#i said madame red was pro life

[greyslates]

rewatching black butler for the nostalgia in 2023

[tbehartoo]

Bursting Bubbles

My piece for @thedjwifizine that can be found here. It's full of great art and stories. Check it out!

...

Nino looked up into the scowling face of his favorite seatmate.

“Here you go, Bubbles,” she said as she thrust a mango bubble tea into his hand. “One special of the day from The Boba Bar.” Her other hand slapped a small card onto his sheet music. “And here’s your other three week’s worth of drinks.”

“Aw, Alya you didn’t have to do this,” he held up the card. “This,” he grinned as he took his first sip of the drink, “you definitely needed to do.”

“Well you won the bet fair and square,” Alya huffed as she plopped down into her seat. “You really could find a way to get a harpsichord to sound rockin' when you DJ’ed Kim’s house party.”

“Scoops, I’m surprised you could doubt me,” Nino held a hand to his heart. “It’s like you’ve forgotten that music is my life.” He grumbled toward the music piece he’d been assigned, “It’s not like I’ve spent nearly three grueling years learning this European centered musical theory or anything.” Looking at her smirk he added, “Or that I’d hardly be the first person to experiment with combining old instruments to new music.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Or old music to new instruments.”

The next week it was Nino placing a gift card on Alya’s notepad.

“Your payment for getting me those sources for my music history essay, m’lady,” he said as he bowed to her.

“Nino, what-” she asked as she looked at the card “-what is this?”

Nino felt his face warm up, but he sent a shy smile in her direction as he sat down. “You were saying, the other day, that it’s been forever since you had a mani-pedi, but that they weren’t in your budget at the moment so I figured I’d get one for you as thanks for saving my bacon. I didn’t have time to track down those translations of medieval manuscripts for that Music Development in the Dark Ages assignment, but you did it without my asking.” He grinned at her, “You really took some pressure off of me and I appreciate it.”

She looked at him, back at the card, and back at Nino.

“I don’t remember saying that,” she murmured.

“You were picking at your nails because the color was coming off and said that you’d need to see if Marinette was free for a girl’s night so you could get her to do your nails again,” he said as he started to root around in his bag.

“That was two- three weeks ago?” she said, thinking out loud. She looked at him, but he was obviously avoiding her gaze. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

His head tucked between his shoulders, a turtle pulling into its shell.

“It was easy to remember,” he said. “You had that sparkly red polish. It really drew in the eye. I remember thinking that you had the perfect hands for playing the piano right before you said it.” He quickly looked away again.

Alya was quiet for a moment before smiling up at him.

“That seems like a really nice compliment coming from a musician like yourself,” she reassured him. She looked back at the card. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this place.”

“It’s, uh, one of the local beautician schools,” he told her. “You were right about mani-pedis being a bit pricy, but my cousin is going there to learn to cut hair, and she said the girls in the nail class are crazy talented and eager to get someone not a relative to paint on, and it only costs about a fourth of what the pros charge.” He shrugged. “This way you can have like half a dozen manicures for the price of one.”

Alya lunged at him and caught him in a tight hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” she cried before releasing him. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Miss Cesaire, if you are quite done groping Mister Lahiffe I’d like to start the class,” the voice of Doctor Agreste cut through the lecture hall and every head snapped toward them.

Alya’s face was nearly as warm and red as his own.

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked as she pulled her arms back to her side.

“Now if we may?” the professor’s curt voice took control of the class.

“Groping,” Nino mumbled. “He calls one little hug groping.” He pulled out a composition that Madame Mendeleiev had assigned just that morning. “I’d like to show him groping.”

He was startled out of his grumbling when Alya whispered, “Me, too.”

Only three more weeks and I’m out of this class and I never have to see this man’s stupid face again, Nino thought to himself. At least after today it’s just student presentations before the final.

They had finally reached the Contemporary Era and the man was butchering even the easiest movements! And don’t get him started on the composers. He’d wasted over half the lecture trying to explain that Richard Wagner wasn’t really an antisemite, but that Nazi sympathizers, mainly Adolf himself, just liked his music so much and thought it expressed National Ideals perfectly! The man wasn’t even a composer in Contemporary times!

And that just served to take time away from some real pioneers of the era like Laura Anne Karpman whose music can be found literally anywhere. Or what about Meredith Monk who includes operas amongst her compositions, since Doctor Agreste seemed to be hung up over Wagner’s damn Ring Cycle. Of course he didn’t mention Yihan Chen the brilliant Chinese pianist and composer. And though the man would fawn and dote on child prodigies like Wolfgang Mozart all day, he wouldn’t give the time of day to “Bluejay” Greenberg who could hear several compositions in his head at the same time and then be able to write them with minimal correction.

Just, UGH!

Nino was done with this entitled little man and the racist ideology he’s attempting to spread about. He was certainly spreading something, but it smelled more like fertilizer than anything else to Nino’s mind.

He could tell that Alya was concerned about his agitation, he’d been clenching his pencil so hard he heard it crack, but he refused to look in her direction. She had a great talent for sniffing out these kinds of things and if he looked at her right now, he’d probably see his frustration reflected on her face and do something dumb- like start an uprising in the middle of class. He really couldn't afford to take this class again.

As soon as they were out the doors Alya started ranting about how it was obvious that Doctor Agreste didn’t even bother to check Wikipedia for sources. She made her opinion known that the good doctor didn’t like the era because more people were included in writing and performing it rather than just white, Western-European men who were either wealthy or had wealthy patrons. And stopped mid rant.

Nino looked at her and watched as Alya got an idea. By the look on her face it was a genius idea: an Evil and Genius idea if the cackle was anything to go by.

“Whatever you’re planning, I’m in,” he declared.

“I haven’t even told you my idea yet.”

“I can tell by your expression alone that it’s going to be the best idea ever,” he said with a smirk. “So want to let me in on our plan?”

She explained her idea and Nino’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, that man is going to regret crossing paths with us,” he chuckled. ��Can you come over tonight? I’ve got plenty of stuff we’d need for the music portion of the presentation.”

She shook her head. “I need at least one day to fact-check my notes and another to find accurate sources. Are you busy Saturday?”

Nino thought for a moment. “I’m free in the morning, but I have a wedding I’m playing for in the evening.”

“Okay that gives me a little more time for research.” She smiled up at him. “So, Saturday morning we’ll meet up to pull things together?”

Nino nodded in agreement.

“Great,” she said, “That’ll give us Sunday to type up the report and Monday to practice for our presentation on Tuesday.”

“Tell me the truth, Alya,” Nino looked at her, “Is this too much? Are we crazy to put together a spite presentation in one weekend? At the end of the semester?” He brushed a bit of her hair out of her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. “You already have so much to do for all your other classes. I don’t want this to be something that stresses you out or makes you do something that hurts you.”

Alya reached up and patted his cheek before replying.

“Nino this is going to be so much fun that I doubt I’ll even notice how much work it is,” she grinned at him fully. “I might pull an allnighter here or there, but I promise you that I’m taking care to not do too much. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think we could do it.”

He held her gaze for a moment then sighed.

“Okay, let’s ruin this man’s whole career.”

She laughed loud and pulled him toward the school’s cafe. Obviously this called for copious amounts of snacks and his precious bubble tea.

Tuesday dawned bright and clear. A perfect day to teach about the subtleties of Contemporary music while simultaneously displaying the ignorance and prejudice of the most hated music teacher on campus. Nino sipped at his Thai tea with coffee pudding as he contemplated Alya’s plan of attack. It was a nice simple plan, but it needed something. Seeing a familiar outline hurrying across campus brought a smile to his face. The final nail in Doctor Agreste’s coffin just made itself known. He hurried across the quad to see if he could catch up with Madame before she reached her office.

An hour later he stood at the podium inserting the thumb drive into the computer for the projector.

“Good morning everyone,” Alya began. “As you all know we’ve had to jump over and through many musical ages and movements. That meant we had to skim through a lot of really interesting information. Nino and I decided to do a little bit of music through the ages for the Contemporary Era for you all. Now, get ready to get funky!”

That was his cue. He started the Powerpoint and Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” began to blast from the room’s speakers while Elmer Fudd stabbed a spear into the ground singing, “Kill the wabbit! Kill the wabbit!”

“Welcome to Neoromanticism,” he called to those present.

The presentation went off without a hitch. Madame Mendeleiev had managed to slip in before their presentation and had stayed to the end of class. It was with great delight that Nino watched the Dean of the Music Department approach Doctor Agreste and congratulate him on the quality of his students’ final presentations. She even approached Alya and complemented her on the amount of research she’d done to be ready for the day. Then she turned to him.

“An adequate presentation, Nino,” she said with no trace of humor in her words. “Your compilation was a little heavy on the electronic music and light on the serialism, but I suppose that’s only to be expected with where your interests lie,” she paused, “and in light of the time constraints.”

He gulped and nodded his head. He knew she’d pick up on that.

“Please, send me a copy of your presentation at your earliest convenience.”

His eyes snapped up from the floor to meet hers. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight upturn to the corners of her mouth or not, so he chose not to comment on it.

“I think I might incorporate it into my opening lecture next semester,” she remarked so offhandedly that Nino was sure he was hearing things. “It’ll be an excellent introduction to modern music for the freshmen.” She nodded to him before moving off to catch professor Agreste on his way out the door.

Alya was grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating where she stood. He turned to her and had a fraction of a second to brace for impact as she’d thrown herself in his direction. Her arms were around his waist as she pulled him into a hug. He returned the hug with matching enthusiasm.

“We did so good!” she squealed.

He looked down into her grinning face and returned the smile.

“Hell yeah, we did,” he replied. “This calls for a celebration.” It was only then that he realized he still had his arms around her shoulders. Then again she was still holding on to him. He pulled back but kept hold of her hands. “I know you have another class in an hour, but do you want to go get boba to celebrate?”

She smirked up at him. “Only if you’ll let me treat you to dinner at Sabine’s tonight.” She looked to the side as she added, “And then we could go check out that concert in the park you mentioned yesterday.”

His mouth suddenly went dry. That sounded a lot like an actual date. Like a real date with this girl he knew he’d started crushing on some time this semester. What else could he do?

“Sounds great, but you have to let me bring pizza and dessert to our study date on Thursday night.”

Her laugh sent a tingle down his spine. “It’s a date!”

[yuzuriha-sayori]

Do I Make You Horny Baby?

A Hawks x Reader NSFW 

This (little) piece started off in our Hawks’ NSFW group chat where Hawks quotes Austin Powers 🥴

Word Count: 4390

Thank you to these sweet Birdies for pushing me into finishing this because...it’s been months since I started it. I literally wouldn’t have finished without you guys haha. @bluecookies02 @vixenpen @heyitswhiplash @musicisme196 @hawkschickenwings @the-magician-in-alice @himbokutokou @ryuukotakami @kusuouchiha if I’ve forgotten someone or someone wants to be removed from tags, please let me know~!

~*~*~*~*~*

Today was supposed to be like any normal day; just a short shopping trip to your local market to gather a few missing ingredients for dinner, and pick up a coffee on the way back. You hadn't expected it to come down after walking a few blocks back home. The once bright and crisp air outside quickly turned windy and wet. 

"Damn this rain." You muttered to yourself, clutching your paper bag of groceries and coffee to your chest as you jogged briskly back to your apartment. If you had enough common sense to check the weather forecast, you would have brought an umbrella. But with how hectic life had been lately, small things like these often slipped your mind, only becoming an issue when life decided to take a turn against you. 

Just as you made it to the last corner you had to take, the bottom of your now soggy bag gave way, spilling the contents of what was supposed to be for dinner. Your heart sunk immediately as you stood there with not enough time to react, looking equivalent to a dog caught in the rain. Though before your groceries could hit the sidewalk, a swarm of red overtakes your vision. 

"You should be more careful with your things kid." A rather honey deep voice caught your attention. Looking up, you locked eyes with the most handsome young man you'd probably ever seen in your young adult life. Crimson feathers that seemed to float in the air held the few contents of what was supposed to be for dinner. 

It felt like time had stopped as you stared into his sharp golden eyes, your lips parting in a forgotten "Oh". Out of all the people to see you as disheveled as you were today, the No. 2 Pro Hero, was the last one you expected. The young man's usually wind whipped hair was plastered all around his face, his large crimson wings doing very little to stop the heavy rain beating down on the two of you. 

"S-S-Sorry!" You managed to get out, breaking eye contact. Almost instantly you were able to gain your thoughts back as your brain scrambled to figure out what you were going to do with your items. Your flimsy paper bag was out of commission. 

The hero gave a small laugh, seeming to not mind the pouring rain, "It's alright. Just make sure you pay more attention to the weather before coming out. It's that time of year after all." You could only nod at the ground sheepishly, too embarrassed to make eye contact. 

"Were you headed home? I can help you carry these." The sudden proposal made your head shoot up almost immediately. Despite your hammering heart, you met his gaze and could see genuine sincerity. 

"It's not too much trouble? I couldn't possibly trouble someone that's usually so busy." You say, waving your free hand frantically. The other hand still clutched the coffee you were trying to save. You were very aware of how Hero work wasn't easy, nor did it ever stop. 

As if madam bad luck was trying to put in some overtime today, a large truck came speeding past, splashing murky ground water at you. Hawks, with his inhuman reactive agility, didn't hesitate to shield you from the splash while simultaneously pulling you into him. Your coffee slipped out of your hand and fell to the ground. 

"You have quite the bad luck, little bird." The rush of adrenaline that surged through your body was almost incomprehensible and it took a minute to register what had just happened. Too many seconds had gone by and he was still holding you close to his chest. As he spoke, you could hear how his chest vibrated low with each word. 

Quickly pulling yourself away, you nodded and laughed awkwardly while keeping your gaze to the ground, "It seems so." Your cheeks burned but you brushed it off as the result of how warm his body felt against your face. Sighing with defeat, you grabbed your now wasted coffee cup and tossed it into the trash can that was nearby. 

"Well, I don't think we could get any more soaked out here. Where to?" The blond said enthusiastically. You glanced up at him to see that despite the confident smile he had plastered on his face, he had to be absolutely miserable. He was drenched head to toe in muddy water and his large jacket sagged and clung to his frame. You imagined it was horribly heavy after absorbing so much water. His wings, a usual bright red, were now dark and slightly leaden in appearance. 

"Right!" You grabbed his hand and hurriedly tugged him around the corner, walking in the direction of your apartment. "I'm so sorry! We'll get you dried off at my place. It's just a bit farther down this street." 

"No need, I can dry off once I'm back to my agency." He quickly dismissed, his tone lighthearted. "By the way, I never asked for your name." 

"A-Ah, [l/n], [l/n] [f/n]..." You couldn't help the burn in your cheeks at his inquiry as you two walked up the stairs to your apartment door, stopping right outside it while you dug for your keys in your pockets. 

He repeated your name slowly and then chuckled, "It has a lovely ring to it." 

"Thank you!" You exclaimed rather loudly in surprise. "B-But uhm also, well, your agency is across town. You'll get sick staying in those clothes. I insist, please come in and dry off." 

Hawks, being the man that he was, couldn't hold in his little quip, "Trying to get me out of my clothes already?" Your keys, that you had just managed to pull out, fumbled right out of your hands and hit the ground. Whipping around in shock, you were met with a playfully disappointed look as he continued, "We just met, you haven't even taken me out to dinner first." 

"I-I-I didn't mean anything inappropriate I swear, I h-have honest intentions!" Your face flushed with embarrassment as you completely missed his teasing. 

"Pfft." The hearty laugh that left the crimson winged hero echoed as he picked your keys up and handed them to you. "I'm only joking kid, gotta stay positive on bad days." He flashed you a big smile. You didn't understand how despite looking like a complete mess, he could still smile in such a way. It made your heart skip as you turned away, finding the right key and unlocking your door. 

"You nearly made my heart explode, please don't tease me like that." Walking into the mud room, you slipped off your shoes and jacket, both soaked down to the fibers and slipped into your house slippers. Sighing in defeat, you turn to the young blond that followed you in. His feathers still held on to the few items you had purchased earlier. "Here, give me your jacket. I'll put it in the wash." 

"You don't have to do that." The hero said, waving his large gloved hands up simultaneously. Your lips turned into a pout. Quickly grabbing each item from his feathers, you darted off to your kitchen. You left him standing confused at the entrance as he watched you dart from one room to another. It was but a few moments later that you returned with a towel and house slippers. "Oh, thank you." 

"Now give me your jacket." Your hand was extended to him while doing the grab motion and your face said you weren't taking no for an answer. 

Hawks could only sigh and shake his head in defeat, a small smirk on his lips. "Fine fine, you win little bird." Shrugging out of his jacket, he looked you over. You were still dripping water all over the dark wooden floor. You quickly caught his concerned expression and waved him off. 

"This can be mopped up. We don't want you catching a cold. Worry about yourself okay?" You gave him a big smile and traded the towel and slippers for his jacket. It was indeed very heavy. "I'll toss this is the wash for you, if that's okay? It won't take long. In the meantime, you can use my shower. If you don't warm yourself up, you'll surely get sick." 

His mouth opened to protest against the shower but decided on focusing more on you, "Worry about myself? Big words for someone who isn't worried about their own self." 

You blink, confused at his words. "What do you mean? I'll shower after you of course. You're covered in dirty water." Turning to take his jacket to where the washer was, you froze when you felt his breath against your neck. 

"You should be more worried about inviting someone you just met into your home." His husky words spread like warm chocolate across the skin of your neck and you jump a few inches forward before almost snapping your head around with how fast it spun around. 

Hawks was bent over to your height as he slipped off one boot with one hand, the other holding onto the frame of the wall. You realized he'd sounded so close with how low he was bent over. A closer inspection and you noticed just how well toned he was, his compression shirt clung tightly to his lean muscles. 

Your mind raced with a plethora of absolutely perverse thoughts. You were still a young adult after all. Oh how those muscles would feel under your fingers. The image of them tightening, his breath getting caught in his throat, as you trailed feather light touches down to his-- 

"Yo." 

His voice suddenly broke you from your hungry stare, jumping out of your skin in reaction. Hawks' fierce golden eyes stared into yours, a thick eyebrow cocked up in a questioning manner. His lips were pressed in a straight line but you swore the corners twitched upwards. Heat began creeping up your neck at an alarming rate and you whipped back around. 

"Bathroom is on the right. Leave the wet ones in the basket!" You said in a hurry, scurrying off to the laundry room. Any second longer and he'd have seen just how red your face turned, the heat reaching all the way up to your ears. You dropped the jacket into the washer and leaned over it, holding onto both sides as you took deep breaths for what felt like forever. The sound of the shower turning on brought you back to reality. 

After calming yourself, you made your way to the bedroom, rifling through all your clothes to find something he might fit. 'He probably gets that a lot. He is an attractive man.' You told yourself. Finally you found a pair of decent sweats you rarely ever wore that he could possibly fit into, and a large plain black tee. "These should do~." 

Nervously making your way to the bathroom, you saw he had indeed left his wet clothes in one of the baskets by the door. Swapping the wet ones for the clean pair of clothes, you also pulled down another fresh towel from the linens closet nearby and placed it in another basket for him. 

'Calm down, it's no big deal.' Oh but it was though. The No. 2 hero was currently using your shower, and more than likely your body wash, to clean himself. 'Holy fuck. My heart, please...' There was nothing more embarrassing than getting caught staring at someone with dirty intentions. 

It took much willpower to not want to take a peek at what kind of underwear the pro hero wore. You mentally screamed at yourself as you dumped the contents into the washer and started it, setting the basket down next to it. 'Dear lord please forgive me.' You sighed, dragging your hand down your face, 'I am an unholy human being.' 

"Ah shit!" A sudden realization hit that dinner wasn't prepped. You quickly darted to your kitchen. The items you grabbed, previously forgotten on your counter, were for your crockpot. Something easy to forget since you were always so busy. As you began preparing everything for dinner and tossing them in the pot, you started to hear something coming from the bathroom. 

It took a second to register, occasionally mistaking what you heard, but eventually you tuned in and were pretty sure you weren't mistaken. The pro hero was singing in the shower. It was soft whistles that almost sounded like chirping. "Pfft," you couldn't help let the small laugh escape, thinking it was absolutely adorable. 

Food prepped and crock pot set on high for 3 hours, you got to work mopping up your floors. It didn't take long considering there wasn't much floor space to worry about. Hawks continued to sing throughout your quick work and only stopped shortly before the shower cut off. You were already finished and had water on the stove when you could hear him approaching. 

"Something smells good." You could hear his quickly becoming addictive voice roll over you as he walked into the shared kitchen/living room arrangement, hips resting against the small wooden table you had. You turned, tea cup in hand when you caught the sight before your eyes.

His beautiful golden hair was still damp, tufts of it fell over his forehead and partially his eyes as he rubbed the back of his head with the towel around his neck. He looked otherworldly with how beautiful he was. Your eyes darted their way down his frame to see how your clothes fit on him. The black tee fit him fine but your eyes stopped abruptly at the sweats. You almost dropped your jaw. They were just a tad bit too small. Hugging his hips fine but didn't leave too much room for...for what he carried between his legs. 

"Ah, you're still wet. You didn't at least dry off?" You couldn't even hear him speaking to you as your head was filled with the dial up sound. You even missed his smirk and light exhale as he stepped towards you and wrapped the towel he had used to dry his hair around your shoulders.  

His actions were quick to snap you out of the stupor you were in and the tea cup slipped from your fingers. "You really have a knack for dropping stuff don't you?" In almost an instant, a red feather grabbed the almost shattered cup and dropped it into your hand.

"T-T-Tea?" Was all you were able to get out as you looked at the man sheepishly. He returned your bewildered expression with a smirk, pointing to the shower. 

"I think you should go warm yourself up before you get sick, kid. I should be taking my leave soon." Just as he finished speaking, a ding came from the laundry room. 

"Oh that's your clothes! They should be done washing. I'll move them over. Tea while you wait?" You returned his smile sheepishly. 

Hawks could only sigh with a smile and fold his arms across his chest, "Alright, but you should shower first. I’ll wait here." Scooting the wooden chair out from under the table, he plopped himself down and got comfortable. “I hope this tea is good, and if I have time, maybe I can get to try whatever you’re cooking? It smells like chicken.”

You nodded to him and spoke rather quickly, “Yes it is chicken! I will be right back!,” and dashed off to switch the hero’s clothes over. He eyed you as you again darted across your apartment just a minute later to where he had come from, assuming that that was the direction of where your room was as well. Not that he was paying attention or committing it to memory or anything.

You had planned to take a quick shower but your embarrassment kept you in there longer than you expected. There was something embarrassing about the fact you were naked under the same room with Hawks. As always, your brain started rapid firing off inappropriate thoughts, imagining the pro hero walking in on you. Maybe liking what he was seeing and offering to wash you himself. Washing you with himself, rubbing his thick veiny-- ‘Seriously? A hentai trope? I have got to get it together.” You told yourself while finishing up hurriedly and ignoring the arousal you were feeling in between your legs. If you stayed in there any longer under the heat, you were sure to faint. The last thing you needed was Hawks rescuing you from falling only to find you stark naked. Goddammit it here we go again.

Doing your best not to take up too much of his time, you were soon to join him, wearing sweats much like his, but these fit your frame. You made a mental note to apologise for assuming the ones you found would have fit him. ‘I don’t think he noticed now did he?’

“I’m sorry if I took so long,” You told him, turning the eye on for the pot of water you had previously placed there. You reached up to grab another tea cup to join the one you had earlier and glanced over at the cooker. The food was to be done soon. You were quite surprised how almost 3 hours had already gone by.

“You’re fine, kid. Say, what are you cooking? Besides it being, you know, chicken. Is that garlic?” 

You turned to nod at him with a small smile. “Honey garlic chicken. I’m preparing it with rice if that’s fine with you?”

“Ha, you’re cleaning my clothes, you offered your shower to me, and you’re letting me join you for dinner. I’ll take whatever you give me sweetheart.” There was something about the way he said the last sentence that made it stick in the air thicker than the honey in your chicken. His eyes never broke from yours.

You were the one to break the gaze, nervousness taking over. “Almost forgot the rice haha oops!” You stuttered, clambering around getting your rice washed and into the rice cooker. The loud whistle of your water boiling in the pot nearly made you faint and you rushed to grab it off the stove, though Hawks beat you to it. He opted to get up and do it himself rather than using his feathers; his feathers and heat didn’t quite get along. 

“O-Oh thank you!” You stammer, taking note of how close he was to you. His gaze on you was like the warm air of summer, hot and clingy. The lack of control over your own eyes caused you to catch sight of his quite prominent dick print in the sweats he wore. Your breath caught and you whipped back around to finish pouring your cups of tea. You could feel heat pooling between your legs and you couldn’t help but press them together. The image of just how thick he was continued to burn in your head. 

Just as you sat the steaming pot of water back onto the stove, he moved in even closer. Every hair on your body stood up with the goosebumps forming. The air, swirling with so much sexual tension, could cut through anything faster than his feathers. Hawks was by no means a fool, and could tell how easily such small actions from him made your body quiver.

“Do I excite you?” You jumped and tried to turn around. You hadn’t known how close he was to you which caused your ass to graze against his semi hard cock. A whisper of a moan escaped his lips, “Easy there baby bird, didn’t I say dinner came first?” 

With half your body turned to him, the feeling of time stopping between the two of you for the second time today arose. Your heart thrummed in your ears as you locked eyes with the man that seemed to be sculpted right from God’s hands. 

“See, when I ask you a question, I expect an answer.” You could only nod, the function of your lungs seeming to fail at that moment. “Now I’ll ask again,” He leaned down, lips just barely ghosting over your own before he spoke again, so dangerously low that it shot electricity right between your legs, “Do I make you horny, baby?”

Before the struggling ‘Yes’ was able to escape your lips, the sound of not only the cooker, but the dryer went off. You wanted to groan in frustration but Hawks caught on quite too fast and put his arms on either side of you, flat on the counter top. His heated gaze meant he wasn’t leaving without an answer. 

“Y-Yes.” You whispered to him. The unholy growl that left him made you shake with arousal before his lips crashed against yours. One of his hands slipped down to roughly grab your waist and press you into him as he rocked his hips forwards. “F-Fuck.” You managed to choke out. 

Slipping his hand into your pants, his skilled hands and long fingers made work of you like you were a violin. The whines and moans escaping you only spurred him on as he grinded himself against you and made you melt into him. “You are quite easy to read, you know that?”

You shook your head frantically, rocking into his hand as he wound that rubber band in your gut so tight. You wanted to tell him dinner was ready, that you two should eat but you dared not to have him stop what he was doing. His now completely erect cock sprung free as he slipped his pants down. “Do you want this?” He groaned against your neck, “Do you want me to put it inside? Stretch that tight little hole of yours?”

“Yes! Please oh yes! I want it!” You cried out, wanting nothing more than him to fill you up with that deliciously thick cock you’d been eyeing all evening. He was more than willing to oblige as he pressed down on your back with his free hand so your chest rested on the counter. You reached down to slide and shake your pants down and stepped out of them. A knee came between your legs to nudge them apart and you soon felt something prod against your entrance. It felt hot and slick as he rubbed the tip of his member against you. “Take a deep breath,” was all he said before he spread your hole wide open with his cock, sliding all in with one deep thrust.

The air was forcefully knocked out of you as you felt your belly swell. He filled you up so full you almost felt like you’d break. It hurt, it most definitely hurt, but it didn’t stop the whorish wails that escaped you as he began pounding into you with a hunger. “Jesus fuck you’re so tight, [y/n]. God you’re gonna make it hard to pull out. You’re just-- FUCK you’re just sucking me right in.”

His words made you clench around him more. He growled so deep and snapped his hips into you faster, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” One hand was between your legs, working you up to him and the other gripped your hip in a death clutch. His skillful hands and the way he stretched you out and pounded you so deep had you rushing towards your release.  

“Oh God please! Please! Please!” You scream in pleasure, seeing nothing but stars. He fucked you relentlessly and you were sure he was going to break you.

“Please what?” 

“Please cum inside me. I’m! O-Oh! I’m begging you please!” Drool ran down your chin as your legs gave out, no longer able to support themselves and the pounding you were taking. Just as he felt your legs start to give out, both his hands clutched your hips to hold you up. It was easy for him to control where he was able to thrust into you as he aggressively slammed into your sweet spot.

“Ooooohhh fuck. Fuck yes!” He hissed, his strokes becoming arrythmic. “That’s it sweetheart, give yourself to me. Give your everything to me!” He groaned, biting into your shoulder. Almost too soon were you falling apart, screaming out as you met your release all over him and the floor. You cried out in more of a sob as you shook against him, body tensing up and shaking in waves. A few more snaps of his hips and he was joining you, burying himself deep inside as spurt after spurt of warm viscous sperm filled you. He held you close as he shook, one arm under your stomach to support your weight and the other lay flat against the countertop as he hunched over you. 

“Fuck baby bird you’re really milking everything out of me,” he rasped as the muscles of your walls squeezed him over and over. Once you were finally done spasming, he slowly slid out of you. Hot sticky seed followed seconds after to join your fluids, spilling out onto the floor with a dirty sounding splatter.

Just moments after hearing the sound did you finally speak. “I just mooooopped.” You manage to whine out, still being supported by Hawk’s arm. He chuckled and tried to let you go but your legs quickly buckled out from under you. Catching you, he swiftly picked you up into his arms and held you.

“I’ll take care of that. First off, I think we need another bath.” He smiled down and your embarrassed expression, fully grasping the fact you two just fucked like wild animals in the kitchen.

“B-But the food.” You stammer out.

He laughed that hearty deep honeyed laugh that made warmth spread over you, “I did say dinner first, but...I’ll let it slide this time. May I kiss you? I don’t know, you just look so kissable right now.”

A smirk spread across your lips, “Now you’re being polite hm?” Despite your teasing you nod and meet his lips as he walks with you in his arms to the shower. 

“Let’s see if we can fulfil a hentai trope next huh?” The winged hero exclaims excitedly, making you stare at him shell shocked. You could only laugh weakly, knowing you were probably in for a long evening. Thank goodness for crock pots, or your dinner would have surely been burnt.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Back to Normal” || YEAR 3 – Ch.18 (HP au)

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Day posted: 9/9/2020

Word count: 3, 395

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall set Harry down on a bed and went to talk to Madam Pomphrey. He still hadn’t stirred the whole way up the lawn or at any point through the castle. Heather, Hermione, and Ron had followed close behind, holding back tears.

They took their seats next to Harry’s bed and sat there as Madam Pomphrey mumbled angrily under her breath as she looked him over.

“ – Should have canceled that match – Like I had said – but no – ” She pushed the sheets up to Harry’s shoulders. “I’ll be back with my wand. He’s fine,” she assured them.

Ron gave Heather an arm squeeze and she nodded, taking in what she said. Harry was fine. He’s been through worse… it was only a fifty-foot drop or so.

Professor McGonagall had left with Professor Dumbledore and come back with a bundle under a grey wool blanket. She gave it to Heather and sighed heavily before walking away.

Ron checked what it was and squeaked. “It was a good broom… The best.”

“They must have canceled the match after this, wouldn’t they? How many players can you have before the game has to be canceled?” Hermione looked out the window at the storm clouds nervously.

Her question wasn’t answered until twenty minutes later when the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, all muddy and sore, came rushing into the hospital wing looking for Harry. Fred and George sat on the bed on the other side of him, joined by the three chasers, Alicia, Katie, and Angelina.

“How is he?” Fred looked at Ron for answers, seeing as Hermione was still staring out the window, avoiding looking at Harry, and Heather couldn’t do anything but stare at Harry.

Ron nodded, “He’s fine. Just knocked cold. Madam Pomphrey already went over him and gave him some kind of goo,” he made a face. “Didn’t look edible.”

“He was real lucky the ground was so soft. All that mud broke his fall,” Fred nudged George.

George sighed, “Was really worried. We thought he was dead.”

“Wood even called for a reschedule – too bad we didn’t get one,” Alicia shook her head. “Poor Harry.”

Heather had been staring at Harry’s face when she saw his eyes squeeze. She stood and got on the bed next to him, “Harry?”

His eyes fluttered open. “Ow.” He rubbed his head and winced, “Everything hurts.”

“Well you did fall from the sky, Harry,” Hermione sniffled.

“How’re you feeling, Harry?” Fred asked, leaning in closer. “You gave George quite a fright.”

George hit his arm, “I wasn’t the one shaking on my broom.”

“What happened?” Harry sat up suddenly, looking at all their faces.

“You fell. From VERY high, so lay back down.” Heather pushed him back.

“We thought… We thought you’d died,” Katie was shaking under Angelina’s arm.

Hermione sniffed again.

“Yeah, I remember that. I mean the match! What happened? Did we win?” He stared at Fred and George but they looked away, rubbing their necks. “We LOST?”

“Right after you fell, Diggory got the Snitch. He hadn’t realized what was happening below and caught it while you fell – ”

“He wanted a rematch, though. Him and Wood argued with Madam Hooch the rest of the time we were out there, but according to the rules, it’s fair – ”

“Even Wood agreed in the end.”

Harry looked around. “Where is Wood?”

“Still in the showers,” Angelina said.

Fred leaned in again, “We think he’s trying to drown himself in there.”

Fred and George laughed but Harry pressed his hands to his face and shook his head. Heather looked at them and frowned.

“It’s alright, Harry!” Fred shook his shoulder.

“You’ve never missed the Snitch before,” George reminded him.

“There had to be at least one time you did.”

Heather pulled Harry’s hands away, “You can make it up against Ravenclaw. Right?”

“Yeah!” Fred shook his shoulder again. “We lost by a hundred points so Hufflepuff just needs to lose to Ravenclaw and we have to beat both Ravenclaw and Slytherin!”

“’Cept Hufflepuff never lose to Ravenclaw…”

“Well if Hufflepuff loses to Slytherin – ”

“Sure, that’ll happen for sure but Slytherin won’t be losing to Ravenclaw so our match – ”

“You could throw it for Harry, couldn’t you. Humble Malfoy a bit –”

“Ron!” Heather glared at him.

“You don’t need to throw the match,” George reassured them. “A hundred point margin could go either way, really.”

“Doesn’t really matter yet, if you think about it,” Fred agreed.

The team left and it was just Heather, Hermione, and Ron left by Harry’s side as he stared vacantly at the ceiling above.

“Did you see Dumbledore on his way out?” Hermione was asking them. “He seemed deadly angry.”

Ron nodded. “Never seen him so mad.” He looked back at Harry, “Furious the dementors had come onto the grounds.”

They all stared at Harry, who still hadn’t moved since finding out Gryffindor had lost.

He turned to them, as if realizing they were still there. He looked around. “Did… someone get my Nimbus?”

They looked at the pile of snapped wood on the far chair.

“Well…” Heather looked at Ron.

“I-it… Broke. Snapped in half, actually.”

“What?” Harry sat up again and was pushed back down by Hermione.

“When you fell the winds carried it and… dropped it off on the Whomping Willow.” Hermione kept her hand on Harry’s shoulder, preventing him from bolting up again.

“In half? How will I play!”

“Alright, visiting time’s over.”

They were glad for Madam Pomphrey’s interruption. Heather wasn’t sure how to answer his question just yet. It seemed like they had the money for another Nimbus Two-Thousand, but how they’d get to Diagon Alley in London and purchase it before his next match was the real problem, especially if they couldn’t even go to the village just below the castle gates.

They left him to rest and while Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade that weekend for more candy, Heather stayed by Harry’s side, studying and playing wizard chess with him. Neither of them where any good so she spent most of the time studying and Harry sleeping.

Lots of people came by on Saturday. Hagrid brought huge yellow flowers the size of Heather’s whole head, Ginny brought a get-well card she made herself – handing it over with a furious blush, and all of the team came by again with Wood.

“Don’t blame you, Harry. It was those dementors that ruined the game,” he had said. They could tell he was telling the truth, despite his sullen face and angry eyes.

On Sunday, Harry was finally feeling better enough to sit up and talk. They were on their third attempt of wizard chess when he paused and looked at her, opening his mouth to say something and then didn’t.

“What is it Harry?”

He crossed his arms and looked down at his feet under the white sheets. “I-I saw the… grim. Again. Right before I fell.”

Heather bit her lip. She really shouldn’t be encouraging this but… “I saw it too! In the sky! Right before you fell. I couldn’t believe the clouds had really formed – ”

“It wasn’t just the clouds, Heather! The grim was actually there. In the stadium, a few seats above you.”

She stared at him. “Harry… The grim is an omen, a symbol… Not an actual living thing.”

He frowned. “But the dog, just before I almost got run over by the Knight Bus! It was there again!”

“Harry. The same thing being used as an omen makes it seem like the grim is a creature. The book says the death omen shows up in many places – it never mentions any creature actually BEING the grim.”

He raised his brow, “You’ve been doing research?”

She blushed. Just because it was ridiculous to think that Professor Trelawney was right about the grim didn’t mean she shouldn’t be studying it on her own just to be sure. Especially if it had to do with Harry and the fact that every year something horrible happens.

“I’ve been reading our textbook. So what? You should try it some time.”

Monday morning felt like the world was back to normal again. Harry was back and even Draco had ditched his sling once again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for Draco doing constant imitations and impersonations of dementors and Harry when he fell off his broom. Of course, it had been raining so hard that he wouldn’t have been able to see anything but a falling red streak, but everyone around him still laughed anyways.

Every chance Draco had to show off his horrible acting skills, he took. During potions he had decided that the best use of his time after he’d turned in his potion was to close his robes up all the way with the hood up and go around their table booing like a ghost.

“Shove off,” Ron pushed Draco back.

Draco laughed and went back to his seat.

“Why isn’t he doing anything?” Hermione was glaring at Professor Snape for letting Draco run around like that. “If that were me – ”

“Gryffindors would be at negative five-hundred points,” Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s a Slytherin though, so – ”

Heather scoffed. “Excuse me. But if that were ME I’d be serving detention for life. And I’m a Slytherin.”

“Well I’M not looking at any progress here and if I were you, I’d stop this bickering and get back to work.” Professor Snape narrowed his eyes at them. He looked down at Heather’s potion and tisked, “Done, I presume?”

Heather nodded and ladled her potion into her jar. “It looks like Malfoy’s… Doesn’t it?”

Professor Snape chuckled and snatched the jar from her hand, stalking away. She sighed and took out her potions guide and textbook, wondering where she was going wrong.

“OOOO!” Draco was back with his arms outstretched at Harry, bobbing up and down under his black robes.

“We said quit it!” Ron picked up the crocodile heart he’d accidently left out of his potion and threw it at Draco.

It smacked him right in the face and he stumbled back, holding his cheek. “Ow! Weasley!” he growled.

“Enough! Draco, back to your seat. Weasley,” Professor Snape glared at him, “Fifty points from Gryffindor. There will be no throwing – any – potions ingredients in my classroom. Get a mop and wipe that blood before someone slips on it.”

Ron nodded and ran out of the room for a mop.

“Only Gryffindor gets points taken away?” Hermione hadn’t even bothered to raise her hand.

Professor Snape made a growling sort of noise and looked away, sitting back at his desk with his arms crossed.

The bells rang and they packed up, walking out of the class in a hurry and stopped at a suit of armor just before the Defense classroom. They waited, looking down the corridor at everyone who walked by or walked into the classroom.

“No sign of Snape.”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t in there. Hermione, you check.”

Hermione walked over to the door and opened it a crack, peering inside. She gave them a thumbs up and walked in.

Professor Lupin was back behind his desk, looking more worn out than when they had first met him on the train. His clothes hung off him more loosely and he had deep grey circles under his eyes. Heather wondered how bad his cold had gotten since they talked. He hadn’t been in the hospital wing so he must have been in bed all weekend.

She opened her textbook as he asked the class how Friday’s lesson was and saw her essay on werewolves.

The class erupted and started calling out everything that had gone wrong that lesson.

“He gave us homework even though he was only filling in!”

“Two parchments? On werewolves? We don’t know anything about them!”

“ – TWO rolls – ”

Professor Lupin frowned. “Did you tell him we were on hinkypunks?”

“Yes, but he insisted!”

“ – And he said we were really behind – ”

“Well you can forget about the essays. I’ll speak to Professor Snape about all this. On to our lesson. Hinkypunks.” He pulled the cover off the tank on his desk to reveal a one-legged creature holding out what looked like a lantern.

There was smoke and mist floating all around the creature and only the lantern was crisply visible. Professor Lupin shut the windows and in the darkness they could make out the shape of it better, seeing that the hand holding the lantern had long claws and it’s pale eyes were glaring at everyone, watching them all carefully behind the glass as the yellow lantern light reflected dimly off its eyes.

“Tricky creatures, Hinkypunks,” Professor Lupin started the lecture and they began taking notes. “They lure people into bogs with the lantern. They follow the light into its den and then – ”

The Hinkypunk thumped against the glass and scratched with his caws. He tried biting his way free and ended up making a disgusting squelching noise, similar to that of a dead bloated mouse being stepped on.

The bells rang and Professor Lupin covered the Hinkypunk up again. They packed up and before Harry was out the door, Professor Lupin called him back. Heather, Hermione, and Ron left with everyone else, who seemed infinitely more happy about this lesson than the one from Friday with Professor Snape.

“Wait for me,” Ron headed to the boy’s bathrooms down a passageway.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t turn in the essay. I finished it Friday night.”

“I did too.” Heather added quickly.

“Well maybe Professor Snape will take it anyways,” Hermione turned to leave and Heather pulled her back.

“Are you mad? He’ll take more points off your house if you go talk to him now. I wouldn’t even try it after today’s lesson, and he doesn’t hate me as much as he hates you guys.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “He asked us to do this work. He HAS to give me points for it somehow.” She turned and left down the stairs.

Heather shook her head. Was Hermione hoping he’d include it in the grades for potions? She sighed and headed back to the Defense classroom, poking her head inside.

“Why were they at the match?”

Professor Lupin closed his briefcase, “They’re just hungry. And you were all a giant bowl of food for them to feast on.”

Heather let the door shut behind her. “The dementors?”

Harry nodded.

“Don’t worry, Professor Dumbledore won’t let them on the grounds again. They only came on because they’re supply of human prey has been taken away from them and with all the excitement on the Quidditch field – well – it was sort of like a feast, just waiting for them.” Professor Lupin leaned on his desk. “Professor Dumbledore wasn’t joking when he said they were dangerous.”

“How did Sirius Black escape them then?” Heather looked at Professor Lupin and noticed he seemed extra distant.

After a moment he responded. “Well, to begin with, the fortress is on a tiny island out in the middle of the ocean. But that’s not what keeps the prisoners stuck there. No. The walls and ocean isn’t even what I’d consider the prison to be. Azkaban is only the place that holds all those criminals locked inside their heads, unable to escape the misery inside their minds. Weeks, months, years… without a single happy thought… They’re all mad there. And defenseless. See, if you’re left too long at a dementor’s whim, they drain your magical powers…”

He hadn’t answered her question but the picture he had painted them in their heads was enough to stop her from asking again. It was all over wizard news about how dangerous Sirius Black is… and now she knew why. No wonder everyone at school always talked about how scary it was that he had escaped. And now he was after Harry, angry that Harry had defeated his master… She shuddered.

“But you made the dementor on the train go away… and Ron said Professor Dumbledore made them leave the field – ”

“There are defense spells to use against them… but the more there are… It was incredible hearing about how many Professor Dumbledore had been able to expel with only one use of it.” He stroked his chin, “Really wish I could have been there to see that.”

“Teach me?”

“Teach us,” Heather corrected. “Will it be part of this year’s lessons?”

“No – I’m no expert in fighting them, really. One on a train is the most – ” he looked at them and sighed. “If you really wanted to learn to fight dementors you should actually ask – ”

“I don’t need to learn to fight a whole bunch… just maybe one or two. If they show up on the quidditch field again… and come near me…”

“Who should we ask instead?” Heather was desperate to know who Professor Lupin thought was an expert in dealing with dementors.

“I don’t want anyone else to know about… what we talked about. Could you just show us? Just enough to do what you did? So that I could do that?” Harry cut Professor Lupin off before he could even speak.

Professor Lupin chuckled at the look of determination on Harry’s face. “If… you insist… I’ll help you two learn it – But these lessons will have to start next term, after the holidays. I’m hoping Professor Snape can tweak the potion just enough to have a stronger effect… so that I can recover from this illness quicker. Wizard colds can be real tricky sometimes,” he laughed.

Heather gave Harry a look and he groaned, keeping his mouth shut. “Alright then. After Christmas?”

Professor Lupin smiled, “Alright.”

They left the classroom to find Ron leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“What part of ‘Wait for me’ did no one understand? Where’s Hermione?”

Heather sighed, “Probably off getting more points removed from – ”

“I’m right here.”

They all jumped and turned behind them to see Hermione walking out of the ancient runes classrooms down the corridor.

“I just needed to ask my teacher a question.”

“Did you talk to Professor Snape?”

“Snape? We’re already down a hundred-fifty, please tell me – ”

“He took my essay and gave Gryffindor back a single point. Happy?” She crossed her arms. “ONE point? For two rolls?”

Heather couldn’t help but laugh. If Hermione got a point, then she was sure she could get Slytherin at least double. They headed down to the library to study, and after lunch she went down to Professor Snape’s office.

She knocked on the door three times and waited. The door swung open and she stepped in, her essay in hand. He was sitting at his desk grading papers when he looked up and rolled his eyes.

“Let me guess… The werewolf essay.” He stared at her as she approached and stuck out his hand for it, snatching it from her hand. He looked through it quickly and handed it back. “A point to Slytherin.”

“Just one?” She looked over her essay and frowned. “Was it worse than Hermione’s?”

“They were both awful, but at least yours was more concise. Yes. A point. What more do you want for doing your homework? Applause?”

She blushed and looked away, frowning. “Do I leave it here or…”

Professor Snape leaned back and curled a finger to his lips, tapping them as he thought. “Keep it,” he said slowly. “You never know when… it’ll come in handy.”

“But all this is in the textbook anyways.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, looking annoyed. “But I doubt Professor Lupin will manage to cover that this year.”

Heather nodded and walked out of his office, closing the door behind her. “We’re not THAT behind.” If he thought he could a better Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher why wasn’t he one already. She headed back to the common room and stuffed the two rolls in her trunk.

She looked around and closed the door, making sure Pansy and her other dormmates were not in sight. She very rarely got a chance to open up the books she had taken from the library. She picked up the transfiguration one and started a new section in her art journal. “‘Chapter one: Thirty supervise-required spells’.”

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@lokilover-39

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[dreams-of-the-arcana]

Let’s start with a warning: ANGST

When everything is said and done, Lucio is put away and Vesuvia can begin to heal. But first, Cleo needs to know who she was before her death. Only one person has those answers, the former Count of Vesuvia Lucio Morgasson.

⚠️Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Suicide⚠️ This is about Cleo healing and first she has to find out what happened.

Who Am I Now? (Pt 1/2)

Vesuvia still stood.

Despite the pain and suffering that the city had seen in such a short time, it stood. In the years to come the residents would call it the “Unbreakable city” or the “Stalwart city”. For now though, the people were only thinking of reclaiming their homes and picking up what was left of their lives.

Lucio’s reign left dark scars everywhere. Even the end of that reign wasn’t enough to pull everyone back from the safety of Muriel’s land. Although, perhaps it was because of the prisoner locked away in the palace dungeons more than anything.

Cleo paused in front of the large metal doorway that led down to those dungeons. In her mind she weighed the pros and cons of descending to face the man who had tried to destroy her home. The man she watched rip the heart from Khamgalai and even his own Mother, Morga.

Lucio Morgasson was down those steps and Cleo knew he held the secrets of her past. The only question for her though was if she wanted to know.

Cleo moved towards the gate and hesitantly reached out for the handle.

A sudden snap behind her caused her to release it and jump around in a panic. Only to see a small bird hopping around the low wall nearby.

Cleo straightened her dress and chastised herself. It wasn’t like her to be so indecisive or jumpy. If she wanted to do something then she usually did so without shame or doubt.

Pulling herself together, Cleo turned on her heel and threw open the rusted gate so she could finally take the steps.

The stone walls only held a few candles on the way down but the main chamber was well lit. The guards sat at a low table with a deck of playing cards and laughed at whatever joke passed. It warmed Cleo’s heart to hear laughter. One guard spotted her and quickly jumped up.

“Miss Cleo! Whatever are you doing here?”

“It’s alright, Ludo. I’m here to speak with the prisoner. The Countess is aware of this meeting.” Cleo produced a short note with Nadia’s seal. Ludo took it to look over.

“Yes, ma’am...” Ludo rolled the note back up and handed it back. “But Miss Cleo, I can’t see why you’d want to talk to him.”

Cleo only gave him a small smile in response. Ludo bit his lip but led her to a small chamber with another metal door. The inside featured some plain furniture and means of entertainment but the occupant was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll give you some privacy but we’ll be right around this corner if you need us, Miss.” Ludo gave Cleo one last look in hopes she’d change her mind but her eyes were already searching the room.

Far in the back corner she spotted him.

Without The Devil inhabiting his body, Lucio looked so much more human and tired. Golden blonde hair hung limply all over his head, makeup was smeared around his eyes, and he had only been given a simple outfit to wear.

Cleo recalled the moment she first saw him. The Count made his grand entrance during the masquerade at the height of its revelry. Pure white and red clothing stood out against the colorful world around him and he seemed to shine from all the gold. A shudder of fear ran through Cleo then along with the indescribable feeling of familiarity that she’d noticed whenever they met.

It didn’t take long for The Count’s inhuman eyes to land on the partygoers. Cleo would never forget the look of shock then insatiable hunger that reached his eyes when he spotted her.

“Cleo, my darling! My Princess! I did not recognize you before but now I see, it really is you!”

Muriel moved in front of her in an attempt to hide her from that horrible gaze.

“Scourge! My greatest executioner! I see you’ve been keeping my girl warm for me. How thoughtful.” Lucio sneered.

Muriel stood firm though, not allowing Lucio even a glimpse of Cleo.

“Now now, Scourge. I only loaned her to you as a gift. Now I think I’d like her back!”

Cleo gasped as the tendrils of magic snaked around her body like rope then pulled her. She desperately tried to fight the invisible force but it was too strong.

Muriel grabbed her arm though and their magic entwined. The ropes failed and an angry frown appeared on Lucio’s face.

“I said! I want her back! She’s mine! I bought her and she promised me!”

Cleo’s head was reeling with the confusion but all her energy was focused on keeping The Devil’s magic away. No moment could be spared for these nonsense declarations.

... at least she had thought they were nonsense.

Once the group had escaped to the safety of Muriel’s hut, Cleo began to think on what Lucio had said. The more she tried to search her memory, the worse she felt about the whole thing. Her dreams became strange moments that she didn’t recognize.

Flashes of elegant rooms, feelings of soft skin, the sounds of loud lascivious moans, the smell of blood. the sting of bruises.. the hopeless fear and regret in a pair of beautiful silver eyes...

She confronted Muriel about them and he’d told her a little about her past. At first, it was an overload of information. Lucio and her had been together for over 10 years? They’d been in love? Cleo met Muriel many years ago in the palace? They were a couple there? And probably the hardest to wrap her mind around, Magni was her son... and Lucio’s. None of it made sense and she only had more questions that Muriel couldn’t answer. Only one other person could answer them.

“‘Lo? What are you doing here?” His voice even sounded different now that he was human again but a wave of familiarity came over her. Cleo held her ground in front of the metal door.

“... My name is Cleo.”

Silence.

The man finally moved and sat down at the little table in his cell.

“Of course.”

More silence.

The tension was almost suffocating.

“I... I have some questions. Questions that only you can answer.”

Lucio tilted his head to look at her.

“Your giant protector isn’t talking? Well he never was chatty.”

“His name is Muriel.”

Lucio’s mouth opened like he was about to comment then thought better of it. Cleo took that as a good sign.

“He said that we only met after I’d been with you for some time.”

Lucio made a light humming noise she assumed was confirmation.

“... you know who I was... before. And what happened to me...”

Lucio’s eyebrow raised at that part.

“You... don’t remember?” There was something underneath his usual tone, something so much deeper. Suddenly he was up and moving towards the door.

“What are y-“

He wrapped his hands around the bars and stared into her eyes, silencing her mid-sentence. For a moment, the cold silver seemed to hold a strong determination but after a moment he blinked and it was gone. The gleam in his eyes had faded.

“No... you don’t know who I am...”

Cleo shook her head.

“You’re the Former Count of Vesuvia, Lucio.”

Lucio made a face and recoiled as though she’d slapped him. The pain was clear in his eyes even though he refused to look back at her.

“... why would you want to know?” He whispered towards the wall.

“Well,” Cleo was confused. “It’s... my life.”

Lucio gave her a dark chuckle.

“No. It wasn’t.”

Cleo paused, more confused now than before. She had to think a moment before proceeding.

“This is my choice. There are really important pieces of the past that I,” Magni’s face flashed in her mind. “I just have to know.”

Lucio’s shoulders slumped. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes and leaned against the metal door.

“Is this part of my ‘retribution’? Noddy has a sick sense of humor.”

They both waited. For what? Probably for the other to back down. Unfortunately one of them remembered how stubborn the other could be.

“... we met in Celtica,” Lucio began. “I beat up some bandits that were hanging around the capitol and the council promised me a girl from the ‘best brothel in the world’.

Rosehyn Brothel, you were the madam’s little darling. You were quite a flirt,” he smiled a bit at the memory. “When I picked you the madam didn’t want to let you go. I ended up having to throw in some gold to get you out of the hag’s place.

You were pretty young.”

He paused, hoping it would be enough for Cleo. But she held firm.

“We spent ten years together, most of it back when I was a mercenary. It all felt so easy back then,” he sighed. “We loved each other and we had a promise... it isn’t important now. I broke it...”

His voice held a tone that he was talking about more than just a promise.

Cleo searched Lucio’s face, trying to remember any of it. Something definitely seemed so familiar but she could never place it.

“... why did you break the promise?”

Lucio let out a humorless snort.

“Bad counsel... fear...”

“What were you afraid of?”

Lucio was quiet. He wanted to atone, to be able to move forward. But he couldn’t look at this stranger in the woman he loved and betrayed’s body. Not when down here at his lowest, all he wanted was to throw himself in her arms. So he avoided it for now.

“I thought you’d betrayed me... I.. I didn’t... I never meant for it to... to get so bad.” He almost choked on the words.

“... how bad did it get?” Cleo’s voice was soft.

“I swear! I was just... just so angry! Then I felt like that damn scar was a reminder!”

He pointed at her chest but still didn’t look at her. Cleo brushed her hand over her sternum. So he did know.

“You know how I got this?”

Lucio scoffed.

“Of course! It felt like you’d stabbed me every time I saw it!”

Cleo recoiled a bit at the harsh words.

“Stabbed? What... I don’t...”

“You did it,” he cut her off coldly. “When I was in Prakra. Valdemar said you’d tried to use my knife but couldn’t. Then when he turned his back, you swallowed his pills.”

Valdemar? Prakra?... she almost died?

“Wha... what? Why was Valdemar there? Why was I in Prakra?... why would I do that?”

“You and that pesky Doctor were always close, well that was before he was possessed. You were in Prakra because I was and you went wherever I went. I didn’t want to leave you here in the palace.”

Cleo looked at the walls around her.

“I... lived here? Before Nadia?”

Lucio shrugged.

“Noddy was just a pawn to satisfy rumors. I had been told my men were turning against me. Soldiers were sent to clear out the camp... you knew they were coming and you...”

He couldn’t say it. All these years later and yet, he couldn’t say it.

Images flashed in his mind, seeing Cleo barely alive, seeing his own dagger covered in her blood, and the way she looked so pale and limp when he put her in the carriage back to Vesuvia.

“That’s when it fell apart...”

“What fell apart?”

“Us,” he finally turned and looked at her. “You never really came back to me. Each time I saw you, all I could think of was that stupid promise.”

“... what was the promise?”

Lucio sneered.

“That I would always come back to you and you would always wait for me. We were young... so very young. All that mattered when we were together was us.”

Cleo couldn’t imagine it, even being so in love with Muriel she still knew that others mattered. They couldn’t get lost in their own world.

“Then you died and-“

Ice water flooded Cleo’s body and she turned back to Lucio with wide eyes, he stopped mid-sentence.

“You... you didn’t know that?”

She shook her head. Lucio could have happily kicked himself, he wished he could take the words back. What would she say once she knew? Would she leave? Would he ever see her again? She couldn’t forgive him.

“I... I just...,” words failed Lucio.

A deep old pain settled inside his chest and the only words he could say fell out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, ‘Lo.”

.

.

.

To be continued

[lins-fandom-hub]

a friend’s demise

Boring title, I know.

@dat-silvers-girl​ and I talked through a potential alternate storyline in my MC’s multiverse, which I decided to write out in hopes of serving her character justice. Hearing about both of her game plays being banned by JC made me seriously angry, and there’s nothing more I would want to do than at least put out there how angry and empty I felt. But at the same time she had the idea and brought it up to me, so it’s perfect.

So this is for her.

This story takes place in Rowan Khanna’s POV.

---

The explosion still rang in my ears amidst the present solemn silence.

I glanced through dry eyes at my best friend wounding a long piece of pale lilac ribbon through her fingers, twisting it tightly to the thinness of a thread, relaxing the material when the strain was too tight. Through the fuggy film of her glasses I could see her red puffy eyes, the spark of life and joy now absent. Her ponytail, messily done in the morning before the funeral, now dangled limply near the end of her black hair—and I knew I couldn’t blame her for looking like a cold, empty zombie. No one would have known how quickly they would lose a friend.

“She didn’t have to go,” Clara muttered thickly, clearing her throat to rid it of the phlegm. “She had no reason to.”

I didn’t know the deceased as well as she did, and I could only imagine how she was feeling right now. I only remember tutoring her a few times in Potions and Transfiguration when she was struggling for the past few years. I’ve seen her with Clara a few times, though. They even played against each other in Quidditch once or twice overall—Clara as a Chaser for Gryffindor, and she as a Beater for Hufflepuff.

Sarahi Silvers. That was the name I caught on the jersey; that was also the name I caught on her gravestone.

“I don’t understand, Rowan,” Clara finally said, dropping her hands and turning to me. “All my plans were solely for Ben and Merula’s ears—how did you even remotely catch wind of what we were up to? And why did you follow me? Why did she follow me?”

It hurt to see the hurt in her eyes, the anger flashing in the tears that boiled at the brim, and I shook my head numbly.

“I hope you don’t get mad at me,” I murmured after another long stretch of awkward tense silence. “But I had a good reason for following you—I just can’t explain about her—”

“At least tell me why you did what you did first. I only kept ‘R’ a secret from you so that you would be safe!” Clara shouted. “The lesser people involved, the better off we all will be, right?”

“Remember that day at the train station, Clara? The day we went to get love potion ingredients so you could make the trade for an invisibility cloak?” I reminded her. “I told you that I wanted to do the right thing, and worrying about you and caring about you was the right thing. So when Charlie ended up telling me everything about ‘R’, I had to know that you weren’t getting into anything that would cost you your life.”

“But you’re not invincible either, Rowan! If anything, you could have been killed last night!”

“I know. You have every right to be mad at me right now, but you should know that we all do care about you. And you can’t blame Sarahi for doing what she did last night, either…”

The cold mist settled over my ankles like a blanket of frost, but I knew any sign of movement would give me away. I knew Clara only wanted to keep this between herself, Ben, and Merula, but I knew of their plan before they even stepped foot out of the castle. From a single black quill sitting innocently in Jacob’s room, with a transfigured message from ‘R’ asking him to meet them in the Forest Grove, they figured out that not only was Jacob in danger, but the rest of the school potentially could fall under defenceless mercy. I had no idea what they did to prepare, but they seemed prepared to go after ‘R’—at least, Merula was ready to go after Rakepick for the brutal Cruciatus Curse she cast on her in the Buried Vault.

I watched from behind the tree as Clara knelt by a bush and lifted up the low branches, eyes widening as they registered on something on the ground I could not see.

“Ben, Merula, I found something!” she called out.

“What—” Merula ran over to Clara immediately, flinching when she saw what Clara was looking at. “No, don’t touch that! It’s cursed!”

“What do you mean, that necklace is cursed?” Ben inquired, heading over to the two girls now. So that was what was under the bush—a piece of cursed jewelry that might have been of no use to Rakepick.

“That necklace is one of Rakepick’s dark artefacts. She showed it to me once,” Merula added upon seeing Clara’s confused face. “You can touch it if you don’t believe me, see what happens when you do.”

“No, I believe you,” Clara replied hastily. “It’s just…Dumbledore told me he had Rakepick’s Dark Artefacts stored at the Ministry of Magic. If she infiltrated even the one place that has greatest security measures…”

The cool night air suddenly plunged into a deep freeze, and I winced as the bark beneath my fingers began to gather a fine layer of ice.

“Then we’re in deep trouble.”

“No kidding, Lin!” Merula jerked her head at the fluttering black cloaks that surrounded the group. “Look!”

I have never seen them before in the flesh, but I would recognize them anywhere—Dementors, evil beings that sucked the happiness out of any specimen that could express even a sliver of happiness. Hovering in midair like nightmares that haunted the living daylight out of any of us, they closed in on the trio, forming a tight ring around them, obscuring them from view.

From behind me, I thought I could hear a twig snap, but I didn’t want to look back.

“Dementors! They’re surrounding us!”

“Too many!”

“Expecto Patronum!”

I watched with wide eyes as a silver unicorn emerged from Clara’s wand, cantering towards the nearest Dementor with its head bowed and goring it through with its horn. Silently, I applauded her. At least she had a powerful happy memory to fuel her powerful defence.

But even her strength had its limits. Too soon, they were wearing out, and yet the Dementor's ranks seemed to replenish with each attack.

“I can’t keep this up anymore,” I could hear Clara wheeze. “My Patronus…not powerful.”

“And when you drive one back, another takes its place,” Ben noted quietly.

“We’re screwed. Now what?!” Merula cried.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A silver lioness appeared out of nowhere, leaping towards the trio and roaring to the skies, driving every Dementor away with an ever-growing shield as thin as a bubble.

“What the…who was that?” I heard Clara ask.

Imagine everyone’s surprise when out of the shadows stepped none other than Madam Patricia Rakepick. Her fiery red hair gleamed under what little moonlight remained, her symbol of Ra polished to a shine. She towered over them like the Dementors did, save for the fact that she was robed in scarlet instead of obsidian black.

“YOU!” Merula screeched—but barely had she raised her wand when Rakepick knocked it aside, blowing her down with a simple non-verbal spell.

Non-verbal spells…they were hard to execute with as much precision as spoken incantations. How in the world could Rakepick exercise this kind of advantage against the rest of us? Either way, it was clear that the confrontation with the Dementors had completely worn the trio out, and Rakepick eventually struck them down like flies, or severely incapacitated them to the point where they were limping to face her.

At least, Ben was still standing and wincing with pain racking his body where countless blows struck.

“That will teach you a lesson!” he said.

“Take this lesson to your grave!” Rakepick countered, raising her wand. “Avada—”

“NO!”

My eyes barely registered a blur of black, yellow, and white running past me—and before I knew it, a girl about my age had lunged toward Rakepick with an almighty yell, tackling her to the ground.

“Ben!” I shouted then, running toward him as fast as my numbed legs would take me. “Clara, Merula…”

It was then when the trio saw me for the first time—Clara in shock, Ben in anger, and Merula with disgust.

“And here I thought Copper was the Crup puppy sticking around,” Merula drawled. “What are you doing here, Khanna?”

“DUCK!”

TWANG!

The point of a throwing knife sank deep into a tree near Clara’s head, and she didn’t emerge from it entirely unscathed—she cupped a hand to her ear, where the point of the blade nicked her skin.

“You—” Rakepick growled as she tried to throw the girl off her back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

That was when I saw the girl in a better light. Black hair splayed wildly over her brown eyes and pale wheatish skin in the fray, one fist curled around the curse-breaker’s gleaming red hair and the other holding another small knife like the one embedded in the tree.

“Sarahi?!” Clara exclaimed. “What are you doing here?!”

Sarahi did not answer her friend for a few seconds as she landed a roundhouse kick at Rakepick’s spine, sending her flying away from the group. Then she turned to her.

“I told you I could help with any physical fight, didn’t I?” Sarahi responded, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “You helped me find a place here at Hogwarts without making me feel like a waste of space. Now it’s my turn to return the favour.”

“Wait—that’s not—I didn’t—”

“Expulso!”

Somehow, given the harsh impact of the kick, Rakepick still managed to pick herself up, aiming her wand at Sarahi who ducked as the spell flew past her ear, blasting another tree to smithereens.

“Sarahi, you have to get out of here!” Clara shouted as best as her hoarse throat could manage, but she might as well have been screaming into an empty void. Everyone watched with wide eyes as Sarahi grabbed Rakepick’s arm with her free hand, pivoted her feet, and threw her with all her might to the ground, knocking all the wind out of Rakepick with a loud thud. 

“Run!” Sarahi screamed back at us. “All of you—go!”

“No!” Ben shouted. “This was my fight! I was supposed to protect you!”

“No one’s going to protect anyone if we end up dead, Copper!” Merula snapped.

“Aahhh!” Sarahi suddenly exclaimed as Rakepick’s hand closed around her ankle, sweeping her clean off her feet as she landed hard on her butt.

Physical fighting was not unheard of in the Muggle world, but in the wizarding world…one would only rely on such means of combat if they were left with no other choice. Anyone who didn’t have a wand would end up delivering a good punch in the nose, but what good would a bleeding nose be against the deadliest of all Unforgivable Curses? Yet there she was, scratching at Rakepick like a cat at a scratching pole with her free hand while the knife trembled in her tightened grip while Rakepick grabbed at her hair to slow her down.

I have never seen a stranger fight.

“Is this even allowed?” Ben inquired. “I would have loved to see Clara defeat a dragon this way.”

“This is not the time for commentary!” I hissed at him. “We need to get her out of here!”

Just as the words flew out of my mouth, though, I saw the blade plunge downward into Rakepick’s arm, the point sinking deep into flesh rewarded with the sinful scarlet fluid.

“You—” Rakepick growled again, pointing her wand at Sarahi who attempted now to choke her with her bare hands.

“Sarahi, forget her!” Clara screamed. “You have to go now!”

“NO! YOU GO!” Sarahi cried. “All of you go!”

Clara looked just about ready to argue, but I could tell she was in no shape to fight any more. I eventually dragged Clara by the arm while Merula took Ben, but just as we began to head back to Hogwarts I saw Rakepick raise her wand.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light enveloped the girl who was in the midst of drawing another knife from her robes; the force blasted her away, and for a moment I thought I saw her mouth morph into a silent scream before her body landed limply on the hard-packed earth, the knife she had just unsheathed sliding off in another direction. At the same time, I saw a scarlet bottle of something fly through the air, landing on the girl where it exploded with a loud BOOM on contact.

I thought I would never hear the end of Clara’s howl of pain after Rakepick Disapparated without another word.

“No, Sarahi can’t be blamed,” Clara realized after a while. “She must have followed you for the same reason you followed me. She...wanted to protect me too."

"And you're sure Sarahi knew nothing about 'R'?" I asked her.

"Positive. The only time I ever mentioned anything even remotely related to this was when I told her Merula had the mindset of a killing machine."

"Well, whatever the case, she must have seen you as someone very important, just like everyone else is," I remarked hollowly. "She must have looked up to you, too."

"Did you know her well?"

I shook my head. "I only tutored her once in a while in Potions and Transfiguration for the last few years. But I had no idea she knew you. She must have known that we were best friends, though."

"Who wouldn't? It's always been us since the beginning. Even the most unwary of students would know," Clara pointed out with a nod, glancing down at the ribbon still crumpled in her hands. "I just wish I could have given her more than just a few words and a simple birthday present. I mean, I could tell she liked it but…"

"You wish you had more time with her?"

"Mhmm. There's so much about her I still don't know."

She eventually fixed her ponytail and tied the ribbon over the elastic, where it now gleamed on her head with a few creases like a tin foil crown. Then she wiped her glasses and sighed, her hands balling into fists.

"They did it, then," Clara finally remarked bitterly. "'R' successfully took a friend's life. But we will take what should have been theirs, had there been no enemy in the way of defying them."

"What are you saying, Clara?"

Clara looked over at me, a storm gathering in her eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw lightning flash in the clouds that formed in her irises.

"We will avenge her in our own way. And once we do, there will be no stopping the storm."

[rvnclwrites]

Romania 1999 Pt 2 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for part 1.

Word Count: ~4000

"Watch out!" Dave shouted, giving (Y/N) and Charlie just enough time to duck behind the nearest boulder.

A burst of fire filled the air as Aro the Hungarian Horntail roared in disapproval at the swarm of people closing in on him. (Y/N) crouched closer to the dirt, shielding her face from the blaze. Once the heat and smoke died away, she peered over at Charlie who looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Having fun yet?" he asked over another booming roar from Aro.

She returned his grin. "Best time I've had in awhile."

(Y/N) had only been at the Sanctuary for two weeks and could already see why Charlie Weasley was considered the best Dragonologist there. He effortlessly maneuvered around the boulder, staying low to the ground to appear less threatening to Aro, and crawled toward the blazing flames ahead, determined and unafraid. It sparked a memory inside (Y/N) of stories her mom used to tell about (Y/N)'s no-maj grandpa who was a firefighter. (Y/N)'s young mind was mystified by what no-majs managed to do without the help of magic, but as her gaze followed Charlie with his outstretched wand, she couldn't help but think maybe wizards were just as crazy.

"Stupify!" Charlie, along with three other wizards shouted at once. The remaining four, including (Y/N), followed in suit, sending red sparks soaring toward the dragon. At last, the beast collapsed onto the platform, successfully stunned.

"Nice work!" Felix boasted, slapping Charlie on the back. "You too, (Y/N). Quick reaction time and impressive stunning spell."

(Y/N) nodded appreciatively, feeling the last of her adrenaline pulse through her as she helped Dave, Hank and Charlie finish boarding up the dragon so it could be transported to a different area of the Sanctuary. She caught a glimpse of Charlie petting the dragon's tail through the crate and smiled. The most distinguishing factor that separated Charlie from the rest of the team was that he didn't just do this for the thrill or the hard work. He genuinely cared for these creatures and wanted the best for them.

(Y/N) slid her wand into her jacket and turned to ask Charlie a question but reconsidered as the redhead strolled past her.

"Good work today," he said with a nod before continuing down the hill. Something about his long strides and demeanor prevented her from trying to catch up with him.

Despite how hard she tried to ignore it, (Y/N)'s heart sank. The other thing (Y/N) had noticed about Charlie was that he had some sort of indistinguishable pretense up most of the time. She had caught glimpses of what she assumed was the real Charlie- like his excitement moments ago when they were crouched behind that boulder, or his teasing grin on (Y/N)'s first day when he thought Norberta would roast her alive. But the rest of the time it was like he was holding back, keeping to himself and letting others do the talking.

"Don't take it personally," Hank muttered, snapping (Y/N) out of her reverie. "He's like that with everyone."

Not with you or Scott, (Y/N) wanted to point out, but she shrugged instead, not wanting Hank to know that she cared. Because she didn't. She didn't have to be best friends with her mentor. "So who's going to move Aro to the south wing?"

"The night crew takes care of that. Someone oversees on a broom and directs the other workers the safest route."

This peaked (Y/N)'s interest. She had seen a handful of wizards use brooms around the Sanctuary when rounding up or feeding dragons, but her team hadn't gotten the chance to yet. "Do you ever ride a broom here?"

"Lord no. I was never a good flyer. Charlie does the flying in our group."

(Y/N) felt an unexpected wave of annoyance hit her. "I bet I'd be better," she mumbled uncharacteristically, catching even herself off guard.

"Oh really?"

Despite the fact that she wasn't usually that competitive, (Y/N) didn't take it back. She was a good flyer. "Mhmm."

"Do you like Quidditch?"

"Who doesn't?"

Hank laughed. "Guess I should have asked if you play Quidditch."

A pang of nostalgia reverberated in (Y/N)'s chest. "Yeah, I played Beater for four years at Ilvermorny."

A concerning, lopsided grin tugged at the corner of Hank's mouth. "Charlie was the Gryffindor Seeker for five at Hogwarts."

(Y/N) shook her head, resisting an eye roll. "He wouldn't catch a thing if I was playing against him."

"Is that so?" They came to a stop at the bottom of the hill where the other Dragonologists were socializing. "Did you hear that, Scott? (L/N) here thinks she can beat our boy at Quidditch."

All three heads to Hank's left jerked up and stared at (Y/N) as if she had just sprouted multiple heads.

"Come off it, Weasley could have gone pro if he wanted to."

Not wanting to sound pretentious, (Y/N) decided not to mention the two offers she received to play professionally after she graduated. "Guess I'll just have to play him one day and see."

"Darlin', I'd buy you Butterbeer for a month if you won," Hank said, reaching for a drink before plopping down into a chair beside the other three. The men soon began bickering about which Quidditch team was the best this year, and (Y/N) took that as her chance to sneak back to her place and get some rest.

The one major con about her and Charlie not being close was the age gap between (Y/N) and the rest of the team. She got along great with Hank and Scott, but it was different than the dynamic she had with the Magizoologists back home. It would take some getting used to.

-

It was drizzling as (Y/N) began her trek back up the hill to meet Charlie the following morning. They had agreed to start with Ventus, a Welsh Green dragon, and (Y/N) wasn't surprised to find Charlie already at the landing as she approached. She was surprised, however, to find him swearing and clutching his left arm.

"Everything okay?" (Y/N) asked, jogging over to meet him. "Oh man."

A fresh gash stretched across Charlie’s freckled forearm. “I’m fine. Ventus' claw was lodged beneath that boulder and he lashed out once I got it free. I would have waited if it was any of the others, but he's always been so tame. He must have been in pain all night."

(Y/N) turned around to make sure Ventus had calmed down. Luckily, the Common Welsh Green was curled into a ball, seemingly able to rest now that his claw was free. Charlie was lucky this was the breed that had been in pain- any other would have most likely scorched his entire arm.

"I'll go down to Madam Rosetta to get this cleaned up," he said, wincing as he raised his arm to help stop the bleeding. "You can wait here if you want. Just don't approach him until I get back in case his claw still hurts."

"I can fix that for you," (Y/N) said automatically, instinctively reaching for Charlie's arm with one hand and withdrawing her wand with the other.

Charlie flinched as (Y/N)'s fingers closed around his wrist. Whether it was from anticipating pain or the mere physical contact, (Y/N) wasn't sure. Maybe both.

She looked up at him with concern, still holding onto his arm but loosening her grip in case he wanted to pull away. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable. "I mean, I can if you want me to." She attempted a smile. "Promise I won't make it any worse."

Charlie stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing options inside his head, and she felt his rigid posture ease the tiniest bit. "Okay."

(Y/N) cleared her throat and directed her ebony wand at the wound. “Episkey.” Within seconds, the open skin sealed itself shut, leaving but a faint trace of the injury. Charlie began to pull his arm away, but (Y/N) held it in place and muttered, “Ferula.” A white bandage sprang from the tip of her wand and coiled around Charlie's pale skin. "That will help with pain and prevent scarring."

(Y/N) could tell the spell worked because she saw the tension release in Charlie's shoulders as the bandage fastened around his arm. The redhead looked at her with curious brown eyes and she quickly released her grip on him now that the wound was taken care of.

"I didn't know you were a Healer."

"I'm not, I'm a Dragonologist," she corrected, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she was surprised when Charlie returned it. He raised an eyebrow at her, and (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders. "You never asked."

Charlie frowned and turned toward Ventus. "Can you heal creatures too?"

(Y/N) nodded. The process of healing creatures was remarkably different from healing wizards, but that encompassed the majority of her work back home. "Can't say I've worked on all of them, but I've helped a fair share." (Y/N) felt a sudden tightness creep into her throat at the thought of the Reserve back home and attempted to clear it. "You?"

Charlie shook his head. "I've tried but can never seem to get it right. Rosier and Dave’s buddy Logan do most of the healing around here. Must have been one of the reasons Felix was so excited to bring you on."

At first, (Y/N) was relieved to know there was finally something this man wasn’t good at, but then she felt a twinge sympathy at the look on Charlie's face. "You can't be good at everything you know."

He laughed a little. "When you have as many siblings as I do, competitiveness becomes almost innate."

(Y/N)'s attention sparked at Charlie's admission. Everything she had learned about the redhead so far, from his age to his house at Hogwarts to how many years he’d been at the Sanctuary, had been from Hank. That was the first time Charlie himself had told her something about his personal life. Maybe he would come around after all.

Unfortunately, the elation died away as fast as it came when (Y/N) realized she couldn't press him further. If she asked how many siblings he had, Charlie would likely ask if she had any and (Y/N) was hardly in the mood to address that question. So instead, she tried a different approach at friendship. "Want me to show you how to fix Ventus' claw?"

Charlie hesitated. "Aren't I supposed to be the mentor here?"

(Y/N) laughed. "I won't tell."

To her astonishment, he agreed. (Y/N) explained the process thoroughly; the best way to approach, how to distract, tips to ease the pain, the correct wand motion for the spell. Within an hour, Charlie had cast his first successful healing spell on Ventus.

"I can't believe that worked," he said, staring down at Ventus' unscathed hind leg resting comfortably on the grass.

(Y/N) nudged his shoulder with her elbow. "Told ya you could do it."

Charlie turned to look at her, and (Y/N) was horrified to feel a flutter in her stomach as their eyes met. She stepped away from the dragon and from Charlie, abruptly disregarding whatever fluke feeling that was.

"We should probably go feed Norberta before she gets too hungry."

Charlie nodded, and the two started down the path towards the Norwegian Ridgeback. "Thanks," he said after a moment. "I really appreciate the help back there."

"Anytime," (Y/N) said with a smile. She really hoped he would take her up on that offer sometime.

-

A couple weeks turned into a month faster than (Y/N) anticipated. The summer leaves were turning orange and the temperature was dropping to a comfortable breeze in the evening. Most importantly, she had succeeded at nearly every task Charlie or Felix handed her and was starting to feel more apart of the team everyday.

Her and Charlie's relationship had improved a little after that day with Ventus, but she still wouldn't go as far as to say they were friends. (Y/N) had continued giving him occasional lessons on healing and Charlie talked more when she was around, but there was still some sort of a barrier that (Y/N) couldn't figure out. She still tried to convince herself she didn't care, but as (Y/N) waited for her friends' responses to her letters, she couldn't help but feel the weight of loneliness creep up on her more and more.

"So, what's this I hear about you being better than me at Quidditch?" Charlie asked as he sat across from (Y/N) at the team's picnic table.

(Y/N) choked on her porridge, feeling heat crawl up her neck as everyone at the table turned to look at her. "I didn't necessarily say I was better," (Y/N) clarified after swallowing her food. "I just said you wouldn't catch the Snitch if I was playing against you."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at an uncharacteristically bashful Hank, who added, "You did say you'd be a better flyer though."

(Y/N) smiled and continued eating her breakfast, feeling no regret or need to deny that accusation.

"Ha!" Hank shouted, slapping the table. "Look at that smirk. I have all the faith in the world that this gem right here will be your downfall, Weasley."

"Well, we can't find out who's the better Quidditch player on the grounds," Scott said, making a point to pause and glare at Hank. "Because someone has horrible aim. But we can easily find out who the best flyer is."

That caught (Y/N)'s attention. She wasn't able to bring her broom from home and would give just about anything to ride on one.

"They would have to ride the same broom so it's fair," Hank said.

"I'll ride any broom you give me," (Y/N) said, feeling excitement bubble up in her stomach. Even though it had been less than two months, it felt like it had been ages since (Y/N) and her friend Rowan had soared around the Khanna family's farm on (Y/N)'s last day in America. The nostalgic knot hurled it's way back into (Y/N)'s stomach at the thought of Rowan, and she prayed someone would get her a broom. Flying was definitely what she needed.

"I believe we've got a coupl'a Nimbus 2008s up in the storage shed by Aro."

"Well, what are we waiting for then," Scott said, seizing Hank by the arm and lifting him to his feet. "We'll find the brooms and meet you kids by the entrance gate."

As Scott and Hank raced up the hill, (Y/N) and Charlie got to their feet, starting toward the entrance to the Sanctuary.

"Sure you wanna do this?"

(Y/N) grinned. "I just hope you're better at flying than you are at healing Norberta's tail." After a half hour explanation, Charlie still somehow managed to shrink the poor beast's tail instead of mending the wound, which made resizing it without enlarging the injury incredibly difficult.

Charlie's mouth dropped open, but (Y/N) could tell he wasn't actually offended. In fact, that playful grin she had only managed to glimpse once so far made an unexpected return. "Oh, you're going to regret that."

"Whatever you say, dragon boy."

Charlie's fiery red brows raised, and (Y/N) didn’t exactly know where that nickname came from, but she decided she liked it.

Scott and Hank took longer than expected, and (Y/N) found out why when Scott began explaining the rules.

“No, they have to go under that tree branch first and then over the pine tree with the red marker on it. Then they’ll go into the extreme dive, pull up no sooner than this blue marker right here, which gives them a straight shot to the landing up there where they have to loop-the-loop before dismounting. First to touch down wins. Sound good?”

(Y/N) nodded, taking a moment to observe the area the way she would a Quidditch pitch. She knew Charlie would likely be better at the extreme dive and pull up since he was a Seeker, but she had the under-and-over and loop-the-loop mastered from years of chasing after Bludgers.

“Ready?” Charlie asked as they each mounted their broomstick.

(Y/N) gripped the handle, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment and a slow exhale fall from her lips as she relaxed onto the broom. Boy was she ready. She glanced from the branch, to the pine tree, to the marker near the ground, to the landing and nodded. “Whenever you are.”

“On the count of three,” Scott announced, taking the job way more seriously than anyone else would have. “One… two… THREE!”

Charlie and (Y/N) kicked off the ground and shot into the air as cheers erupted behind them. Apparently Hank and Scott weren’t the only people wanting to see someone beat Charlie.

But (Y/N)’s mind was far from the crowd as fresh air filled her lungs and her hair whipped behind her. She felt like she was on cloud nine as she and Charlie swooped down to fly beneath the first branch, each switching off for the lead every second. One advantage (Y/N) had as a Beater was she was used to distractions. Seekers were primarily solo players, focused on catching the Snitch while the rest of the team watched their back. The two Beaters, on the other hand, not only protected their team but also created chaos for the other.

So (Y/N) attempted to fluster Charlie, mimicking every move he made within a mere foot of him. She could tell he wasn’t used to sharing his personal space on the broom when his eyes caught hers as they reached the top of the pine tree. Neither hesitated as they launched into the extreme dive, the only part (Y/N) felt less comfortable with. As she expected, Charlie executed the pull up flawlessly, showing off a little by how close to the ground he was willing to go. (Y/N)’s dive wasn’t as deep or graceful, but it was enough to hit the marker, sending her heart thudding in excitement as she began the loop-the-loop. While several wizards became dizzy and disoriented from the move, (Y/N) loved the drop in her stomach and the freeing effect it had. She had performed the tightest continuous loop of her Ilvermorny class and set out to do the same right now. She whipped passed Charlie on the final loop, flying out of it and dismounting on the landing effortlessly, touching down less than five seconds before Charlie did.

Once she was steady on her feet, (Y/N) exhaled again, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt as she stared down at the breathtaking scenery below.

“Bloody hell,” Charlie breathed, stepping beside her and brushing his ruffled hair from his face. “That was- I mean you were-”

(Y/N) laughed. Apparently flying could be added to the list of things that made Charlie’s guard slip. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

The corner of Charlie's mouth twitched and he looked as if he was about to say something else, but unfortunately their moment was cut short by the thunderous shouts approaching from Hank and Scott in the background.

“That was incredible,” Hank howled, coming up to clap (Y/N) on the back. “We’re all going to the pub tonight.

"Yeah," Scott chimed in. "Anything you want is on me.”

(Y/N) laughed again, keeping a firm grip on the broomstick in her hands. “The only thing I want is this broom."

“Sweetheart, I’m sure Felix will let you fly that broom anytime you want after a ride like that,” Hank reassured her.

(Y/N) suddenly wasn’t as fond of all the attention when she realized nearly every team had been watching her and Charlie- even the research team had decided to join them at the pub. (Y/N) felt overwhelmed from the excitement and chatter as everyone sat down and ordered drinks. She appreciated everyone’s compliments, but all she really wanted was to be back up on that landing, looking out at the Sanctuary.

Thinking of the landing sent (Y/N)’s gaze searching across the table for Charlie’s freckled face. He always sat across from her at the Sanctuary, so she was surprised to not find him there but rather in the seat right beside her. Her stomach did a loop-the-loop of its own as he smiled at her.

"Bet you didn’t thinking beating me would be this big of a deal," he said, leaning over to ensure (Y/N) could hear over the crowd.

A shiver trailed down (Y/N)’s neck, and she forced a laugh. “No, not quite.”

The redhead chuckled before taking a sip of his Butterbeer and clinking his glass against hers. “Well you deserve it. You were awesome out there.”

(Y/N) was grateful for the dim lighting as she felt her whole body grow hot. She took a final swig from her glass, giving her an excuse to get up for a minute. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone need anything?”

(Y/N) was beyond surprised when Sydney stood up, a smile coating her smooth, tan face. “I’ll go with you. Dave and I need a refill too.”

Leaning against the bar, (Y/N) ordered another Butterbeer while Sydney ordered a shot of fire whiskey and some Pumpkin Juice.

“You were really amazing today,” Sydney said, picking up the tall glass of Pumpkin Juice the bartender set in front of her. “But can I give you some advice?”

(Y/N) stiffened, instantly uncomfortable by the tone of Sydney's voice. Confrontation was not one of (Y/N)’s strong suits. “Sure?”

The beautiful blond swirled her straw around the glass and looked down at the floor. She seemed nervous. “I just thought you should know you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) blinked at her, completely lost. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Sydney frowned. “What I mean is we get it. I mean look at him. He’s attractive, successful. We’ve practically all had a crush on him at some point, but I just thought I should warn you before you get hurt. Charlie doesn’t date anyone. Like ever. Hell, at this point I think there would be more of a chance of finding him with a dragon than a woman.”

(Y/N) nearly knocked over the freshly filled glass of Butterbeer the bartender placed in front of her. "Excuse me?"

Sydney slid a tip across the table before turning back to (Y/N). "I just wanted to spare you some heartache because Charlie is obtuse and doesn't know when he's leading people on."

A spark of protectiveness for the redhead flared through (Y/N) so unexpectedly, she couldn't stop herself from saying, "I hardly think it's Charlie's fault if someone else can't take a hint."

The innocent glow in Sydney's blue eyes vanished faster than (Y/N) could say Nox. She straightened and grabbed the whiskey from the counter. “Suit yourself then. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

(Y/N) waited until Sydney walked away to return to her seat between Charlie and Hank. Her mind was attempting to organize a million thoughts at once and she suddenly felt exhausted.

What irked (Y/N) the most though was the gnawing thought at the back of her head asking why hadn't she just corrected Sydney? She should have brushed it off with a laugh and said she wasn't interested in anyone here like that.

“Everything alright?” Charlie asked, and as those brown eyes stared down at her, (Y/N) was not okay with the answer that voice in her head gave.

“Oh yeah,” (Y/N) said, rubbing a hand over her face. "Just ready to get some sleep soon."

"You're gonna need it because tomorrow we're getting three new rescues shipped in."

(Y/N) felt her thoughts untangle the slightest bit at this. Dragons. That's why she was here. And that was it.

[cinnonym]

I recently discovered that "loathing" and "loving" is almost the same word but mixing it up can be dangerous. This is how the following fic came to be. I tag #idiotsinlove because that's really all it is. Happy reading and you're welcome:

The first glitch (yes, Emma was going to call it a glitch in the least self-blaming way possible, after all, it could have happened to anyone) was probably at the football game.

Emma wasn't hundred-percently sure though, because she wasn't watching Regina at that time, not closely at least. Her eyes were mainly focused on the ball of course, and on their son who was dribbling it towards the goal like a pro. Complete with tricks and all, like Emma had taught him on the grassy pitch behind their house, and Emma might or might not have reached for Regina's hand in the chaos on the bleachers. For the emotional support (Also because Regina's hands were really soft and warm and it was freezing like hell). And Regina squeezed her fingers - that's what Emma remembered for sure because it was the first time Regina acknowledged her attempt at contact after the Robin-thing had happened - squeezed and leaned in to say something in that extra raspy voice for only Emma to hear.

And that was when the cheers broke loose because Henry scored the goal and Emma didn't even see it because she was too focused on the painted lips of Regina Mills and the words they were forming.

"I loathe you."

It made sense to Emma at that point. Like, after all she had destroyed Regina's life and thirty years ago that had been enough to throw an entire realm into war. Her heart clenched a bit at the words, in the ache-y and sad way, but she found comfort in Regina's hand still in hers. (She wondered about that for a while, but maybe Regina felt cold too. It made sense.)

The second glitch occurred hardly a week after the match. Emma was invited to the mansion for dinner, but apparently Henry had other appointments so it was just Regina and her.

Emma brought a wine in an attempt to maybe repair the shards of friendship between them and judging from the soft smile that spread on Regina's face at the sight of Emma in an actual dress (though she wore the red leather jacket over it) she was doing an okay job with it.

"Thank you for having me," Emma said formally, "Despite Henry's absence."

Regina shot her an odd look and of course Emma wondered a bit then, but heaven knew she was used to getting odd looks. Besides, she was pretty sure her wine was the cheapest Regina had ever consumed. (It had still been on the upper edge of Emma's budget. And Regina sipped it with a smile that suggested at least some kind of appreciation.)

Regina had made lasagne, Emma's favourite kind with red chilli flakes and a dash of cream in the tomato sauce.

"Amazing that you remembered that," Emma said, moaning softly when the melted cheese hit her tastebuds. "It's simply delicious."

Two things happened then, one predictable (Regina looking really smug and also unbelievably hot as she licked a spot of sauce off her bottom lip) and one not quite so predictable.

"I loathe you," she repeated those three words again and that time they really confused Emma. Because, if Regina was loathing her so much then why go through the trouble of keeping her for dinner? Plus, it did seem an un-Regina-likely rude reply to Emma's compliment.

But then again, maybe she had misheard. Maybe Regina had said something else entirely, but the beeping sound of the oven interrupted their conversation before Emma could ask.

"That must be the cake," Regina excused herself before Emma got the chance to do anything about the situation. (And to be fair, she wouldn't have known what to reply anyways. She frequently forgot how to form coherent sentences in Regina's presence.)

They say that third times were a charm and in Emma's experience, that was true. The third, and final, glitch was drastically different to the previous ones. For one, it involved Regina's tongue in Emma's mouth.

She was sitting idly at the station, throwing paper planes, when Regina stormed in. Her hair an unusual (but still, in Emma's opinion, very gorgeous) mess, her coat open and flapping like bat wings behind her, she threw open the door and nearly startled Emma to death. Scrambling to her feet immediately, she kicked away the tell-tale paper bits, but Regina didn't even seem to care.

"Sheriff," she greeted curtly and "Madam Mayor," Emma replied a bit breathlessly, since Regina had come dangerously close, her hand hovering over Emma's cheek for a millisecond before she cupped it and drew Emma in. In, as in, for a kiss. (Emma had to clarify this for herself again, after her brain stopped short circuiting because Regina Mills' lips were actually touching hers.)

Or, to be fair, not only touching, not only brushing, or tracing, but rather demolishing, ravaging. Regina kissed like there was no tomorrow and oh, Emma melted into that kiss like there had been no yesterday, no "I loathe you"...

"Wait," Emma breathed out then, still against Regina's lips. She was astonished to find her hands in Regina's hair (one tangled in the soft brown strands, the other curled around Regina's neck) but the real surprise lay in Regina's hands. They had found their way to the hem of Emma's shirt without her even noticing it, and were now impatiently tugging at the cotton.

"Don't you, like, hate me though?" Emma still had to whisper, through the rush of blood in her ears and the racing heartbeat in their chests.

And Regina chuckled, low and raspy and disbelieving. Her reply was toneless and got lost in the threads of laughter but it definitely sounded like "I loathe you." Emma was confused.

(Regina had always been good at sending mixed signals but this was a scary new record.)

But then Regina repeated the words, again and again and again, and each trio was separated by a kiss, no longer wild and hungry but sweet and loving.

Loving.

If Emma listened really closely (or, like, normally, uninterrupted by cheers or beeps or chuckles) "I loathe you" could easily mean something else entirely. Something closer to "I love you" maybe (which would explain the kissing).

(Emma felt very dumb for a moment.) But then Regina moved from her lips to her neck and then to her collarbones and thoughts kind of became a rarity on Emma's mind. She did have the presence of mind to lock the door with a flick of her hand though. For what happened next was pretty much the opposite of loathing.

[narusakufantastic]

W.I.P

Growing up with two pro hero parents isn't that bad it's actually fun but there are some drawbacks. Like the fact that they are a little overprotective. One time when my quirk developed my parents put pillows on my hands so I wouldn't hurt anyone. That's because I have healing and super strength it works like this, the stronger I get the better my healing powers are. Another thing that sucks about having pro hero parents is that people think things are just handed to you. 

That's pretty hurtful because I work my butt off to prove that I'm just like everyone else. My name is Mayu Nabari the daughter of the hero Apollo and Madame Strength. I've had a pretty normal life I have an older brother Souma who I'm pretty close to and I've made a few friends. My best friend is Neito Monoma we've done pretty much everything together. We both applied for U.A at the same time but then after I got into class 1A and he got in 1B there was a rift that was forming. 

He seems so angry and bitter now like every time I see him, he looks so angry with burning hot glare. That burns into the back of your head. I don't know what to do every time I try to talk to him we end up arguing and I end up with a pit of guilt brewing in my stomach. Am I that bad of friend to not understand what's wrong, for not understanding why he's so bitter?

We were supposed to be there for each other but now I'm not sure. I have other friends like Todoroki, Kendo, Hitoshi, Yamaguchi, and others."Hey Nabari-Chan!" I hear from the bubbly Ami 

Yamaguchi. "Oh, greetings Yamaguchi." 

"You ok?"Her voice had some mild concern in it.

"Yeah, I just got lost in thought, "I told her not voicing my concerns with the Neito Monoma situation.

"Well if that's the case mind if we sit with you at lunch?"Yamaguchi asked.

"No of course not."I give her a gentle smile. 

I watch her grab our purple-haired tired-looking friend Hitoshi. “Come on!” I can hear Yamaguchi giggling as she practically dragging him.

Ami Yamaguchi and Shinsou Hitoshi both of them use to be in C class now they are in B class. They’ve been secretly dating for a couple months at least maybe longer. Even before that it would be weird seeing one without the other. Meeting them was one of the best things to ever happen. I could go on and on but that would take forever and we have more important things to address.

Like the fact that I can feel someone glaring at me, so I turned around to who it is. Can you guess who it is I’ll give you a hint? He hates A class, he’s my childhood best friend, and he has a copy quirk. Yeah, it’s Neito because who else would it be but I don’t know what we did this time. “Hey what’s up with him this time?” I asked.

They look at each with a confused look on their faces as if they expect me to know. There was an awkward silence that felt like hours of us not talking expecting the other to say something. Only to be broken by Neito walking over to our table “Why is it that you always have to be in the spotlight?”

I blinked several times in confusion not understanding at all what he meant. “I’m sorry what do you mean?” I asked him clearly lost with a confused look on my face.

That clearly annoyed him as he gave me the same kind of look Bakugou gives me when don’t listen to him. The look that screams get away or I will hurt you, where it looks like you're going to pop a blood vestal. “How could you not know!?” He asked almost full-blown shouting at me.

“Umm Nabari-chan you’re all over the news.” A quiet squeak came from Yamaguchi as if she was afraid to tell me.

“Wait I am?” I look back at her with a shocked look of confusion. I tried to think of any reason why I would be all over the news but then it hit me. I had left with my dad who's been a teacher here since we got the dorms to pick up something I had left at the house. When somehow I don't know how but The Marionette spotted us and a fight ensued. My mom ended up interfering but The Marionette got away. "Neito look I wasn't trying to start anything I swear," I spoke to him very calmly not raising my voice as would just make it worse.

"Tsk doesn't matter not like you care."He said with a hint of anger behind his voice anger towards me.

Kendo walks over to put a stop to this about to karate chop Neito when I stop her. "It's fine really you don't have to, "I told her wanting to avoid making things worse than they already are.

"Are you sure?" she asked and looked at me with a concerned look in her eyes.

"Yeah it's fine, don't worry about it, I can handle this."I weakly smile trying to hide the fact that I was hurting on the inside.

"Okay," she said with a little uncertainty in her voice.

I got up and stood there with my arms crossed trying to hide the fact that his comment did upset me. "I'm sorry that I'm all over the news it's not like I try to believe me. I try to stay out of the public eye as much as I can."

"Yeah must be nice have pro hero parents and being able to get anything you want!" he pretty much shouted at me.

Honestly, it took pretty much everything in my power to no cry. "Excuse me!?!!"I ended up shouting back probably not the best idea but that's what happens when you're full of emotions.

"I mean let's face it how else would you get into A class!" he shouted his voice full of anger and resentment now that one really hurt. 

"SCREW YOU!"I was so hurt by that comment he knew better than anyone how hard I worked and how I wanted to be seen as my own person. Heck, he was even there when I dyed my hair.

I immediately burst into tears and ran out of the cafeteria straight towards the dorms. This is the first time I have ever skipped any of my classes. Instead of curling up in a ball and crying my eyes out I decided to take out my feelings in my room. First thing I did after getting into my room a punch the punching bag that was hanging down from the ceiling right off the hook. The second thing I did was punch a hole a big one into said punching bag not some small quarter-sized hole a big bowling ball sized hole. I basically tore up my room and from the punching bag was everywhere, pictures were on the ground, and broken glass shards everywhere. Finally, I do what would be considered normal I climb onto my bed and sob. "How can I be a true hero if everyone thinks I'm here because my parents are heroes?"I asked myself still crying my eyes out. 

After probably hours of crying, I hear a knock on my door. I reluctantly got up to see who it is drying my eyes and wiping my tear-stained face to try to hide the fact that I had been bawling my eyes out. I opened the door to see none other than Todoroki which shocked me because I was expecting it to be the girls, but knowing them they have something planned for tonight. “Oh hey, Todoroki!”I force a cheerful tone and smile trying to hide my pain but my room says it all. “Can I come in?” He asked sounding like he was concerned while still being monotone. 

“Umm sure just mind the mess,” I told him as my room was an obstacle course. He walked in trying not to step on anything that was on the floor that wasn’t supposed to be on the floor when I hear a crack that sounded like glass breaking. 

“Oh sorry.”Todoroki apologized bending down to pick up what he had stepped on. I look over to see what he stepped on only to see it was a picture of 10-year-old me with Neito. “It’s okay it’s my fault for knocking it down.”I didn't want him to feel bad for stepping on it. “So this is from when you were kids?” He asked curious about my childhood with Neito. “Yeah, we just had won a race thanks to his copy quirk,” I said as a small smile formed remembering the good times. 

“You guys were really close I take it.”I gave Todoroki a miserable nod still hurt by what Neito said to me. Todoroki then did something that really surprised me he wrapped his arms around me hugging me. I hug back despite being shocked I honestly needed that after what Neito said. “Thank Todoroki I honestly need this.” 

The hug didn’t last too long but it was nice and I don't know if it was because of the fire half or not but the embrace was warm. “So...mine talking about it?” Todoroki seemed unsure on, whether that was alright to ask or not. “I guess.”I shrugged in response as I felt like I needed someone to vent to.  “So why did that comment make you so upset?”I could have guessed that would, the first thing he’d asked.

“Honestly had anyone else said that I would have been mad, but it wouldn’t have made me cry, it’s because it was Neito that it hurt so much.”His face looked like everyone started to make sense as I explained why. “I’m sorry.”Todoroki apologized to feeling bad that happened. 

“Don’t be it’s not your fault.” I hug him not wanting him to feel bad about what Neito said. “You know you can always talk to me if you need to?”He asked me this time he was hugging back. Truth be told I didn’t want the embrace to end it was warm and comfortable plus I really liked Todoroki. “Do you want me to help you clean up this mess?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”I smile and nod as we clean my room.

 “You’re going to need a new punching bag.”

 I giggle at him pointing out the obvious. “Yeah, I punch things when upset.”I hear a small chuckle come from him. After what I won't say was 15 minutes of cleaning the room was finally clean.  “Thanks, Todoroki.”A piece of my hot pink hair had fallen in my face and he gently pushed it out. That action caused me to blush a little but I hid it well trying not to make my feelings obvious to everyone.

Todoroki gave me a small smile it was nice because he doesn’t show it often. It didn’t take me long to notice that I forgot to put back up the sign of Mineta’s with a big red circle and line threw his face. I think Todoroki noticed that because we bent down at the same and made direct eye contact. “Don’t worry Todoroki I got it."He nods getting up so he let me get the sign. I hang the sign back smiling “There we go now the room is back to normal.”

“Yeah...umm if you ever need someone to talk to I’m open,” Todoroki said rubbing the back of his neck. Hearing that from Todoroki just made my terrible day better “Thanks Todoroki I appreciate that very much.”

We eventually got tired of standing so we just sat on my bed

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 10/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

Draco watched in awe as he watched Princess Mei use her own from of Alchemy to heal Mr. Elric. He had wanted to see what the Princess had on planned for the wounded Alchemy Professor. Of course, the Malfoy wasn't going to outright ask if he could be present. From what he learned, alchemy is a secret art and knowing too much is highly dangerous. Which came to a huge surprise when Professor Elric placed his hand on his shoulder and guided Draco to the room where the supposed healing process is going to occur.

Mr. Elric laid on the floor and Draco cringed when he saw the princess pulled out several knives that had ribbons tied to each of them, and stabbed them around the eldest Elric's head. A bright light enveloped Mr. Elric as Princess Mei, from what Draco assumed, healed him.

"This is called Alkahestry, it is also called Purification Arts. It is a different sort of form of Alchemy, in terms of practice and goal." Professor Elric explained to the curious Draco Malfoy.

"How are they different?" Draco asked, not taking his eyes away from what was happening in front of him.

"It is in chapter 22 of my DRAFT!" Mr. Elric squeaked out his last word when Princess Mei poked his stomach. "I can't feel my legs!"

"Don't move."

-.-

"Tell us who and what exactly they are?"

"Who? Which ones? Depending on who will decide what my answer is." Severus nursed a glass of firewhiskey, Demon sleeping on his lap. "Keep in mind, I have no clue what their bodyguards are."

The Princess's bodyguards had made themselves scarce, the house elf had made several comments on how they sensed something wrong with them. The only times they ever made an appearance is during breakfast, lunch or dinner. Or whenever they want something from the kitchen and to check on their charges. Even their mere presence made even the Head of the Malfoy family is wary of them. For now, any questions regarding them will be put on hold.

"Who exactly are the Elric Brothers?"

"Ah… Well… Do you want the long or short version? Keep in mind I do not have all the answers that concerns them, they are… rather secretive." Severus held his glass against his forehead in an attempt to ward off any upcoming headaches. "Merlin knows it takes a lot for them to open up about anything…"

"Short version?" Lucius replied with a bewildered expression.

"They did something stupid and the end result of trying to fix a mistake is Edward no longer able to perform Alchemy."

"What did they do?"

"What they attempted to do the ultimate taboo in Alchemy, it backlashed on them and resulted to who they are today."

Lucius frowned. "Long story?"

"They're idiots." Severus deadpanned. "Irresponsible, pathetic, weak-minded and far too intelligent fools whom were tempted by the darker side of Alchemy. They defeated their demons and proceeded forward to fix their mistakes while becoming the young men whom we see today."

"That's it? Details?"

"I made the promise to not talk to anyone about this without Edward's approval."

"Don't tell me… He expected I would ask you questions?"

"Edward may act like an idiot, but he's anything but that. There are more pieces to the puzzle he keeps hidden away from the world."

"Do you believe Draco is capable of doing Alchemy?"

"…Keep in mind that the eldest Elric has no filter and does not follow proper etique-" Severus was caught off when a familiar scream ranged out throughout the manor. It was quickly followed by a not so familiar scream.

"WHY THE FUCKING FACE!"

"BIG BROTHER! BEHAVE!"

Severus took in a deep breath before he swallowed down the rest of his drink. "Keep in mind they are ambassadors…"

-.-

Edward cursed under his breath as he rubbed his face, it no longer stings but now felt numb. Mei apparently learned to cut off certain points in the body causing paralysis. At least there won't be any scaring from the magical dog bite.

The Alchemy Teacher looked over his shoulder to see Draco scanning through the chapter that went over Alkahestry and would quietly ask Alphonse questions on the topic. The young Malfoy had truly taken on learning Alchemy and now Alkahestry. Here's to hoping that his attitude's changes otherwise this will be a waste of time.

"Hoot?"

Edward looked up to see Xerxes land on top of his head and looking down at him with a questioning look. "What?"

"Hoot?"

"We're going to the Ministry tomorrow to start out with the dealings with the Magical Morrons."

"Hoot, hoot, hoot?"

"Don't remind me, we still need to get Madam Bones into office. Once she's in then it'll make dealings easier on everyone."

"Hoot."

"Ling should be coming here around two weeks. Until then we have to cover as much ground as we could."

"Hoot!"

"I don't know, the kid shows real potential… long as he stops using his family name and change in attitude on everything to everyone."

"Hoot~"

"Ugh… spoiled bird."

-.-

Madam Amelia Bones sat in her chair as she waited for everyone else that was required to attend the meeting to arrive. Kingsley Shacklebolt is standing on her left, keeping an eye out on everyone else in the room and on her right is Alastor Moody who kept muttering about the guests of honor. Said guests of honor are the Ambassadors from Amestris and Xing, a princess for the latter's country and two bodyguards.

The Elric Brothers are conversing with their bodyguards, laughing quietly at whatever the Princess of Xing giggled out. The corners of the eyes of the youngest Elric brother will crinkle whenever he looks at his fiancé, his eyes filled with hidden adoration. Some will swear his eyes had seen the horrible aspects of life. All of that will go away whenever he catches the eye of his fiancé. It was a lovely sight, it reminded Bones of her later brother and sister-in-law. Young love… She already had a received an invitation to their wedding that was set in a few short years.

"I still don't trust them." Moody growled under his breath, keep both eyes on the foreign Ambassadors. "Something doesn't feel right about them."

"Come now, Alastor." Shacklebolt attempted to get the Auror to stop growling at their guest. This was just an informal meeting, to get the ball rolling to where everything stands. The official meeting will occur once Minister is selected. Amestris and Xing had made it known they will not fully agree onto anything as there is a fear the new minister will attempt to change everything that was set. "There is nothing to fear about them."

"Long as you do not threaten, lie, deceive or use them for our own gain, then there is nothing to fear. If it does occur, run. Their bark is equal to their bite." Bones reached over and picked up a cup of hot tea that was set for her. "They do not even require Alchemy or Magic to hurt someone. Let's not even start with what they will do politically against us."

"You make it sound like you would prefer a head on war against them." Moody growled under his breath, not liking on how Bones is reacting towards their supposed guests.

"They are trying to prevent an upcoming war and changing our views of the world along with theirs." Bones murmured into her tea, shooting Moody a warning glare. "They are allies and I expect you to treat them as such."

"They made rather close friends with the Malfoys…"

"They are staying in their residence for the remainder of the summer."

"Why couldn't they stay elsewhere? Why there?"

"Politics."

"Bah!"

-.-

"We will not finalize anything until the whoever becomes Minister, becomes the new Minister." Edward shrugged with a loud yawn, ignoring his brother's hidden sigh of defeat. What? Who can blame him, politics are not his thing. "Last thing we need is the new person in charge changes everything once they are appointed. I have seen it happen… it sucks."

"What my brother is trying to say is… we will continue on with the negotiations until we could all agree to one thing or another, without the fear of someone changing everything for their own gain after everything is supposedly said and done."

"Blah, blah, blah! We all know that the majority of everyone I have come across are not happy at the fact I am a… muggle…" Edward face scrunched up in disgust at the face he used the one word he hated ever since he first heard it. He picked up his own cup of tea and took a huge mouthful of it; face scrunching up at the taste. There was something very off about his tea. Something very off. "Along with the face Amestris is a giant black hole for magic. No magic and everyone starts freaking out! Don't even get me started with politics there and here!"

"…Again… I apologize for my brother's behavior. He's just cranky, I put milk in his tea when he wasn't watching."

"YOU ARE THE REASON IT TASTES LIKE SHIT!"

"Oh hush, you need the calcium. Truth's knows you're going to need a tough skull to deal with the Wrench of Doom." Alphonse whispered out the last part just loud enough for his brother, fiancé, and bodyguards to hear. The latter three giggled under their breaths knowing the owner of the Wrench of Doom and how Edward shrank onto himself. "What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry, this place gives off an off-putting aura. Like the one in Hogwarts, but worse." Edward apologized, expression tense and almost pained that bordered annoyance. It was strange, not once has he ever felt it this powerful whenever he visited the Ministry. It's almost like someone… amp up the anit-muggle charms… Great. That would be the only explanation, it came out of nowhere. It happened before that nincompoop Cornelius, pink toad monstrosity Dolores and the remaining followers they have. That toad has been smiling at him since the moment she entered the meeting room. "Ugh… I need an apple pie."

"Hem hem, is everything alright, Mr. Elric?" Dolores Umbridge smiled widely at the eldest Elric brother.

"I'm quite fine, thank you for asking." Alphonse smiled at the woman, ensuring that Edward will not start a dispute with the woman. His own smile only grew at seeing the woman in pink smile twitch in anger before it quickly disappeared. "Big brother is just being big brother. We had to cancel several previously arranged engagements to attend this meeting."

"I apologize for inconveniencing you all��"

"If we are going to blame anyone, it would be our superiors, all of you…then ourselves." Edward grumbled under his breath as he sniffed his tea with disdain. "Can we take a break? I want to make myself a cup of tea without any outside inference."

-.-

"You gave us extra time to figure what to say to them about the supposed finalization of the peace treaty. Now we have time to change their focus or figure something else." Alphonse spoke quietly to his brother, fiancé and bodyguards. They were given a room to temporarily rest or to get a bite of food, as there is a cart filled with foods and random drinks. "Ed?"

"Hm? What? I actually wanted to make myself a new cup of tea. Screw the meeting, Madam Bones understands our position and isn't pushing forward to sign immediately. It's late early August, she won't become Minister until late September. Don't start with the possibility of that idiotic Conry Fudge on winning that hat. We gained the last needed ally to secure that position for her." Edward leaned against the wall in the room as he took sips of his tea. "You have put it bluntly to them that we are not going to sign anytime soon. I know how these people think and react. I got word that FUCKING TOAD," Edward threw his cup across the room, his expression filled with tension, "Raised up the wards against non-magical humans!"

Everyone else in the room had mixed emotions on Edward's outburst. Normally this sort of thing was out of character, however considering how he is describing the ward that is out against him and how his behavior is getting worse by the hour… not much of a surprise. Shock? Maybe. Resilient would be a word to describe Edward, but everyone has a breaking point and the pressure around him along with the meeting mixed together was not a good combo.

"She has it against me for the fucking fact I'm a muggle! A muggle!"

"Is anyone going to lower the wards?" Mei asked worriedly, she had sensed a presence that seemed to surround the entire building. It wasn't affecting her as it was affecting Edward, knowing the guy as long as she does, it worries her. Doesn't help how affected Alphonse is, should he continue to apologize for his Brother's behavior, even if it's not even his own fault? They wanted a rise out of the eldest Elric Brother, and it appears they got one.

"Bah, I'm not going to give them the satisfaction. If they want war, they are going to get one!"

"Please don't start a war…"

[callmeshakesqueer]

Monopoly Friday Night - Madam Spellman fanfiction

so you can send me more prompts about madam spellman BECAUSE I ADORE THEM

and here's warm, short one-shot about Zelda not being able to lose at Monopoly and Lilith playing with her nerves:

~~~

Friday night has become a traditional one for the Spellmans family. Zelda wasn’t busy with melodrama at the Academy of Unseen Arts, Doctor Cerberus always let Hilda early from her shift, Sabrina allowed herself to take a break from her dramatic teen life, Ambrose never missed the opportunity to make fun of her while they played Monopoly in front of the fireplace in their living room. Lilith every time appeared when the Sun came down, after long, hellishly hot work at the Underground.

It was nothing new for her to visit this house and leave by morning, since it was her house, too, after all.

“Each one of you has to pay me… $20.” She giggled when Sabrina loudly sighed and threw her money at her, Ambrose did the same and Zelda rolled her eyes, unpleased.

“It is what it is.” Hilda smiled halfway when she handed to Lilith her last $20.

“Oh, Zelda, honey, you still owe me that $100.”

Fury in the oldest of Spellmans raged inside even more as she gritted her teeth while placing the piece of paper on the board.

Lilith could say goodbye to making love tonight, she had that feeling when in Zelda’s eyes danced flares. Still, her wife was gorgeous, even with madness bursting from her. She looked divine, the golden locks made an aureola around her soft features; chip upturned with pride; her body weight rested on her left hand placed on the carpet, her legs slightly bent in half, royally lied. Lilith could be the Queen of Hell, but it was definitely Zelda who ruled her heart.

They played until the witching hour, to the point when Hilda noticed Sabrina’s unsuccessfully hidden yawns. Zelda agreed it was time to end the game, emanating nothing but anger when they counted who won and it turned out that she was third.

Of course, Lilith was the first one, Ambrose behind by only $200, then Zelda, Hilda and the last on - Sabrina.

“You may be a powerful witch, but certainly not good at Monopoly.” Ambrose joked and Sabrina made an annoyed face that could be seen on her pretty young face more often than usual.

“I’m going to clean this up,” Hilda said and started to collect hotels and houses, Sabrina automatically helped her.

Zelda slowly got up with a grimace and hands entangled on her chest, Lilith by her side within a second.

Ambrose gave a goodnight kiss on the cheeks of three women and messed up Sabrina’s hair.

“Goodnight, aunties, goodnight, cousin.” He left the living room.

Two witches headed the same way Ambrose did. Zelda was irritated by her lost game because it wasn’t happening often and losing was one of the most hated things by her; Lilith in the opposite mood with a beaming but sleepy smile on her mouth. No matter of the results of Monopoly Friday night, she always went to bed with curved lips. Because what there was to not be happy about? She finally had a home, a family, a strong woman beside her. And also, she could prank them all.

So, after thinking of the pros and cons not for too long, she spoke up.

“Zelda, you always look so hot… no homo though.”

Everyone turned their heads: Ambrose clearly amused and waiting for the continuation on the stairs, Hilda and Sabrina who were still hiding parts of the game board, stopped immediately and Hilda tried to hide her little smile while Sabrina couldn’t decide if the situation was funny or gross because of someone referring to her aunt Zelda as “hot”.

“Sike!” After a few seconds, filled with curiosity, the demoness yelled and slapped Zelda’s ass.

“For Satan’s sake!” It was the last string of Zelda’s patience tonight and she almost ran off from the hallway with red blush blooming on her usually pale cheeks.

“Auntie Zee, I didn’t know you were gay.” Ambrose laughed when the woman passed by him.

She would kill Lilith someday.

[riathel]

Desperate Glory

20th February 1915

It was a crisp, February morning. St James’ Park was sleepy, redolent with dew-covered blossoms and a light frost upon the pond. The ducks were huddled together, very few bravely bobbing along the water. Fewer still were the people wandering the park. Those who did walked with a sense of urgency uncommon for such a sluggish month. The snow hadn’t fallen for days, but the ground crunched underfoot like slivers of cracked glass.

The new war building stood out like a dark, watchful monolith. More uncharitably, it was a thorn in the landscape. It stood aloof from the rest of nature, kept at bay by a spiked fence.

A man stood by the pond in a grey, double-breasted sack suit. Under his grey jacket, he wore a slightly rumpled grey waistcoat, white shirt, and blood red tie. His straw boater’s hat he held in one hand, twirling it around in absent circles. His outfit was too thin to be practical on such a frosty morning, but, if he was cold, he showed no sign.

Thin, black-tinted spectacles were pressed tightly against the bridge of his nose. If he had removed them, one might have noticed he was glaring at the war building, his mouth rigid with emotion.

“A wretched thing forlorn,” he said softly.

“I thought it was your design.”

The speaker was a primly dressed, blond-haired man in a white frock coat. It was fully unbuttoned. His neat, yellow double-breasted waistcoat peeked through, a gold watchchain tucked perfectly in one pocket.

“You think I’d make such an eye-sore?” Crowley asked, his words clipped.

Aziraphale smiled warmly, settling in next to his vigil by the waterside as if he didn’t notice the other man’s discomfort. “I meant you in a general sense. An archduke, or someone.”

“No. Another,” Crowley gestured sharply, angrily, “another human invention.”

“I just assumed…” Aziraphale trailed off. He continued when the demon was silent, still half-turned, watching the new barracks. “What brings you to London this time of year? Social visit?”

Crowley scoffed, his gaze darting to the angel. Aziraphale was looking serenely out on the pond. “That’s a genuine question?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, gently, “I thought you might be abroad.”

“Abroad where? The whole sodding world is at each others’ throats,” he spat the last word. “Not a good time for a vacation.”

“I thought you might be in France.” At Crowley’s raised eyebrows, Aziraphale added: “Among the action.”

Whatever furious, strangled reply that curdled in Crowley’s throat was cut off by a thin, perilously righteous voice.

“Excuse me! Young man!” The woman was barely thirty, a white, high-necked dress pressing into her throat. She approached at speed, gave Crowley a curt once-over and stepped forward. “I think it’s disgusting,” she said, “a young man like you shirking from duty. Men - good men - are out there giving their lives on the fields and you waste your life away with pleasure and sin.”

“Madam–” Aziraphale tried to cut in. Crowley was silent.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she finished, coldly, and thrust a white feather into the top pocket of his jacket. With that, she was off.

The celestial beings were both quiet for several moments afterwards.

A duck bobbed in the water, looking for fish and coming up empty, her feathers slick.

Eventually, Aziraphale stopped merely shooting him concerned glances, and said, “My dear–”

“Don’t,” Crowley snapped, frosty and restrained. He plucked the white feather out of his pocket and twirled it around in his free hand. “Isn’t it just what you were saying? I should be, what was it, ‘among the action’?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” murmured Aziraphale, but it was weak. He had meant it, when he had said it, he just hadn’t realised how overcome the other man was with the thought of it. “It’s not as if you’re being forced to,” he added, overcome with the weight of the silence himself.

Crowley laughed. It was not a happy sound. “Haven’t you heard? The brave young men volunteering to die for pro patria aren’t enough. They don’t have enough soldiers.” He was looking out at the pond as he spoke, but his glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose with the force of the woman pushing past him earlier, and his gold eyes were alight with mania. “They’ll start conscriptions, soon. Mark me on that.”

“We could…” Aziraphale began and stopped. “You could run away.”

Crowley hadn’t noticed his abortive start of a sentence. He stood, turning the feather this way and that in quick, jerky movements.

“There are some places that aren’t affected,” Aziraphale continued. “I mean, surely - Australia? Oh. No. Well.” He cast about for another country. “Iceland!” he concluded. “You could go to Iceland. I’ve heard it’s… well. It’s something.”

“No,” Crowley said softly.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, equally as soft. “Well. Denmark in general?”

“No, as in - I’m not running away.” He stopped twirling the feather and put his straw hat on his head. “They’re all up here,” he added, bitter as arsenic, “Hastur. Ligur. Even Beelzebub has made a visit to gawk at humanity’s grand stage show.” He paused, as if waiting for the angel to say something, then continued: “They’re expecting me to be there.”

The unspoken lay between them: I thought you hadn’t, otherwise I would be already.

Aziraphale sighed, placing his hands in his pockets. “My dear,” he said and, for want of anything more profound, proferred: “I’ll still be here, after it all.”

Finally, he drew Crowley’s attention. The gold glints turned on him, the pupils dilating in mild curiosity.

“You aren’t called there too?”

The angel tilted his head. “Called?”

“To the hospitals,” Crowley said as if he were a particularly slow child. “The wounded. The dying. To help them. We commend to your keeping, O Lord, the soul of your servant, et cetera.”

“Er,” said Aziraphale. “I hadn’t – well. I hadn’t… You mean… leave London? I’m terrible with… those sorts of things. You know that.”

Crowley turned to him fully, his mouth parted. “You had no intention of doing anything?” It was a flat question, half-rhetorical, half-incredulous. “People are dying in their thousands,” he snapped, suddenly sharp and cold, “And you were going to, what - hide in your book shop and wait for the machine guns to stop firing?”

The angel flinched, but said heatedly, “So what if I was? Is it a crime? I hardly look like a young man. I’m in no fit state for a battlefield.” He was very aware of Crowley’s gaze, even as the other shoved his sunglasses up to cover his serpent eyes. “People die all the time without either of our interference.”

A white feather suddenly bloomed in the button-hole of Aziraphale’s frock coat, where his carnation had once been. Crowley threw his own on the ground.

“My pleasure. It’s a good look for you,” he said nastily, turned on his heel and left before Aziraphale could say another word.

The wind turned to ice abruptly, leaving the angel standing, alone, by the frigid water of St. James’ Park, the white feathers shivering and bending.

“I’m tired,” he said quietly to an adventurous duck who was examining him for a crust. His bright face was dulled to an ashen mask. “I don’t like blood. I don’t like fighting.” The duck quacked at him, unimpressed by his lack of bread.

With a last, long look at the black figure stalking across the park, Aziraphale set out slowly in the opposite direction towards Pall Mall. As he walked, his direction began to change, until he was walking, like a prisoner towards a hangman, towards Westminster Bridge.

Towards the hospital.

Towards war.

(also on ao3)

[draculalive]

Mina Harker's Journal.

5 October, 5 p.m. -- Our meeting for report. Present: Professor Van Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Quincey Morris, Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker.

Dr. Van Helsing described what steps were taken during the day to discover on what boat and whither bound Count Dracula made his escape:---

"As I knew that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I felt sure that he must go by the Danube mouth; or by somewhere in the Black Sea, since by that way he come. It was a dreary blank that was before us. Omne ignotum pro magnifico; and so with heavy hearts we start to find what ships leave for the Black Sea last night. He was in sailing ship, since Madam Mina tell of sails being set. These not so important as to go in your list of the shipping in the Times, and so we go, by suggestion of Lord Godalming, to your Lloyd's, where are note of all ships that sail, however so small. There we find that only one Black-Sea-bound ship go out with the tide. She is the Czarina Catherine, and she sail from Doolittle's Wharf for Varna, and thence on to other parts and up the Danube. 'Soh!' said I, 'this is the ship whereon is the Count.' So off we go to Doolittle's Wharf, and there we find a man in an office of wood so small that the man look bigger than the office. From him we inquire of the goings of the Czarina Catherine. He swear much, and he red face and loud of voice, but he good fellow all the same; and when Quincey give him something from his pocket which crackle as he roll it up, and put it in a so small bag which he have hid deep in his clothing, he still better fellow and humble servant to us. He come with us, and ask many men who are rough and hot; these be better fellows too when they have been no more thirsty. They say much of blood and bloom, and of others which I comprehend not, though I guess what they mean; but nevertheless they tell us all things which we want to know.

"They make known to us among them, how last afternoon at about five o'clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man, thin and pale, with high nose and teeth so white, and eyes that seem to be burning. That he be all in black, except that he have a hat of straw which suit not him or the time. That he scatter his money in making quick inquiry as to what ship sails for the Black Sea and for where. Some took him to the office and then to the ship, where he will not go aboard but halt at shore end of gang-plank, and ask that the captain come to him. The captain come, when told that he will be pay well; and though he swear much at the first he agree to term. Then the thin man go and some one tell him where horse and cart can be hired. He go there and soon he come again, himself driving cart on which a great box; this he himself lift down, though it take several to put it on truck for the ship. He give much talk to captain as to how and where his box is to be place; but the captain like it not and swear at him in many tongues, and tell him that if he like he can come and see where it shall be. But he say 'no'; that he come not yet, for that he have much to do. Whereupon the captain tell him that he had better be quick -- with blood -- for that his ship will leave the place -- of blood -- before the turn of the tide -- with blood. Then the thin man smile and say that of course he must go when he think fit; but he will be surprise if he go quite so soon. The captain swear again, polyglot, and the thin man make him bow, and thank him, and say that he will so far intrude on his kindness as to come aboard before the sailing. Final the captain, more red than ever, and in more tongues tell him that he doesn't want no Frenchmen -- with bloom upon them and also with blood -- in his ship -- with blood on her also. And so, after asking where there might be close at hand a ship where he might purchase ship forms, he departed.

“No one knew where he went ’or bloomin’ well cared,’ as they said, for they had something else to think of -- well with blood again; for it soon became apparent to all that the Czarina Catherine would not sail as was expected. A thin mist began to creep up from the river, and it grew, and grew; till soon a dense fog enveloped the ship and all around her. The captain swore polyglot -- very polyglot -- polyglot with bloom and blood; but he could do nothing. The water rose and rose; and he began to fear that he would lose the tide altogether. He was in no friendly mood, when just at full tide, the thin man came up the gang-plank again and asked to see where his box had been stowed. Then the captain replied that he wished that he and his box -- old and with much bloom and blood -- were in hell. But the thin man did not be offend, and went down with the mate and saw where it was place, and came up and stood awhile on deck in fog. He must have come off by himself, for none notice him. Indeed they thought not of him; for soon the fog begin to melt away, and all was clear again. My friends of the thirst and the language that was of bloom and blood laughed, as they told how the captain's swears exceeded even his usual polyglot, and was more than ever full of picturesque, when on questioning other mariners who were on movement up and down on the river that hour, he found that few of them had seen any of fog at all, except where it lay round the wharf. However, the ship went out on the ebb tide; and was doubtless by morning far down the river mouth. She was by then, when they told us, well out to sea.

“And so, my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest for a time, for our enemy is on the sea, with the fog at his command, on his way to the Danube mouth. To sail a ship takes time, go she never so quick; and when we start we go on land more quick, and we meet him there. Our best hope is to come on him when in the box between sunrise and sunset; for then he can make no struggle, and we may deal with him as we should. There are days for us, in which we can make ready our plan. We know all about where he go; for we have seen the owner of the ship, who have shown us invoices and all papers that can be. The box we seek is to be landed in Varna, and to be given to an agent, one Ristics who will there present his credentials; and so our merchant friend will have done his part. When he ask if there be any wrong, for that so, he can telegraph and have inquiry made at Varna, we say ‘no’; for what is to be done is not for police or of the customs. It must be done by us alone and in our own way."

When Dr. Van Helsing had done speaking, I asked him if he were certain that the Count had remained on board the ship. He replied: "We have the best proof of that: your own evidence, when in the hypnotic trance this morning." I asked him again if it were really necessary that they should pursue the Count, for oh! I dread Jonathan leaving me, and I know that he would surely go if the others went. He answered in growing passion, at first quietly. As he went on, however, he grew more angry and more forceful, till in the end we could not but see wherein was at least some of that personal dominance which made him so long a master amongst men:---

"Yes, it is necessary -- necessary -- necessary! For your sake in the first, and then for the sake of humanity. This monster has done much harm already, in the narrow scope where he find himself, and in the short time when as yet he was only as a body groping his so small measure in darkness and not knowing. All this have I told these others; you, my dear Madam Mina, will learn it in the phonograph of my friend John, or in that of your husband. I have told them how the measure of leaving his own barren land -- barren of peoples -- and coming to a new land where life of man teems till they are like the multitude of standing corn, was the work of centuries. Were another of the Un-Dead, like him, to try to do what he has done, perhaps not all the centuries of the world that have been, or that will be, could aid him. With this one, all the forces of nature that are occult and deep and strong must have worked together in some wondrous way. The very place, where he have been alive, Un-Dead for all these centuries, is full of strangeness of the geologic and chemical world. There are deep caverns and fissures that reach none know whither. There have been volcanoes, some of whose openings still send out waters of strange properties, and gases that kill or make to vivify. Doubtless, there is something magnetic or electric in some of these combinations of occult forces which work for physical life in strange way; and in himself were from the first some great qualities. In a hard and warlike time he was celebrate that he have more iron nerve, more subtle brain, more braver heart, than any man. In him some vital principle have in strange way found their utmost; and as his body keep strong and grow and thrive, so his brain grow too. All this without that diabolic aid which is surely to him; for it have to yield to the powers that come from, and are, symbolic of good. And now this is what he is to us. He have infect you -- oh, forgive me, my dear, that I must say such; but it is for good of you that I speak. He infect you in such wise, that even if he do no more, you have only to live -- to live in your own old, sweet way; and so in time, death, which is of man's common lot and with God's sanction, shall make you like to him. This must not be! We have sworn together that it must not. Thus are we ministers of God's own wish: that the world, and men for whom His Son die, will not be given over to monsters, whose very existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem one soul already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to redeem more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise; and like them, if we fall, we fall in good cause." He paused and I said:---

"But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely? Since he has been driven from England, will he not avoid it, as a tiger does the village from which he has been hunted?"

"Aha!" he said, "your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I shall adopt him. Your man-eater, as they of India call the tiger who has once tasted blood of the human, care no more for the other prey, but prowl unceasing till he get him. This that we hunt from our village is a tiger, too, a man-eater, and he never cease to prowl. Nay, in himself he is not one to retire and stay afar. In his life, his living life, he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on his own ground; he be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come again, and again, and again. Look at his persistence and endurance. With the child-brain that was to him he have long since conceive the idea of coming to a great city. What does he do? He find out the place of all the world most of promise for him. Then he deliberately set himself down to prepare for the task. He find in patience just how is his strength, and what are his powers. He study new tongues. He learn new social life; new environment of old ways, the politic, the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new land and a new people who have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he have had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help him to grow as to his brain; for it all prove to him how right he was at the first in his surmises. He have done this alone; all alone! from a ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the greater world of thought is open to him. He that can smile at death, as we know him; who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole peoples. Oh, if such an one was to come from God, and not the Devil, what a force for good might he not be in this old world of ours. But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret; for in this enlightened age, when men believe not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength. It would be at once his sheath and his armour, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love -- for the good of mankind, and for the honour and glory of God."

After a general discussion it was determined that for to-night nothing be definitely settled; that we should all sleep on the facts, and try to think out the proper conclusions. To-morrow, at breakfast, we are to meet again, and, after making our conclusions known to one another, we shall decide on some definite cause of action.

[shinnystars]

Fic Rec Days - Harry Potter x Severus Snape

Surfacing by avioleta | E | 28k

Harry’s back at Hogwarts. Severus is back in the Potions Lab and everyone is just trying to find some semblance of normal after the war.

The Only Witchcraft by ptyx | E | 8k

In the final battle against Voldemort, Snape saves Harry's life and loses his magical powers.

Brewing glory by Lomonaaeren | M | 6k

Harry never thought his lack of a Potions NEWT would conspire against him... he reluctantly begins to study with Snape.

The Return of the Prodigal by Lachesis M 27k

When Harry is tossed backwards in time through a magical accident, he has no choice but to return the hard way. One day at a time.

Escaping the Paradox by Meri E 35k

After Harry is thrown back in time to 1971, he has several choices to make.

Stargazer by Lomonaaeren | M | 34k

There is no Boy-Who-Lived; Albus Dumbledore defeated Voldemort and destroyed his Horcruxes. Harry grows up as an ordinary boy—a very ordinary boy, with barely more magic than a Squib. He sets out to prove himself, but in private, because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment in everyone’s eyes if he fails. And that leads him to a very strange relationship, mediated by stubbornness on both sides, with Severus Snape.

The Joyous Kind of Living by Lomonaaeren | M | 10k

After the war, Potter is the only one to treat him with respect. It’s perhaps inevitable that Severus falls deeply, slowly, in love.

Anniversary by RaeWhit | E | 30k

After Voldemort is defeated on Harry’s eighteenth birthday, the Headmaster makes a deathbed request: that Harry and Snape spend the anniversary of that victory alone together, every year.

Cell Biology by Aucta Sinistra | M | 5k Close quarters and low temperatures and a manipulative headmaster.  

Hollow by Aucta Sinistra | E | 26k

After Voldemort’s defeat, Snape comes to Harry for help.

Quid Pro Quo by Aucta Sinistra | E| 28k Harry’s cursed, and he comes to Snape to ask for a cure.

Scratch by Aucta Sinistra | E | 54k Snape tutors Harry, Harry faces Voldemort, Snape and Harry do the nasty, blah blah blah. Same old thing. Oh there’s a cat as well.

Beech Hall by Aucta Sinistra | E | 28k Dumbledore sends Snape to Harry’s manor for his own protection.

Pariah by Aucta Sinistra | G | 13k

Snape pursues Harry.

Acceptable Weakness by dreadingnought | E | 21k

Draco tries to get even for his father ending up in Azkaban, and Harry needs a rescuer when none can be reached.

The Care Of Infants by Perfica E 17k

A curse from Voldemort regresses Harry to infancy. Snape must protect him while the Order tries to find a way to reverse the spell.

The Serenading and Seduction of Severus Snape by lightgoddess | M | 8k

What happens when a blind Harry returns to Hogwarts ten years after graduadtion? In that time he's moved to Texas and returned to England with a few new hobbies and talents, but why? Could it have something to do with a certain professor who's still not getting laid?

A Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow by BelleRN | G | 29k Hogwarts has never had professors like Harry and Draco. Headmaster Snape doesn't know whether that's a good or bad thing.

I Was Wondering If by parsnips (trifles) | M | 1k

Severus Snape was by no means a man without humor.

The weight of a beating heart by Lilian M 20k

Harry gets captured by Death Eaters while "camping". They throw him into a cell to wait until Voldemort gets to him. However, Snape is also there as a prisoner, and he tells him about the prophecy. A story of love, friendship, and Severus Snape's heartbeats.

Tempus fugit by cathcer1984 E 33k

When Harry is thrown back in time, he falls in the middle of a Death Eater meeting. Voldemort recruits him, without fully giving him a choice. He will never truly help Voldemort, however. Severus is intrigued by this time jumper.

Life Before by Willidan M 51k

Harry’s been having some interesting dreams lately. But he’s not the only one.

Five Steps to Surviving Cabin Fever by hippocrates460 | E | 6k

Harry's worst nightmare comes true, instead of spending his days off lounging around his apartment he's been called in for a case. It all gets worse when the case drags on for longer than expected and Robards decides he'll need help.

Last Chance (or) The Chosen Two by chrmisha M 8k

It’s the night before the final battle and Harry Potter has one last chance to act on his desires.

Once More With Feeling by semaphoredrivethru | T | 10k

Snape wondered how it was that he had managed to land with a lapfull of student after coming through with the portkey. Or how he had managed to get said portkey jammed between his hip and his tailbone. At least it distracted him from the fact that Harry seemed incapable of extricating himself without rubbing Snape in a way that would be considered the right way if Harry weren't his teenaged student.

The Boy Who Died A Lot by starcrossedgirl | E | 71k

Harry’s always been known as The Boy Who Lived. Only Severus knows that this is a lie. (Or: a portrait of Severus Snape, in seven acts.)

The Perils of Misunderstanding by Cithara 6k T

Harry and Severus are both teaching at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore finally has enough of their constant war of antagonism and its effect on the Hogwarts staff. He decides to take drastic action to get them to confront exactly what it is that's going on between them.

Seeing Tomorrow by wenyuewen T 13k

After Voldemort's defeat, Harry discovers a hard truth - seeing the future really sucks.

Fucking Exams E 7k Greenie (orphan_account)

All seventh-years require lessons in sex magic. Harry's teacher, much to his horror, is Snape. | "The book has a high, breathy voice as though it's just on the edge of coming - and Harry supposes that if his pages had chapters headed 'When Punishments Aren't Punishments' he might be in a perpetual state of orgasm, too."

Winter Song by amanitamuscaria | G | 6k

We'll have to find you somewhere else, there are just too many cases of Frenzy Flu at the moment," Madam Pomfrey says. "You could come and stay with me." Harry sees Snape draw back involuntarily. "No, not at Grimmauld, I'm renting a place. In Muggle London. There's space, and it's quiet."

Expecting someone else by LoveRoundWorld | G | 3k

Having abused children at Hogwarts is not a new thing. But it never gets easier when you recognize the signs. And he can't help but to notice them in his Best Friends-Lily's, son.

Burying the Past Cayendi E 6k

Following his yearly ’ritual’ to drown his memories, Harry is too drunk to realise what he’s doing. But did he make a mistake or did he start something he never wants to end?

Potterzine by Writcraft @thehoneypotofsnarry E 10 k (check out other works by this author!!)

When Severus Snape finds a fanzine with a picture of Professor Potter in a compromising position with Draco Malfoy on the cover, he confronts Potter about the offending literature. Severus probably should have looked inside, because it turns out some of Potterzine’s writers have a different suitor in mind.

Life Has Just Begun by Writcraft E 6K  Harry has been carrying the weight of his secret desires for a long time. Severus is there when he’s finally ready to talk.

The Mathematician's Premise  Vasaris E 6k It has been a decade since the Dark Lord was vanquished. It is time to bring Harry Potter home. One would think it would be easier.

Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth E 16k Vasaris [archived by HPFandom_archivist]

Seventh Year and the Final Battle are approaching. Prequel to The Mathematician's Premise. HPSS (eventually), RWHG, other pairings. Rating for future chapters.

True Minds by Tara Tory | T | 38k

Harry’s not happy to hear that Severus Snape is dead. When Snape’s widow shows up, Harry decides something is not right. Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

Ripples by darkling M 6k

Harry tries to deal with his trauma in the best way he can find. Severus is not amused.

Dreams and Coconut Crème Caramel by Lychee E 6k

Harry has a fantasy, a dream that he wishes could come true. Then one night in the kitchens, with a nice helping of coconut crème... and a Potions Master…

The Bet by DarkCorgi | M | 4K

One Shot. Severus and Harry have a little wager.

You Look Just Like Your… by Ravenclaw_intheTARDIS_inWonderland | T | 18k

Harry had had enough of hearing he looks like his father. So he does something about it. Severus has been gone for eight years, and wants to know who the red head next door is.

Playing with Matches by emynn | E | 13k Harry Potter finds no greater happiness in life than helping others fall in love. But he can’t quite seem to summon that same joy when Severus Snape shows up and asks him to find his match. 

The Will of Vampires by beren | E | 8k

Snape disappeared a year ago, now the side of the Light find out what happened to him, and the price the vampires are demanding for their affiliation.

Addiction by Lizzy0305 | E | 16k

After the battle of Hogwarts, one more secret is revealed to Harry Potter. During his 8th year in the school, Harry intrigued by this newly found information, tries to get closer to his Potions Professor however Snape seems to ditch off all of Harry’s efforts with his trademark smoothness and elegance.

In Between Days by atrata | E | 68k

Snape kidnaps/rescues a clinically depressed Harry from the Dursleys, but nothing is quite what it seems.

In Thrall by  Ruhgozler E 10k Neville strikes again in Potions class and Harry and Severus pay. Harry thinks Sev is his "Master".

Stargazing by NestingHedwig_aka_LinW | E | 10k

When a potions accident de-ages Severus days before the Christmas holiday, Harry tries to make the time special for him.

Dreams Can Change by jhgoddess | M | 6k

Harry doesn’t take Severus’ leaving very well.

Magic and Mixology at McCauley's Pub by NestingHedwig_aka_LinW | M | 8k

A new bartender shows up in Harry's favourite bar. He looks vaguely familiar, but only if viewed from the corner of the eye. It's just enough to spark Harry's curiosity.

Cadbury by riffraff84 | E | 20k

All new Gryffindor quidditch players must attend initiation and the after party. Harry Potter is no different. However when secrets are spilled over fire whisky the boys take it upon themselves to help Harry out, with disastrous results.

Completely Innocent by Snarry5evr | E | 18k

Minerva keeps finding two of her professors in very compromising positions.

At Our Core by So_I_Write | E | 7k

Now that the war is over, and Harry Potter is old enough to be a professor at Hogwarts, Severus Snape allows himself to imagine what it would be like if Harry could ever love him back. Due to a potions accident, Harry's attentions are fully on Severus for who knows how long. And Severus finds himself wondering... Could Harry feel the same way?

Learning Curve by anonymous | E| 22k

Harry is sent to Snape for extra DADA lessons.

Lost in Cokeworth by maraudersaffair | E | 7k

After his divorce, Harry moves to Cokeworth to salvage his mum’s childhood home. Severus Snape offers to help in more ways than one.

All my love by maraudersaffair | E | 10k

Veela Snape

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Worst Game” || YEAR 3 – Ch.17 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 9/4/2020

Word count: 3, 186

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

The clouds outside were dark and ominous above their heads. The sky was covered and not a ray of sunshine or smudge of blue sky shone through the large dense storm clouds. The wind howled in their ears and threw cold rain on their face as they walked up the grassy lawn back into the Castle. They had barely been able to hear Hagrid during their class and that really told them just how bad this storm was. The wind had turned his loud booming voice into a quiet squeak, no louder than a kitten’s purr.

Draco and his pack of Slytherins ran past with smug looks. Draco clutched his re-slung arm and snickered. “Ooh! Aah! It really hurts.”

“I can’t believe them,” Ron crossed his arms. “He had taken that stupid thing off MONDAY, and two days later he needs it again because ‘the weather’?”

Heather had been feeling quite guilty about her plan. It had saved her and gotten her back on her team, but it had screwed the Gryffindor’s practice up big time.

Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me!”

Harry had gotten very upset the day Draco had put her plan into action. He’d done it during potions, where he knew he could get away with it. They’re potions were boiling deep in their cauldrons and class was almost over when he’d clutched his arm in pain and fell to the ground, howling about feeling the storm clouds in his bones. Professor Snape sent him to Madam Pomfrey’s and by dinner time the Gryffindor captain was told that the match had been rescheduled to Saturday morning and it was now against Hufflepuffs.

Hermione put a reassuring hand on his arm, “You’ll be fine.”

They walked into the castle and Heather took Harry’s wrist, looking at his watch. “We’ll be late!”

“So what? It’s Lupin,” Ron smiled, “He might even give us points for it.”

Heather shook her head and elbowed Hermione who nodded and they both began running in the direction of the Defense classroom. The bolted up the stairs and just as they reached the door the bells rang throughout the school.

Heather pulled the door open and held it for Hermione. She walked in and gasped. Heather poked her head around the corner and saw Professor Snape sitting at the desk with his arms crossed and staring at them with narrowed eyes.

“Take your seats before I start removing points.”

They ran to their seats near the front and quickly took out their books. Heather had forgotten Professor Snape was supposed to teach Defense today! She turned to the door as Professor Snape began the lecture.

The seconds were dragging on and even Hermione was looking worried now. Harry and Ron were really taking their time.

Finally the classroom door opened and Harry walked in with Ron laughing behind him.

“Sorry we’re late, Professor Lupin. We – ” Harry came to a halt as he spotted Professor Snape at the front of the class.

“Are your ears working, Potter? Did you not hear the bells ring ten minutes ago?” Professor Snape pulled his robes around himself as he crossed his arms and smiled. “Shall we make it ten points from Gryffindor then? Take your seat.”

Ron sat in the nearest chair but Harry didn’t move, instead looked around at everyone and at Heather, who shook her head, begging him not to speak. She jerked her head to his seat but he didn’t budge.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” Harry frowned.

Professor Snape’s smile twisted. “He’s too ill to teach today.” He narrowed his eyes and dropped the smile. “I believe I told you to take your seat?”

Harry still didn’t move. “What’s wrong with him?”

At this point the whole class was looking horrified at Harry, except the Gryffindors who mostly all looked very impressed.

“Nothing life threatening,” he said regretfully. “Let’s see. Five more points from Gryffindor. I’ll make it fifty the next time I have to ask you to sit down, Potter.”

Harry finally took his seat next to Heather. She shook her head at him, but he kept his eyes trained on Professor Snape as he went on.

“Before Potter’s interruption, I was saying Professor Lupin did not seem to record what topics he has already covered and so – ”

Hermione’s hand shot up in the air. “Sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, grindylows, and we’ve just finished – ”

“Quiet,” Professor Snape snapped. “I did not ask nor did I call on you, Miss Granger. I was merely commenting on the lack of organization Professor Lupin appears to have.”

“Professor Lupin is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dean Thomas spoke up.

Insulting Professor Lupin must have struck a nerve among the class because a murmur of agreement with the bold Gryffindor ran throughout the class.

Professor Snape looked more menacing now, glaring down Dean and the rest of the whispering class.  “You are all easily satisfied,” he spoke through his teeth. “First years should be able to deal with grindylows and especially Red Caps.” He paused and picked up the text book, “Today’s lesson shall cover – ” he flipped to the back chapter, “Werewolves.”

Hermione’s arm shot up again. “Sir, we’re supposed to be starting hinkypunks today – ”

“Granger.” Professor Snape’s voice was deadly calm and steady. “I believe the instructor for this class today, is me. Not. You.” He turned to the class, “Page 394. Read along.” He looked around and frowned, “Now! Everyone!”

Heather had already opened her book to the last chapter and stared at Professor Snape as he began his lecture. She’d never seen him so mad, not even after Neville had tripped and knocked over several handfuls of glass jars full of very old potions ingredients.

Professor Snape paced the front of the class. “What is the easiest distinction between a werewolf and the true wolf?”

The class stayed motionless and silent except for Hermione who raised her hand instantly. Heather looked down at her book and read the first lines of the first paragraph and raised her hand as well.

“No one?” Professor Snape tisked and gave his twisted smile again. “I see that Professor Lupin has failed to teach you even the most basic distinction between – ”

Parvati Patil stood up. “We’ve already said we haven’t gotten through werewolves yet. We’ve just finished – ”

“SILENCE,” Professor Snape snarled. “What an unfortunate surprise. Quite disappointing to meet a third-year class so behind they couldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I’ll make sure to inform the Head Master of this and we’ll see what he makes of it…”

Hermione finally took her arm down. “Please, sir. The werewolf differs from a true wolf in the snout, the claws, the – ”

“Miss Granger, this is the – second – time you have interrupted me this class,” his voice was calm and cold again. “Five points from Gryffindor, for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Heather pressed her hands to her face. How many times were the Gryffindors really going to interrupt Professor Snape? And was it bold or stupid to do so while he is clearly fuming with anger? She removed her hands and looked over at Hermione who had gone red in the face and was holding back tears. She felt guilty for being very annoyed but every Slytherin knew not to cross Professor Snape, and after three years of being his students, the Gryffindors should know that too.

“You wanted to know the answer and Hermione gave it! If you don’t want to hear it, why even ask us?” Ron shouted from the back.

Everyone turned to look at Ron who quickly realized he’d gone too far.

Professor Snape advanced on him slowly, savoring each step. He leaned down and gripped the edge of Ron’s desk, bringing his face close to his. “Detention. And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach – any – of my classes, again… You will be – very – sorry indeed.”

The rest of class went by slow. Professor Snape had decided not to read to them and instead prowled around the desks as everyone read and took notes off the book. At one point he took to looking through their essays on past topics criticizing how Professor Lupin graded them too easily, as if daring another student to speak up out of turn.

“This makes no sense . . . Wrong. Wrong. Not even close . . . He gave this nonsense an eight? It’s a two at best . . .”

No one dared speak up after Ron’s outburst. They all bit their tongues and ignored his comments. Heather stared at the stack of papers in his hands and looked for any sign of her own essay, wanting to see what he thought of it. He picked up one with an ink smudge on the top left corner and she knew instantly it was hers.

He scanned the essay and looked at her. “Atrocious.”

She bit her cheek and went very red, glaring down at the words on the textbook. The bell rang and the class all sighed with relief. They started packing, wanting to get out of the room as soon as possible but Professor Snape held them back.

“I want two rolls of parchment, to be handed into me, on the ways wizards identify and kill werewolves. I want them by Monday morning. Any student who does not complete two full rolls will lose their house two points. It appears it is up to me, to get this class back on track.” He sat down and dismissed the everyone. “Weasley. Not you. We must arrange your detention.”

Heather followed Harry out with the rest of the class. The second they reached the stairs the whole class erupted with anger at Professor Snape.

“I can’t believe he said my essay was ‘atrocious’ – ”

“You know Ron was right. I answered what he asked and quite frankly– ”

“He hates Lupin. It’s so obvious! He’s never been like that with any other Defense teacher.” Harry stopped them next to a column. “Is this really all because of Neville’s boggart?”

Heather laughed. “Do you really not think it’s because of all the times YOU Gryffindors interrupted him today? He could barely get a sentence out without – ”

Harry groaned. “Don’t tell me he’s still your favorite teacher after this!”

Heather bit her tongue and crossed her arms. ‘Atrocious’? Really?

Ron came running down the stairs and almost yelled ‘Watch it!’ when he bumped Harry. “Oh. I didn’t see you.” He stepped behind the column and threw down his bag. “I have to scrub the hospital wing bedpans! With no magic! What an – ”

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, stopping him from cursing out their teacher.

Ron crossed his arms and glared at her. “Fine! But I still think Black should’ve hid in his office and torn him to pieces. It’d’ve done us all a great favor!”

Heather gasped. “That’s a very morbid thing to say, Ron.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you’re not denying it.”

“Of course we’re denying it,” Heather and Hermione said in unison.

The next morning Heather woke with a groan. She had spent several hours last night outlining her werewolf essay and now her eyes were tired and stinging. She had thought maybe the structure of the information from her essay had made it ‘atrocious’ and thought making sure the ideas flowed well would make him not think it was horrible.

She got up out of bed, dressed, and headed down to breakfast where Harry and Wood were talking – or more like Wood was talking at Harry who looked just as exhausted as Heather felt. She walked over and took a seat next to Harry.

Wood gave her a look. “I think maybe this morning you should go sit with your house… Since I’m talking strategy with Harry and soon the rest of the team.”

Heather frowned. She had always been accepted at the Gryffindor table, especially since she sat next to Harry always. “But you’re not playing us.”

“No. We’re not.”

Harry turned to her with a sheepish look. “M-maybe just this once? I mean the rest of the team will get here soon anyways.”

Heather huffed and stood up, crossing her arms. “Fine.”

She didn’t really have a right to be so upset. She was the one to blame for ruining their match, but no one knew that besides her own team. It was the second secret she was keeping from Harry but she still didn’t think it was very fair to be kicked from her usual breakfast spot.

She walked over to the Slytherin table and pulled a plate of toast over, taking several slicing and angrily smeared butter on them. She bit down and waited for more people to join the table. After several bites, most of the school had finally made it down and were excitedly eating breakfast in preparation for the match.

The Slytherin Prefects had decided to borrow Hufflepuff scarves and hats and were handing them out. Heather pushed hers aside and got dirty looks from a few fifth years and the Head Boy. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams left and minutes later everyone else was filing out and heading down to the Quidditch pitch.

She found Ron and Hermione fast and joined them as they headed up the stands. They took their seats opposite the Slytherins and waited for the teams to come out of the changing rooms.

Hermione was looking up at the sky, holding her hair down from blowing in her face. “These are safe playing conditions… right?”

Heather and Ron looked up at the dark grey clouds that seemed to be gathering right over the school grounds. They looked so heavy they could fall to the ground.

“I’ve seen games played through giant hail storms,” Ron shouted over the wind. “This is nothing!”

Heather pulled hair from her mouth and decided to braid it down. She leaned over the railing and saw Madam Hooch walking out of the Quidditch ball closet with a chest under her arm and her broom in hand. Both teams came out and the school cheered as they took their positions.

The rain had started to really pour and Heather found it hard to see anything going on. She squinted and saw they were mounting their brooms and they the game was in play, but she never heard Madam Hooch’s whistle blow. The wind was muffling everything, and even Lee Jordan’s loud comments came back as a whisper.

All that she could hear was the cheering and screaming when Gryffindor scored points. Heather pulled her robes on tighter and pulled her hood up as she searched the skies for any signs of Harry, but everyone just looked like red and yellow blurs. She was glad she wasn’t playing, though yesterday wouldn’t have been as bad as it was now. There was another roar of cheers and she heard vague words about Gryffindor scoring points form Lee.

The sky was getting darker and the wind felt like slashes on her cheeks. There was a loud crack of thunder and suddenly a flash of lightning struck a nearby tree. Madam Hooch was now holding her wand to her neck and blew hard on the whistle, cutting through the sound of the rushing wind. The teams touched down onto the muddy field.

“Have they postponed the match?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Ron shook his head. “I think it’s a time out.”

“How can you tell? I can barely see anything from here?” Heather squinted hard.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Hermione ran down the stairs and seconds later she was running across the field to Harry.

“What is she doing?” Ron shook his head.

Hermione was running back and the whistle blew again. She ran up the stairs and shook her hair as she stood next to them. “Hopefully now he’ll see better with his glasses. I used a simple spell on them. He should be able to see the snitch now.”

“And he’ll end the game already.” Heather was already soaked to her skin and wanted desperately to crawl in bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

She looked up again, trying to spot Harry among the red streaks, when lightning struck again and illuminated the dark sky and a terrifying image appeared in the clouds. A black silhouette of a shaggy dog. She gasped and looked around, but no one else seemed to have been paying much attention to the actual sky, just the red streaked players.

Had she just seen the grim? She looked around again as the crowd quieted down and even the wind seemed to silence. The cold cutting rain suddenly seemed warm compared to the air that seemed to be freezing on the spot. She looked behind and saw waves of black floating cloaks making their way over the stands.

Her numb body was alive again with fear and guilt and sadness. All her worries and anxieties seemed to pound in her head as the cloaked figures floated around, moving their heads in search of something. She felt tears freezing on her cheeks and sobbed, remembering all the times Uncle Vernon had screamed and yelled at her, and all the times Dudley had hurt her.

She thought of Harry and tore her eyes away from the dementors. There were dots of red and yellow looking down at them from the sky, and a streak of red falling through the icy mist. From the corner of her eyes she saw a white light growing so bright it seemed to illuminate the whole stadium. She closed her eyes from the blinding light and suddenly felt all the horrible feelings seep away.

She gasped for breath and opened her eyes, looking around at streaks of black dashing away in a fury. She turned back to the field and saw Madam Hooch, Professor Dumbledore, and all the players huddled around the center.

Heather remembered the grim she had seen in the sky moments before the dementors showed. “Harry!” She ran down the stairs and bolted across the muddy field. Her feet almost stuck into the ground as she ran into the circle of people huddled around a body.

Hermione gasped behind her as they came into view of Harry, knocked out and wedged into the ground.

Professor McGonagall came through. “Albus, is he alright?”

Professor Dumbledore nodded. “Quite so. I slowed his fall. Why don’t we take him to Madam Pomfrey so she has someone to fuss over for a few days.”

Heather watched them levitate Harry and carry him out of the field. Ron, Hermione, and Heather followed close behind. She understood the words Professor Dumbledore had said, but Harry’s motionless body looked so pale and cold under the smudges of mud.

She blinked and realized it wasn’t the rain that was making it so hard to see, it was her tears. She wiped them away and sobbed, feeling Hermione grab hold of her hand and Ron put an arm over her shoulder as they walked up to the castle.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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Phoenix Fan Fusion 2019 -- Artist Alley Review May 23-26 2019 *Thursday - Sunday* ==Opinions expressed are completely my own, and from my own record. If your experience differed, then good for you. This is how the event unfolded for me. You are more than welcome to write your own review, and even allowed to vend at this event. Keep in mind my opinions are again, of my own accord.== Once again I decided to brave the desert sun and venture out of my comfortable air conditioned room to sell my various wares in the hopes of making a decent buck. After my hard drive crashed two weeks ago I had high hopes this event could at least cover part of those expenses. Oh boy, did this show do a 180 and nose dive into the deep end of the pool without bracing for impact. Where to start? I’ve been doing PCC (as it was formerly known as before the lawsuit involving San Diego vs some weird event in Colorado), for about 6 ish years now. Maybe closer to 10 by now. Point is, I’ve seen this show go from great things to downright lousy. This year was one of the lousier ones. For those who don’t know, or plum forgot, around 2 years back a man brought in real weapons, real bullet proof armor, and had threatened the life of one of the guests at the con. Idiot posted said exploits online where his one and only online chum alerted authorities and he was swiftly apprehended before he could do such vile acts. The next day the con had to crack down hard on security, as the city pressured them to not have one of those ‘mass shootings’ happen in THEIR city. (Hey I don’t want to be shot at either!) The whole scramble to get metal detectors and REAL security personnel (not just teen volunteers) took it’s toll as lines stretched for hours around the buildings in 110+ sweltering heat. Some passed out, others drenched in sweat, it was bad. Many vowed never to return, as last year did show a slight decrease in attendance. However the damage was already done. Last year the increased costs for security left the con with empty wallets and almost zero budget, they fell seriously into the red nearly going bankrupt because of it. So this year they revamped everything by cutting corners wherever they could. First thing- entry points restricted to just 3. I believe the prior year it was 5, so right there it’s not as many personnel you need to hire, or rather pay the company to hire. Secondly, they moved registration back inside the building, so saving on rental tents and such. Third, they really cut corners with the artist alley. They added more artists. Pipe and drape were scraped. Tables were now side by side, no gaps no 2 feet of spacing between you and your neighbors. Now everyone resided in 8 table deep rectangles with taped down walkways behind everyone to ‘allow entry/exit’ for the middle tables with mini pipe and drape at the ends to block out the attendees. Did I mention more artists? Seriously, they squeezed in so many that the aisles did not match up with the vendor aisles. Row 900 was actually row 1000 in artist alley. This confused several attendees walking by who would look up to see a huge banner saying one thing but the ground saying another. Our once nicely printed up table signs, which use to hang off of the pipe and drape backings were now lazily stapled to the front of tables, which fell off rather easily fyi. The rectangle of selling for each cluster of artists left many to just push their now brought from home photo backdrops to the very edge of their space, some not caring at all and just going over these 1.5 feet of ‘walkway’. Many tri-pod legs stuck out, I myself kicked a few out of frustration and even had to yell at a neighbor behind me who somehow thought the double lines were ‘his’ space. Again, no one ever came by and demanded the space be free. If pipe and drape were used instead it wouldn’t have been an issue. But being right up against each neighbor was infuriating to say the least. You couldn’t hang anything on the sides of your display for fear people would think it was your neighbor’s work. Without the pipe and drape the sea of artists looked horrid. Random photo backdrops as far as the eye could see. Some looked good, but others yuck. For those who don’t have backdrops it looked just like a big yard sale. And a lot, and I mean A LOT of tables were left empty. At cons it’s common for a few people not to show up, emergencies happen, but heck even my neighbor didn’t show allowing me to stretch out onto his space (free of charge kind of nice). Besides this they never did closing announcements. You got one at 5 minutes till but nothing else. Not saying every con does this, but at a show this big, and a hall this grand, you have to warn the public. “Hey guys 1 hour until the vendor hall closes!” “Not to alarm you all but the hall closes in 30 minutes!” “Better make those last minute purchases, hall is closing in 10 minutes. Please start making your way to the exit!” Nope, none of this. Also, randomly, on Saturday around noon someone got a hold of the overhead PA system and started blaring music. It was so loud we all were covering our ears. After song number two started to play I rushed over to the exhibit hall manager booth where I kid you not an ARMY of angry vendors were ready to lynch someone. Eventually the music cut off and we all cheered, but never heard how that happened. Maybe a blu-tooth thing?

Security. Oh boy. They had MAJOR problems. This was supposedly the same company hired the prior year, but man they didn’t act like it. Prior year everything ran smoothly, never a problem, but this year it felt like rookies-r-us training camp or something. Day 0 I overheard one of them, as they searched me ask another “Uh.. what do I do again?” Not exactly encouraging to hear. I get not all of them can be trained veterans of this, but most acted like day 1 newbies. Each day their ‘allowed/not allowed’ list changed. Sometimes they allowed bottled water, other days nope toss it. Luckily being a vendor they allowed me all the bottles of soda and water and snacks, but I heard the rumors. Some said they had to toss their sealed Gatorade or sandwiches in bags. And sometimes I was allowed in any entry point, the last two days they forced me to the one furthest away. Again, you guys can’t change the rules EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Pick something stick with it. Heck on one day, I think Friday, I got in the specialty line but the staff pointed me to general and said it “would be quicker”. Ok whatever. So I hoped over, nope. It wasn’t. Guys in front of me reeked of BO, and this was at 9am, and of course had bags in a bag in a bag. So searching took FOREVER. As I’m waiting for my turn a supervisor approaches me and points to the other line saying “Madam vendors are supposed to go through the specialty line-” I cut her off “YES I know, YOUR employee sent me HERE. I’m not hopping lines, I’m staying here. Go yell at her.” She tried to make me go but gave up after a bit.  Never had this problem before. Makes me wonder what this company did to suddenly get a bunch of rookies working for them who haven’t got a clue. OH. With the weird ness too, some days they made me open the money box and shuffle through it, other days nope didn’t care! AGAIN IT WASN’T CONSISTENT. NOT ONE BIT. Bathrooms. Another disgusting beast. This convention center has multiple bathrooms, I’m thankful for that, but the one closest to me oh boy, it was busy almost every hour. It reeked by the end of day one and never lost that lovely wretched odor of feces, urine, and chlorine. Did I forget to mention that cleaning staff, fed up with doing their one job of cleaning, almost went on strike during this? They complained to the con saying the bathrooms were too hard to maintain during this crazy event, and had threatened to just up and close the downstairs restrooms as a consequence. Con luckily put their foot down, but it did explain why at one point I saw the barrier up around the bathroom while the cleaning crew gave me the stank eye as I had to walk further down to whiz. So, the take away, if you didn’t bother to read my lovely little rant. PROS: - 8 foot table - 3 badges per table - Largest show in AZ - Easy to get into (application wise) - Big attendance numbers - Several hotels near by - Easy walk from light-rail (public transit)

CONS: - Table cost over $300 (for inline) - Table cost varying $300-500+ (endcaps higher) - Security and flip flop rules - No ‘cheap’ food alternatives - No food trucks, only con center food court - Strict food ban (cannot bring in whole pizzas) - No free parking - Booth space reduced - Pipe and drape gone (possible cost in future) - TONS more artists now - Guests not best draws - Crowded but not a lot of buyers - Huge homeless problem (it is downtown) - Ticket scalpers, you have been warned - Aisles narrowed - Tables side by side (no exits for some)