk to class, you really did try to clear your mind. You thought about Quidditch, about your upcoming Transfigurations essay, and even about what topic you guys could be discussing in class, but it seemed nearly impossible considering what had just happened.

You had been so distracted by your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed you were right in front of the class. You opened the door with a grimace, knowing Snape was bound to be aggravated as hell that you were late.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he scowled, turning all of the attention of the class on you, “Mind explaining why you’re nearly half an hour late to my class?”

Half an hour? Had you really been gone that long.

“Sorry, Professor, wasn’t feeling well,” you lied, raising your hand and placing it on your stomach, “Was thinking of going to the hospital wing but didn’t want to miss the class.”

Snape scoffed, hardly believing your lie, “Thirty points from Gryffindor. Now sit down.”

You nodded, sliding into your usual seat next to Ron, who glanced over at you with a quizzing expression, “Where’d you really run off to?”

Luckily Snape was too busy scolding Neville Longbottom because Ron was not exactly a pro whisperer.

“Just... I wasn’t doing anything. Thought I was onto something but I wasn’t. Just forget about it,” you brushed him off, turning to face the black board and taking down notes, ignoring the confused stare Ron kept sending your way.

You had promised Draco you wouldn’t tell anyone. And besides, he showed no signs of doing anything dangerous just yet. Maybe this made you an accomplice, but you wanted to gauge the severity of the situation before you ran off tattletaling to Dumbledore.

Draco may have new found power, but was he actually going to put it to the test?

You wanted to find out why Draco.

——

For days now, you had actually been meeting up with the Slytherin in secret. Whether it be the Room or Requirements or even the Astronomy Tower during warm evenings, you became someone he felt comfortable around.

And surprisingly, you had become comfortable around him too. If your friends found out, they’d kill you dead, but you were becoming better and better at coming up with lies and excuses as to why you always got back late and where you kept going off too.

You’re pretty sure Harry is suspicious of you, but he’s never shown signs of not trusting you, so that was a good thing. Hermione and Ron were too focused on ignoring each other to pay attention to what you were up to — honestly, a part of you was thankful for it.

The Astronomy Tower was dark as nightfall fell upon it once again, the twinkling stars and bright moon being the only source of light. It was peaceful, really. The only place you could really go to get away from the chaotic environment of the school during the day.

And, yes, it did make it slightly more enjoyable that Draco would accompany you here.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked, the usual question you’d greet him with.

He shrugged, “Same as usual.”

You nodded, looking out over the dark lake, “Remember, I’m always here if you wanna vent.”

He smiled slightly, stepping closer to you and leaning against the railing, “I haven’t forgotten.”

The air surrounding you was tense, yet strangely peaceful. As if you and Draco had slipped into a common ground. Unsure how to address the issues at hand, but very much aware that you were going to be there for him.

“What did you tell your friends you were doing today?” he smirked, knowing how you had started to lie for him.

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him, “Told them I was going to the Owlery to write to my mum. Don’t know how they believed it.”

“Because they’re idiots,” he scoffed, causing you to turn around and face him with a stern glare.

“Hey, you can’t keep talking about them like that. They’re my best friends,” you defended, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. You cocked an eyebrow as he opened his mouth again, warning him not to call them any other names.

He raised his hands, “Fine. Apologies.”

You uncrossed your arms and rested them on the railing, looking back out over the starlit sky and shadows of mountains. The view from up here was gorgeous. You had the view of the entire castle, as well as the view of the scenery surrounding it.

No matter how many times you looked over Hogwarts, the view never got old.

“It’s stunning, isn’t it?” you asked, looking down to the courtyard, illuminated dimly under the moon.

“Yeah, it is,” Draco said softly. You looked over and noticed his eyes were still on you. Both of your cheeks went pink, turning away immediately and choosing to look at other things.

“I’m scared,” he said softly, pulling you attention back to him, “I think — I know — that the Dark Lord wants me to do something. Something bad; something dangerous. And I — I don’t want to do it.”

You felt your heart sink at the broken expression on his face. You knew that he hated himself for what he had become, he had told you numerous times. But it didn’t change the fact that you really did feel bad for him.

“What is it he wants you to do?” you asked, moving closer to him without even realizing it.

He shook his head, eyes wide, “I — I can’t tell you. It’ll put you in danger.”

Based on the paleness of his face, you knew you shouldn’t push it. After all, being the only one at school who knew he was a Death Eater was already putting you at enough risk. It didn’t help, either, that you were slowly, but surely, falling for the boy in front of you.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you smiled, placing your hand softly over his. You hadn’t realized he was shaking so much, but he relaxed under your touch and let out a deep breath.

“I just—” he sighed, closing his eyes, “—I just don’t want to do it.”

“I don’t blame you,” you moved even closer, placing your other hand on his cold cheek, “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I wish there was a way I could help.”

He opened his eyes, smiling softly down at you and placing his hand over yours, which was rubbing his cheek lightly, “I wish you could help too. But the last thing I want to do it place you in harm’s way.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks due to the way he was gazing down at you. He seemed to be staring into your soul and it was the most intimate moment you had ever felt.

“I appreciate that,” you whispered, realizing in that moment how close you were, “But I don’t want you in harm’s way either.”

He chuckled dryly, “Kind of late for that. I was practically born in harm’s way.”

Quite suddenly, he pulled away from you, and you only then noticed how warm he was when his distance caused cold air to surround your body. You found yourself missing the closeness, but figured his distance was probably for the best. You could barely fathom telling your friends you were talking to Malfoy — you couldn’t imagine what they’d say if anything were to actually happen.

“I know, I wish you had a choice,” you spoke up, louder this time as he kept his back turned to you, “It’s not fair.”

He shook his head, letting it drop, “It’s not. But —,” his voice trailed off before he turned and faced you, his face set and all softness gone, “I should probably go to bed.”

Your eyes involuntarily widened and you couldn’t help the clear shock on your face, “Wait, did I say something?”

“No,” he replied rather quickly, “I just need to go.” And without saying another word, abruptly rushed down the stairs, his blond head disappearing from view before you could even say another word.

You stayed there, silently in the dark, for another long while. You couldn’t understand why he had taken off so hastily. Was he scared of you? For you? For himself? Did he have a realization? What was it that had rushed him away?

You walked back to the Gryffindor common room with a sulky mood, mind whirling as to what it was that could have caused a drastic, sudden change in his mood. Draco had always been a tough book to read, often leading to him being irrational, but something told you this was more than just his normal actions. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being paranoid — he was dealing with You Know Who — but you couldn’t help wanting to know more.

The common room was quiet as you re entered. Thankfully, you wouldn’t have to deal with your friends’ questions tonight. They could wait for the morning when your head was a little clearer and you could think of better answers.

You stalked up the stairs and into the room, glad that Hermione was snoring away so it was loud enough to cover the sounds of you sliding under your sheets and putting out the lantern next to your bed.

Safe to say, it was hard to sleep that night, your head far away and your body tossing and turning non stop.

You had never been more physically and mentally exhausted as you were the next morning.

——

Somehow, you had managed to go four days without seeing Malfoy. He hadn’t shown up to class, nor to any of the meals in the Great Hall. You were worried, there was no beating around the bush about that. But you still couldn’t express your worries to your friends or they’d think you were insane.

On the fifth day, the dark heavy rain poured down and the dark clouds in the ceiling of the Great Hall during breakfast did nothing to lighten your mood.

You had barely slept these last few night, Draco being the only thing you could think of. Both worried for his safety, and worried for the safety of others, you kept an eye out everywhere you walked to see if you could spot his familiar face.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

To your great distaste, seeing Harry and Ginny finally realize their feelings for each other in the span of these last five days had made your longing for Draco even worse. Yes, your stupid heart had decided to grow feelings for him. And yes, it ticked you off knowing you’d never be able to act on said feelings.

So, seeing Ginny linking her hand with Harry’s as she joined your table for breakfast made your blood boil.

“Morning,” she grinned, pressing a light kiss to Harry’s cheek, Ron grimacing at the affection.

“Bloody hell, can you not do that around me?” he groaned, looking down at his plate with disgust as if seeing the gesture caused him to loose his appetite.

“It’s sweet,” Hermione beamed, closing her book and placing it between you two on the bench, “I think it’s nice.”

Harry and Ginny grinned at her compliment, but it went unnoticed by you as your eyes scanned the Slytherin table once more. Draco’s head usually stuck out like a sore thumb, so you’d see him if he was there.

“Ron, you’re ready for Quidditch practice, yeah?” Harry nodded towards Ron, finishing off his pumpkin juice and standing up, “Let’s get going.”

“It’s raining, mate,” Ron groaned, about to stuff the last bit of toast in his mouth.

Harry shrugged, “Thanks for pointing out the weather, let’s go.”

Hermione giggled as Ron begrudgingly stood up and followed Harry out of the Great Hall. As you watched them leave, your eyes following them to the door, your heart leapt out of your chest.

Draco was standing in the doorway, looking like right hell. His face was ghostly, his eyes sunken in and dark and his hair matted to his head.

You stood up, nearly knocking Hermione over with the force of your movement. But as you looked over at him, Hermione seemed to vanish from your view.

“Gotta go,” you said to the two girls, striding towards the entrance. Draco must have seen you, because he took off in the opposite direction, his pace picking up once he noticed you following him.

“Oi, Draco, slow your roll,” you shouted, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. You hadn’t expected him to actually stop, causing you to crash into his back and nearly stumble over.

“Sorry about that,” you mumbled, regaining your balance and hiding the flush on your cheeks. He didn’t move, so you turned around to face him, holding back a gasp when you noticed the state he was in.

“Draco, what happened?” your voice was soft, reassuring. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel like you were judging him.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, looking down to his feet, “I’m fine.”

Scoffing, you raised a hand to his cheek and placed it against his skin lightly, “You can open up to me, remember?”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing, “I’m sorry. I just — I needed to stay away.” He shuddered as he spoke. You could tell he was trying to be as open and honest as he could without giving too much away.

“From me?” you asked, stepping closer to him and pulling him behind a pillar so you couldn’t be seen by passing students.

He nodded, “I don’t want to put you in danger if I can help it. I’m — I like your company.”

“I like your company too,” you smiled softly, “Which is why it sucked when I couldn’t find you.”

“No, like — never mind,” he waved his hands, brushing you off, “It’s pathetic.”

“Wait, no, you need to be open with me,” you pointed a finger at him, a grin forming on your lips at the redness growing on his cheeks, “What is it?”

He fidgeted in his spot, avoiding your gaze before speaking so softly you almost missed it, “I actually like you. Like, like you. Since first year, actually. And I opened up to you. And then I realized I was putting you, the one person I care about, in danger.”

You stared at him, mouth agape and face drained of colour. Had he just said he likes you? Draco Malfoy likes you? You had always had a soft spot for him — even though you shouldn’t have had one — but you never imagined he felt the same to this extent. It slowly started to make sense; why he was always kinder to you, why he felt the need to open up to you, why he wanted to distance himself after doing so.

The redness on his cheeks grew, and you could feel the heat flooding into your own. For some reason, just the knowledge of his crush had your heart fluttering away because you couldn’t deny — you had one too.

“Well, that’s good to know,” you stepped closer, “I like you too.”

His head shot up, eyes nearly bulging out of his head, “You — you do?”

“Yes,” you said, more seriously this time, “And now that my little secret is out there, you need to start taking care of yourself. I know this is scary and you don’t know what’s going on, but take care of yourself. Please. For me.”

He seemed to ponder on your words, moving closer to you, “Promise. I will.”

Almost as if your presence had done something to him, the colour seemed to have flooded back into his face and his eyes seemed to spark life once more. You grinned, pleased at your affect on him, and wrapped your arms around him.

He leaned into the hug this time, less awkward and unsure. His head nestled into your neck and his hands gripped your waist firmly, the affectionate gesture being a source of comfort to both of you.

You pulled away after a long moment, grinning like an idiot and trying your best to hide it, “I’m really proud of you for opening up, y’know? It can’t be easy and I—,”

Your rambling was cut off by his lips forcefully pressing up against yours. You were too caught off guard to kiss back, standing there stiff as a board with your mind racing to catch up to his actions. He noticed your stiffness, causing him to immediately pull away and stare at you with panic in his eyes.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” he ran his hand down his face, pale as ever and the panic in his eyes growing more by the second, “Forgive me, it was heat of the moment.”

“Stop rambling,” your mind finally caught up with you to the point where you could process what just happened, “Kiss me again.”

He placed his hands softly on either sides of your head and pressed his lips softly against yours. Tingles shot through your entire body at his touch, your heart being sent into overdrive as fireworks erupted in your belly.

His kiss was soft but passionate and needy. You could tell he was desperate to cling to you as much as he could, his body pressed up against yours and holding you flush to him. His body was relaxed — this was probably the least stressed he had ever been around you.

Your hands went into his hair, his delicate kiss still sending your mind into a frenzy, even after he had pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“That was — that was —” Draco’s breathing was a little off as he chuckled, eyes staring into yours with a whole new level of adoration.

“Yeah,” you grinned, pulling your forehead away from his to look at him properly. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t fight his smile.

From that moment on, you didn’t leave his side. You met in the Astronomy Tower nearly every single night — it was a place just for the two of you. He confided in you about his feelings, his fears, worries, dreams. Anything that was going on in his mind, he told you about it.

And he loved you.

He felt like the didn’t deserve your kindness, your open heart, but he welcomed it and accepted every moment, feeling the least alone he had ever felt before.

You, on the other hand, managed to keep your time with Draco a secret from your friends for a long time. They had become suspicious, yes, but you managed to throw them off your scent and make up a storyline of what exactly was going on.

And you knew bigger things were to come. Wars, fights, probably even death. But you were going to keep your promise and stick by his side until the very end.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Set In Stone - Choose Your Own Love Story Prologue (Tim Drake or Bart Allen x Reader)

Words: 2k

~ AH!!! Welcome to my newest multi chapter fic! Except there’s a twist! It’s up to you dear reader. I’ll be writing two different stories about each path, like a choose your own adventure, except you choose how your love story progresses to the eventual end! There will be a private masterlist specifically for this series where you can choose the way your personal love story unfolds. Just know that the future is never cemented, meaning you can always go back and try again! Think of this as the prologue to the actual event, but your first decision drops tomorrow, meet Bart or dig deeper into Tim? Hope you enjoy! ~

Seeing teenage heroes was really something else. They were your age, and they weren’t grumpy and old like the Justice League. “Okay well this is fun and all but I wanna hang with people my age!” you groaned following J'onn down the never ending corridors of the Watchtower. “You know your powers are not fit for the type of missions the Young Justice team attempt, you are arguably weaker than the regular human” he reminded you. That was rude. “Am not! I’m an asset! I can’t get hit cuz I know where they’re gonna swing so who cares if I have a mental breakdown every once and while!” J'onn knew you weren’t wrong, you taking a hit was a rare occurrence, but the Justice League refused to risk you even taking one hit, you’d protected thousands by scanning the infinite number of different possible futures. 

“Everything you need is here” you replied “I knew you were gonna say that, like I literally knew it” you also knew you had to prod J'onn just for about two more minutes until you met Nightwing. “Oh my god Nightwing fancy seeing you here!” you grinned at J'onn who now understood your goal. “Hello, I didn’t know the YJ team had a new member?” Dick glanced at J'onn who shrugged. “Do not blame me Nightwing, Flash found her and the team agreed she stays with us” you rolled your eyes before starting with Dick Grayson, but he didn’t know you knew that yet. 

“Hi! Y/N, no last name. Flash found me when he ran into the future and I was totally feeling the mode because I got these powers [ you tapped your head as Dick smirked ] and I can like see different parts of future when I’m super focussed, so like short time is kinda easy but far away and hard and I don’t remember anything from my past. I’m like a future only kinda girl.” you sighed, hoping you’d made sense. Dick’s eyes lit up. “So you don’t have a family, and they’re just keeping you here?” you nodded, crossing your arms to try to look more emotionally secure. 

“Dibs” and something sparked in your head, this was a new future. It hurt. You sunk to the ground clutching your head as a new future bounced around your consciousness. Trying to shake out of it you realized you’d been carried to a med bay, Dick and J'onn stood above you looking concerned. Pushing them off you as you got up you explained “sometimes people make big decisions that change the future, I’m guessing you calling ‘dibs’ on me changed something, but I’m a little too tired to check if that’s okay, also what does dibs even mean?” and Dick smiled, “you’ll have to come find out!” and against J'onn’s protests he pulled you towards the Zeta Tubes. 

Flash zipped in front of you and Dick. “No.” and Dick waved him off. “I’m taking her to the manor, get her to meet the family maybe I’ll get a sister if Bruce is in a mood” he waggled an eyebrow at Flash who was focussed now on you knowing he couldn’t get in Dick’s way. “I know you don’t know him yet but if Jason Todd asks you to do anything that seems dangerous say no. And watch out for Damian’s swords. I guess just look for Tim Drake, he’s a good one” and he patted you on the shoulder. “Go feel the mode kid”  and you face palmed. “Flash you mean crash the mode oh god don’t even try to be cool” you groaned. “You totally have to meet Bart” Dick mumbled before he cleared you for zeta tube access. 

You appeared in what can only be described as a man cave. There was a giant computer where a tiny boy sat covered in leather typing. There was a teenager looking about your age punching dummies while another boy was shooting literally guns at the dummies. “Welcome to the batcave!” Dick announced loud enough for the three boys heads to turn. The smallest boy stopped typing and stalked over to you. “A little young for you Grayson, stolen her from the baby justice team?” you knew this was Damian Wayne, and you couldn’t contain yourself.

“OH MY GOD BATMAN HI!” you screeched pulling him into your chest. “You’re totally crash like so cool but you’re so little right now! Last time I saw you, you were like super tall but you totally got moded or something - oh I wasn’t supposed to say that don’t worry!” Dick nudged you “this is Robin, Batman, Bruce Wayne, is in his office” and you slapped a hand over your mouth. “Right, no spoilers” and Damian stood still, processing his own future. “Moving on, Tim and Jason!” the two older boys had come down to get a closer look.

“Hood, Drake, this is totally cool!” you exclaimed, shaking their hands. “Why is he Red Hood and I’m Drake? Not Red Robin?” Tim looked puzzled. Best not ruin his life like that, this was one of the few things you planned on changing. “Because I know you’re Tim Drake! So does the world, Drake is a good LAST NAME right? Red Robin is totally crash for a hero name!” and Tim looked a little confused, but brushed it off. “What the demon said, she new?” and you shook your head, explaining your story again.

“20 bucks says adoption papers” “50 says she gets a room” “75 on a new animal persona” the boys started screaming bets as soon as they heard the “family trauma emotional instability” part. “Why can’t she be in Young Justice? Or the Outsiders? She’s still a teenager” Tim looked confused. “I dunno man, she’s been with the JL for a while because she’s apparently delicate which is bullshit” Dick explained and you strongly agreed. “None of you could even land a hit on me” you puffed out your chest. “Care to defend that claim?” Damian unsheathed a sword. “No! J'onn sai-” you cut Dick off. “Absolutely ”.

Now you were dodging and ducking Damian’s advances. You’d swung a couple punches but it means undoing some focus which allows Damian to get his own shots in, so you mostly stayed on defense, letting him get frustrated and tired. “I think you’ll get better with practice baby Batman” you teased him. Next was Jason, bullets were hard to avoid because you didn’t have lightning fast reflexes, although that would be nice. But Jason wasn’t as calculated as Damian so you could play a little dirtier. Knocking his guns out of his hands you let up, “this is boring I’m done” you raised from the ground where you and Jason had tumbled down on. 

“So you really have powers. Your moves are all the most probable choice mathematically, you can’t be running the numbers in your head that quick!” Tim was toying with a tablet, shocked at your prediction abilities. “That’s right Boy Wonder, that was fun but I’m feeling kinda diz-” and then you realized you’d overworked yourself a little bit, and it all faded to black. 

You woke up to fully aged Batman. “Oh god no I’m back. How am I back! Damian you were just a kid like ten minutes ago! How long have I been out?” you began to throw blankets off yourself, blankets? You were in a bed in someone’s room. “Calm down, Y/N, Y/N! It’s okay!” and the Older-Damian just enveloped you in a hug. You couldn’t remember the last hug you’d had. Literally couldn’t remember. And it was a welcomed comfort. Pulling away you got a closer look, and it wasn’t Damian Wayne, but Bruce. 

“Bruce right? Current Batman?” you whispered, trying to wrap your mind around what had just happened. “That’s me, I see you’ve met my son, at multiple ages too” his eyes were smiling but his mouth wasn’t, it showed concern. “Yes, I did, I’m sorry for being a nuisance, it’s a pleasure to meet you but clearly I’m a bit moded so I should head back to the tower” you explain beginning to get up. “Actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, if you feel alright? [ you nodded, your powers were still a little too weak to peek ahead at what he was going to say ] Well, as you can see, I’ve got a couple of children, and you haven’t even met all of them. And I take them under my protection and I train them, and it seems to me you want training. Now you’re not ready for field work but you can start with me and my team, and maybe do a couple visits with the Young Justice team when Tim heads over. I think I can help you, and give you a family, would that be something you want?” 

A family, you had one of those. And you knew the word brought you warmth, that had to be a good thing. “I think I’d like that a lot, but I’m kinda already with the Justice League ya know? Their personal magic 8 ball.” and Bruce shook his head. “They won’t be a problem for me, you’ll fit right in with my family” and you felt a smile spread over your face. “Then it’s a deal!” and you stuck out a hand, Bruce clasped it, pulling you in for another hug. 

“We’ll talk later about what this means logistically, but there’s someone really excited you’re here.” and Tim Drake came bursting through the door, holding cookies. “Welcome to the team Y/N! You don’t know Alfred yet but he made these! I’m so glad you’re here!” he was beaming with excitement. And blushing? “Hi Tim, I’m glad to be here!” you chirped. Bruce mumbled something about paperwork and left the room as Tim continued. “This is totally cool, if you want I can call Bart I think he’d totally want to meet you! Or, you and I could hangout just the two of us!” there was that blush again. “Yeah! Can I just sit and think for a minute before I catch up with you?” this was a decision you wanted to read into, it felt important. 

Tim left, and you sat back into the plush bed, diving into the future. And it was something you hadn’t seen you. There were two futures, still fuzzy from the infinite decisions to be made securing the future, but it was clear enough to see that it was your wedding day. Down one path you saw a beautiful wedding with someone you haven’t met yet, and you looked beyond happy. You heard yourself whisper “if only Tim were here to see this” wiping a tear away in the arms of your lover. Recoiling back you knew this future wouldn’t do, not at Tim’s expense. So you went towards the other. Same set up, but this time it was Tim that you were marrying, but the same tear slid down your cheek “if only Bart could be here” you recognized the name. Bart, the guy you’re supposed to be meeting. 

And you were stuck in the middle no matter what. Like yin and yang you couldn’t find a future where you didn’t end up in the arms of one at the other’s grave. Or worse, in the futures where you tried to pick them over yourself both lost their lives saving you. So how you do pick? Who gets to be your future and who has to perish to secure it?

“Y/N you ready yet?” Tim called from down stairs. It was years out, but you knew every decision you made from now on was one step closer to the loss of a hero. And there was nothing you could do about it. 

First Decision:

Get To Know Tim Drake First

Meet Bart Allen

 ~ I really hope you’re excited to make your own fic! The masterlist with the choices goes up with the actual start tomorrow! I can’t wait!!! ~

[ringmaster-jack]

Pass the Kerosene

[ An intermitted drabble elaborating on what occurred between Jack and his firebreather during the events in Early August.  It’s long as shit and it took me forever to write but I’m sick of looking at it so herE.  Preemptive apologies for all the god damn fire puns.  Also this drabble gets kinda dark and psychological-like so if you’re bothered by that kind of thing, warnings inbound. ] 

                                                        ♤ ♠ ♤ ♠

"What do you mean he's GONE?"

"I mean what I said.  He's gone.  He left."

The ringmaster clutched his face in his hands, a desperate and unyielding attempt to quell some of the disorganized jargon that threatened to spill from his lips.  It took him a few moments to collect his barrings enough to speak again without screaming, but even then, it was barely contained.  There was only so much one man could take over the course of a day, and there had been too many days like this over the passing months.  Chaos, change, danger and all that came with it; it was something Jack had more than accepted as a part of his life, long before he ever began his showmanship.  But everything was moving too fast, now.  Much too fast, and much too much of it, with repercussions he couldn’t even begin to unravel.  The way his brow tightened against the press of his roughened fingertips seemed to mark the coming of a nasty headache.

"What did you say to him.”

It took a hyper sense of focus, an ungodly shade of self-control for him to even manage one line to the woman in front of him without snapping like a territorial wolf.    

"What he needed to hear." Just one.

"...SERA.  What does that even MEAN?  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO.”

Even if the sturdy-shouldered firebreather had wanted to respond to him, he didn’t really allow her the time with which to do that before he began flapping his jaws again.  Never shutting up was one of the ringmaster’s most defining features.  It was why a lot of the crowds he drew in enjoyed him, though to this woman, it was his most aggravating trait.  He never listened. 

 For a time, she allowed him to continue his yammering, though she felt herself not far from her own tipping point. Jack was the only one who could insight such a very specific and special sort of rage in her that was otherwise left unexpressed to their fellow carnies.  Amber eyes narrowed gradually the more she listened to him blather on, locked to his frantic and emotive pacing.  

"This is...bad. This is really really bad, this is not good this is a damned--catastrophe-- he can't--he has no place else to go, Sera, ANYTHING could happen to him--ANYTHING could just-- what, what was it?  What did you say to him?  WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHY? What the fuck possessed you to think that sending HIM --of all people--out-- THERE-- He was hurt, he--"

"He wasn't in critical condition. And he left on his own. He's a grown man, Jack, he can take care of himself."

"NO, HE CAN'T. HE'S NOT...THERE. MENTALLY."

"Okay, so then you took advantage of someone with a serious psychological condition.  That’s what you did, you haven’t done anything to actually help him. That’s pretty horrible, Jack.  You, you are pretty horrible. Y’know? "

Miss Seraphina Lefevre was many things, but she had never been one to pussyfoot about when it came to matters such as this.  For at least 5 years now she’d known and followed this man, which was why it came as no surprise to her when he turned on a dime and launched himself into her personal bubble to thrust her to the nearest tent rafter.  The framing of the big tops always held considerably sturdier than any of the personal tents, but even they shook with the force of his motion.    

"Don't you dare put that shit on me, Sera.  It’s not like--" 

The ringmaster didn’t have time to finish speaking before he felt a pain strike him where he touched her, a scorching heat that left blisters on his hands.  He should have known by now to never even try with this woman; the fire witch hadn’t even the need to struggle in order to get him to back down with a startled shriek.  

She pushed herself away from the pole she’d been so rudely knocked against, arms folding as she approached the man who by now had gotten over the momentary shock of having the first layer of his palm skin burned off. 

She spoke before he could finish, contemptuous and lucid in her speech, despite her obvious irritations over his lazy threats of violence.  Some people feared this man, but she knew him for what he was.     

"What is it like, Jack? Because from where I'm standing, this isn’t exactly out of your usual routine.  Maybe you’re invested in it now, but you know as well as I do you’ll eventually lose interest.  You always do.  You can go on and lie to yourself, if you want to believe you actually have feelings for him, then fine.  But it’s not the truth.  If you actually cared about him then you’d realize all you were doing was using him and playing games with his head. Hurting him. Like you do with everyone.  All. the time."

The heat that radiated from her person felt like stepping into a sauna, but Jack refused to swallow his pride no matter how many steps she took towards him.  He was sweating now, but his expression refused to crack under the very literal heat.  He was a stubborn sort.

"Why are you such a fucking bitch to me--”

"No, Jack. You're going to listen."

With every breach of distance, the showman's posture would sink.  Even with disregard to her firepower, this woman stood at a respectable and athletic 6′2″-- she was no delicate flower, and Jack, although he’d been healthier than in previous months-- was still not much of a match by comparison.  Not without his toys, or some backup-- and she was supposed to be his backup.  

"I don't care how much you think you want him. You do this every single time. You fixate on one person or thing and drain it of everything it has until there’s nothing good left."

"I don’t--want him, Sera, I need him--it was different with him.  I don’t know how to explain it, it just...I’ve never felt this way before.  You don’t understand-- you don’t-- get it.”

"Oh, I don't?"

Though she’d stopped moving toward him, her words were no less harsh than the fire in her veins.  Perhaps even worse, to one such as the ringleader.

"4 years ago, Cayri. Do you remember that name? 3 weeks of courting and one pregnancy later and suddenly you're not interested. She's madly in love with you but you push her away to the point of emotionally crippling her despite the child you left in her belly.  3 years ago, Scout. How about him? You certainly loved to push him around, and he was ready to give you the world, but whatever happened to him? You think he just--disappeared, Jack? He's probably dead now, and you don't even care anymore.  Left to rot somewhere in the catacombs for centuries, I’m sure of it.  2 years ago, Alice. Dead from an overdose on stimulants that you provided her with. She’d never done anything like that in her life before she met you.  2 years ago, Rosalie-- a prostitute and an addict now in the red light district.  She was in school to become a teacher before she met you, Jack. A teacher.  1 year ago, Khai. You--"

"Stop, stop-- just-- stop it. I get it.  I get it, okay?  What do you want from me?  I can’t control the way I feel. I don't know what to do. You don’t know all the shit I have to deal with Sera. I'm doing the best I can."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH."

Ah, there it was.  Her breaking point. One could only listen to the crying, blithering bleats of a spindly, insane man-child for so long before losing their cool. She never really had that much ‘cool’ in her, anyway.  This was made abundantly clear by the flames that danced between her fingertips a mere inch or two from the man who spoke, exaggerating her gestures in the most intimidating of styles.  Jack ducked away from each movement she made-- she wasn’t making any conscious effort to injure him, not yet, anyhow, but he could still feel his unshaven chin hairs singe when she got too close.  

"I don’t CARE if you’re trying.  You need to be better.  You need to be a better PERSON.   Your mental disorders aren’t justification to be a horrible human being. You ruin everyone you come into contact with and you don't even CARE.  You can’t just keep doing this shit every other month and going on about your business like it’s okay.  It’s not fucking-- okay, Jack.  There are consequences.  Maybe not for you, but for everyone else who has the fucking misfortune of having to deal with you.  If you actually care about anyone then get your shit together."

Silence.

  The ringmaster heard nothing from her that hadn’t already been reeling around in his own mind-- and pretty often, in truth.  It didn’t make it hurt any less to hear it out loud.  Although his eyes followed the fire that swirled within her calloused hands, he gave no real reaction to it, now, unblinking and motionless.  There was a stillness that followed before his voice made its reappearance, indignant and soured.  He turned up the collar of his coat, a small expression of anxiety that he rolled into with a hefty side step, away from his second in command and her judging stare.

"...If that's really how you feel, then why don’t you just leave? Just.  Go. Get out.  Go ahead.  I don't need you."

"I can't.  I made a promise. Unlike some people, I actually keep my promises."

"And what promise is that, Sera?  To irritate me relentlessly until I develop high blood pressure and die of a heart attack at the age of 42?”

"This isn't funny Jack."

“No, it’s not.  You think I’m joking?  Leave.  I told you to go.  That wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand.  Good day to you, madam.  Au revoir.  You are dismissed.  Goodbye, I am tired of listening to your bullshit.  Do not pass go, do not collect 200 gold.  Make sure to leave your keys by the door.  Get the fuck out.”

This did not earn the look of shock or terror that the jackal had initially expected.  In fact, she actually laughed at what he’d had to say, and genuinely so.  It wasn’t because of the content in his words; though, and he knew that long before her merry sounds were quelled.  Even with the heat of her flames still twitching through the air, he felt his blood chill.

“Jackie...” the redhead began, her voice softened from its previous state of enmity.  Coming from her, that didn’t necessarily mean something good was inbound.  

“I do...at least 70% of your paperwork.  Most of the documents for all this?” She gestured around them, her fire leaving streaks of afterglow in the dim light of the tent. 

 “Most of this is in my name.  Just because you’re the poster boy doesn’t mean you’re the showrunner.  I got you here, not the other way around. This is my circus.”

Well... she had him there.  It was never something he’d actually thought about, though.  Ever.  In fact, it was such a distant concept in his brain that it almost felt as if he’d just learned it.  How was he supposed to come back from that?  He hated arguing with this woman.  He hated this woman, period.  

“Well...then...fine,” He was defeated.  He knew when to admit that.  But it didn’t mean the lanky showman was going to take his defeat lying down.  

Instead, he’d walk away from it entirely.  

“Then I’ll leave!  I don’t need this place.  And I especially don’t need you.  See how well this garbage runs without me, I’m gone.  I don’t have time for this.”

A dramatic exit was the goal, here, but yet again, the witch superseded that in an instant by way of magic.  Before the ringmaster could even get halfway to the door, he’d been cut off by a wave of fire-- if he hadn’t sucked in and allowed himself to stumble and fall back, it would have most certainly burned him.  The uncharacteristically high pitched shriek that came from his lungs would have been funny in other circumstances, but this wasn’t really that sort of moment.

 The fire that spread formed a ring around them, a cage of flame that suspended itself at a height that made it nigh impossible to take his leave.  He was more than just a bit upset, now.  He was pissed.

“No.” the fire witch exclaimed, her voice strong and unyielding.

“Sera, what the fuck?”

"Jack..."

Through the veil of flame, the fire dancer had coast towards the ringmaster, unscathed by the heat of her element.  She’d made a point to kneel down beside him, her hands to her knees to speak to the man as if he were a child. Jack rebound from his momentary startle and returned to a state of violent irritation in record time, his brow heavily knit in her direction. 

"Why am I here?" She asked of him.

"Well, presumably to make mon--can you please stop it with the fire?  My nuts are getting steam-cooked here, "

"No. Besides that."

"Because you enjoy making my life miserable?”

"Jack...”

“...Let me go, Sera, I swear to your gods...”

Seraphina didn’t seem to have any intention of dropping the firewall that surrounded them.  Even as the ringmaster tried to slip back on his rump, she stayed where she was -- it wasn’t like he could really go anywhere unless he wanted to burn.  The possibility of crossing the flaming barrier wasn’t completely out of his mind, though.  Especially when she began talking again. 

“She asked me to stay with you.  Tabitha. She asked me to keep an eye on you if anything happened to her.  To make sure you don’t get into trouble.  I’m basically your caretaker, Jack.  We’ve talked about this.”

“I can assure you we most certainly have not.”

“Three times.  I’ve discussed this with you three times, now.  You’re not...well, Jack.”

“No, but I’d be a whole lot fucking better if you stopped holding me hostage like some kind of fucking domestic terrorist.”

While his anger was mounting, the firebreather remained static, indifferent.  Jack had begun the task of pushing himself back up to his feet again, though with a brief curse beneath his breath when he used his scorched palms to do so.  He’d forgotten about that.  

 “I need to go, Sera, I need to-- I don’t have time for this, I have to-- find him, he could be--”

“He hates you.”

Although he’d begun pacing around the flickering heat that surrounded them to try and find a means of escape, the showman stopped in his tracks when she spoke again.  Of all the things she’d said to him, this was one he hadn’t anticipated.  He gawked at the woman with more confusion than antipathy, his forehead dripping with sweat.    

“...What?  What does that even mean?”

“He said he hates you, Jack.  The jester.”

“...You’re lying.”

“Do you really think he would have just left like that if I was making shit up?  I didn’t want to tell you that part, Jack, but you left me no other option.  You nearly got him killed.  The gods know what else you’ve done to sway him in the other direction, but he told me himself how he feels.  Not in...so many words, but-- just let it rest.  Persuing him won't get you anywhere.  You’re just going to make yourself even more miserable. It’s been a long day.  For everyone.  It’s time to give it up.”

Whether she was being honest or not, this new revelation was one that Jack hadn’t the mind to even begin contemplating.  He didn’t want to contemplate it, but he knew that the moment he actually had a second to relax, it would be the first and only thing he’d be able to ruminate on.  He felt a hollowness in his chest that crept into his belly like the sensation one felt when falling.  He didn’t like it.  Not one little bit.  

“...Okay.  Fine, just.  Whatever, I won't--I won’t go -- looking for him.  Please, just... take down your stupid firewall. I need to get out of here, Sera, I need to--”

“You need to calm down.”

“I AM CALM.” Hardly.  He inhaled sharply and shot her a glare that was even sharper.  Everything in him was tense.

“I have to feed Umbra.  Do you have any idea how much I’m trying to placate this absolute trainwreck of a situation that is my life without having a total and complete nervous breakdown?  Because frankly you’re doing nothing to help with negating that scenario, woman, so if we could just please please please continue this conversation later, I promise promise promise you, I won't-- leave, okay?  Scout’s honor.  But I need to fucking go.  Now.  He has to be fed before this gets any worse.”

“I’ll get him food.  You need to go rest.”

“You can’t give him what he needs, I--”

“I know, Jack.  I spoke to him.  He told me what you’ve been feeding him.”

“...You...spoke to him?”

“Yeah.  The night you got stabbed, actually.  I took him to a diner.  Bought him a milkshake and everything.  I know what he is, Jack.  It’s inconsequential.  You were supposed to stop--”

“I did--I did stop!  But I have to now, for him.  You don’t know what will happen if I don’t...”

“You don’t know either, Jack.”

She just wouldn’t let up, would she?  The fire still blazing around them, Jack pushed his fingers into his eyes-- not enough to really hurt, just enough to blackout his vision and show him stars.  He pinched the bridge of his nose after this, no longer even attempting to take his leave as he tried, tried to compose himself.  As was the case with most situations for the ringmaster, he knew that the only way he was likely to get out of this was to smooth talk his way to the end.  But he hadn’t felt this angry in a long, long time-- and when he opened his lips to try and convince her again, all that came out was a bitter, tired,

“I fucking--hate you.  I hate you so much.”

The firebreather had pushed herself back into a standing position, if only to keep on level grounds with the ringmaster.  She’d remained unphased by the lazy insults or Jack’s penchant for traipsing the tent floor, something that had started again, like a caged lion.  When she spoke, it was much calmer than it should have been.

“I think you need to go back to Zaun.”

He halted in his tracks, but only to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you need to be hospitalized again if this is how things are going to be with you. In the past half a year alone you’ve almost died at least 5 times, you’ve happily invited an assortment of demons and malevolent spirits into our place of work, endangering everyone in the process, you’ve murdered an unknown amount of innocent people to use as sacrificial fodder to a literal dark god-- do I need to go on?  Because I definitely can, you’ve also-- ”

“Shut up.” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper.

“You’ve made it crystal clear to me that you’re a danger to yourself and to others.  You need things that I’m not capable of providing.  With the record you have, getting you involuntarily committed is a non-issue, Jack.  But I’d really rather have your consent.  You need help.  Please recognize that.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!  They don’t help anyone there, Seraphina!  They make everything worse!  Exponentially!  Do you know what they did to me in there?  Do you have any fucking idea--”

“I’ve been given a basic summary of your history, yes.”

“Then you know it won't make anything better.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“NO.  NO I AM REALLY, REALLY NOT.”

Incapable of finding an exit within the ring of fire, he turned back to the flame dancer instead, her self-righteous attitude and confident stare doing nothing but fueling the anger that bubbled in his stomach.  He wanted to approach her, to scream in her face, or worse-- but he knew any attempt at fighting this woman would probably end poorly on his behalf.  Especially if what she said was the truth.  So he continued speaking, instead.  Aggressively and with a bit too many flippant hand gestures, but maybe she’d listen.

“2 years in that place was enough.  They kept me so doped up I could barely function-- I’m only just now remembering bits and pieces of it, Sera, but I don’t need to remember any of it to know the shit they do in there-- it’s not fucking good.  By ANY stretch of morality!” he exclaimed, to which the witch seemed apathetic.

“They don’t heal people there, Sera, it’s where you go when no one else will take you anymore.  They just lock us away with disregard to any kind of human dignity and throw away the key.  They do things that would never fly anywhere else in the world because nobody actually gives a fuck about people like me.  Do you understand where I’m going with this?  I don’t know what misguided garbage my sister funneled into your thick fucking skull, Seraphina, but I’ll tell you right now--her whim isn’t worth the trouble.”

“It’s absolutely worth the trouble.  I loved her, Jack.  And she loved me.  And regardless of what you think, I’m not your enemy.  You’re like family to me, now.  I just want what’s best for you.”

My gods, the emotional rollercoaster they’d been on over the course of the past 15 minutes was one for the history books.  Now, it was the ringmaster’s turn to laugh.  It was a cold sound that built up from a soft chuckle into a half-exhausted but deep-bellied cackle, one he made zero effort to hide.  It made the elemental hesitate; if only for a moment, shifting her weight to the opposite foot in discomfort.  When he looked at her again with a shimmer in his eye, that hesitation grew.

“Is that really what you think?  You think she actually loved you?  Oh, honey-- if that’s really what your whole life has been based around for the last 6 years, do I have some sad news for you--” 

She’d wanted to interrupt him before he spoke again, but she didn’t get the chance.  His body lethargic in the heat, Jack floundered his way in her direction-- though this time there was no intent to try and assail the witch.  His cruel smirk betrayed his intent.

“Tabi didn’t love anyone.  You think I’m bad?  At least I have the capacity to actually feel something.  I fucking hate it, but it’s a thing, no matter how much I try to ignore it, y’know?  Her, though-- all she ever cared about was power.  Progress, at any cost.  What she thought was progress, anyway. She’d do anything if it meant furthering her ‘career’.  She slept around a lot more than I ever did-- you were just one in a long, long list of others.  I really don’t think she wanted you to babysit me with my best interest at heart.  She never really did care what happened with me.” The bitterness that hung on those words was enough to crumble his facade of egotism, at least for a moment, before his speech would continue on, more somber than before.  Sera was left to her own rumination for those few protracted seconds.  

  “If you’re really telling me the truth-- if you really do care about me, then.  Prove it.  I made a promise to you, and I don’t intend to break it.  But I need.  To go.  And you need to trust me.  Please, Sera.  I’m begging you.”

The firebreather knew that Jack had a way with manipulating people in his favor, regardless as to whether he was in the right or not.  She was one of the few mortals who had lifted that veil and seen the ugliness beneath the surface.  She didn’t buy his bullshit, not for one minute-- but in the stillness of the evening, with only the sound of her embers crackling in a coil around them... she saw some sincerity left within this filthy but charming man she’d followed for half a decade.  Maybe it was something in the way his eyes gleamed with unshed tears, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion in his voice.  She didn’t know at that moment.  He’d hit her in places that were much more damaging than the scorch of any flame ever was.  Things weren’t adding up.  

“...Fine.”  

Jack let forth a triumphant but passive ‘woo!’ when the intense temperatures that surrounded him where uplifted in a flicker of hot ash.  He knew better than to bolt immediately, so he took a moment to wipe the sweat hanging from his skin with the sleeve of his jacket, and offer her his graciousness.  Of course, the almost sardonic tone to his voice belittled that sentiment, now that the danger had been extinguished.  

“Thanks, boss, you won't regret it, I--”

Well, maybe not extinguished, so much as... muted.  Temporarily.  

His words garbled by the sensation of the firebreather taking clutch to his throat, Jack’s own hands instinctively moved to try and grab her arm-- a poor choice, as it only reignited the sting on his palms.  Her grip was so rough that the tips of her ruby-polished nails left crescent brandings around his neck.  Speaking was nearly impossible when you had a fire witch strangling you, which had perhaps been her intention.

“But let me make one thing clear to you first.”

Her amber gaze left holes in the man’s skull.  Jack did his best to avoid eye contact, but the panic in his expression was undeniable.  

“You’re not a hard man to track down, Jack.” 

That was all she said.  Nothing more, nothing less. One cryptic line that would stick with him in the coming weeks, though the burns on his neck would fade in a matter of days.

It didn’t take the woman long to release him, giving him the freedom of speech again-- but it took Jack a moment to compose himself through the fit of dry hacking.  He managed to rasp out a passionless, 

“Okay,” 

to her statement, though nothing more came for a minute still. Fire mages were never any fun, and though it was in his nature to poke fun of her for her amusingly heated temperament, he toned it down.  For once in his life.  

“I’m... leaving now.  If you want to dance again later, you know where I’ll be.  Thanks.  I suppose.”  

It was an anticlimactic ending to an incredibly intense night, enunciated with wounded pride that he did his best to uplift long enough to carry out the door with him.  He was no gentleman, but Jack would still do the bare minimum to at least present some sort of dignity, whatever that meant in his mind. It was a fine note to end on, he pondered, as he knew somewhere in the back of his thoughts that this was far, far from over.  

The stench of paranoia lingered in the air beneath the saccharine smell of late summer.  It hung itself heavily on the evening breeze that kissed the showman’s wet skin when he stepped out of the big top.

[nekoabi]

On the Verge of a Heartbreak - Chapter 30

Now I’m really not sorry.

AU: School, Human Pairings: Moxiety, OC/OC Words: 3231 Warnings: Swearing, shouting. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: The group is told about Virgil’s situation and agree to the couple’s plan. They put in the extra effort to make it memorable. Well, it will certainly be a day they’ll never forget...

Patton knew that Virgil had a free period before lunch the next day and so made an effort to be the first out of his class in order to meet up with his boyfriend. He almost ran through the halls in order to grab his stuff before heading to their little hiding spot for lunch. When he rounded the corner, Patton immediately sat down in order to catch his breath. He went to smile at his boyfriend and catch his eyes but found that he was met with the side of Virgil’s face as he was curled up into himself.

With a soft smile, Patton lightly wrapped his arms around Virgil, causing the other boy to lean into his body, “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. I promise.” Patton whispered soothingly, rocking back and forth gently in order to comfort his anxious boyfriend.

Their friends slowly piled into the small space as the lunch period really began. They all did their best not to ask about what the couple wanted to talk with them about until all of them were gathered. All bets were off when Thomas finally appeared and took his seat.

“So, what the hell do you guys want? I was having a heart attack last night, worried fucking sick about you guys!” Ana said dramatically, throwing their hands all over the place.

Em grabbed their hands and held them in her lap, trying to stop her partner from causing any damage to anyone, “They really were. I don’t think we’ve fallen asleep while being on the phone since we first started dating until last night, we just wanted to make sure you two were okay. The message sounded really urgent…”

Patton could feel Virgil tensing in his arms. This was possibly his worst nightmare, knowing he influenced and panicked his close friends so much that they did something that was out of the ordinary. Before Patton could even attempt to say anything, Em started giggling and leaned against Ana.

“It was really nice though, so I think we should thank you guys.”

Virgil immediately flicked his head up to look between Em and Ana and Patton, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Patton smiled wide and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead when he next looked to him, causing the emo to blush and duck his head.

Patton asked them all to wait just a couple minutes longer because he didn’t want to have to talk about it twice with people. Just as everyone was begrudgingly agreeing, his phone began buzzing away in his pocket. He managed to wriggle it out and picked up the call as soon as he could.

“HI!” came Abigal’s loud voice ringing through the small speaker. Patton and Virgil both flinched as they were the ones closest to the sound, their ears beginning to ring a little. “Oh, oops, sorry…” The laughter of the other two that were present on the other end told Patton that everyone was finally able to hear him and so he launched into the explanation.

He talked about what Virgil’s parents had said about Logan and Roman’s university experiences, how that was negatively affecting everyone, how Virgil’s parents had decided the best thing was for them to move. Patton found that he had to pause his rambles as everyone had extreme reactions and opinions to the news, all of them clearly being upset that one of their friends was going to be taken far away from them.

With a little help from Em who was sat across from them and Asher on the other end of the phone, Patton was able to calm everyone down enough that he could begin to explain the idea that he and Virgil had brainstormed the night before. He told them the date that Virgil was leaving and that they wanted this to involve as many of them as possible.

On the other end of the phone, Asher mentioned how they would be back in town next week, while Abigal and Reggie realised they were only coming back a couple of days before Virgil was leaving. That narrowed down the timeframe they had significantly. Thankfully, everyone else was available the day before Virgil’s move, which was also perfect as it could be their send off at the same time.

“So, we’re going to be having it happen in this little park near our houses. It’s really nice and it’s away from everyone else, it’s almost always empty.” Patton mentioned.

There was a soft squeal from the phone in his hand, “Oh my gosh! This sounds like a cute little promise wedding! We should totally make it like a wedding ceremony!” Abigal gushed.

Everyone, especially Sophia and Em, were on board with this idea. They all began to throw out their ideas for how they could make it extra special and wedding-like. As they spoke, Virgil hid his face further and further into his boyfriend’s side, almost looking like he was trying to coax Patton’s body into absorbing him, so he could get out of there. Patton giggled and squeezed him tight for a second, causing Virgil to look up at him.

“It’ll be okay. It’s just us. The most important thing is that we’re doing this for us.” Patton reached down and slipped his fingers between Virgil’s in order to hold his hand comfortingly.

Virgil smiled softly, “I hate that you’re right with your sappy crap.”

“I didn’t hear that!” Patton threw his head to the side and comically pretended to not hear anything that Virgil said for the few seconds that followed, when the emo tried and failed to get Patton’s gaze to fall back onto himself. It only ended when Virgil moved out of Patton’s hold, grabbed his boyfriend’s face between his hands and turned it physically back to him.

“So rude.” Virgil said with a grin, his gaze exceedingly fond as he looked directly into Patton’s. The two shared a brief kiss that only broke because they suddenly heard a soft squeaky squeal.

All their friends were absolutely silent, each dealing with the incredibly adorable scene in their own ways. On the other end of the phone, however, none of their older friends were able to see what was going on and so Abigal felt she had every right to interrupt and ask what the heck was happening. It was explained to them all and she responded with a puking sound that was quietened almost immediately by Reggie’s comment of him ‘never having heard any complaints before’.

The rest of lunch continued with their friends on the phone and it was so wonderful for Patton. He felt like he could almost ignore the fact that he was going to lose his proximity to his boyfriend at home and could instead focus on how lucky he was to have had this wonderful experience with his close friends.

For two weeks in between that planning phase and the actual date of their ceremony, all of their group tried to hang out as much as humanly possible. Exams and last-minute revision got in the way for the first week, but eventually all the testing was over, and they had all the free time in the world to hang out. Each day, they crowded in someone’s home or nearby and just hung out, enjoying not only their last days together before Virgil moved away but also their last time of freedom as college and real adult life was creeping up on them fairly fast.

It only really became real on the day of their ceremony. They split into their initial friend groups and spent the whole day ‘getting them ready’. Abigal and Sophia were playing at being fully trainer hairdressers and makeup artists as they pretended to do Patton up for the ceremony, while Asher and Daniel were sat with Thomas, who’d been appointed to lead the whole thing. They were helping him memorise the script that a couple of the others had written for him to follow.

Across the street, Em was the one sorting Virgil’s make up while Reggie messed with his hair. Ana and Ayana were more than happy to just sit on his bed in the almost empty room, watching all of it happen from a distance.

“So, where’s this park you guys were talking about?” Ana asked, clearly bored.

“It’s at the end of the street. You probably passed it on your way here. It’s mostly covered by trees, so you wouldn’t know it’s there unless you’ve been there before.” Virgil explained. His nerves were rising as the afternoon rolled on. They were going to meet around 3pm at the park and he’d been specifically told to be there just before 3.

“It’ll be fine, Virgil. Just relax.” Em tried to sooth the anxious boy, checking his face one last time before putting away his makeup, “This is all for you and Patton. Just enjoy it.” There were noises of agreement from the rest of his attending friends. Virgil was going to try his best to not be nervous about it.

As they packed up and headed out of the house, Virgil told his friends to wait outside for him as he had to just let his parents know where he was going. He wandered through the empty home and into the kitchen, where his immediate family was still packing.

“Um, so… I’m going outside with some friends, I’ll be back soon. Is that okay?” Virgil shuffled, feeling a little bad at leaving his family right now.

His mom looked at him with a sad smile, “Of course, honey. Just be back before it gets too late.”

“Thanks, I will. We’re just going down to the park, so not too far.” Virgil said as he turned and headed to the front door. He was trying to remind himself to breathe slowly as they approached the end of the road and Virgil led the way into the small, enclosed park space. He stopped dead as soon as he got one foot past the iron gates.

Standing off to the side next to the trees was an archway that he’d never seen before. It was clearly made in a hurry as some of the original wood was showing through the white paint, but it still gave off the wedding vibe. The flower chains that were weaving through it and into the branches of the nearby trees only added to the aesthetic. Virgil almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He wanted to know who had done this but, before he could open his mouth to ask the question, he got his answer.

“Well, I guess she found the flowers then.” Reggie chuckled from his side. Reggie looked sideways at Virgil, directly addressing him, “Abigal wanted to make this special and ‘look good for the pictures’ so she and Ana made this last night. She lost the flowers this morning, but clearly, she found them.” Ana clicked their tongue and finger gunned when Virgil turned to look at them.

The stunned emo was almost dragged over to the arch and placed just in front of it, almost as if he was the groom at a wedding who was waiting for his partner to arrive. It was then that everything really clicked, and Virgil’s face turned bright red. He hadn’t expected them to go this hard.

Ayana stood at the end with a small basket in her hand and Virgil couldn’t help but notice her nervous energy. She was looking towards the gate as if she was looking for some kind of signal, but Virgil was still trying to let his brain catch up with him and so couldn’t quite think of what she might be trying to look for. Sure, they were waiting on Patton and the other half of their group, but that shouldn’t be something Ayana was specifically searching for. He found out her reasoning once the rest of their friends stepped into the park.

The youngest of them all walked over to the oncoming group of people and seemed to ask them something before she was put into the lead position. Despite the reservation and nerves that were showing clearly on her face, she began to sprinkle the ground with flower petals. This was yet another part of this that was clearly inspired by a wedding and Virgil was mortified, his face somehow turning an even brighter shade of red. He turned his gaze away, preferring to watch the branches of the trees sway in the breeze than what was clearly meant to be a wedding procession. It was only when his view was blocked by Thomas’ body walking past him and then Patton standing opposite that he finally stopped watching the surround nature.

Thomas perfectly fell into the role of minister, presiding over the ceremony as if he’d been doing these all of his life. He addressed everyone and followed the script perfectly.

Patton was clearly enjoying himself, if the wide, toothy grin he was constantly wearing was any indication. Virgil, meanwhile, was still trying to get over the embarrassment he felt over this whole thing being treated as a full-on wedding ceremony.

It got to the part where Virgil and Patton were to swap their promise gifts. They’d thought about it for a while and they decided to make bracelets for each other. Earlier in the week, they’d gone to a nearby craft store and picked out bead colours they wanted. Virgil went for his usual black and two shades of purple, while Patton naturally gravitated to the pastel blue, pink and yellow.

“Wait!” Patton had stopped Virgil as they were leaving the shop. He dragged the emo over to a nearby bench and dug around in his bag, opening the packets of beads. After a couple minutes of rummaging and more than a few beads running away from him, Patton held out one of each of the colours that Virgil had picked out, “We should swap some! So the bracelets have some of all the beads, a forever reminder in a forever promise!”

Virgil hadn’t admitted it out loud then, but it was a positively adorable idea and he just loved it. The idea that he and Patton would always hold something that was representative of their respective partner filled him with warmth and made him feel so utterly loved. He took the beads from Patton’s hand and then went about getting one of each of the colours he had in his own bag. Patton was cutely swinging his legs back and forth as he waited, the adorable action distracting Virgil just a little. Eventually, he held his three out for Patton to take.

In their hands at the ceremony were the finished bracelets. Patton was to go first. He grabbed a hold of Virgil’s left hand and started to slide the bracelet around his wrist, when a voice called out.

“Virgil? Are you still here?”

The boy in question sighed, the soft moment between them broken as Logan rounded the corner and entered the park. He caught sight of what was going on and seemed to have a moment of disbelief as he paused suddenly. After taking a second to catch himself, Logan headed over to them.

“What is going on here?” The firstborn Mortenson son was taking in everything he could see.

“It’s a Promise Ceremony!” Sophia responded, her hands on her hips as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world.

Logan looked down at her with a slightly alarmed expression, “A what?” He shook his head before he got an answer, “Doesn’t matter. Virgil, mom and dad need you back at the house as soon as possible. It looks like it’s going to rain. Finish up as soon as you can.” All of them turned their attention to the sky and could see the dark clouds rolling in fast above them. Patton pouted and was clearly a little upset at the change in weather. Logan then turned to head off back home but was stopped by Virgil calling his name.

“Logan, why don’t you stay here? It won’t be much longer…” Virgil asked. He wasn’t sure why he asked for his brother to stay. Normally, he’d love to have the space, but something was telling him to keep his brother close by.

Logan glanced around at all of his brother’s friends, slowly being persuaded by their hopeful faces. He sighed and went to stand next to Ayana at the end, “Fine.”

The ceremony continued. Virgil pulled the bracelet he made for Patton out and grabbed a hold of his hand, staring into his boyfriend’s eyes. He slid the beads over Patton’s wrist and squeezed the hand tight before letting them both fall between them, their fingers still gently interlaced and the beads around their wrists touching.

Thomas finished up the last of the script he’d been given before looking between the clearly love-struck couple in front of him. A spark of inspiration must have come to him as, out of the corner of Virgil’s eye, he perked up and addressed them both, “Now, you may kiss!”

Virgil’s head almost cracked as he turned his head sharply to look at Thomas with a concerned and embarrassed glare. He went to ask what the fuck Thomas thought he was doing but Patton’s gentle giggles and soft hands turning his head stopped him. It was only a brief moment that Virgil had to see Patton’s loving gaze and smile before his lips were pressed so lightly against his own. He practically melted against the other boy, kissing back as the world around him drained away, leaving them alone.

Off to the side, Abigal was watching the boys have their utterly precious moment. She had her arms wrapped around her own boyfriend’s, her fingers locked between his, which meant she was able to feel when he tensed up and hear when Reggie muttered something along the lines of “Oh shit…” in a tone that was really unfitting for the situation.

“Hey, what was that for!?” Abigal looked up, ready to berate him, but she stopped when she saw the fear in his eyes. “Babe, what’s wro…” She trailed off as she followed his gaze. Her heart stopped when she locked eyes with the ones across the small park, her panic rising to levels she hadn’t felt in years. Immediately, she darted forwards to try and warn the others, but a loud metallic crash had everyone’s attention before Abigal even had a chance.

Everyone’s eyes turned to see what had caused the sound, a shout also coming from the same place. “What the FUCK is THIS?!”

Ayana immediately ducked behind Em, who wrapped the young girl in her arms. Daniel looked about ready to bolt in the opposite direction, while Sophia and Ana both seemed to ready themselves for a fight. Asher straightened his back and grabbed a hold of Abigal’s free hand, providing her comfort while she shook. Reggie was a complete statue, unmoving as Logan walked past him to stand fully between the group and the oncoming figure. Virgil and Patton both stood frozen, their hands now tightly clasped. Patton was shaking, tears were rolling down his cheeks as he stared at the approaching face of his older brother that was contorted into an expression of pure rage.

Last Chapter —– Next Chapter

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[cjs-got-a-selfship]

Jasper/Page- pt.4/9

pt- 3

When Page’s eyes flickered open again, she felt significantly better than when she had fallen. It only took a moment to take in the strange environment of the circular book enclosed room. The rats stirred from the pile they had settled in at the crook of her legs as she sat up on the sofa. She recalled the events of the night before, and the brief discussion she had with Jasper before he went his own way. A slight chill ran down her spine as she thought about how strangely he’d behaved, even for a Kindred. Whatever the case, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome should he decide to emerge.

She coaxed the rats into her hood and pockets before surveying the room, suddenly aware that Jasper never told her the way out. There were three doors in the chamber--the one she’d come from that led back into the labyrinth, the door Jasper had gone out through, and a third that had not been opened. Not wanting to go back out through the labyrinth for fear of never getting out at all, Page decided that door was out. It would probably be a terrible idea to potentially follow Jasper into his room; rude, AND unwelcome. 

“Door number three it is…”

Page gathered her thoughts and made her way to the third door, careful not to be too loud. The door opened into another long corridor, but this one promisingly seemed to lead upwards in a slope. Before long, she found herself at a heavy metal door with an enormous rusted crank handle. For some, turning this handle may be damn near impossible, but for a Kindred such as herself, it was no big deal. The door pushed open to the cool night air of Griffith Park.

If she breathed, she would have released a sigh of relief. The night was warm, a small breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees above, the insects chirping out of sight. For a moment, Page simply stood there in the doorway, eyes closed, taking in the sounds and the smells of the night. A broad smile crept across her face, and a giggle escaped her. This was so surreal. What had happened last night? What was happening now? Was any of that real? It couldn’t have been. Or at least now, as per her word, it wasn’t. She shook her head, stepped out into the night, and closed the door behind her. Her hands found their way into her pockets, greeted by still groggy rats. She affectionately rubbed their little heads with her thumbs as she walked off to find a familiar landmark, subconsciously taking note of where the exit door was located.

“C’mon, gotta check on everyone else, and I gotta get something to eat before the night is over.”

Finding their way back out of Griffith Park, the group made it back to their own haven, greeted by dozens upon dozens of rats all clamoring to see their master and to catch up with their comrades after having been gone the whole night and day before. 24 hours may seem like a blip in the face of immortality, but the night before felt like it had lasted weeks in retrospect. Something about that place weighed on her consciousness, despite being over and done with. Try as she might she simply could not get it out of her head, but she pretended to anyway.

Most Kindred would find themselves amongst a coterie, or at least making contacts with others like them. But as was the nature of the Gangrel, Page usually did not. She knew other Kindred, sure, but rarely did she choose to make frequent contact with them. And this night was no exception. She knew herself well enough to know that speaking with another would simply tempt her to gossip, and likely go back on her oath. Plus, she needed the time to think. So as per usual, she roamed the streets of Los Angeles by herself--with the exception of her rats of course. For what remained of the night, she scoured for an opportune moment for her next meal. What she needed was a pick-me-up to get her mind off of the whole escapade, so naturally she made her way to her favorite spot for a meal, one of the local penny arcades. This one happened to be her favorite because it was the only one that somehow stayed open into the wee hours of the night. The perfect hunting grounds.

All Kindred had their own personal preferences and tastes when it came to feeding. Some preferred the taste of fear, lust, anger, the full range of emotions, surely everything appealed to someone. Some care less for emotional alterations to the taste but looked more for specific conditions: consent, sleep, adrenaline, etc. For Page, she looked for individuals in the midst of peak enjoyment, euphoria. That perfect state of mind when one was so enraptured in their task, in such a heightened state of joy and fulfillment, they hardly noticed a thing around them. She found this sort of state was most often and reliably found when people were engaged with games of almost any kind. Admittedly, this did sometimes make her hunts a bit longer than some others may be, but she enjoyed a hunt. Weaseling into groups of two or three, joining them for the night and making it her mission to find one to separate from the group. Challenge them to a game of DDR, Street Fighter, something, ANYTHING to get them alone. Her favorites were the rumble seat games that had an enclosed top, the type that were usually horror experiences. Fitting, and the perfect spot for a feed out of view of prying eyes that may put the Masquerade at risk.

Tonight was just like any other night in that regard. Arrived at the arcade to find a couple groups of friends wandering the neon lit floor, some visibly drunk. That took them off the menu, alcohol dulled the taste of the blood, like comparing cane sugar to something like Splenda. It mimicked the taste of the joy and excitement she was looking for, but it tasted artificial and off. Not the same. Luckily the smaller group, a group of three college age looking guys, appeared to have a sober member among them--likely the designated driver. Surely he could go without a pint or two, the night was young, he could recover. Target acquired, the hunt was on. She worked her way into the group easily enough, played a few games alongside them, snagged a co-op with one of the intoxicated ones. Not her target, but one must be subtle about these things, work their way up. Eventually she was able to work closer to the sober one with the use of some tactful flirting, convince him to a couple PVP games. Finally after a couple wins, and a few subtly thrown matches, she talked him into her favorite hooded horror experience. It was there that she took her fill, stopping just before he would be in any state that would leave him unfit to continue his night being in charge of his friends; more importantly, just before the Beast could take over and take his life.

He fell so easily into the trap why not finish it?

She let him return to his friends, certain he never even noticed her feed over the sights and the sounds of the game. If anything, it was probably the best experience the boy had ever had. Contrary to much pop cultural belief, a bite from true Kindred was one of the most pleasant experiences one could have. Or at the very least, it amplified the current state of both the one being bitten and the Kindred alike. So in this case, it was unlikely the boy would ever have another gaming experience that could compare to right there in the middle of the late night penny arcade. With any luck he’d come back again later in the hopes of replicating the night’s events. Leaving the arcade with a wink, she could hear the kid’s drunk compatriots playfully giving him flack for leaving them, and for possibly passing something up. As for Page, it was another successful hunt.

Despite all this, it didn’t take long before the labyrinth and Jasper came creeping back into her mind. For some time, she simply wandered the streets of LA aimlessly, contemplating the situation and the past events. Something just wasn’t right, she wanted to know what. Nothing about it made any sense.

One thought kept creeping back no matter how much she tried to suppress it: she had to go back. She had to speak with Jasper again, at the very least. That would be enough. It felt wrong to have all that happen and not go back to repay his hospitality at the very least. He quite literally spared her life. She found the way out on her own, but he didn’t have to allow her to leave. He could have sent her back out through the labyrinth, likely never to make it out again and starve to the Final Death in those twisted halls. He could have just sent her outside and left her to her own devices minutes before sunrise, likely to die that way. Hell he probably could have killed her personally right there for intruding on his territory without any expense to himself. He could have gotten away with it too. But he didn’t. She owed him her life.

She had to go back and see him again. She’d give it time, of course, wait a few nights and think of something she could do or bring that could pay him back. There was a lot of thinking to do.

Ducking into an alley, she signaled a few rats to gather. Two small grey/white speckled bodies emerged from the garbage and sat at attention in front of her.

Page knelt down whispering, “Go back to the pack, find the two stealthiest friends we got and send them to the service door in Griffith Park from earlier tonight. I want eyes on who goes in and out of there. No one can know they’re there. And I mean no one. Got it?”

Affirmative chitters.

“Good.”

pt- 5

[glassandmetalwings]

Wings plays BotW, Day Nineteen

Oh boy, quite the busy day today (mostly because I didn’t have the energy/mood to do anything else). You all are gonna be so proud of me!

Started off strong by accidentally stumbling upon a memory! Can’t complain there.

As promised, I started to explore Hyrule Castle (although first I had to wait for it to stop raining because I wanted to be able to see where I was going. I got in from the northwest, entering through the Docks via Cryonis and the Zora Armor. From there I made it as far as the Library before deciding not to take that path too far up, but I got a Great Flameblade for my efforts.

That intense moment when you walk out from somewhere and immediately have a Guardian’s laser honed on you, so you duck behind the wall, ready an Ancient Arrow, take a deep breath, and go back out. Heightened by Hyrule Castle’s music...it’s an amazing feeling.

Since I was there, I decided to look up where to find the Hylian Shield. I was basically one entrance off, so I went for it.

Hot spring under the castle!

I took on my first Stalnox! Honestly I did pretty good, minus the fact that I apparently couldn’t aim to save my life. But it worked out, so the Hylian Shield is now mine.

Link can balance on the rail cart tracks! I enjoy this fact way too much because it’s exactly what I would do.

It was only after leaving that I realized I didn’t look for the cookbook the guy asked about. With my luck it was in the Library.

After that, I started working on my backlog of side quests. Stuff happened in-between but what, exactly, is escaping me.

Started with Zora’s Domain stuff, specifically the Blue Hinox at Ralis Pond. Decided I might as well ride the adrenaline as long as possible. It proved to be a bit more challenging, getting in more than a few swipes at me and doing a lot of damage, but early on I burned off the guards on it’s leg with the Great Flameblade, allowing me to basically go to town.

Spent a long time looking for Mei, the wife that vanished during the downpour. Ended up going down the wrong river. Worth it though; found fun stuff, and even managed to follow my first Falling Star (I’ve gotten Star Fragments as rewards, but haven’t collected one myself)!

I’m so mad because I found one of Kass’ shrines and I know exactly how to do it but it’s proving challenging. It’s the ‘Crown of Bones’ one. Which is great because I was wandering that area vaguely wondering what it could be, and I stopped to take a picture of a Mountain Buck that looked like it had different antlers from what I’d seen (surprise! It didn’t), and after a moment I was like...’ooooh’. Except I couldn’t sneak up on a buck for the life of me. I managed to mount a soothe a doe, but no luck with the buck. Gave up for now.

Eventually had to look up where Mei was because I had a feeling I knew, but honestly that river flows into almost every other river in the game. I love that she’s so happy about her successful fishing when you find her that she doesn’t realize like two months have passed.

There was this one quest where I had to prove I was the Legendary Hero to a young woman, just by having the Master Sword. I remembered, and went to do that...and apparently I’m not her type. Then she got on my case about wasting time when I should be saving Hyrule.

Meanwhile Zelda is probably in the castle like...’Link you were so close’.

Ran through the desert in a sandstorm to get to the Leviathan Bones. Saw a Molduga from a distance. Made a mental note to avoid it.

The shrine by the last Great Fairy Fountain was fun...until the last part with lining up the wiring to unlock the cog. It was a solid minute before I noticed the big metal brick, several more minutes (and several falls into the water) before I realized the stone block could be separated, another solid minute to remember I could Stasis, and then another to actually make it work. So that was a thing.

Didn’t have the money to unlock the Fountain so it was snow bowling time! Even using the trick, I’m really hit or miss with that game, but I made my total Rupee count over 11k.

All four fairies are now unlocked! Now I just need to collect the stuff to upgrade everything. The only thing I could finish was a piece of the Climbing Set, and I still need to get the last piece from a Major Test of Strength.

It decided...it was time to take on a Molduga, for that one woman that needed the guts for medicine. Overall, it went pretty well. Save for when I was entering the zone, the Molduga wasn’t getting me, but I couldn’t figure out why I kept getting hurt. It was only after Mipha’s Grace activated that I realized I was still in the blast zone of my bombs. Great job Wings.

Worth it, though-she was so grateful. I stopped her on the way out of town and she asked my name, and while she admitted it sounded like more of a voe’s name than a vai’s, she asked if she could name her child(? I’m assuming that’s what ‘vehvi’ is, it sounds like ‘baby’) after me. Honestly I teared up a little.

Helped a little girl get her garden started. Stopped another Gerudo from littering. Captain Planet would be proud of me.

Couple of other small side quests. Sold my first horse, June, to that one guy who needed one. Figured she was gonna get sad staying in the stable all the time since I have Kelpie, Thunder, and Yarrow (and Tulip). Still a little heartbreaking.

I didn’t have to, but...I decided to go after another Molduga. Because my first impression about the quest to find Barta (again) was that I would have to fight another Molduga. When I got near that one I mentioned at the beginning, though, I noticed there wasn’t anything implying that. So I checked, found out where she was, then decided to fight it anyways.

The battle would have gone a lot better if an Electric Lizalfos didn’t decide to join in, shocking me an robbing me of my Great Thunderblade and my Hylian Shield. It was fun to see it getting attacked by the Molduga, but ultimately I struggled to keep luring it over to where I could fight it without being double-teamed. Rude.

Got Barta back to Gerudo Town, and with that finished up all the side quests for the Thunderhelm. Which...I thought there was one involving fetching ice? Because I was dreading that one. But I mean, Riju gave it to me, so...

That’s about it for today. Well, I say ‘that’s about it’ like four mini-bosses isn’t a big deal for someone like me. That’s a lot of progress, honestly. Potential goals for tomorrow (as usual I’m up for suggestions/hints/ideas):

Stock up on Hearty Durians again. I’m running low.

Basically grind Guardians and stuff until I can get the full Guardian gear set, because I would feel a lot better having that before I take on the Major Test of Strength shrines, one of which I really want to do to get the last piece of Climbing Gear.

I also want to do some of the stuff for horse gear. I have the Royal set and the Monster set, but I know there are at least two mini-games I can do to further deck Kelpie out.

Again, maybe the Labyrinth shrines?

I currently have seven active side quests, and I think I can get that down to...Maybe three? If I decide to look up the locations for the ‘Missing in Action’ quest I could get it down to two. One of the quests I plan to do means going back into the castle.

Gather materials for upgrading armor.

If I’m feeling brave, maybe fight a Lynel. It’s also about time I take on a Talus. I have almost no excuse now.

[aroacehogwarts]

could hufflepuff mod write about demiromantic pansexual trans boy lily and biromantic demisexual trans girl james raising harry together? (i'm not sure what james and lily would change their names to, but i think jamie would work for james!)

I’m glad people (or maybe just one of you =p ) are enjoying these types of stories!

(Trans people aren’t required to change their names, and if they do, it doesn’t have to be close to their deadname. I know that makes things easier in fandom so we know who is who but for the sake of representing this, I chose the name Noah for Lily, who I feel would like the softer qualities of both names, though in Rowling-verse, it’s pretty likely she would choose some sort of floral-inspired name for her middle name, like maybe Ash, Basil, Sage, or Rowan.)

~

Noah thought it all a little flowery and dramatic, but he truly did love Jamie, and what was wrong with indulging your significant other every now and then? With a flick of his wand, he finished conjuring the last of the flowers to decorate the Potter’s backyard. With a deep breath, he brushed his suit off, felt in the pocket to ensure the ring was there, and situated himself in the middle of the arrangement he’d conjured. In just a few minutes, Sirius, Remus, and Peter would all return to the Potter’s House, where Euphemia would insist on inviting them all in for some tea. Jamie would protest that they’d just gone out for food, but Peter would claim he was still hungry and Remus would shrug like ‘who can argue with your mum?’, then Sirius would drag them all in and flash Jamie a grin. Because the two were so close, the grin would give Jamie her first flutters that something was up. When Euphemia said it was such a nice night that they should gather in the backyard for tea, Jamie would know before she stepped outside what -

Noah smiled at his beloved. He was certain his hands were shaking.

Jamie shook her head and tried to back inside, but an excitable Sirius gave her a rough push towards Jamie. “N-now?” she asked, stumbling towards Noah.

Noah knelt to one knee, presenting the ring to Jaime. He did his best to block out Euphemia, Fleamont, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, and Alice (the last two of which had been hiding inside in waiting), gathered and grinning back near the house.

“You know better than anyone how rough a start we had, Jamie,” he started, the words tumbling out too low and fast to hide just how nervous he was, “but you should also know better than anyone else what we’ve been through and just how much I love you. I don’t know how long it will be, but I want to spend every last second of our life together. Will you marry me? Potter?”

And then, as if she’d been stuck in slow motion, Jamie rushed the rest of the way to him, bending to pull him up and kiss him, deeply, desperately. “Yeah, of course, No’! Dammit, put that ring on me now.”

Noah laughed as he slid the ring on Jamie’s finger as their friends and family came out to hug and celebrate with them.

.

Jamie had thought she was the only trans person at Hogwarts. What a silly thought that had been. In fifth year, everything began changing, and that’s when she bit the jinx and came out and moved into a dorm that seemed oddly lonely compared to where she’d slept her first few years.

In the week that followed her coming out (which was in true, spectacular Marauder’s style thanks to her amazing friends), Professor Flitwick gave her five points for good spellwork when she was distracted and goofing off in class, Professor McGonagall asked her to come to her office and treated her to some biscuits, no less than 17 students (spanning all four Houses, no less) thanked her or high fived her for “you know what you did”, and the student he’d been voraciously pursuing since first year offered his (hers at the time) hand and said “things have been quieting down between us for a while now. What do you say to officially starting offer?” It wasn’t until a year later that Noah came out and switched dorms, but that moment had meant everything to Jamie.

.

“That’s actually called asexuality,” Remus nonchalantly remarked, taking his third homemade chocolate chip cookie of the night.

“Hm?” Jamie distractedly asked, Noah’s legs in her lap as she played with his hair, simply adoring his new haircut.

“What you just described. Well, technically, asexual spectrum - and more specifically, demisexuality. You know. You only romanticaly liking Noah until long after you two became friends and started dating.”

“Wait, what?” Noah said, slapping Jamie’s hands away. He looked very intensely at Remus and Jamie took that as a sign to pay attention.

Remus sighed. “Was that a please-repeat-what-you-said-for-a-third-time-what?”

An annoyed look crossed Noah’s face and he pushed hard down on Jamie’s shoulder in order to stand. The movement was awkward thanks to the eight month old baby growing inside of him. “Remus,” he started, Jamie quickly shifting to help push her husband up to standing all the way, “I am super pregnant, which is making me incredibly uncomfortable. I’ve been holding what is probably my 50th pee of the day for the past half hour, trying to block out your loud-as-Merlin’s-balls-slapping-together cookie crunching, and my ankles are just throbbing. I am also getting more and more dysphoric by the day, so much so that I’m not sure how I’m going to survive another month of this, no matter how much I want this little one, and I was having what was the most intimate time with my partner since this pregnancy began and you and the other’s refused to let us have any time alone. So yeah, when I ask you to actually explain what you’ve barely hinted at twice, I am really asking you to explain.”

Jamie ducked her face below the couch to try and smother out the giggles. She actually heard Moony’s gulp as he set down the cookie and tried to placate Noah with a surrendering hand gesture. Face smoothed over, Jamie peeked up over the couch.

And that’s when Remus gave them a thorough and informative explanation on asexuality and the asexual spectrum. Noah finally took a break to pee, and when he returned, Remus finished by talking about aromanticism. Then, seemingly for good measure, offered to talk about other identities, such polysexual, polyromantic, and nonbinary identities.

Jamie thought that Remus could have shared this information with them much sooner. She immediately pegged herself as demisexual, finally clicking into place what her sexuality was. Not just bisexual but bi and demisexual. For once, she did her thinking quietly, as Noah murmured. “Demiromantic. Oooooh.”

“Hey!” Jamie said. “Does that make us demi buddies?”

Noah rolled his eyes, but laughed. “Demi multisexual buddies,” he smiled. Noah was pansexual. Seems like Remus’ lecture had done the best job of distracting Noah from his dysphoria yet, as her husband looked more comfortable - if he could be called comfortable at this point - than he had in months.

“Hey, how long’ve you been sitting on all that, Moony?” Noah had been the one to teach them (well, Remus, who had then shared it with the rest of the Marauders) about things like gay and bi and pan (Remus was bi while Sirius was gay, they’d eventually realized), so it was interesting now for Remus to be on the sharing side and Noah the learning side.

“Erm… a couple years now. A while after Noah helped me realize I was bi, I got curious. Were these muggle-only terms? Did we have our own terms that had been created? Were there other possibilities, other identities? How common have these been throughout history? So I started doing some research.”

Noah, who was closer to Remus than Jamie, swatted at him. “And you never shared? Rude,” he teased, though he was clearly exasperated. 

“Sorry.” Remus lifted his hand to his neck and rubbed at it. “Things, ah, happened… between us. And it… didn’t seem important after that.”

Oh, Jamie realized. Sirius using Remus and almost getting Severus killed. Yeah. That… had been a terrible year. Things still hadn’t exactly returned to normal, even now.

“You talking earlier. For some reason, it just made that pop back in my head.”

. 

“Harry,” Noah said, smiling down at his precious new baby, finally revealing his name choice to Jamie. They’d both decided to just pick their favorite names and decide which order they should go in after the baby was born. They didn’t do anything like pick a name for either a boy or girl. They just picked their favorites. Harry: a new name for a new member of their family.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder and looked down upon her child, unable to stop grinning. “James,” she revealed. 

Noah looked up at her, then smiled. A name of their past, which also served as a nod to Jamie’s parents. Both had semi-recently lost their parents (Noah’s hadn’t even seen their wedding), though Jamie more recently so and having a lot of trouble moving forward from it.

“Harry James,” Noah whispered.

“James Harry?” Jamie said, but she already knew.

“Harry James,” the new parents said in unison. Harry blinked. Their hearts absolutely melted in cuteness.

.

“Harry, please, go to sleep,” Jamie begged, rocking the babe for what seemed like hours now.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been rallying hard recently, especially against their little family and the poor Longbottom’s, now with a beautiful baby of their own. Just a couple weeks ago, Dumbledore himself had come to Jamie and Noah and insisted they and Harry were in grave danger and needed to hide. With Dumbledore and Sirius both pushing hard for them to hide and the desire to protect Harry overriding everything else, they’d agreed.

Harry was seemingly less than happy at the arrangement. Or maybe Jamie was projecting. 

She loved Noah with all her heart, and she didn’t even understand how her heart beat before Harry had been born, but being locked up inside their house without any of their friends and no news of the outside world was wearing on all of them.

.

Harry was cradled against Noah’s chest. For once, he was silent, as silent as the tears that rolled down Noah’s face. Jamie herself felt numb. She could be crying. She honestly didn’t know.

Moony looked like shit. Between even more scars thanks to Dumbledore’s work for him and the lack of sleep he’d gotten seemingly singlehandedly trying to organize Sirius’ trail, he was a complete wreck. Jamie’d never seen him look so bad, not even right after a full moon.

“Peter… Wormtail - he… betrayed us?” So much had happened so quickly. How could it have all gone down like this?

“Sirius put things together, realized Peter was going to betray you. Went after them. There was a big duel. Aurors are saying he’s dead, but… you know. Unregistered animagus. Sirius thinks - and I agree - that he’s in the wind.” Aurors had arrested him and tried sending him to jail as a Death Eater, but Remus and Dumbledore had apparently rallied hard last night, immediately after he was arrested, and at least managed to secure him a trial. Jamie hated to think what would have happened if He-Who-Had-Must-Not-Be-Named had gone after them instead of the Longbottom’s. Not just because that would mean their child had been murdered but because then Sirius would be the only one with the knowledge that Peter was the secret-keeper and he’d have no chance even with a trial. As it was, it was only thanks to Remus’ ingenious thought of letting them all communicate through objects charmed with the protean charm in case anything had gone bad that Jamie had known it was time to come out of hiding.

“Alice and Frank?” Noah’s voice cracked. Jamie had known Alice and talked with Frank a few times, but Alice and Noah had been really close, especially after what had happened with Severus.

Moony looked down and shook his head. “Dead,” he said, voice raspy and thin. “Killed protecting Neville.”

Noah shook his head and bent over Harry, kissing the top of his skull and dripping tears on his head.

“Neville?” Jamie asked. Remus had been slowly taking them through everything they’d missed since they’d gone in hiding. Jamie was exhausted and heartbroken. She didn’t want to ask but had to know.

“Scarred. But alive, somehow. I think Dumbledore said something about ancient magicks, but… I wasn’t really listening past Neville surviving and… and defeating Him.”

Jamie shook his head. Neville’s life as a miracle but a miracle she didn’t understand.

“Who-” Noah looked up again, “is he going to?” Jamie understood in that instant that Noah would volunteer them to adopt Neville if their family situation was like hers and Noah’s. And Jamie would absolutely go along with it.

“Grandmother, I believe.” Remus rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn.

“Here,” Jamie got up on instinct, her mother’s blood running through her veins. “When was the last time you slept? Borrow our bed. Trust me, we understand exhaustion. Get some sleep.”

Remus looked at Noah for confirmation, but he was done. He held Harry close and stared at the table. Jamie gently led her friend to bed. She had so many more questions, but then, didn’t they all?

.

“NOAH, NOOOAAAH!” Jamie screamed, too excited to control her volume, even though she knew it could scare Harry.

“What!?” Noah rushed into their living room, and Jamie felt bad for scaring him.

She danced, jumping from foot to foot, and pointed at Harry. “He’s walking; he’s walking!”

Indeed, on chubby legs, little Harry had pulled himself up on his legs and was toddling his fourth step towards his mum.

The worry immediately melted away from Noah’s face as he gracefully sank to his knees and held his arms out. Not to specifically reach for Harry, though that’s what it looked like. Feeling as though she was positively glowing, Jamie followed suit, bending down to the floor and holding her arms art. “That’s right, my little fawn, come to mommy!”

Giggles burst forth out of Harry as he sped up and fell into Jamie’s arms. Jamie laughed and picked him up, holding up towards the ceiling. “That was amazing, little fawn!”

Noah’s one arm snaked around Jamie’s waist as the other reached up to grab at Harry’s hand. He clutched Noah’s hand back, happily kicking his legs, glad to have made his parents happy.

“Sirius is going to kick himself for missing this!”

Noah kissed her cheek. “I bet winning that money from you and Remus will help him get over it, though.”

Jamie lowered Harry to her chest. “What?” she sputtered. “I don’t-”

Noah laughed and leaned towards Harry to kiss him on the cheek too. Harry clapped. “You think I don’t know when you bet on our son with your friends.” Noah shook his head and lightly slapped Jamie on the butt. “You should know me better than that by now, dear.”

Jamie laughed, relaxing. She kissed Harry’s forehead and was rewarded with more giggling and clapping. “Let’s see how far you can walk,” she said proudly, gently placing Harry back on the ground.

Noah returned to the other side of the room, lighting up. “Yes, that’s right. Can you walk all the way over here, Harry?”

.

Merlin, oh Merlin, it looked bad! “C’mere, Harry,” Noah said, heart pounding furiously. “Let me see.” His five year old son sobbed, big ol’ gator tears that, for once, Noah was frightened by. “Just let me see it, okay?”

“Ow, ow, oooow,” Harry cried, not lifting his hands from his knee, though even through the hands, Noah could see the blood.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jamie said, coming to a rest behind Harry instead of hovering over Noah. “Oh, I’m so sorry, just let dad have a look, okay.”

“Noo, hurts!” Harry hiccuped. 

“Here,” Noah said. “Breathe with me, Harry. Look, breathe in… Okay, out. When you breathe out, take your hands off, okay? It’ll help it not hurt.”

Jamie combed her fingers through her kid’s thick, wild hair, as wild as her own. “And when you let go, you can hold my hand and squeeze it as hard as you want, okay?”

Harry nodded, already sniffling.

“Breathe in… Ready? And out…” Noah gently lifted Harry’s hands from his knee. Jamie reached in, taking Harry’s small hands in her own. He immediately started squeezing tight, sucking in a breath of air through a wavering lip. Jamie kissed the top of his head.

Noah’s eyes crinkled and tightened. Nearly immediately after, Harry’s grip relaxed and he dropped Jamie’s hand to pull at his knee, eyes wide in amazement. Noah’s expression relaxed. “See, all better, right?”

“Mommy!” Harry said, already forgetting he was supposed to be appearing pathetic. With another wordless spell, Noah cleaned their son up, taking the blood of his - and Jamie’s - hands as well. After another moment’s inspection, Harry grew bored and stood up by putting his hands on the ground, sticking his butt in the air, and then straightening up. Jamie laughed.

Harry ran back to the toy broom he’d fallen off of only moments later. The floating spell had deactivated as soon as Harry had rolled off, and it started up again as Harry put his hand over it and the broom jumped into his hand. “Again, again! I wanna ride more!” He bounced on his feet, looking expectantly at Noah and Jamie, trying to decide who’d be most likely to let him back on the broom.

Noah shook his head but didn’t dissent. With a whoop, Jamie leaped up and went to help Harry back on the broom, though she did flick the hover down lower so if Harry fell again, it wouldn’t be from so high. When it was clear Harry had his balance back, Jamie went to stand by Noah. She gave her a friendly elbow. “Did you see that? He’s a natural,” she grinned.

“You mean he doesn’t know when to quit,” Noah deadpanned, but Jamie knew she wasn’t angry.

.

Of course they’d brought Harry to Diagon Alley before, but there was something special about bringing your kid to Diagon Alley to go shopping for their first year of school.

They’d gotten Harry’s robes, books, and wand (holly with dragon core, slightly springy). They’d run into Hagrid at Madam Malkin’s and had a friendly reunion, introducing Harry to the groundskeeper. The two had immediately hit it off. Hagrid, unfortunately, couldn’t spend much time chatting, as he’d gotten Dumbledore to convince Augusta Longbottom to let him pick up Neville’s supplies. Apparently Augusta didn’t let the boy out much in order to avoid all the attention he would draw. Hagrid promised Harry they’d see each other again soon, though, and hustled off to his next stop. 

The three of them were currently at Eeylops Owl Emporium waiting for Harry to pick out an owl before they finished up by celebrating at Florean’s, where Remus and Sirius were waiting for them. Usually so decisive and quick to form an opinion, this was the longest either Noah or Jamie could remember him putting hard thought into something. (Then again, he was 11, so that was allowed.) They’d started at Magical Menagerie, where Harry had spent most his time eyeing the various snakes. When they’d realized Harry was likely to go for one of them instead of an owl, as they’d intended, they’d gently pushed him towards Eeylops, saying they should be sure to get a good look around everywhere they could.

Harry had lingered for a while over a large, snowy owl, who’d hooted softly and nipped at him. He’d also spent some time with a young burrowing owl who seemed playful, almost playing a game of hide-and-seek with Harry, who’d laughed and poked a finger in the cage and had to be reminded that wasn’t okay here.

“He’s taking this rather seriously, isn’t he?” the amused clerk commented.

Noah grinned, and Jamie nodded, happy to make some smalltalk as she continued to watch Harry. So far, nothing seemed to have piqued his interest as much as the snakes. Jamie whispered as such to the clerk, trying not to be overheard by Harry who, she and Noah hoped might forget if he stared at the owls for long enough. The clerk coughed to cover up their laughter, then addressed Harry.

“You know, Harry, it can help to talk to them. Just introduce yourself. See which of them speak to you.”

In true, confident 11-year-old fashion, Harry waved her off with a hand. “Owls don’t talk like us.”

Noah pinched the top of his nose with his fingers. The clerk simply smiled. “No, they can’t speak to us like humans speak to each other. But if you take good care of your pet, it can become your familiar. That means forming a bond with it. Your familiar can understand you when no one else does, and you may find that you understand your familiar more than just as a pet. To be able to do that, though, you need to know that you can have good communication. If you say hi to one of these owls, and you don’t feel like it’s listening, then it may not be the pet or familiar for you. But if you feel like it could understand you, that’s a good sign.” The clerk’s eye twinkled.

Harry stared at the clerk, head tilted to the side, deep in thought. He looked over at Jamie, who nodded and smiled encouragingly. Finally, he looked at Noah, who had that serious look on his face that Harry knew meant something was somehow important to his dad. That broke it. Harry smiled and started babbling away to the owls. 

“Hi, owl! Hi, owl! Hi, owl!” he went around waving at several owls. “We have a cat, you know. Dad says owls and cats don’t always get along together. Do any of you feel brave enough to face our cat? I want someone who will be friends with my cat, can you do that?” Harry wandered through the cages, taking the clerk’s words to heart.

Noah looked over at the clerk, raising an eyebrow in question. The clerk winked. “Just wait,” she said. “Any minute now.”

When they looked back, Harry was standing in front of the cage of a gorgeous barred owl without a nameplate. “This one!” he said brightly, turning to them all. Jamie was sure her grin matched the one on Noah’s face. No snake for them today. That was good. To be honest, Jamie was the tiniest bit frightened of snakes. She was pretty sure Noah’s worries were more along the lines of feeding the thing, since snakes weren’t allowed at Hogwarts as pets.

An owl heavier, they finally headed off to Florean’s. All Harry’s supplies, except his wand, which Jamie made room for in her own wand holster, were stuffed in a bottomless bag, which they had Harry carrying across his back. Noah held the owl’s cage, promptly named Owlbert (which Jamie loved and knew Sirius and even Remus would get a kick out of, too), in one hand and Jamie’s hand in the other. Harry walked - nearly skipped - in front of them, leading the way.

Jamie squeezed Noah’s hand. “Calla’s pretty old. Think she’ll survive the shock of us bringing an owl into the house.”

“Don’t even joke. This owl better prepare itself.”

Jamie laughed and felt Noah’s thumb rub over the back of her hand. Noah loved that cat. Jamie wasn’t sure if they’d ever be able to get another cat again if Calla died.

.

“Aww,” Jamie said, leaning her head to rest on Noah’s shoulder as they read Harry’s letter together. “His first crush!”

“Maybe.” Harry’s own description was confused on how he was feeling. “Did we prepare him well enough?” Noah worried.

Jamie laughed. “For what?”

“I don’t know…” Noah lifted a hand to twirl it in the air a few times. “To understand how he’s feeling. I know it was a long time ago, Jamie, but do you remember how confused and lost you felt before you knew bi was a thing? Heck before you knew about demisexuality?”

Jamie immediately quieted. Honestly, she hadn’t remembered. It had been a long time. Were they really that old?

“Coming in!” Sirius bellowed from the fireplace, already inside. Jamie laughed, thankful for her friend breaking the awkward silence.

“In here!” Jamie shouted.

Two sets of footprints announced that Remus was with Sirius a moment before they entered the kitchen. “Wazzat?”

“Letter from Harry,” Noah said, handing it over. Harry loved and trusted his Uncles. They were basically extra parents to him. He knew and expected that all letters home would go to Moony and Padfoot, too - often left them special messages in his letters.

“Aww,” Remus smiled.

“His first crush,” Sirius finished. “How exciting. Third year, though. Does that seem sorta late to any of you?”

Noah shrugged. “Not to me.”

They all stared at the letter. Then Jamie laughed and clapped Noah on the back. “He might take after you, then, No’!”

Noah smiled and looked down, but Jamie saw the worry roiling underneath. She knew they’d spend the rest of the day crafting a letter back to Harry. None of them minded, though. Harry was pretty much the center of all their worlds. And with all the trouble he got into at school, this was a mild problem in comparison. One they could actually help solve.

When they’d finished crafting, they put their heads together and worked on modifying a howler to calmly and lovingly give their messages to Harry. He deserved to at least be able to hear their voices for this, if they couldn’t be there to answer his questions in person.

.

This was worse than the first time. The first time, they were scared for Harry, but they could fight for him. He was theirs to protect and look over. This time, Harry was nearly as old as they had been and facing He-Who-Had-Must-Not-Be-Named’s presence at Hogwarts since first year. He was old enough to make a choice, and he had. Right after they’d all returned from the mess of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour’s wedding. Although Ron and Harry were schoolmates and pals, Harry wasn’t a close enough friend of Ron’s to warrant an invite to his brother’s wedding. All Order members had basically become family of Molly and Arthur Weasley’s, though. The attack had come after the ceremony. Neville (who was closer with Ron than Harry), Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna had all disappeared as the attack started.

A terrified and ferocious Jamie and Noah had found an ashen-faced Harry sandwiched between Remus and Sirius, wand still held out in defense. They’d rushed to Harry’s side, checking for injuries. Remus quietly told them that Harry had done great, been holding his own before Remus and Sirius made it over to him. When they’d finally gotten him to talk, he’d only whispered, “Ginny”. Turns out, their son had been flirting with the youngest Weasley for the past year, and they’d been secretly toying with the idea of a relationship. Harry had seen it when her group had disapparated (or, more likely, Hermione apparated them all away - genius recognizes genius and the Marauders and Noah continued to be stunned by Harry’s stories of her successes, even secondhand told).

Even though returning to Hogwarts meant going to school under a Death Eater, Harry had stood proudly before the four of them and declared, “I don’t care. I’m going back. Other students won’t have a choice. Me and the others, we have to be there for them.”

Jamie steeled her heart and didn’t let her face react. She was sure Noah’s, Sirius’, and Remus’ were much the same. Proud and steely. Worried. Wishing they hadn’t raised such an independent, compassionate Gryffindor. Noah nodded, but it was Jamie who stood and wrapped Harry in a hug. “You give ‘em hell from the inside. Your dad and uncles and I will give them hell from out here.”

Harry gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. Slowly, Noah, Remus, and Sirius stood to join them. Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair. “Always stand up for yourself, Harry.”

It was Noah’s plea that broke the dam, though. “Come back to us, Harry.” His voice broke as he said it.

The night that they sent Harry back off to Hogwarts, the station full of tight-lipped, crying, gray-faced families, Noah and Jamie laid in bed, limbs completely entangled and periodically crying. They didn’t sleep a wink. They rose to Sirius lying awake on the couch and Remus starting coffee for them all. The house was oddly silent. Noah and Jamie, and likely Remus and Sirius as well, felt more resolved and determined than ever. It was time to finally see the end of this damn war.

.

The Battle of Hogwarts, like all battles, had its downtimes, in which time moved too slowly and things were too clear. During the action periods, everything moved too fast, but at least there was no time to wonder or see who all had died. Jamie and Noah had managed to stick by each other’s side, but they hadn’t seen Harry since the Order initially confronted Headmaster Severus. Sometime after that, Remus and Sirius had been assigned to protect different sides of the castle as them, as well.

When they knew Neville was marching off to the forest to die for them all, they did find Augusta and do what they could to be with her. She’d screamed, a harsh, broken sound, then broken down in tears that she staunchly ignored as she paced back and forth.

It wasn’t until the Battle was over and bodies were being dragged into the Great Hall that Jamie and Noah saw any of their family again. “Merlin, no,” Jamie had whispered, spotting him first, and dashed in between students and families and staff alike. Noah saw what she was headed to a second later and broke into a run after her.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall were carrying an all too familiar body. Minerva caught sight of Jamie and Noah headed toward’s them. Her stony expression fell for an instant, and she said something to Kingsley. They changed course and laid Remus Lupin on the ground.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jamie was saying as she skidded to a stop, kneeling before Remus’ body. Her hands ran over his face, his neck, his wrist, trying to somehow pass some of her life into him. Noah hovered over his wife, the fear clear on his face. Minerva put a hand on Noah’s shoulder, then Jamie’s, then left them. The tears had come, and Jamie couldn’t stop them. Noah looked frantically around him. Please, please don’t have let them all died.

From across the hall, Noah spotted Sirius’ iconic hair. Almost in slow motion, Sirius turned and made eye contact with Noah. He shook his head, at first unable to move, then walked stiffly towards them, as if forcing himself to come and see who had died. When he was close enough to ID Remus, he roared and fell to his knees where he was, still several feet away. The Hall was a place of grief and mourning for the moment. His roar of heartbreak had hardly been the first and no one bothered looking at him or telling him to shush. Unmoving, unable to join Jamie or Noah over one of his best pals, he looked up to Noah. “Harry,” he mouthed. A question. An order. Noah didn’t know, but he couldn’t look at Remus any longer. Hoping that Jamie would understand his plan, he turned and walked out of the hall. He had to find his child. He had to find Harry.

They all should have helped move and recover bodies, but none of them could. Noah walked past the Weasley’s, bent over the body of one of theirs, past Augusta practically smothering Neville as Luna, smothered by her own father, seemed to be working to get them both a little air. He walked past bodies of children who looked too young to have been allowed to stay and fight. He walked past the bodies of elves, only being grieved by other elves for the moment. He walked past groups of people working to move chunks of stone and make sure no one was underneath.

Noah walked what seemed the whole of Hogwarts, barely taking stock of its immense damage, unable to process all the death he passed. Finally, he stopped and turned to the portraits. Most in this hall were empty - many characters were running around the castle pointing out where they thought they’d seen bodies get buried, while others were simply visiting friends, mourning just the same as everyone else. An old wizard with a long, gray beard and a blue hat and a young woman in a pale, yellow dress were present, though.

“My son,” he tried, “my son, Harry Potter. Do you know him? Have you seen him?” The woman sadly shook her head no. Noah could no longer take it. He made his way back to the Great Hall, hoping Harry, still alive, would have made his way back there by now.

Noah passed Minerva on his way back into the Hall. She grabbed his arm. “Your son needs you,” she said, pointing him roughly outside the castle’s entrance. Noah didn’t bother to ask for details, simply rushed out of castle, desperate to see Harry alive.

There he was. Brown skin, black hair, taller than Noah by a couple inches now, breathing hard and staring up at the sky. Noah didn’t break stride. “Harry!” he called. Harry, face ashy and dirty and covered in blood and all tear-streaked, turned towards him. “Harry,” he said, enveloping his child in his arms. Alive. Harry was alive. Noah breathed in his scent, one head firmly on his back and the other over the back of his head as Harry fiercely returned his hug, bent down to fold into his dad.

“Uncle Moony is dead,” Harry said, voice muffled.

“I know, little fawn,” Noah said, “I know.” 

When Harry was able to straighten again, Noah asked if he’d been seen by his mom or Sirius. When he said no, Noah managed to convince him to come inside. Bringing his son to the body of his dead uncle felt like torture, but Jamie and Sirius needed to know Harry was alive, and Harry needed to hug them just as much as he’d needed to hug Noah.

.

“Any idea what Harry’s news is?” Sirius asked, in lieu of saying hello.

Noah shook his head. “Come on in, Sirius,” he teased. Harry was now 23. At this age, calling a meeting to talk to his parents couldn’t be that many things. Maybe he was sick with a serious illness or was announcing a surprise engagement to a secret partner or even was here to tell Jamie and Noah and Sirius they were too old to be living by themselves anymore. Though only 44, Noah felt much older than that. Had ever since the end of the war five years ago. Political and social recovery and improvement was a long, slow road.

“I’m betting he lost his temper, lost his job, and wants to move back in with us!” Jamie yelled from the living room.

“Jamie!” Noah admonished. 

Sirius laughed and stepped inside. “Yeah, have some faith in your kid, Leaps! I bet it’s a promotion.”

Noah rolled his eyes as he followed Sirius into the living room. Sirius and Jamie had long since stopped hiding their betting over Harry from Noah. “You’re just saying that because Jamie’s had to do with Harry’s job.”

Sirius shrugged. “So what do you think, then, if you’re so smart?”

Noah shrugged back. “I think Harry has a right to reveal what he wants to talk about himself.”

“No fun,” Jamie teased, sticking her tongue out.

“What’s no fun?” Harry’s head asked, appearing in the fireplace.

“You!” Jamie teased again. “Get in here, already.”

Harry’s laughter was cut short as his head pulled away and he appeared in a flash of green a moment later.

“Ten galleons,” Sirius whispered to Jamie, and they shook hands.

Harry rolled his bright green eyes, looking startlingly like Noah in that moment.

“So what’s the news, kiddo?” Jamie asked. Noah joined her and Sirius on the couch, giving Harry the stage.

He took a deep breath. “Well, mum, dad. I’m… like you. I finally figured out why I’ve felt… different all these years. I’m agender. I don’t really identify with any gender. I feel more like I… don’t have one. I’m also grayromantic. My romantic attraction is both really low and fluctuates. And… I think I might also be bi, but I’m not really positive yet.”

“Oh, Harry!” Jamie jumped up to hug him, planting a big kiss on his cheek as well.

“That’s not quite all. I, well, I kinda like being called your son, and I like the name Harry, but I want to start using they, them pronouns instead of he, him.”

“Of course, Harry!” Noah beamed, coming in to hug Jamie and Harry together.

“Proud of you, squirt,” Sirius said, coming in to hug Noah, Jamie, and Harry all together. “You know, we all know how hard coming out can be.”

“And how hard figuring out how you feel is,” Noah added.

“You know you’re my favorite kid, yeah?” Jamie asked.

Harry laughed, squirming out of the group hug. “Yeah, yeah,” they said. “So did you make lunch? I’m starving?”

Noah laughed as Jamie playfully shook their shoulder. “That’s my son!” she said. “Knows what’s most important. Of course we made lunch.”

Sirius’ stomach growled.

“Sometimes I think you all only show up here for the food,” Noah sniffed. Sirius grinned and threw an arm over his shoulder.

“Nah, the food’s just a bonus. I enjoy the company most of all.”

“Me too,” Harry said as Jamie copied Sirius and threw her arm over Harry’s shoulder.

“Well, I am just here for the food,” she said. “I can’t believe it took you two decades to figure it out.”

They all laughed. Jamie and Noah shared cooking duties, of course. Noah stuck an arm out behind him. Jamie and Harry both grabbed it and gave it a good squeeze.

“Thanks for being so chill about me being agender,” Harry said once they’d all sat down with full plates, “and grayro and possibly bi. Seamus and Dean finally got engaged and told their families. Dean’s family took it pretty well, if a bit stiffly, but I guess there was some name calling in the Finnigan household.”

Sirius, who was sitting closest to Harry, reached over to put a supportive hand on their shoulder. “We’d never treat you like that, our little fawn all grown up.”

“Never,” Noah and Jamie echoed. And they all meant it.

~Hufflepuff Mod

[epiphanyx7]

Personal rant:

A long time ago I read something about Stockholm syndrome. It’s not the DSM definition, just something that was being used to describe some kind of long-term abusive situation. I don’t remember the details, or where I heard it, or anything definitive about the memory itself. I just remember that someone, at some time, told me that Stockholm Syndrome existed because people will start to equate love with the absence of abuse. And this isn’t meant to be about Stockholm Syndrome specifically, but I remember at the time feeling that something in that explanation was profound. Love is not the absence of abuse, and it’s a problem if you start to confuse the two.

The thing is that I only sort of understood it at the time. I had learned as a teenager that it didn’t matter what I did, or how I acted. Abuse was an inevitability, and my behaviour didn’t effect it. If I was good, I would be lied to and manipulated and blamed for misbehaviour and told I was worthless, and I would be hit because my mother was angry. And if I was bad, those things would still happen but at least I could tell myself it was actually my fault, that I deserved it. And it was easy to fall into that trap, of thinking that I was in control because I made sure that when she abused me, it was because I’d done something terrible to arouse her anger.

And in the times between outbursts, I knew that the cycle was resetting and I’d be back where I started soon enough. I never thought she loved me during the times when she was nice and friendly, I knew it was a front she was using to manipulate the world around us. I never once believed she would love me, that she would care about me, or that she’d stop abusing me. I wanted it, of course I wanted it-- I was a kid, what kid doesn’t want their parents’ love? But I never expected to have it. I thought it wasn’t there, that she was incapable of loving anyone.

But for the longest time, I thought that my father loved me. I assumed it based on childhood memories of good times-- of when I was sick and he let me cuddle with him, of him letting me fall asleep on him in church, of the way he would intervene when my mother’s abuse crossed the line from emotional to physical. I remembered those things and thought they were love, because I genuinely couldn’t understand how any parent could not love their child.

But the thing is, it’s equally hard to understand how my dad could be the unfeeling, uncaring piece of shit he is -- the uncaring, soulless bastard he comports himself as-- if those memories are correct. I’m sure it’s possible for both sets of experiences to be equally valid, it’s just that it’s not probable.

The thing is, my father’s always been super... lazy, when it comes to putting in efforts for his actual relationships. Entitled and lazy, becuase while he does his work efficiently and is more than willing to go the extra mile for the things he cares about, it’s hard to believe that I’ve ever quallified as something he cares about.

When it comes down to relationships, he follows the path of least resistance. He was always more willing to give me his money than his time. I thought he was bad at communicating, that he genuinely didn’t know how else to be a father. But the thing is, after seeing him interact with his son, it’s hard to compare the relationship he has with his daughters and not feel like I’ve been cheated. He doesn’t care what I have to say. He asks how I am, but he doesn’t want to know about my problems. He wouldn’t let me live with him when I moved across the country (although, I am skeptical of the accuracy of that statement. Given that my sisters lied to get me here, I wouldn’t be surprised if they lied about asking him at all, even though I think I’m still giving him too much credit). I asked him to teach me to drive, and he offered to pay for driver’s ed instead. Sure, there’s no reason why I should see this as a slight, but it points to him not being willing to spend time in my company when he could just throw money at the problem instead.

The thing is, I have gotten so used to being gaslighted and manipulated by my family that I don’t even notice anymore when they’re being unreasonable, I can only notice my own feelings and reactions. So maybe I’m overreacting, but I have cPTSD so maybe I’m not.

I’ll put it like this:

I am looking back at my childhood and asking myself, “Is this love? Or is is the absence of abuse?” And the overwhelming majority of it is merely the absence of abuse. And it’s kind of shocking to me, now, because I had never questioned those happy childhood memories I had. I’d clung to them because they comforted me, but I can’t help but remember how controlling and unreasonable he was. And most of the church stuff was unreasonable even to the other people in the church! I can’t help but wonder-- was it because he actually believed in that garbage, or was it just a way of making sure his wife and children were isolated and completely under his thumb?

Because the real effect of all his ridiculous religious rules was: I didn’t have friends. I couldn’t have friends, because they’d want to watch movies or go bowling or eat meat, and I couldn’t because those things were “worldly” and thus the temptations of Satan. The only people who wouldn’t tempt me with the devil’s influences were other people from our church-- which was in another city, far away. People who I could only see once a week, and never socially because they lived too far away.

And when I finally did start going to public school -- (and the only reason that happened was because my mother was fed up with homeschooling) -- I was the kid who dressed weird, ate weird food, and wasn’t allowed to do literally anything at all because of a strange religion nobody had even heard of. How much of my ability to make friends was stunted because of my own issues, and how much because my parents kept me deliberately isolated from outside influences?

I know it’s probably not fair blame everything on them, it’s just hard to look at my own childhood and think “okay but was that real? Was that because they cared about me or because they were abusers?” especially when the overwhelming conclusion I’ve come to is that most of it was because they were abusers. My father didn’t abuse me, not because he was any less of an abuser than my mother was or because he loved me, but rather because I was too young to really understand the psychological conditioning he used to control my mother and sisters, and eventually because by the time I was old enough to actually be effected, my mother had gotten rid of him.

The weirdest thing is I knew that what he was doing was wrong. I knew that his controlling behaviour was bad, my sisters and I were good at ducking the rules and toeing the letter of the law if not the spirit. I remember at a young age, conspiring with my sisters to distract the parents so we could watch tv. We bribed our youngest sister to pretend to “fall” down the stairs because she was still learning to walk, and then while my parents were comforting her, we watched cartoons. We knew that we’d be in trouble if we were caught, but it was just... worth it to us. And there were lots of other things we did, things that we lied about and compared notes with other girls at our church in order to have ideas. We wore clear nailpolish and told our father that we used hairspray to make our nails shiny. We used clear mascara as well. We raced down the block to stop the ice cream truck in front of someone else’s house. I remember lying to  my parents and telling them that my older sister had a headache and had gone to bed, because I knew she snuck out to go to a party. We all did stuff like that and we thought it was normal, we thought it was what children were supposed to do.

And the thing is, as an adult now I know that children are people and that you couldn’t control their thoughts if you wanted to, and you shouldn’t want to anyways. I know it but it’s so hard to look at my own childhood and realize that a lot of the punishments we accrued were abuse. Who beats a child with a leather belt because they watched cartoons?

There are lots of incidents of abuse that were invisible to me up until now because my parents treated it like discipline. When it comes down to it, even though I knew what the punishment would be, I did the things anyways because the rules didn’t make sense to me. Who tells their child that they can’t watch TV? Ever, I mean, not just when they’re grounded. Who tells their children that they can’t watch Cinderella, because it “contains witchcraft, and witches are evil”? Who tells their children that the punishment for lying is being beaten with a leather belt, and that the punishment for illicit tv watching is being beaten with a leather belt, and the punishment for not doing your chores is being beaten with a leather belt, and the punishment for being disrespectful is being beaten with a leather belt, and that the punishment for --  for everything, for reading a book with supernatural elements, or talking back, or being rude, or being upset in public, or making a scene, or not memorizing a bible verse, or dressing inappropriately, or having a boyfriend, or really just anything at all -- is being beaten?

Because that was it. That was the only “punishment” my parents used to control our behaviour when we were little. Sure, the number of times we were hit varied for specific infractions, but it wasn’t like we knew ahead of time. Any time the rules were broken, we were beaten, and the rules were subject to change whether we knew it or not. Add to that the psychological abuse, the overly controlling and possessive behaviour, the fact that I know at least one time when my father choked my older sister almost to unconsciousness when she was only three years older than me (so she couldn’t have been more than 12 at the time) means that he was as bad as my mother was. Just, not to me. Not where I saw it.

And I knew, I knew when I read my mother’s journal that he had been controlling and abusive sexually. I knew that he had been horrible to her, but I didn’t much care because she decided to abuse me and my sisters instead of leaving him or killing him. So now I am looking at my childhood thinking, did he ever love me? Have I been making assumptions this whole time because I’ve confused a lack of abuse-- in this case, a lack of direct abuse that I recognized as abuse-- with love? And I can’t tell. I have no idea. I know, intellectually, that both my parents are at least emotionally invested enough in my physical well-being that they were both upset when I was hospitalized. My mother held my hand while I was in the ICU, my father apparently was pretty distraught. But then I remember --- brief flashes of understanding as a child, I remember seeing my sister burn his prized possession in the fireplace and having some idea that she’d be... safer if I was with her when he found out, safer because dad wasn’t going to abuse me. I knew he was dangerous, even back then. But my mom kicked him out before he was a danger to me and my younger sister, and then he was mostly just a voice on the phone, someone not paying child support or not paying enough, someone who was entirely absent.

And now I look at him and I can’t help but think, okay. There’s my father the rapist. There’s my father who abused my mother, who used to use a leather belt to beat children who were under the age of 10. That’s my dad.

And I have dealt with all the emotional fallout of my mother as abuser, but now I have the sudden realization that I have never dealt with my father as an abuser. I have all this pent up rage and frustration and helplessness, and I know it’s only coming out now because I’ve been in closer contact with him this past two months than I have been since he lived with us when I was a kid, but at the same time I never had the words or awareness to understand it. So now I’m just... hurt. I’m hurt because I know that nothing has changed, but it feels like something monumental has happened. In a moment I lost the loving father I thought I had, I lost all the happy memories from my childhood based around him, and instead I’m stuck in the world which is objectively the same, but subjectively feels different. Now I’m a person who was abused and neglected by both her parents instead of “just” one.

The thing is I always wanted to believe that someone in my family loved me. And maybe they do, I won’t argue because I’m aware that I’m terrible at recognizing affection from other people because of all the abuse and neglect in my childhood. I don’t see it when it’s there. But it’s so fucking difficult, because I’m so used to being neglected that whenever people try to care for me, I feel like it has to be an obligation or a duty. I feel like the person I appear to be to others is a mask I have to wear, and that I’m ‘tricking’ people into caring for me. And then I have some sort of imposter syndrome thing going on in my own life, where I get angry that people see the mask or care about the mask, I feel like the real me is getting shafted in that transaction, but I’m also constantly putting up barriers to people knowing the real me, because I have to keep everything secret and safe so it can’t be used to manipulate and hurt me. And what’s truly stupid is the fact that even though the mask is me, it’s my public face, but I still feel like people can’t care about the real me if they care about the public me, even though it’s all me! It’s all one person! I don’t have multiple personalities that I know of, so I shouldn’t be jealous of or resentful of my own damn self, and I shouldn’t be angry when people care about the parts of me that I choose to let them see. But I can’t stop.

Ugh. Mental health is so fucking hard.

</rant>

[clownsgobeepbeep]

Frustrating a Crackhead Clown(Pennywise x Reader)

You encounter Pennywise who doesn't faze you at all,so you casually insult him which enrages him before he plans on terrorizing you: failing every time.

Words: 1838

Warnings: Swearing, fighting with Bowers Gang(If you need me to add on, don't hesitate in telling me!)

  You were closing up the shop you worked in because your boss had decided to make you stay after hours while he went on home, on this very rainy day. You released a sigh as you put the extra key he gave you into your pocket and pulled your hoodie onto your head before turning and clutching onto your jacket, soon walking into the waterfall.

  The rain seemed to only increase by each passing second as you held onto your backpack and desperately fast walked through the sidewalks and eventually reached a bus stop in which you hid under to take a breath. It was quite obvious your boss wanted to avoid this, but you didn't see the problem with it considering how he owned  car that was parked five feet away from your work building. The mere thought made you roll your eyes before moving your legs again, taking it a bit faster this time since you could feel the water slightly puddling inside your boots.

  After a while of walking you reached into your pocket to grab your cellphone to check the time, then putting it back inside.

'Clack!'

  You turned and realized that your phone didn't exactly go into your pocket, but instead right into a puddle...right before it bounced with another clack as it neared a sewer drain. You felt your eyes widen before you dashed towards it and fell to your knees, stretching your arm out to grab it, failing as you saw it fall into the hole and make a few more sounds.

  Still on your hands and knees, you crawled over to the hole to peek and check if you could at least see the light of your electronic, but you instead were met with darkness and two hues of blue. Wait,blue?

"What the-"

"Hey there, Y/N!"

  The blue belonged to eyes that now stared right into you, accompanied by painted red lips with a buck tooth grin. You squinted when realizing that they all belonged to a clown that let out a giggle before lifting his gloved hand, with your phone in it.

"Looks like you dropped something, huh kitten?" he extended his arm closer to you, but you frowned which made him do the same. "Oh darling, there's no reason for you to be afraid of little ol Pen-"

"How the hell do you know my name? Actually, don't answer that. Who are you exactly?"

  You realized that one of his eyes had flashed what appeared to be a different color, other than blue before he spoke up with a cheeky grin: "Why, I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown! And I can see that you're in quite the hurry to get out of this awful rain, would you like an umbrella?"

"Look clown, just give me my damn phone and I'll be on my way."

"Aww don't be such a sour puss! Now come on and let-"

"Alright, I'm leaving, you can keep the phone. I don't even need it." Pennywise saw you get back on your feet before turning and walking away, making his 'brows' furrow angrily as he heard you purposely mutter out loudly "Crazy crackhead hobo clown."

  For a moment the clown stood still until he realized that you responded quite rudely and he wasn't going to let you walk away nor tolerate such behavior. The phone in his hand was easily crushed right before he allowed to pieces to fall down as he pouted and slithered away into his sewers with a new goal in mind.

  Pennywise was constantly hungry and grabbed whichever innocent child he could find and lure into his sewers, but during the past few days his mind could not wrap itself around that plan for the time being. He was so deep into thought about what it is would scare you, because he couldn't exactly sense what that was.

  Despite stalking you, and startling you in small shapes, and giving your nightmares...he couldn't scare you and it was eating him up with frustration, especially when he saw that you merely shrugged or laughed it all off as if some sort of joke.

  The clown had already tried scaring you with illusions of dead or evil children that followed you home. He tried sending fake swarms of wasps and deadly birds that attempted to pech at you. He even tried shifting into a much more monstrous form to scare you but all you did was chuckle and walk away as if nothing.

  Pennywise was beyond pissed. Although, he did find it intriguing that you weren't scared even with such threatening things and thought to himself that you most likely had no fear at all...which made this challenge of yours even greater.

  After a plethora of attempts, he decided that something a bit simpler would most likely suffice. He may have just been thinking too much into the situation. His solution: talk to Henry Bowers who'll obviously tell his idiotic gang to go after you; they'll scare you and possibly even scare you into the sewers where they weren't willing to go into of course leaving you all alone...and scared...with Pennywise.

  It was Friday and you were surprisingly allowed to leave work early, walking home as you noticed that at the same time students were let out of school. You smiled at the thought, remembering how you didn't have to go through that hell anymore, but just dealt with pretty worse things now which made you frown.

  Your mind remembered what had been happening during the past few days, possibly weeks; and you suspected that the crackhead clown may have been behind everything for some reason. Speaking of the clown...Pennywise...you wondered if that weirdo was watching right at this moment...

  As you stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street, you turned your head again to check once more if there were any approaching cars that would make you increase the pace. And your eyes did indeed land on a car, a blue one that was driving a bit too fast and showed no signs of slowing down nor stopping, so you turned to the front to run to the sidewalk in front.

  Soon enough you reached it before the car could collide or near you which made you let out a sigh of relief before turning with an angry fist in the air.

"Watch out next time, you assholes!" You realized it wasn't just an asshole, but it was four of them who all laughed with sinister smirks before the obvious leader got up from his seat. He hopped off the car followed by two of the others, leaving the driver in his seat as he turned away in a bit of worry that he for sure was not going to show.

"Hey Y/N, a pretty face like you shouldn't be saying such words." Bowers himself told you as Patrick and Victor stood behind him. "Anyways, how 'bout we go somewhere else with some more privacy, eh?"

"Fuck off Bowers, I could be your own god damn mother seeing how you're a shit ton younger than me." you sarcastically told him before turning to leave, but you felt his hand grab onto your arm tightly.

"You don't tell me what to do, because you ain't shit. Now get over here you-"

'Crack!'

  "Henry!" Victor approached the boy who held onto his now bloody nose, slightly making Patrick lick his lips as Henry grunted and shut his eyes in pain.

"You slut! Fucking get her!" Patrick didn't have to be told twice before he lunged at you intending to pull you towards him, but he instead felt you kick his chin before he collapsed with a yelp. He fell onto his face as Victor slightly felt a sense of fear soar through him, questioning how you took Patrick down with a single motion. He snapped out of it and left Henry who was replaced with Belch and soon had Victor thrown right at him, both falling onto the car's side.

 "How are these imbeciles not doing anything to her?" Pennywise asked himself as he tugged onto his fiery hair, sliding his hand down to his face and holding it in disappointment with hidden anger. He rubbed his forehead as he saw Victor and Belch get back up on their feet along with Patrick whose face was now red and smeared with a bit of blood. Henry sat inside the car, fiddling with his knife carefully watching and waiting to see if he would have to get out, despite his broken nose.

  Pennywise thought that it was quite entertaining, seeing you install the emotion the Bowers gang installed into everybody else. Patrick reached into his pockets to take out his lighter and can, instantly making other two back away as his fire lit up intensely. You instead ducked down and once you saw that the fire went out, let out a fist up Patrick's chin which made another crack sound.

  The clown who leaned on a not- so- far tree slightly grinned, finding it amusing and secretly cheering on for you, merely for enjoyment purposes of course.  He saw Patrick drop his things and fall to the ground who was soon helped up by Victor who was pushed away by him. Belch on the other hand merely shouted out a 'Hell no!' as he climbed back into his car, yelling at the others to get in as well to leave. But, he was stopped by Henry who jumped off despite the male's protests.

"Henry she's gonna beat the hell out of you!"

"Shut it Belch, I'm gonna teach her a god damn lesson for messing with us!" Pennywise glanced his eyes at you, awaiting your next move as you rolled your own. Bowers' knife was swung at you before you dodged his attack and when at his side, threw a final punch that made him drop down unconscious.

  Finally, you turned and ignored the others who hurriedly got out of the car to pick up Henery who only lay in the middle of the street. You continued your journey home, not minding that there were a few eyes on you.

  Before you could turn the corner, you craned your head to the side feeling a specific pair that felt off from the rest, and your eyes met up with familiar blue ones. Thinking about it, you realized that the owner of them maybe wasn't just an ordinary clown...of course not! He was a freaking crackhead hobo who was just trying to scare you,right? 

   You shook your head at the thought and turned the other way to go home, making him giggle to himself.

  Pennywise didn't know when, or how he would….but he knew that one way or another, he was going to scare the hell out of you. Although it was infuriating, he thought it would be a good idea to keep you around because you were quite the fascinating human.