#i was nodding along and agreeing and feeling normal until those last several lines oh my GOSH

[fatelcved]

what kind of warmth are you?

comfort jacket

you're gentle, thoughtful in your kindness, and very careful when you're helping others. your warmth is obvious only to some──  but to them, it is life-saving. you don't think of your warmth as much. really, it feels like the least you can do. but you are providing something that no one else can. there are people out there that will not be helped by reckless optimism. but you see love as a risk, and when you take it, you will heal others ( and yourself ) in ways you didn't see as possible. you do not believe that people are good. really, you don't believe that you are good. they can be. you have been. no one is better than you at offering warmth to people who are difficult to love. i am asking you to offer that same warmth to yourself. even when you think you don't deserve it. especially when you think you don't deserve it.

tagged by: @espectres thank you peach <3<3<3 tagging: everyone who sees this bc i dunno who's done it already!!

[giggles-and-freckles]

bed bargain for satine and obi-wan maybe?? 😍

bed bargain: [Obi-Wan] won’t stay in bed. [Satine] convinces them. (from these prompts)

Obi-Wan groans from his desk as knuckles rap against the other side of the door. It’s Anakin, no doubt, come to question him on the events of the day. There’s no confusion on exactly what Anakin will be wanting to know.

Girlfriend. A ridiculous accusation and just something to get under Obi-Wan’s skin. The trouble is Anakin’s always been far too good at that and Obi-Wan let it get to him today. 

He’s in severe need of a break. But Death Watch seems to be a larger issue than the Council had thought and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

The knocking continues.

He sighs deeply and pushes away from the desk. As he stands, there’s a rush of hot fuzziness that fills the space behind his eyes. But he blinks and it’s gone. Yet another side effect of the long day, apparently. To accompany the dizziness that has developed in the past hour.

The knocking is louder. More hurried.

Definitely Anakin.

“I’m coming!” he yells, making his way to the door. “Honestly, all these years and you have learned nothing of patience—“

He stops as the door slides open. 

“You would be amazed at the patience I have developed, actually.”

“Duchess,” he says stiffly.

Her lips twitch into a frown, but flatten back out into a thin line. “Hello.”

“It’s late.”

“Yet you are still awake.”

He casts a quick glance behind him, but the movement is too quick. The room spins and his hand reaches out, blindly. He finds the edge of the door and grips it.

“I’ve been busy,” he says, turning back around to find that her eyes are fixed on his hand, clinging to the door.

She looks back up. “I assumed as much. Before tomorrow, when the Republic will undoubtedly take your words and twist them until I am the villain they are apparently so desperate for,” – she ignores his scoff – “I wanted us to try and get on the same page.”

“We have never quite managed to achieve that, my dear,” he says.

Her frown deepens as she studies him. “Not for lack of trying.”

He clears his throat. “Is this something we could discuss in the morning? I still have–”

“No,” she says, and pushes past him into the room. “Now is good.”

“For you,” he grumbles, but allows the door to slide closed. He turns and follows her in the room. She sits on the sofa easily, as if this is the most normal thing. “I didn’t have the opportunity to thank you for the luxurious accommodations. Anakin hasn’t stopped talking about–”

“He’s not what I expected.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He wants to sit, but can’t bring himself to join her on the couch. So he hovers. “Pardon?”

“Your student. He idolises you, clearly. When you used to call and tell me of him–”

“That was a very long time ago,” he says quickly. 

“Yes,” she agrees quietly. Her eyes move to the floor between them. “It was.”

His visions swims and he can’t determine whether it’s exhaustion or a response to the lowness of her tone. The unopened nook of hurt and betrayal that she clearly feels, though he can’t understand why.

But then–that’s not true either. It’s just what he’s told himself for the past ten years, to avoid the habitual pain he was putting himself through for so long. Constantly comming her–and thinking about her in the meantime. Something had to give if he was to honour his commitment to the Jedi and his commitment to Anakin.

He drops to the couch next to her. “I was lost.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But you also didn’t want to be found.”

“I needed to…” he frowns, looking for the words. It’s painful revisiting this part of his life, immediately after Qui-Gon’s death, when everything was overwhelming and nothing felt right. “Needed to figure it out.”

“No,” she says, but there’s no chastisement in her voice. “Not by yourself.”

“Yes,” he insists. “I–”

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she says. Fixes him with those eyes that have seen too much of the galaxy and too much of him. There’s too much compassion that he doesn’t feel particularly deserving of. “Accepting help is not a crime.”

He shuts his eyes, but it does nothing to stop the pounding in his head or the pain in his chest. 

“Obi-Wan?” she says, her tone sharper than it was before. Then– “Obi-Wan!”

“I’m all right,” he manages, opening his eyes as the wave of nausea passes. He pulls a weak smile. “Sorry. I just–”

She fixes him with a hard stare. “You’re ill.”

“I’m not ill,” he scoffs.

She lifts her hand and rests it on his forehead. Doesn’t let him pull away. “Stubborn as always.”

Since she’s not letting him move away, he figures there’s no real harm in leaning into her a bit. “You have no experience with that.”

Satine laughs loudly and lets her hand fall to his cheek. They watch each other for a moment and Obi-Wan wonders if she sees the wayward young padawan the way he sees the headstrong young duchess. So much has changed, in the galaxy and between them, but beyond the light wrinkles (which he’d never point out, obviously) and thinner face, it’s the same eyes blinking back at him. He’s thankful for something consistent.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “for not holding it against me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she hums. Her hand falls to the place on the couch between them. She moves it so that it rests over his.

He rolls his eyes at her snark, but turns his hand over under hers. Links their fingers together. “When Qui-Gon died. You were so…” A deep sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I didn’t do anything, my dear. You–”

“Exactly. You just listened. Let me talk, grieve, process,” he says. “I needed that. Even though I left...you never…”

She squeezes his hand. “There was never a question of you leaving. I knew it was coming–and I wasn’t angry. You had to return to the Jedi. I...I had a system to lead.”

“But even so. When I sought your help–”

“I’ll always be there for you, my dear.”

His gut twists over. “I don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. Then, lifts their interlinked hands up and drops the lightest of kisses on the back of his palm. “You deserve so much more. More than this harsh galaxy will ever be able to repay you, I fear.”

“With Anakin. And...everything. I was overwhelmed. I was...I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry. I...I didn’t mean to lose you, too.”

She smiles at him. “You didn’t.” Kisses his hand again. “And you never will.” She stands from the couch, then, pulling him up along with her. The motion jars him, and he has to grip her shoulder to stay upright. She looks him up and down with a frown. “I believe it’s time for bed for you, darling.”

He pulls away as well as he can. Grounds his feet and takes a breath. “No. I have to finish–”

“Obi-Wan,” she says firmly. “Bed.”

“I have work to do. Death Watch. They...I need to keep you safe. Need to–”

“As the ruler of this world, I order you to go to bed.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth opens, then closes. “You can’t,” – he frowns at the floor for a moment, then smiles victoriously – “I have diplomatic immunity!”

“This isn’t the Republic,” she reminds him. “And if you remember–I’m particularly stubborn.” She begins to guide him toward the bed, even as he struggles against her. “Oh, honestly, Obi-Wan. Stop being such a child.”

“Stop treating me like one!” he cries, then stops walking abruptly as the room begins to spin again. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. This bout of dizziness lasts longer than the ones before and it takes him an extra moment to gather himself.

A light hand is at his back immediately, rubbing small circles. For some reason, the motion cracks his resolve.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, scared of how broken he sounds. “When I do...it’s just nightmares. Images, memories–”

“I’ll stay,” she says, and wraps an arm around his waist.

“That’s highly inappropriate,” he says immediately in response because it’s what he’s supposed to say. And Obi-Wan Kenobi has grown very good at saying what he’s supposed to say. If the Council were to catch wind of this. A Jedi Master sharing a bed with a Duchess–

She lifts an eyebrow and his face reddens. Because he knows she’s remembering what he’s remembering. How unconcerned he was with what was appropriate once upon a time. He’s lost the padawan braid since then, though, and she’s gained a system of planets. It’s not the same.

“I’ll only stay until you fall asleep,” she says, saving him from further embarrassment. 

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to admit his disappointment, so he just nods, and sheds his outer robe. She watches as he kicks off his boots and sets them in the corner of the room. Watches as he unties his belt and drapes it over a chair. When he finally makes his way toward the bed, she is waiting for him, standing with her arms crossed and a patient expression.

“Are you quite done?” she says, and her lips quirk up at the corners.

He doesn’t respond. Only rolls his eyes and slides beneath the sheets. She pulls back the other side in a much more graceful manner, making sure her long dress doesn’t get wrapped around her. She’s always had such a talent for making the mundane look like a dance. He tries not to stare; it’s hard.

There is at least a foot of space between them in the bed and neither makes a move to close it. 

“You didn’t use to sleep with so many clothes on,” she says after a moment of silence.

“Neither did you.”

She makes a sound of indignation, then sighs. “Touché.”

He chuckles and reaches for her hand, under the sheets. She flinches when he first grabs it and he wonders if this is too much. Physical contact within the confines of a bed. He moves to pull back, but her grip is vice-like. She doesn’t turn her head to look at him, but he’s glad. He’s still having a hard time not staring.

“Thank you,” he says finally. 

…

When the sunlight filters through the curtains he never drew closed and wakes him up the next morning, she’s still there.

[echoghost1]

Out Of This World (And Into The Next)

Word Count: 6,062

For: @theaxolotkween & @rayghosts/@ghostsray

Summary: What if when Danny first fought the Lunch Lady ghost she actually noticed how young he was. What if she didn't know he was more than just another ghost? What if when she commented on how underweight he was, she decided to help him?

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

“Don't you see?” The lunch lady screamed as she holds Danny upsidedown by just his ankle, “This is why you need meat! You're skin and bones!” She holds him up higher and really looks at him before addressing him directly in her calmer tone, “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“Uh,” Danny started intelligently as he tried to ignore how odd it was that all the blood wasn’t rushing to his head, “This morning?”

It must be a ghost thing. If he could float then gravity wasn’t really affecting him the same.

“Yeah, I had cereal.” he nods, then adds to himself as an afterthought, “Didn’t finish it though.”

“What?! You didn’t! What about lunch then? It’s past noon!”

“Well this is my lunch hour,” he shrugged, “and I was about to eat, but uh,” he couldn’t help the wince as he finished, “then you showed up?”

She gasped and immediately let go of him.

He dropped about a foot before he flipped in the air and floated back upward right side up.

“Well, that simply will not do!” She looked over him with an expression that Danny wasn’t sure if it was pity or concern. He’d seen Jazz make that face at him a lot, that was for sure.

“Here, eat this!” she said as she shoved a piece of cake straight into his mouth.

With no other choice but to accept, he swallowed it. He wiped his lips for the remaining frosting with his thumb as the flavor of the cake made itself known. It was probably the best piece of cake he had ever had in his life. “Wow, that was delicious!”

He eagerly licked his fingers clean before looking back at her, “Do you have more?”

She smiled, “Certainly child. Right this way.” she held out her arm and gestured him to follow her.

They floated over to the back wall and she opened the door to the walk-in freezer. Only when she opened it, it wasn’t a freezer on the inside. It was the ghost zone.

He stopped in his tracks as he felt the chill from the freezer portal slowly edge its way towards him.

She turned back holding her hand out to him but stopped when she noticed his reaction, “What’s the matter, dear? Aren’t you coming?”

“I,” he hesitated slowly shaking his head, “I can’t go in there.”

She stared at him for a moment before a look of realization crossed her face, “Have you never crossed into the veil before?”

He assumed she meant the ghost zone so he shook his head no.

“Really? Odd, you feel just like it.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he didn’t say anything.

She smiled again and floated closer to him, “You haven’t been a ghost for very long, have you?”

He didn’t see the point in lying, so he didn’t. “It’s only been a month.”

She was close enough to gently run the back of her finger down his cheek, “And yet you’re so fully-formed? Even without crossing? You must have a very strong will.”

He was so confused right now. Not even five minutes ago they were throwing punches and now she was comforting him? Were all ghosts this weird?

“Is your family still around?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they know you’re still here?”

“Of course they do! I live with them,” he answered totally perplexed as to what she was asking him. It seemed like there was some meaning that he just wasn’t understanding.

She gasped, “You’re haunting them?”

His hands sprung up on instinct and he waved them around trying to get rid of that line of thinking completely. “No, no, no! I can’t be haunting them! I’m not a ghost.”

She raised an eyebrow and floated back just a hair to completely get him in her view, “Hate to break it to you, Sugar, but,” she gestured to all of him or more importantly the fact that he was glowing and floating and looked exactly like a ghost right now.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean I am right now, but not all the time!”

She pulled him into a hug, “It’s okay, Sweetheart. I know it’s confusing. Especially with how young you are.” she leaned back and examined his face with that same Jazz-face she had made earlier, “You had an accident? It happened fast, didn’t it?”

How did she know that?

“Where was your family?”

He looked down towards his boots and rubbed his arm, “Jazz was upstairs. In her room, I think?”

“And your parents?”

He tried to think back to that day. It was only a month ago, but some of the details were a little fuzzy.

Had his parents just gone upstairs or were they out that day? Hadn’t they just tried to turn it on? No, it was a few days after that, right? Had he been alone or were Sam and Tucker there?

His head started to hurt as he tried to remember. It was like someone had taken an egg beater to his brains and scrambled them.

The lunch lady ghost pulled him into her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I wasn’t sure how much you knew. Or how much you could handle.”

He pulled back, resting his hands on her broad shoulders, “Do you know?” he was so confused right now.

She smiled gently, “No honey, we only just met today.”

“Oh yeah,” he knew that.

He grimaced as the throbbing from his headache flared up. As if he was going to forget about that anytime soon. He rubbed his fist into his forehead trying to soothe the ache.

He thought he heard someone calling to him but he couldn’t focus.

“Why don’t we get you something to eat. That should make that nasty headache go away.” she patted him on the back and pushed him back down towards her shoulder.

The coolness of her body felt so nice that he closed his eyes and hummed in contentment.

“That’s right, just relax,” she whispered.

He could feel her move, the gentle sway as she floated was at just the right rhythm for him to let himself drift off to sleep.

He hadn’t even realized he was that tired until then.

Being a ghost was exhausting.

===============================================

Danny opened his eyes and was greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. It was very high and the plain white paint was interrupted with large wooden cross beams.

He sat up immediately and floated a couple of inches off the bed. He looked down and found he was still in his ghost form.

He had never woken up that way before.

He looked back at the bed. It had a blue metal frame with one side that arched up along the wall, it reminded him of the bed he’d use whenever he’d visit his grandmother’s house. He had to think for a moment but then remembered what it was called, a daybed.

Why was he sleeping on a daybed?

“I’m supposed to be at school!”

He flew towards the door, but hesitated before he grasped the handle. He slowly reached out and tried to phase his hand through the door.

His hand just ran into the door as if he was solid. But he could feel that tingly feeling in his hand which meant he was using his power.

So why wasn’t it working?

He shrugged and went to open the door normally.

It opened.

He peered out and saw a short empty hall. The brickwork that was in the room he had woken up in, carried out into the hall as well.

There was a familiar scent wafting towards him and floated silently into the room at the end of the hall.

“Grilled Cheese?” he asked softly.

In front of a large flattop grill, like the kind in restaurants, was the Lunch Lady ghost and she was in fact, making a bunch of grilled cheese sandwiches. He looked around the room and found no one else there. Why was she making so many?

She turned to face him and smiled, “Well hello there Sweetpea. You feeling any better after your nap?”

“Uh, yeah?”

And he did. His headache had gone away. Although he was still really confused. Was this where she lived?

It looked like a studio loft apartment and an industrial kitchen had a baby. Weird, but it did fit her.

“Good to hear. You hungry? Lunch is just about ready.”

“Yeah okay.”

If he had slept wouldn’t it be time for dinner?

She put a couple of sandwiches on a plate for him, they were cut into triangles. “Milk?” she asked as she pushed the plate across the counter towards him.

He climbed up onto the barstool and just agreed to that too.

Why not? He couldn’t think of a reason not to. Besides he was hungry.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” he asked as he carefully picked up the hot triangle of cheesy goodness.

“No.” She set a large glass of milk down for him. Much larger than he would have poured for himself.

“Okay.”

This was so weird.

She didn’t think he was going to eat all of those, did she? There had to be at least ten sandwiches on the grill. She already gave him two to start with.

It felt like she was trying to fatten him up.

He really hoped this didn’t turn out to be some Hanzel and Gretel situation.

He took his bite and once again was overwhelmed by just how amazing her food was. It wasn’t just that it was perfectly grilled crispy bread, or that the cheese was just the right kind that it got stringy as he pulled it apart, it even had thin slices of lightly browned deli meats. The first one had ham but the next one was chicken.

Before he could even think to stop himself he had cleared his plate and downed half the milk.

She smiled and filled his plate again. “Don’t be shy now, have as much as you like.”

And he did.

After several minutes he finally pushed the plate away. If he even so much as thought about food, he’d explode.

He groaned and leaned back in the chair. It was so good, but his eyes must have been bigger than his stomach.

“Aw come here, you cute little bean,” she said as she floated around the counter and picked him up to place over her shoulder like he was a little kid.

“Hey!” he protested weakly while still feeling lethargic.

She ignored him and started to pat his back.

He hoped she wasn’t doing what he thought she was doing.

And did she get taller or something, because he didn’t think he was that much smaller than her.

Before he could fully process the situation he burped.

“Ah, that’s a good boy.”

Oh my god, she was doing that!?

He squirmed in her arms. He was not about to be treated like a baby. Absolutely not!

“Hey now, stop that.” she lightly scolded as if he wasn’t any threat to her at all.

Then again, he hadn’t been doing very well in their fight at the school.

“You,” he burped again, “stop it!”

He did not like this one bit. Even if burps made his tummy hurt less.

Wait, did he just think the word tummy?

He meant stomach. He was a big boy, he was supposed to use big boy words.

Wait, no!

“What are you doing to me?!” his voice came out a lot squeakier than he wanted. It was higher pitched than it was this morning too.

“I’m not doing anything,” and the look on her face showed she was telling the truth.

He looked down at his hands. They were so little now.

Somehow, he's gotten younger.

“Why am I little?” he said and his voice sounded even tinier.

She rested him against her hip, seeing as he was now about half his age, and smoothed back his hair, “that’s just what the veil does to some folks. It helps you learn about being a ghost I think. It’s easier to start from the beginning and all that.”

She walked away from the kitchen and back towards the room he had started in.

His room.

“Now I think after all that excitement, we best get you to bed.”

“But I’m not tired,” he said with a betraying yawn.

Or at least he hadn’t been a minute ago.

She tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Sweet dreams, Cupcake.”

“Night night,” he mumbled already falling asleep.

===============================================

The next time he woke up he was much too small to get out of bed on his own. Or at least he didn’t want to risk it. The bed was very tall and he didn’t want to fall down.

“Ready for lunch?” she asked as she picked him up, “I made spaghetti.”

“Sketti!” he cheered and clapped. If her cheesy sandwiches were yummy he’d bet her noodles were just as good.

For just a moment as she set him in his high chair he thought it was a little odd that they were having lunch again.

Maybe it was always lunchtime here?

He forgot the thought the second she handed him his sippy cup. Apple juice was his favorite!

He was halfway through his second plate of spaghetti when he got bored and decided he’d rather play with the floppy noodles instead.

“Oh okay, I think it’s time for Nanna to just take that away now,” Nanna said as she did just that.

He pouted but then pulled his foot up through the hole in his chair just to see if he could.

He could! Fun!

The buckle was looser than it was before, despite his full tummy.

Nanna turned around and gasped, “Oh you’re getting sauce everywhere!” he floated up out of the chair as she approached, his legs disappeared into a tail as he moved.

He looked down at his new tail in awe.

Then immediately stuck the tip of it into his mouth just to see what it felt like.

He didn’t like it.

Nanna chuckled and plucked him out of the air like an apple from a tree. She cleaned up his face and hands. And feet! As soon as he figured out how to make them come back.

“Alright, beddy-bye time.”

He flinched. The last time he went sleep he got little. If he went sleep again would he keep getting tiny? What if he got so little Nanna couldn’t see him?

He burst into tears and started bawling.

“Oh? Oh no! What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t answer her. He was much too upset. Also, what were words? He didn’t know how to.

She rocked him in her arms and did her best to soothe him.

He started to get sleepy from the motion but that just launched him right back into hysterics.

“Are you scared to go to sleep?”

He rubbed the tears and the sleep out of his eyes as best he could as he nodded.

“Oh pumpkin, you’ll be okay.”

He shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

He slowly clapped his hands together once, to show getting small. Then he said, “poof.”

She blinked a couple of times then nodded in understanding, “You’re not going to get any smaller. I think you’re done. Now we get to see you grow up again.”

His eyes went wide with surprise.

“Yeah, you’ll be big. And even better, we get to find out what you love the very most.”

He didn’t really understand that last part. What could he love more than Nanna? He hugged her so she would know.

===============================================

He was just staring out the window when she came in to check on him.

The window didn’t use to be there, but sometimes things like that happened. Nanna could change the size of the things in the kitchen to whatever she needed them to be. Whatever food she wanted to cook she always had the ingredients.

He hadn’t been able to change anything before, but he was older now.

“What’s out there?” he asked as he gazed at the swirling green void. There wasn’t much to see, but there had to be something else right?

“Come on, Sweetiepie, it’s time for lunch.”

He sighed and followed her out. “Can I go outside after lunch?” he asked as he sat at the counter. He was happy he was finally big enough to sit on the tall chairs. He liked being able to kick his legs while he sat.

“I don’t know, you’re still so young.”

“But Nanna! I’m seven now! Isn’t that big enough?”

“You were fourteen when I brought you home.”

He scrunched up his nose as he pouted. It’s not his fault being here turned him into a baby and he had to grow up again.

“No more pouting.” she chided as she pinched his chubby cheek affectionately.

He sighed and wondered if Boxy was going to come over again. The Box Ghost didn’t visit all the time, but he was fun to play with when he did. Maybe Boxy would let him go outside.

He just wanted to know what was out there.

===============================================

When he was eleven, Nanna tried to help him find what she called, his Spark. The thing that he loved the most.

He still wasn’t sure what that meant.

“What’s your Spark?” he asked while he was stirring the batter for the cookies.

“Why that would be lunch of course.” she ruffled his fluffy white hair, “And you’re a close second.”

“So other people aren’t Sparks?”

She sprinkled in the chocolate chips as he continued to stir, “I think they can be sometimes, but that’s pretty rare. Sparks form around ideas or things. I don’t think it’s very healthy to have one for another person.”

He just stared into the batter as the chips slowly sank into the thick creamy dough. Something about it looked familiar.

“How do I know what my Spark is?”

“It’s hard to say. It’s different for everybody. For me, I knew right away. I always had a passion for cooking, and lunch was always my favorite meal of the day.”

She pulled out the baking sheet, set it next to the bowl, and handed him a spoon to scoop out portions.

“Basically, there’s something for you out there that fills you with joy and wonder and purpose. Something so wonderful and amazing that you want to do it every day, or you want to always have it with you. Maybe even start a collection of the thing.”

“Like how Boxy is with boxes?”

“Exactly!” she smiled happy that he was starting to understand.

“But how will I know what I like if all I know is here?” he dropped his cookie dough ball onto the sheet and looked up to the kitchen window.

There was a window in every room now. Always ready for him to see into the void of green.

It was never enough.

“Do you think this has anything to do with the windows?”

Nanna stopped, looked up, and just stared at the nearest window. It almost seemed like she hadn’t noticed it before now.

She hummed thoughtfully, “You know, you might be on to something.”

He perked up, floating high enough to be eye level, his tail swishing in excitement, “You think so?!”

“Maybe we can go out for a picnic the next time Box Ghost stops by.”

He flipped in the air as he clapped.

He couldn’t wait.

===============================================

It took much longer than he would have liked for Boxy to finally show up again. He hoped it wasn’t on purpose.

Nanna packed the biggest basket for their picnic that he had ever seen and Boxy carried the checkered picnic blanket.

Nanna told him he had to stay close, but she didn’t make him hold her hand the whole time so that was nice.

He was twelve now so he was old enough to know how to stay close and not get distracted.

Even if there was just so much to look at. Mostly everything was green outside of Nanna’s house, but sometimes there were bands of darker or even light greens. Occasionally they would pass by purple doors.

Nanna made sure he knew what her door looked like before they headed out into the abyss.

“If you get lost you just head home okay. You just go inside and wait for me.”

He nodded as he memorized her door. It was purple, like all the others, but it didn’t have a handle. It was the kind that just swung open when you pushed it. Whether you were on the inside or the outside, it always swung outward. The bottom third of the door was metallic and shiny enough for him to see his own reflection. Above that was a little circular window, like a porthole on a ship.

He wasn’t sure why that made him smile.

Once she was confident that he could recognize the door they made their way out.

They flew for a while amongst the endless green sky until they came across a doorway. He hesitated for just a moment. The frame looked familiar. Very familiar.

“Are you sure it’s safe to go in there?” he asked as he hovered closer to Nanna.

“Of course, Dumpling. It’s the most stable gateway.”

He knew that.

“Did you want me, the Box Ghost, to go first and scare off any nasty humans?”

Danny nodded and took the wrapped-up picnic blanket from Boxy and hugged it to his chest.

Boxy came back after a few minutes, his head the only thing poking back on their side of the portal, “The Box Ghost has found no one!”

The trio flew out of the portal and straight up through the house until they were outside.

The air felt so different here and he didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed the difference sooner. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky above. It was pitch black and he could barely make out a few twinkling stars. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face when he saw the crescent moon above.

How could he not smile when it smiled at him first? He wasn’t sure if it was a waxing or waning crescent.

He paused and wondered if this was it. Was this his Spark?

He followed Nanna and Boxy to the park and they had a lovely time with food that was delicious, as always.

He couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting up to the sky whenever there was a lull in the conversation.

“What’s on your mind, Honey?” Nanna asked as she packed up the last of the, now empty, food containers.

“I found my Spark,” he said in barely a whisper, eyes still trained on the sky above.

===============================================

Now that he had found his Spark it felt like everything was moving so fast. His powers came to him more easily. The outfit that he always wore changed to better suit his Spark. He found new things that only he could do.

He loved every second of it.

Then before he knew it, he was fourteen again.

“I think you’re ready now,” Nanna said after a particularly quiet lunch.

“You think so?” he floated out of his seat and helped her with the dishes.

She set the plate down on the counter and took his gloved hand in hers, “Yes my little explorer. You were made to roam.”

He was beyond excited but he had spent so much time with Nanna that he knew he’d miss her, “How about I leave after lunch tomorrow?”

===============================================

He floated in the basement invisibly. He had meant to just pass through, but the room hadn’t been empty.

He just floated there and watched her work.

She was completely oblivious to his presence.

He hadn’t thought of her once while he’d been away.

He had to smother himself when he audibly gasped at the realization.

She flinched and looked around. She never looked to where he was floating.

He was about to just float back inside the portal, about to just call the whole thing off and go back to Nanna’s.

He was, but she shut the portal doors before he could slip back through.

She reached for her hood and slipped the red-tinted goggles over her eyes.

He flew away before she could do anything else.

He found himself in the park. The same one he had found his Spark in.

He looked up to the bright sunny sky. It wasn’t as lovely as the night sky, but it had its own charm.

He floated up and sat in the nearest tree as he tried to decide what to do from here.

Nanna said it wasn’t good to linger. She said not to haunt people. Not to cling to the living.

But that was his mom.

He looked down at his white gloves and wondered if he could still do it. He wouldn’t go back if he couldn’t.

===============================================

He could.

He wasn’t sure why though. This ability had nothing to do with his Spark. It made no sense

Unless he was right before and he wasn’t just a ghost? But wouldn’t Nanna know that?

He stood on the front steps of his childhood home and hesitated. His hand raised to knock on the door, but it was his house wasn’t it? Maybe he should just walk in?

But how long had he been gone?

He should have checked that first.

He dropped his hand and turned around trying to think of the best way to figure that out while also trying to remember what day it was when he left.

The door opened behind him and the person stopped mid-word to gasp, “Danny?”

He turned and felt like a deer in the headlights.

His sister.

God, he hadn’t thought about her either.

He was a terrible brother. A horrible son.

He should have never come here.

She hugged him and all his thoughts stopped.

“Danny, where have you been?” she pulled him tighter before pulling back to really look at him. Checking to see if he was hurt.

His eyes started to water, which was not something he wanted. He didn’t want to cry in front of his sister and he definitely didn’t want to do it on the front steps where anyone could walk by and see him.

“Oh, it’s okay! Come here,” she pulled him into the house and he didn’t resist.

He was too busy trying to keep all the liquid in his face to stay in its proper places.

They sat on the couch but she didn’t let him go. It was like she was afraid that he’d disappear if she wasn’t touching him.

That was a silly thing to think. He could disappear anytime he liked. Human contact had nothing to do with his ability to be perceived by the human eye.

Seeing his normally level-headed sister have such an irrational thought helped him calm down a bit.

“When Sam and Tucker told everyone that you’d been taken yesterday I never expected you to just appear on the doorstep.”

His mouth dropped open slightly but he couldn’t find his voice. Yesterday? He had an existential crisis, was taken in by a nice ghost grandma, figured out the point of his continued existence. Oh and had regressed into a baby and grown-up again, in only one day?!

“How?” the word was so soft Jazz didn’t even notice.

She just kept on talking, “I mean the weird story about a meat monster spiriting you away was definitely original, but obviously not believable. Well not believable to anyone but mom and dad of course.” she looked him over again with a more critical eye, “Where were you anyway? Did you try to run away again?”

He didn’t know how to answer her. He wasn’t sure if he should lie, tell the truth, maybe even just let her believe whatever it was that she wanted to believe.

He just hugged her again. His face burrowed into her shoulder all he could think to do was say he was sorry. So he did.

Over and over and over again.

Was he sorry for disappearing or for being a ghost? He didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

He didn’t know if it was just a coincidence or if he had been crying loud enough, but his parents were soon there too and everyone was hugging him tightly.

His breaths came in shuddering gasps and it took him several minutes before he could calm down again. Everything just felt so much. He felt so warm and alive.

He still didn’t know what to tell his family about why he disappeared. Or what he really was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tell them.

When they finally asked he said he didn’t know. He just acted like he didn’t remember anything at all.

He was saving the true story for his friends.

===============================================

He had to wait until the weekend because his parents refused to let him go to school until they figured out who had taken him.

But he couldn’t tell them now. They’d hurt Nanna.

They might hurt him too.

He remembers the stories his mom used to tell. The ones about changelings. How angry she would look just thinking about them.

He was just glad all the tests she tried didn’t tell her he was different. That as far as she was concerned he was human.

The tests only proved that he was the original.

I guess it was nice that she didn’t assume the worst.

He was sitting on his bed with his blankets purposely fluffed up around him. He needed to hide the fact that he wasn’t actually touching the bed, that he was floating a few inches above it.

He was always floating at Nanna’s and it just felt weird not to.

There was a tentative knock on his door and he flew over and silently landed before opening it.

His friends instantly tackled him with affection. The trio was on the ground in a tangle of limbs and apologies.

Once they finally stopped talking over each other and untangled themselves, Danny closed the door as they each took their favorite seats. Tucker in his computer chair and Sam on the windowsill.

Danny took his spot on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. It had been over a week and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain what happened. He still had a hard time figuring out how he had spent so long away in such a small window of time.

“So do you really not remember or is that just what you’re telling your folks?” Sam asked as she kept her eyes trained on him. It was like she was looking for any hint at all for the truth.

“It’s hard to explain.” he started simply.

“Just start at the beginning. What happened after the lunch lady napped you?” Tucker prepped as he anxiously fidgeted in the desk chair enough to wobble it.

“I fell asleep? And when I woke up Nanna was making lunch.” he couldn’t help the fond smile, “She always makes the best lunches. She only makes lunch. It’s only ever lunch. Good though.”

“Nanna?” Tucker asked as he shared his confused look with Sam.

“Yeah. that’s just what I call her. I don’t think that’s her name.”

“Okay? But why call her that?”

“Because she’s my Nanna?” he tilted his head to the side and realized that this was already getting hard to explain and he hadn’t even gotten to the weird stuff yet.

“Like your grandma?” Tucker asked like he was grasping at straws.

“Yeah!” Danny pointed excitedly at Tucker, glad to have a word for it. “She’s my ghost grandma!”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“She literally kidnapped you.”

“No, she didn’t kidnap me. She just took me home with her.”

“Did you want to go home with her?” Sam asked slowly like he was a toddler again.

He did a quick check and he was in fact still a teenager. “It was more like I was abruptly adopted.”

“Is that a thing?” Tucker asked with the most incredulous look.

“Yeah, it’s a ghost thing. Nanna says that older ghosts can adopt any child ghosts, or in my case, baby ghost, that they come across. Luckily, I’m a teenager now! Again?” he put a finger to his lips as he thought about whether or not it would be ‘again’ or not.

Tucker snickered, “Hold on, you’re a baby ghost?”

“Former baby. I’m done with that now.” he sighed and looked away as he mumbled to himself, “I’m so glad that’s over.”

“Excuse me, what?” Sam exclaimed wide-eyed.

He chuckled nervously, “Remember when I said it was hard to explain. That’s what I meant.”

“Wait, hold up.” Tucker stood up from his perched on the edge of his seat position and started to pace, “Are you saying that you were a literal ghost baby or???”

Danny winced and visibly leaned away from his friends, “yeah… it was super weird. Also,” his shoulders were nearly touching his ears with how much he was trying to edge away from the conversation, but knowing he just needed to tell them already, “I think I was gone longer than a day.”

“WHAT?!”

Oh boy, he had a lot of explaining to do.

===============================================

After a very long and snack-filled conversation later, it finally seemed like that they were all up to speed on what had happened to Danny.

“Man, I wish I could have seen you’re baby form.” Tucker chuckled as he set his chip bowl aside.

“Why? It was just me, but littler?” then he suddenly remembered that his ghost form had changed after he found his Spark. “Oh, that’s right! I got an upgrade! Wanna see?”

“Yeah, man!” Tucker said at the same time Sam said, “Of course!”

Danny smiled and transformed.

Both his friends just gasped as they looked at him.

And then they kept staring.

His smile faltered and he bit his lip.

Sam gasped again and shot up to point right at him, “Fangs!”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Also, hold on?

He ran a curious tongue over his teeth and yeah she was right, his teeth were a bit sharper now. “That was probably from all the meat I ate.”

“Also you’re green,” Tucker added helpfully.

He floated over to his mirror and just stared at himself. Nanna didn’t have any mirrors and he never really thought to check.

His skin was green but much paler than Nanna’s was. He also had bright glowing freckles dusting across his nose and cheeks. It didn’t take much looking to see the constellations they could make. His hair was still white but now it moved like it was being blown in a soft breeze, or maybe it was more like he was underwater?

No! It moved like solar flares! Strands arcing and bending as if he was being affected by cosmic winds.

He smiled and saw his fangs. They weren’t too sharp or scary looking, thankfully. They looked more like slightly dramatic canines than true fangs. He’d seen a few actors with teeth like this so it wasn’t too inhuman.

But he was literally green and glowed so he wasn’t sure why he was worried about that.

Although he was surprised that no one had noticed that he was not as skinny as he was before. He’d gained, as Nanna would say, a healthy amount of weight. Then again, he did wear pretty baggy clothes. He supposed it would be easy enough to overlook that they weren’t exactly loose anymore. And his face still looked the same when he was human, he’d always had chubby cheeks.

Besides, that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was his outfit. Which his friends so rudely hadn’t mentioned yet.

The suit he wore wasn’t so clingy and form-fitting anymore. It was puffier and looked like the ones he’d seen in pictures. Except his was cooler because it had stars on it.

He was an astronaut. Just like he had always wanted to be.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Birthday on Batuu

Words: 1281 Pairing: Han Solo x Reader Warnings: None Summary: Reader is traveling with Han and Chewbacca who’ve had to travel to Batuu on business. Normally Reader doesn’t mind going wherever the Falcon takes them. Except this particular day happens to be Reader’s birthday and they are not looking forward to spending it being ordered around by a certain Captain. 

It was a warm sunny day on Batuu. As usual, the rocky paths that wound their way through the Black Spire Outpost were packed with off-worlders. Some were stocking up for their next and much longer galactic journey to another spaceport. Mostly, the Outpost was host to smugglers, traders and any other such people who might want to avoid hyperspace travel and the Imperial check points. Han had told you and Chewbacca that you were just there for some simple refueling yourselves, but neither you nor the Wookie believed him.

“Now don’t you two go wandering off!” The Captain of the Millenium Falcon warned while your trio shuffled along the crowded streets.

“Where would we go?” You complained. “I can hardly move an inch right now.”

“I know you.” Han quipped. “You’ll find a way.”

“If we’re just here for refueling why are we heading away from the port?” You questioned.

“I have one or two small things to take care of while we’re here.” He said, keeping his eyes facing front.

You looked up at Chewbacca who towered over the majority of the crowd. You could tell by his expression he hadn’t been listening to you and Han. Instead, he’d been watching the other ne’er-do-wells of Batuu. So you continued following Han, wondering how long it would be before he explained what his plan was. As the path you were on opened to a wider town center, the crowd around you began to disperse. There was finally space between you and the next person. You could stretch your arms, swing them about if you wanted to.

“Meet me at Olga’s in thirty minutes.” Han ordered.

“What happened to no wandering off?” You hissed.

“That was just for you.” He explained as if it were obvious. “Chewy look after [Y/N] for me, will ya? Don’t give me that look. I’ll be right back.” There was a growl of disapproval from Chewbacca but Han stalked off anyway.

“This is the worst birthday ever!” You shouted after him.

“Can you believe him?” You asked Chewbacca, who said nothing. “Feel like doing some shopping?” The Wookie shrugged, indicating he didn’t have a preference either way. “Well, it’s better than waiting at the Cantina for another thirty minutes so c’mon.”

You supposed you should be used to this sort of behavior from your Captain by now. Although affectionate in his own little ways, Han Solo had a tendency to be, for lack of a better word, selfish. He had a one-track mindset and would get laser focused on one task to the point where it became all consuming. You guessed his plans on Batuu were just one of those things. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly until he finished the task he’d set for himself.

With Chewbacca following closely, you perused the various stalls and stands that lined the town center. There were baubles and trinkets from all across the galaxy. Even from a distance you could identify stoneware, textiles, and even what you were certain were black market weapons. One cart featured an elderly man peddling what looked like blue and green milk.

What really caught your eyes though, was a shimmering green gemstone not too far away. The stone sparked under Batuu’s sun. It was a deep green that reminded you of the waters on your home world. It wasn’t particularly large and it was set in a plain white metal as a pendant, but you absolutely loved it.

“Isn’t it beautiful Chewy?” You whispered to the Wookie beside you. Chewbacca was once again indifferent. You rolled your eyes at the Wookie before asking the vendor for a price. Your heart sank as you realized it was far more credits than you had in your possession. You thanked the vendor and continued browsing even though you knew you’d never find anything as magnificent.

It wasn’t long before your time was up. You left the market empty handed. Chewbacca guided you towards Olga’s Cantina. At least there were some benefits to traveling with a Wookie. Not only did they have premium vantage points, but they could also part a crowd quickly and were excellent navigators. Though that last point may have just been Chewbacca, you weren’t exactly sure.

At the entrance to the cantina, Chewy signaled for you to wait outside. He wanted to go in and assess the situation first. You wanted to argue, having been to Olga’s several times without incident bur you stopped yourself because you’d also been to plenty of places with Han that had quickly turned into an incident of the Captain’s creation. You agreed to wait outside as Chewbacca slipped in.

After a few minutes you’d just about had enough waiting. It shouldn’t take that long to scope out a small circular bar. You moved your trigger hand to hover over your blaster. You pushed open the door of the cantina and crashed right into Han.

“You’re supposed to be waiting outside.” He snapped.

“Well, I got tired of waiting.” You snapped back.

“Can’t you just once do what your told?” Han sighed. “C’mon, I was coming to get you anyway. Our table is over here.” Han placed a hand on your elbow and gently dragged you over to an alcove where you knew one of the larger tables was. You were completely surprised to see so many familiar faces at the table when you arrived.

Luke Skywalker was there in his best set of jedi robes. He was nursing a glass of blue milk. His sister Leia sat next to him. She seemed to be discussing something in a hushed tone with Chewbacca. Lando Calrissian smiled the widest and the brightest when he saw you approaching. You didn’t really know why, both other than Chewy, Lando had always been your favorite of Han’s friends.

“What are you all doing here?” You asked.

“Celebrating your birthday of course!” Leia smiled.

“Han told us that on your home planet birthdays are a big deal.” Luke explained.

“So we all agreed to get together on neutral ground.” Lando added.

“Wow, I…Thank you.” Was all you could say. “You did all this for…” But as you looked to thank Han, you realized he’d disappeared again.

“He’ll be back.” Leia insisted. “For now, sit with us and let’s catch up. What have the three of you been up to?” She looked between you and Chewbacca as you sat down.

“Hey [Y/N]/” You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see that Han had returned.

“Hey, where have been?” You questioned. Han straddled the seat next to you.

“More errands.” He explained. “Say people give gifts for birthdays on your planet right?”

“Yeah most of the time.” You nodded. “Bringing everyone here was such a great gift.”

“That’s not you gift.” Han sounded slightly offended. He reached into the pocket his vest and removed a small pouch. “This is.” Han dropped the pouch into your hand. “Go on, open it.” He said impatiently.

“Okay, I am!” You laughed at his urgency. You untied the drawstrings on the bag and peaked inside. It was some type of jewelry. You reached inside the bag and removed a necklace. Not just any necklace, the same one you saw in the market earlier.  “Oh Han…”

“It’s okay right?” Han asked nervously. “I mean I don’t know much about this kind of stuff and I know it’s not much…”

“I love it, Han!” You promised. “And I love you!”

“Love me, huh?” Han leaned back in his seat. He was teasing you now, but the relief on his face was obvious. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with for my birthday then.”

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00864: Dogma

Warning: This chapter deals with the aftermath of the Umbara arc and touches on shock, PTSD, and related themes. Please skip this chapter if those things make you uncomfortable. (No grossness like the last chapter, though.)

For the first time in his life, Kix stood in the middle of the medbay and felt utterly lost. They had been picked up by the Resolute, pulled from Umbara's surface aboard General Skywalker's favorite ship, the Twilight. The medbay was filled with men from the 212th and the 501st alike, men mixed together more completely than they ever had been. They were united in one thing: they were clones.

Nothing else mattered right now, maybe nothing else would ever matter. They had been pitted together, forced to fight to the death against their own brothers, and for what? To help a corrupt Jedi prove that clones were defective? Nothing as petty as the colors painted on their armor could separate the troopers from their vode now.

The medbay was overflowing with troopers and Kix felt helpless. Most of the injuries were minor, easily treated, but the emotional trauma…

Everywhere he looked, Kix found brothers frowning, crying, raging at the injustice of it all, or looking just as lost as he felt. Every bed in the medbay was taken up and troopers still filed in. They leaned against the walls, sat eight to a bed, or just stood in the middle of the floor. Normally, the accepted procedure was to create temporary medbays in the Resolute's hangers, but Kix refused to do that. The bodies of his fallen brothers filled every hanger, and he would sooner be court-martialed than force injured or emotionally-vulnerable men to stare at the bodies of men who had died in transit.

And it was only those who had died on their way to the Resolute who were being recovered. The men who had fallen on Umbara's surface would be left there, left to become part of the planet's dark soil. The Republic didn't worry about burying the clones. The new teams who arrived to hold the planet would have orders to collect the numbers of fallen troopers. A full casualty report couldn't be made until then.

An envoy of Jedi healers was on the way to meet the Resolute, their needs deemed too severe to wait until they had docked at Coruscant. It was a surprise, but one that Kix wouldn't turn away. It seemed that, despite being seen as expendable by the Republic, there were some Jedi who felt the injustice of what the clones had undergone.

The generals were out and about, as well. General Skywalker had gone to console Captain Rex, who - according to clone gossip - had nearly destroyed his office after returning to the ship. General Kenobi and Commander Tano were circling the medbay comforting troopers. They did their best not to look hurt by the men who flinched away from them. They understood that such recent betrayal by a Jedi meant that they would not easily trust another.

Kix noted that every Jedi he had seen since they left Umbara was not wearing a lightsaber. Even Commander Tano's iconic dual hilts were missing from her crossed belts.

General Kenobi veered closer to Kix as he moved through the crowd and stopped to speak with him. "I offer my most sincere apologies, Kix. Please, if there is anything I can do to help-"

Kix had started shaking his head before the General had fully formed the question. His brothers wouldn't accept help from a Jedi just now, and it would just agitate them further. Between himself and the three medical droids, Kix knew he could keep the men in the medbay alive until the Jedi relief healers arrived. Just then, though, he had bigger concerns. "Are you all right, General?"

Kenobi looked surprised when Kix gestured at his face and raised a hand to touch the wet trails down his cheeks. "Oh. I hadn't… I just- There is a great deal of pain in this room," he finally explained without apology. "I despise seeing the men like this. I would do anything to remove the pain from them."

"You and I both, General," Kix agreed. He tried to move away in an effort to treat more of the men, but General Kenobi caught at his arm. Before he could fight the reaction, Kix gave a noticeable flinch.

With an apologetic grimace, Kenobi dropped his hand and said, "There's one man I worry about more than these. Dogma is in bad shape. I don't feel anything from him at all in the Force. It isn't a good sign. I know you're busy, but..."

"I'll check on him, sir," Kix assured him, moving away with a medic's clipped steps. At the moment, it still felt more fantasy than reality, but the need for a plan had helped him build concentration. The medbay was too full to be effective, and he needed to start moving troopers away from the area.

Kix easily found Fives and Jesse, sitting in silence in the back of the room. Having obviously decided that the beds were too crowded - or needed by other men - they had opted to sit on the floor with their backs firmly braced against the wall. "I need you both to direct some of the men out of here."

Fives shook his head. "You can't expect them to leave. They're scared."

"I know, but I can't save anyone if I can't move in here," Kix argued. "I know we've gone through a horrible tragedy, but I need them to find somewhere else. Take them to one of the barracks. They need space and quiet and sleep, if they can manage it. I'll even get the ship's mess to send food and drinks, but they need to be away from here."

Jesse's lips were pale. "I don't know if we can move them, Kix. I don't think I can do it."

Kix's temper sparked, but he kept his voice calm and supportive as he crouched down in front of the troopers. "You are both leaders in the 501st. Fives, you're an ARC trooper. Jesse, your actions back there have you in line for a promotion, I can guarantee it. The men look up to you. You've taken care of them this whole time and you'll keep taking care of them by making sure they get the food and rest that they need. Give me a second to get Captain Trapper from the 212th and you can start moving men to the barracks. Move them in small groups and make sure one of you stays at the barracks with them so they feel safe."

A few moments later, Kix led Trapper back to the others, having explained the plan to him as well. "Start with the men who seem most at ease. The nervous ones will follow once they see the others leaving. If any of the men start to show signs of illness or trauma, bring them back here and I'll take care of them."

Fives gave a decisive nod. "Right. Let's start with the men we know will come along. Jesse, get Tup, Gurr, and Strike. They're good at explaining things to people. I'll get Appo, Fledge, and Quasi. They can start convincing people to come with us."

Obviously catching on to Fives's plan, Jesse added, "We'll try to get as many men with us as we can on the first trip. That might get some of the nervous ones to follow along eventually."

"I'll get a few steady troopers from the 212th to help out," Captain Trapper agreed. "Kix, we'll take them to D-Barracks. In case anyone needs one of the men, that's where you'll find us."

Kix nodded his appreciation and the men started working. It was a surprisingly quick process. After the initial troopers had been informed of the plan and circulated the room for a few minutes, the first group left, leaving the medbay noticeably more quiet than it had been. It took a total of four trips to convince all the stragglers, but Kix was eventually left with only a few of the most drastically injured men, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano.

"Should we go to D-Barracks, too?" Ahsoka asked.

Kix gritted his teeth. "Sorry, Commander. Most of the men just aren't ready to be around the Jedi yet. They need a place they can see as being safe, a type of haven."

Open hurt flashed across the Togruta's face. "I just want to help."

"I know, sir, and the men know, too. Everything is just a little fresh right now," Kix assured her. "General, have you spoken to Commander Cody yet?"

General Kenobi sighed and tugged mournfully at his beard. "I tried, but I could sense that he didn't want me there. I cannot be upset that he blames me for the 212th's part in this tragedy. I blame myself, too."

"Sir, I have never known a commander to look up to their general more than Cody does to you. He needs some time, but he knows the only one to blame for this mess is Krell." He thought for a moment. "Can you find someone to relieve Admiral Yularen?"

"On the bridge?" Kenobi asked, surprised. "I likely could. May I ask why?"

"He isn't a clone, but he isn't a Jedi. He's a member of the GAR who many of the men look up to. His presence may help them heal. If he's willing, of course."

"Of course," General Kenobi agreed, leaving the medbay at a fast pace.

"Is there anything I can do?" Commander Tano asked.

"Can you order some of the food droids from the mess to deliver supplies to the men?" Kix asked. "They'll need food and water, but hot drinks like caf and tea will help with the shock. Admiral Yularen and the Jedi could help with the delivery side of things. It's a good reason to see and be seen by the men without making them feel invaded by the Jedi."

"I'll do that," Ahsoka told him, spinning decisively on her heel. "Thanks, Kix!"

Before she left the medbay, she paused by the doors to look back at him with her expressive face free of the typical Jedi mask. "I'm glad you're okay, Kix. I really am."

"Me too, Commander," he murmured, but she was long gone.

With a nearly empty medbay, Kix fixed his attention on Dogma. The trooper was huddled in the last bed, his wrists fastened together in front of him in a pair of well-used binders. He stared blankly ahead, giving no reaction even when Kix approached him. His normally intelligent face was slack and his right shoulder gave an occasional twitch.

"Dogma," he said softly. There was no response, and Kix repeated the trooper's name without hope of him answering.

He took a bioscan of Dogma's current state, unsurprised to find that his blood pressure and pulse were high. "Dogma, it's Kix. Can you hear me?"

After a long moment, Dogma repeated tonelessly, "...hear me?"

"Come on, vod," Kix cajoled. "I need you to come back here. Come back, Dogma. You're here, you're safe."

"...safe," Dogma echoed. His brows crinkled slightly, the minor shift seeming tremendously important with his lack of other response. "Not safe. Never safe."

"You are safe," Kix insisted. "You're safe, Dogma. You've made us all safe. No more Krell. You can come back now."

"Krell…" Dogma's eyes lit with recognition of the name and his entire face crumpled a moment later under the weight of the memories. "I killed him. I killed a Jedi."

"A traitor," Kix said firmly. "He wasn't a Jedi. No Jedi would have done what he did."

"He was a commanding officer," Dogma replied, sounding almost like his regulation-quoting self if not for the thickness in his voice. "I killed a commanding officer. The regs say I'll be court-martialed and found guilty. They'll either execute me or lock me away for the rest of my life. I'm not sure which is worse."

Kix rested a hand on Dogma's shoulder, unable to keep it from tightening as he felt the trembling in his brother's body. "You did what you had to do. Not only for us, but for all of the Republic. Krell was a traitor and he deserved to die. Should have died slower, if you ask me. You were too merciful."

Dogma gave a slight chuckle at that, though there was no joy in his eyes. "That's an interesting take on the situation. I don't think the GAR will follow your logic."

"I'll talk to whoever needs to hear me - anyone who will listen," Kix told him fiercely. "You took out a threat. That's what we're trained to do. You're a hero. You should be given a medal, not face a court-martial."

"Even the other men are avoiding me," Dogma said with a shake of his head.

Kix laughed. "Because you killed that ori'dush shabuir? Most of the men want to shake your hand."

Dogma laughed, but the sound quickly turned to stifled sobs and he began to tremble uncontrollably. When Kix was unable to get another response from Dogma and the trooper's blood pressure began soaring to dangerous levels, he administered a mild sedative and waited by the bedside until Dogma's scans showed normal levels once more.

After Dogma fell into a drug-assisted sleep, Kix moved quickly to his desk, opened a link to the holonet, and proceeded to abuse his medical access privileges.

"Kix?" Senator Amidala asked, her confused frown evident even through the unstable connection of the hololink. "Anakin told me what happened on Umbara. I am so sorry-"

"Sorry, ma'am, I don't have much time," Kix interrupted. Thankfully, the senator didn't seem offended. "I have the trooper here who finally put an end to General Krell. He's facing a court-martial and they'll most likely rule against him. I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but is there anything you can do?"

Senator Amidala fell silent, and Kix appreciated that she was taking the time to fully consider his question. "The Senate and the Grand Army of the Republic don't operate jointly, but I think I can find a way to bring this to the Senate's attention since there are clone rights bills on the floor. I will need a few details and I'll warn you that it'll become a publicity circus. Is your trooper all right with that?"

"It's better than death, ma'am," Kix said firmly.

"That is true," she agreed softly. "Send me a file with as much information as you can and I'll put together something. The Senate won't meet tomorrow, but that should give me enough time to get something ready. When will you land on Coruscant?"

"A little less than a standard week from now."

"That should be plenty of time, then."

Senator Amidala's confidence was enough to ease the burden on Kix's shoulders. "Thank you, Senator. I can't tell you what this will mean to Dogma - to all of the men, really."

"It's the right thing to do, Kix," she said, voice filled with conviction. "You and your brothers deserve consideration as thinking beings as well as for the work you do in service of the Republic. We'll give Dogma the best possible chance that we can."

"I couldn't ask for anything more," Kix told her fervently.

---

A/N - Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

[idiopath-fic-smile]

more 1950s lesbian amis

continued from this.

in which grantaire makes coffee, and a friend.

“Good morning,” said Chester. “Is that a new dress?”

It was not. Grantaire looked up warily from her sketchpad. She wasn’t good-looking enough for this to be anything but a ploy.

“Do you need something, Chester?” she asked in her sweetest voice, all cotton candy fumes.

“Secretary’s out this morning,” he told her. “That’s why there’s no coffee yet.” And there, it all clicked into place. 

Grantaire schooled her face as blank as she could make it; if she was going to reach his conclusion, he’d have to drag her there.

“Thank you but I picked up a cup on my way here,” she said, nodding at her half-empty styrofoam cup. After last night’s disaster at the Musain, she had been unable to even imagine the L ride to the office without a fortifying blast of caffeine. 

Chester stared meaningfully; Grantaire stared back, meaningless.

“Grantaire,” said Chester, as if talking to one very stupid, “do you think you could brew us a pot?”

Grantaire blinked. “Does this normally fall to the staff cartoonist when the secretary’s away?”

Chester made a suppressed sound of deep irritation. He spread his hands, appealing. “Listen, I could struggle through trying to make coffee for the office and no doubt poison everyone trying, or you could do it, and add that homey little touch I know all the fellas would appreciate.”

Homey. It was not a word you’d apply to Grantaire’s garden-level one-bedroom, which boasted stained wallpaper and a stove straight out of the Coolidge administration. Homely, maybe. Chester was the one with a home, and a wife, and a fat little baby and the money for a comfortable life.

“It’s only fair to divide the work according to natural aptitude, sweetheart,” Chester was saying, and it was the sweetheart that snapped Grantaire like a rubber band, that word deployed like a pat on the head, like penny candy for a crying baby, like a scrap of baloney to a dog, like it could only ever be the bitterest pity or the cruelest joke in concert with Grantaire’s face, with Grantaire’s entire being.

“‘From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs,’” she murmured in an agreeing tone.

“Now you got it,” Chester started, then frowned.

“Karl Marx, Chester,” said Grantaire. “Keep up, or someone might need to place a call to ol’ Joe.”

Chester’s entire countenance soured. “This is why you should leave it to the men to make the jokes,” he said, “and stick to what you can do--”

Grantaire stood. “I’ll make the coffee,” she said.

“There,” said Chester, “did that need to be such a production?”

The “Golden Ratio,” according to a high school Home Economics course which Grantaire had frankly passed by the skin of her teeth, was one to two tablespoons of coffee for every six ounces of hot water. Grantaire remembered this by virtue of having gotten it wrong many, many times. She was no good with math but the machine took thirty-six ounces of water, which meant the ideal amount of grounds was somewhere between six and twelve tablespoons.

“Stars shining bright above you,” Grantaire hummed under her breath, measuring and dumping coffee grounds into the filter. One, two, three, four, five.

Grantaire had gotten it wrong in high school because nobody in her house drank coffee. She hadn’t discovered the jolting benefits herself until her first year of art school, as the deadlines began to pile and the available time to meet them began to wane.

“Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you,” Grantaire hummed. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

If there had been a way to brave the choppy academic waters of work and criticism without chemical assistance, that path had been invisible to Grantaire. She had tried, she had cried, she had turned down “diet pills” that the other girl in her program swore by only because Grantaire figured her own figure couldn’t afford to be more unflatteringly stick-thin.

“Birds singing in the sycamore trees--” Eleven, twelve. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The scrutiny and the pressure tempered the freedom of those heady days away from her parents. The expectation that Grantaire was only studying art as a way of killing time, until some charitable man came along to marry her, unless the poor dear simply couldn’t find anyone--she had found a survival strategy of her own, a roughly stitched-together patchwork of sarcasm and wine and more sarcasm, and coffee brewed so thick and strong it barely qualified as liquid.

“Dream a little dream of me.” Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Grantaire went ahead and dumped in the rest of the bag.

Grantaire was making shaky progress on her first deadline when Douglas stopped by her desk.

“Listen,” he blustered, “is this some kind of a joke?”

“Hm?”

“Your coffee’s undrinkable, it’s--” he faltered as Grantaire took a long swallow of the tarry substance in her mug. It was gritty and bitter, but by the standards of her art school years, only qualified as “medium dark.”

“Doug,” she said calmly, “if it’s too strong for you, you’re free to add plenty of milk and sugar.” She took another sip, meeting his eyes all the while. 

He spun on the heel of his expensive dress shoe. As he stormed away, she could hear him mutter, at a passive-aggressive volume designed to be just-barely audible, but audible nonetheless, “No wonder she doesn’t have a man yet, can’t even make coffee right.”

“Grantaire?”

She looked up. The secretary was back from wherever she’d been, apparently.

“Hello,” said Grantaire, hoping that if she kept a friendly enough countenance, the secretary might not notice that Grantaire did not remember her name. “Are you feeling better?”

The secretary smiled, polite. She was young but plain, although not as plain as Grantaire. “Thank you, it was my mother, actually. She’s a little under the weather so I stopped home to bring her some soup and heat it up for her.” Grantaire nodded as if that kind of filial duty was a part of her daily life, too. 

“Well, I hope her condition improves soon.” “Thank you, that’s very kind.” An awkward pause began to bloom. Into it, Grantaire blurted, “Sorry if you had the coffee today.” “Oh,” said the secretary, “no, no, I drink tea.” Of course she did, thought Grantaire. She had the look of someone well acquainted with the proper use of a cup and saucer. She lowered her voice slightly. “Douglas informed me all about this morning’s coffee maker adventure.” She lowered her voice a little more. “In some detail.” “Yes, I must have lost count spooning in the grounds,” said Grantaire blandly. “I can’t imagine how it slipped my mind.” “I can,” said the secretary with a crooked smile. Somehow, with both eyes wide open, she gave the impression of winking. “Say, Grantaire. I don’t suppose you could take your lunch break with me? There’s a park across the street, it’s very quiet. Private.” Grantaire nodded. “Good,” said the secretary. That crooked smile again. “My name is Combeferre, by the way.”

“You know, I saw you the other day,” said Combeferre as she neatly removed a packet of celery sticks wrapped in waxed paper from her lunch bag. “Did you.” Grantaire ran through her mental list of places she’d been over the past several days. If she was very, very lucky, maybe Combeferre simply meant that she’d glimpsed Grantaire at the Jewel, picking up some groceries for her tragically empty fridge. Combeferre glanced around the park in a very natural, off-hand way. “At the Musain,” she said. Grantaire’s stomach dropped. She could feel her grip on her turkey sandwich going white-knuckled. “Chester and Murray, such a pair of jokesters,” she said at last. “I suppose I was being hazed last night--” “No, I saw you last Thursday,” said Combeferre quiety. “By yourself.” Grantaire hadn’t been in there for more than forty-five seconds. Had all of Chicago seen? She felt something bubble up inside her. “So,” said Grantaire, trying to match Combeferre’s even, calm voice. “Is this blackmail, then? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I’ve gotten my first check, I’m a bit light at the moment.” Combeferre blinked. “Oh dear,” she said, “oh no, you misunderstand me completely. I saw you from inside.” “You were there?” said Grantaire, feeling very dumb for not having picked up on any sign of Sapphism earlier. There was nothing obvious in her manner or dress. The comment about stopping home to see her mother might have suggested she was still living with her parents, and thus unmarried, but plenty of girls did that. Of course, not every woman of a woman-loving bent chose to broadcast it to the world like that short-haired Amazon in the bar restroom. Combeferre’s hairdo and clothes were no doubt chosen for hiding, like Grantaire’s. “Do you have plans this weekend?” Combeferre asked, and Grantaire attempted not to look entirely pole-axed. Was this a pass? Grantaire felt no immediate pull, but, wretchedly, she realized she was lonely enough to consider it. She raised her eyebrows. “You see, I belong to, um, a social organization,” Combeferre continued, unaware. “We could use some new members, and it would be so nice to know someone else at work--” “Is it a book group?” said Grantaire. “A tupperware exchange? A cat appreciation society?” Combeferre smiled. “I do like cats,” she said. “No, we’re. Hm. The Chicago branch of a group of like-minded individuals who find ourselves on a slightly divergent path from the majority of mankind. It’s a very relaxed, informal thing. We’re meeting at the apartment of a friend for spaghetti dinner on Saturday. I can give you the details if you’re interested.” “And you’re all women?” Grantaire said. “We are,” said Combeferre. What the hell. It wasn’t as if there was a line of people waiting to make Saturday night plans with her. “Alright,” said Grantaire. “Wonderful.” Combeferre gave her an address, although Grantaire didn’t know the city well enough for it to mean much without a map. Her eyes briefly scanned the park again. “And I should add that you don’t have to use your real name,” she said. “In fact, I think most of us don’t.” “Some tupperware club you’re running, lady,” said Grantaire, and Combeferre half-laughed. “I was going to leave you a note,” said Combeferre, “on your desk, explaining everything in advance, but then my mother was sick and there wasn’t any time.” “If anyone saw what you wrote,” Grantaire started. “In shorthand, of course. None of the men would understand.” “I can’t read shorthand,” said Grantaire. “I took a course on it but that was about the time I realized my future would need to be elsewhere.” “I was going to be a physician,” said Combeferre dreamily. Grantaire turned to face her. “I had the grades, you know. Biology was my best subject, and I enjoy helping people.” “What happened?” Grantaire asked uneasily.

“Oh,” said Combeferre. “I had a marvelous professor. I’d asked him to write me a recommendation, and he pulled me aside and explained that if I’d have to do twice the work for half the respect, which was of course the truth. I considered nursing, but a life of emptying bedpans and dodging the head doctor’s wandering hands didn’t appeal.” “So instead you empty inboxes and dodge Richard’s wandering hands,” said Grantaire. “You’ll fit right in with my friends,” Combeferre said with another smile. “I’m sorry about what my friend said to you last night. She has an excellent heart and is a key part of our set, but she can be somewhat severe.”

“Do you mean the Hippolyta who cornered me in the powder room?” “Undoubtedly,” said Combeferre. Then, “oh, and definitely don’t call her that!” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Grantaire.

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Beach House

An escape from the city for just one weekend.

The thought alone sent an eruption of butterflies bursting into Raven's stomach and a series of tingles down her spine.

It sounded like a dream.

The drive up the coast had been idyllic. Though, there was one thing Damian failed to mention until they made it past the hedge-lined walkway to the entrance of the mansion-size beach house. Their 'impromptu' visit fell on the annual Wayne family weekend. And it would also mark the first time they met Raven. He hadn't prefaced this trip with a warning, but any mixed feelings quickly melted away into amazement.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for the Wayne family weekend in the Hamptons.

Boats and brunches. Lobster bakes, crab cakes and country clubs - it was another world.

It was hardly Raven's usual scene, but it was his family's. So for the next few days, it would be hers. Even though Damian hadn't warned her, she wasn't worried. Raven knew he had a reason for springing this on her. Besides, if she had him by her side, she could handle one trip. Maybe even enjoy it, too.

And with the view from the top of the lighthouse on Montauk Point with Damian's heavenly arms surrounding her or skinny-dipping with him on a darkened corner of Cooper Beach, she was enjoying herself - a lot.

But, one of her favorite parts of being at the beach house surrounded by Damian's family was the new ways she got to see him flustered. Whether it was rolling his eyes at Tim's caffeine intake and Dick's immature eating habits. Or even elbowing Jason for the bad puns, then swiftly cutting off his father when he insisted on camaraderie.

She even heard him arguing that Cass had to be present for the entirety of the five courses and dessert, if he did. And of course, he spent a good deal of time slapping away any unsolicited hands (Steph) that tried to pinch and prod his nonexistent baby fat.

Off to the side, watching push-up and handstand contests followed by Tim and Damian's stock talk with their father, Raven fought off smiles all night.

Damian seemed to be in a perpetual state of annoyance with his family and there were several times she found herself stifling laughter. This was another side of him she hadn't gotten to know yet - his sisters and brothers teasing him, treating him like the baby in the family and him refusing it at every turn. Raven liked to watch him like this, interacting with them. Even though this atmosphere was completely new to her, she felt at home. Because it was still him - it was exactly Damian.

But around her, he wasn't.

It was concerning when they arrived and Damian hadn't argued against Selina's offhanded mention of separate rooms. In fact, he encouraged it. And every time Raven turned the corner, he was shutting the door or closing drawers. Not only were they not spending their nights tangled up together, but Damian had morphed into a pod person when she needed him the most.

Raven couldn't believe her biggest worry when meeting Damian's family would turn out to be Damian.

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

He was pulling away from her.

Damian regretted bringing her here and introducing her to his family, so he was pulling away. No wonder he agreed to separate rooms, he had been skeptical from the start.

And by extension, his family wasn't sure about her. Or maybe it was the reverse. After all, Raven had spent far too much time reading on the beach, under an umbrella and a thick cover-up, or drinking tea on the back porch, or at the island in the kitchen conversing with Alfred.

She had a difficult enough time fitting in with people who weren't her boyfriend's family, let alone people who were so comfortable and at ease with each other they knew all of each other's ticks to a fault. Even their dog seemed to be privy to all the inside jokes and the gags.

The joking around and teasing, Raven had never had that. A family.

A real one.

It terrified her, but she was willing to try because Damian was the most important person in the world to her.

"Maybe Raven would like to join us for our tradition of game night...?" Bruce suggested at the breakfast table, before taking another long sip from his coffee cup. Unsurprisingly, Raven, Bruce, Dick, and Damian were the first ones up that morning. Raven, Bruce, and Dick by choice. Damian, of course, picked up the habit from her over time.

"Oh..." Raven glanced at Damian who peered sideways at her, a half quirk on his lips as he fiddled with his fork. He was still acting strangely. "I'm fond of games, Mr. Wayne... Chess, checkers, scrabble, backgammon, cards," She offered.

"Great, it's tonight at eight." Dick finished, before taking in a huge spoonful of Lucky Charms. "With your repertoire you can replace Damian on my team..." He coughed out something that sounded along the lines of losing streak. "We should talk strategy, Raven," he said out of the side of his mouth, while Damian shot him a glare so threatening, it could have boiled his milk.

"It'll be great to have you on the team." Bruce folded his newspaper neatly, about to take his leave. He stood, his stern stare softened for a split second. "And please I may be getting up there, but, you really should call me Bruce."

Raven felt her cheeks warm and mentally cursed herself for being overly formal. After a breath, she excused herself from breakfast as politely as she could. "Breakfast was lovely." Alfred nodded, as she rose up to place her teacup and saucer on the metal tray. "Thank you, Alfred."

As soon as she was out of sight, she headed in the direction of her room. Raven stood against the wall, resting her head against the cool plaster and stared up at the high beam ceilings.

All the names of Damian's family members and their friends, who was dating whom, and who was still speaking to whom swirled around in her head in an endless loop. Social engagements weren't terribly difficult and normally she could handle them. But with Damian acting strangely, suddenly it felt that much harder. There were times during the weekend that it felt as though Alfred was her only ally in a sea of chaos.

Not far behind, Damian had haphazardly refolded his napkin and excused himself from the breakfast table. Raven let out a startled yelp as he touched her arm. She hadn't heard him come in. "Damian - what are you doing in here?" He drew her back into his body's embrace - enveloping her with heat, the way he did to ensure she felt safe. From his parted lips to the curl of his fingertips, he vowed to wield her with wonderful wickedness. Raven felt her whole being blush, clearly there was much more than a casual caress on his mind.

"It's important." His mouth inched closer to her own. Those dark green were burning of dangerous promises, the growl under his tongue was audible. The surreptitious and svelte movements until she was backed into a corner were all reminiscent of a dangerous predator, a jungle cat. "This can't wait." Raven was almost sure he could hear her blood pounding in anticipation of whatever sinful act he planned to commit.

Her body's reaction could hardly be helped.

"What exactly can't wait?"

He pressed his lips to her neck. Nibbling and nipping with his hands disappearing under the sides of her shirt to massage her waist. Up and down, his fingers danced. And Raven could do little but whimper, feeling herself heat up faster than she had in the beach house's steam shower. And then, she melted. She was falling further into Damian's touch with her hands at last bringing themselves up to thread through his hair, as though to cement him even more tightly against her.

"My need for you... Something about you in the house I spent my summers in growing up..." Damian let out a ragged breath. "But not being able to touch you... I'm not going to make it..." He attacked her jawline, chin and cheeks with an onslaught of frantic, feverish kisses. "But, I promised myself I would wait..." Those green eyes singed her.

"Damian..." She gasped at his words, smoldering gaze, and his fingers sliding down the expanse of pale back before they ran across the dimples above her ass. Raven only managed to pull herself back a fraction of an inch. But he seized the change in perspective as an opportunity - to catch her earlobe between his teeth. "Damian, what if someone catches us?"

"Screw them... I need you." Damian murmured into her ear, clasping their palms together. "I wanted to do this right, but... I'm not used to you being so far from me." She hardly needed the reminder. The separate rooms. There was no cuddling, no spooning. No candles and late night kisses that turned into - this. "I'm suffering..."

So was she.

That was hardly fair.

Raven turned her face. "I'm a guest in this house. I'm your guest..." She angled her hip away from his, but he wrapped his fingers around it insistently. "It wouldn't exactly bode well for me if we hooked up here. Or now." Her argument dissolved away, diluted with his hands diving into divots and dips.

He grasped her chin. "Just one more kiss." Every letter pronounced like a purr brushing her mouth with their hot strokes. "I need another... That one wasn't long enough..."

"I can't - I shouldn't." Raven tried. Her hands were braced on his hard chest. The tautness of his muscles hardly helped. Every ab line and pec was heightened and heavy and wrought with tension under her touch. And it was all for her. But she couldn't. "It's your family, Damian... I want them to like me or at least tolerate me..."

She heard low grunts of frustration echo up his throat. "Raven, relax. Everything is fine... In fact, they could stand to like you less if you ask me," he said under his breath. "What does it really matter if we're caught?"

Raven felt herself recoil from him. No matter how much she didn't want to. "No, Damian. We can't." She turned her cheek. Pulling away and wiping her mouth. "And you can't just...kiss away the distance between us the last few days."

There was a tonal shift in the atmosphere. And his body went completely rigid and his expression went grave.

"Raven, what are you talking about?" Damian asked her, but he avoided her eyes for a second too long. It had to be true. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He flashed in palms in a wide armed surrender. "Look this weekend... It's not...what you think..."

"The separate rooms..." She said slowly. He wasn't looking at her. Raven's heart plummeted down to the soles of her feet. They weren't in lock-step. Things really had veered off course if they weren't in sync. "You do know what I think. You have for a while." Raven shook her head and turned on her heel.

This time, Damian didn't follow.

-----------

In the back of the Waynes's private beach, Raven sat alone facing the tides, her petite body elongated along the rail of the gazebo. She watched the waters wash away the sand, over and over, lapping at the shore.

Everything began to flow out of her.

There was a whole world Damian shared with his family that he had never shown her. She felt like she was getting to know him all over again. Normally she would have leapt at the chance to get to know her boyfriend even better.

But this was different.

What if the people who raised Damian decided they didn't like who he had become when he was with her?

Damian approached the small silhouette of a girl, her body overlaid on the rail of the gazebo, the connected arches carved in wood. He watched the way the wind whipped through her hair as she stared off into the sunset with the thick slip-covered book laying on her lap.

It was a framed photograph.

"You must be freezing." Raven turned to him when she felt a thick blanket drape across her shoulders. But, he sounded a bit worried and his brow creased with concern. "You missed dinner... When you weren't in your room. I thought... Part of me was afraid you..."

He stared at his feet in the sand. "You thought I left?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw him close his eyes, squeezing them shut. "I couldn't do that..." She tucked the blanket around herself. Suddenly Damian leapt up and grabbed her tight, holding her quietly. For several long moments, she felt the truth in each frantic pound of his heart. When it slowed at last, Damian exhaled and released her. Breathing heavily. "I missed a lot more than dinner... Didn't I?" Raven gave him a sad, knowing smile.

"What are you talking about?" Damian started. He stared oddly at her amethyst eyes. "Did someone say something to you? Was it Stephanie? Or Jason? Because I swear -"

"No - no." She said softly. Damian watched her, as the wind wildly swept strands of her black about her face. "I missed things... Like having a real family."

They were a part of him. They were a part of who he was before he met her. She knew she was the odd woman out, but being around them was nice.

Really nice.

"Oh..." Damian stared off at the water pensively. "No - if anything you lucked out..." He ran a hand through his hair. "They go overboard and they talk too much... They're annoying. They push your buttons and borrow your imported silk tie without asking -"

"You know that doesn't make them any less great..." Raven sighed. "In the back of my mind, I knew if I ever met them, they would be wonderful. They would have to be if they were your family. But... really they are..." Raven stared off at the fading red sphere on the waters, like a bright beacon. A guide... Or a warning. "And I'm not."

"What?" Damian spat harshly. Almost accusingly. "Raven, why would you say that?"

"Because... this is the Hamptons and this is your family..." She said quickly. "You're already notorious in Gotham, here you're practically royalty..." Raven fumbled. "I'm just an outsider."

It was hardly the Hamptons she cared about. Raven felt like the waters should rise up and take her away.

"No, that can't be it..." He shook his head. "You never cared about those things before." Damian's face bordered on anger. "What changed?"

Raven bit her lip, trying to contain it as she made sense of it in her own mind. "I met the most important people in your life and they're perfect." Raven confessed. "But your family probably wants you to date someone who's equally perfect. Someone who belongs with you..."

It would be far worse to lose Damian if they decided they didn't approve or didn't want her.

"You belong with me." Damian spoke as though she was delirious. He edged closer to her. "Everyone in my family has felt like an outsider at one point or another. Hell, we're not even all related. Most of us are adopted or step-somethings."

"You guys certainly fit together like you're related." Raven hadn't meant to sound accusing, but she couldn't help it. He had to realize that only served to make the family even more perfect - not less.

Just like Damian.

The pale girl shifted and dangled her legs off over the side of the gazebo as she faced him.

Those dazzlingly vert orbs were staring into hers, searching. "Are you regretting meeting my family?" He asked softly.

"No." Raven's pale feet kicked at the sand swept air absentmindedly, feeling childish as she did so. "I just wanted everything to go perfectly..." Then, even more so as she spoke the words aloud. "I wanted to make the best impression possible - I wasn't prepared and I didn't pack enough outfits or separates..." She dragged a hand down her face. "I didn't even know separates were their own clothing category until two days ago."

Damian fixed her a disbelieving stare. "Separates...?"

"I'll never fit in at a yacht club, I don't tan, and this is the one white dress I packed... " She gestured down to the loose linen mini dress. She was losing her nerve or her grip - she didn't know what, but she was losing it. "I hardly have enough white to make it through the rest of the trip -"

Her words died in her throat the second he placed those comforting hands onto her thighs. Holding her steady and supporting her with ease. "That's too bad." Raven froze and he smirked. "I'm sorry, but you have to stay for the whole weekend, my family already loves you... It's too late for you."

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could finally bring herself to speak. "I made a horrible first impression..." Raven's lips parted. "And I was much too quiet... There's no way - they could...?" She couldn't bear to finish her words.

"I do... So why wouldn't they?" And Damian braced himself on the wood railing on either side of her hips and placed a long kiss to her forehead, trailing down to each of her cheeks and Raven promptly muffled her face into his chest.

She gasped. "Game night," Raven realized, wiping an escaped tear quickly. "Is it...too late for game night? Did I miss it?"

Damian traced her cheek with his fingers. "No, everyone waited for you. It's not a proper game night without you. You're one of us now." Damian smiled. For one long moment, his handsome face lit up, painted with vibrant reds, pinks, yellows, like the sunset. He looked ridiculously, genuinely happy in ways Raven had never seen before. And he captured her lips softly. Solidifying that fact. Driving it home over and over with his warm mouth caressing hers. She was one of them, she belonged.

"Okay... What about -" He kissed her again and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't worry. We'll get you more white -" Raven's entire being rose up with the tides at what he said next. "A dress..." It sounded like a promise of so much more. "The perfect white dress."

And true to Damian's words, Raven looked stunning in white.

Damian clasped her hand, stretching out their interlaced fingers between them, until only their pinkies remained linked before the colors of the sunset. And they walked with their bare feet kicking up the sand on the wind by the glistening water of the beach. Until they finally made their way to the back of the house where his family stood waiting.

They were silent - no chattering or arguing, but waiting patiently, tensely, or even eagerly.

With his other hand, Damian reached into his trouser pocket and dragged a finger once more over the black velvet box before squeezing it tight.

Yes.

He had known for a while.

That Raven belonged at his side, with his family all around them, wearing a white dress.

[mommymooze]

Grand ReOpening

Hubert x Reader 5,613 words

descriptions of violence, possession, Modern AU

You work at the newly remodeled and soon to be reopened Museum of History in Enbarr. A huge fire caused devastating damage to the old building, over half of the structure had to be rebuilt from the ground up. Donations pour in from private collectors in the form of money and items to replace those lost to the flames.

You finish arranging the items in the display finally locking the door on the huge glass case. Some items donated were questionable. Everything in this case is legitimate, you reassure yourself. You have already weeded out the fakes, the near perfect imitations. The director asks you how do you know? You explain to him the materials available for crafting such items, known specifics from inventories found in the locked away historical books, too delicate to be placed upon display. Sometimes you tell him you just have a feeling deep inside based on your experience and knowledge of the period. You can’t tell him the truth.

Whenever you touch one of these items, you close your eyes, the history of the item and its owners flash through your mind. It is easy to bypass the collectors, the ones that shove an item in drawers or hang it on a wall as a decoration for years at a time. The imprint left on the item when it was handled, touched, used is what you are able to see most clearly.

The small silver dagger in the upper left of the case. Its card reads: Dorothea Arnault owned this fine silver dagger. It is small enough to conceal in multiple places upon the body. Perhaps she may have concealed it in the curls of her hair for a ball or tucked it away in her corset or bodice.

They write the cards to romanticize the exhibit. People want a good story, not simply a display of stuffy items from long ago. Who would want to read a card stating she kept this particular dagger tucked into a pocket in her left boot for many years, which is exactly what you saw when you touched it.

Metal rimmed reading glasses belonging to the Imperial Spy Master, Hubert von Vestra. The card: Perhaps he wore them while brewing one of his poisons or when translating encoded messages during the war. Hah. He did not obtain these until fifty years old and mostly wore them when reading a book that struck his fancy prior to retiring for the evening.

Ferdinand von Aegir’s opera glasses. The Card: Fine mother-of-pearl covered opera glasses belonged to the Imperial Prime Minister, Ferdinand von Aegir. He may have used them when going to the Mittlefrank Opera house to watch Dorothea perform. Nope. Mother gave him these when he was but a child. Once he was older, after the war, he purchased a pair that much better suited his face, these were much too small for him as an adult.

Oh my, you’ve lost track of the time again. You scurry out of the building, making certain all doors lock behind you. Making it home just in time to change clothes, freshen up, you head back out for the Museum’s Grand Reopening Gala. Thankfully you are not on the front lines, that is the duty of the Curator, the Directors, those on the board and anyone responsible for schmoozing the rich guests, many who donated to the cause, keeping them happy. You put on your headset and have three laptops at your disposal, ready to answer any questions the staff has regarding particular items on display. You are literally fielding questions left and right. To the left are the searches for the director’s queries, to the right the Curator. In the center you follow on the security monitors where they are standing helping you to identify which particular item they need additional information about. Well past midnight you are finally allowed to leave. Security escorts you to your car and you head home for a well deserved sleep.

Two days later is the Grand Reopening. The tickets sold out three months in advance. The most devoted history fans always line up first to observe and breathe in the milieu. Listening to them mill about the displays, pour over the cases of preciously preserved objects is a joy for you.

“Look, this mirror belonged to the Emperor herself. I wonder what these items could say if they could speak. Did they reflect her face as she finished her makeup before one of the grand balls at the time, I wonder?” You knew the answers to some of their ponderings and could not hide your smirk.

A very tall dark haired male catches your eye. Dark suit jacket, black satin shirt, very nicely tailored. His jet black hair blocks the right side of his face from view. His fine leather gloves barely hover over the display case as he observes the items contained within. It suggests a hint of cosplay? Or perhaps he is attempting to channel the spirit of Lord Vestra? Your eyes sweep about the room regularly, spotting him in several different locations, each time it appears he is studying items that had belonged to the man he resembles. You wish you could see his face more clearly, however his back is turned or someone is in the way. You quietly move towards the end of the circuit the floor plan leads you through, close to the guard by the exit. There are three items of clothing belonging to Hubert this person would probably pause to examine, perhaps you can obtain a good look at his face then.

Finally, you glance through two panes of glass to see the face of the man. There is a strong resemblance to Hubert. Not exact, of course, but the cheek bones were close, the eyes are a similar shade of green. His skin tone is much darker, not nearly as pale. Your attention is taken away as the security guard a few feet from you is asked a question by an older woman.

Your focus is then called in front of you as a polite “Ahem” is noted. Standing directly before you and requesting your notice is none other than the tall dark gentleman that you have been secretively following for the last 30 minutes.

“My apologies. Not to be a bother, but I believe that you work here and would like to ask your opinion about something.” His long slender gloved fingers reach into his breast pocket, pulling out a golden box about the size of a cigarette case, barely a centimeter thick. His thumb activates a button on the case and the lid pops open revealing a dull yet clean looking folded yellowed cloth. The initials H.v.V. are sewn in black thread close to the bottom edge. The cloth is folded in a different manner than it normally lies in order to display the initials on top.

You raise your right hand up to the level of the box which is even with your chin. Touching the material with an index finger you feel the violence connected with the item, fainting straightaway.

You find yourself in the employee’s lounge with two security officers and the strange man. He is seated at a table nearby, you are located pleather covered chaise lounge, reclined. Bolting upright on the lounger, you gather your senses about you. The security officers called for EMT’s to check you out. Fortunately, you were unconscious for maybe a minute or less. You flush bright red and blame it on ‘female issues’. They insist that you remain and be checked out.

“I am terribly sorry. I assisted in bringing you back here and now that I know you are well cared for, I shall excuse myself.” The stranger stands to leave. You reach in your pocket, thrusting your business card toward him. He completes the exchange by handing you his. As he returns to the public areas of the museum the EMT’s arrive and begin their 1,000 questions.

After every possible vital statistic can be taken and recorded, they finally leave you to yourself and the security of the museum. They nod in agreement that it was most likely ‘female issues’ and you should increase your iron intake. Once you finally convince your boss that you are well enough to leave, you get in your car, grab some drive thru dinner and head directly home.

A warm cup of tea, comfortable clothing and your soft couch beneath you, you take a deep breath and begin to relax. You mull over what happened when you touched the handkerchief. That sort of reaction is expected when you touch weapons used in the war, used for self-defense, etcetera. You did not expect that from a handkerchief. The cloth was normally soaked in a strong smelling agent and held over the face of his target. Too early for ether, most likely mandrake root. Normally it would cause the target to quickly become unconscious, occasionally it would cause illness along with and possibly but not always death. One of Hubert’s weapons in the darkness, when silence was required.

You pull out the business card. Vincent H. Vestraegir. Hmmm. Possibly from the line of descendants. You enter his number and name into your phone, then text it.

You: I gave you my card at the museum. Do you still wish to discuss the

item?

Waiting for approximately 20 minutes you hear the notification tone.

V.H.V: Absolutely. Perhaps meet for coffee? Thursday or Saturday?

You: Thursday. Crown Café, 10am, after the morning rush has cleared.

V.H.V: Agreed. See you then.

Working on your day off, as usual. You log onto the Museum’s Employee website to check your email, the top notification is from your supervisor telling you that you will take a few days for yourself. The success of the reopening is greatly due to your hard work and you will take the rest of the week off. See you Saturday.

Well, well, you may get some sleep after all. After a fitful night of restlessness and strange dreams you awaken Thursday morning feeling overtired. It would be in poor taste to cancel the meeting, so you get up, showered and dressed. You decide that since you are doing this basically for free for this man, you have no obligation to him and refuse to dress up. Wearing your hair in a messy pony tail, GMU sweatshirt and jeans you head to the coffee shop a bit early. Hopefully you can get a full cup into you and wake up before he arrives.

You order a coffee double shot and finish it quickly. Bathroom, order new regular coffee, take a seat and it’s 9:50am. In the corner of your eye you see him walking past the café’s front window. This makes you smile, but you are not certain why.

He takes his seat across from you at 9:59am.

“Good morning” you greet him casually.

“Same to you.” He says, placing his phone face down on the table. He wears a long sleeve black turtleneck, fine dress pants, and black gloves.

“Please tell me what history you know of the handkerchief.” You request.

“Skipping pleasantries, straight to business, eh?” His lip curls at the edge of his mouth on the right side. “See if I pick you up off the floor the next time you faint.”

You roll your eyes.

He clears his throat. “There are several items that have been kept within the family. I do not understand the meaning behind them, why they are kept in separate or specific locations within the family residence or what significance they mean to particular members of the family. My family history appears to go through highs and lows, the most recent low is turning around, getting back toward recovery.” He pauses, enjoying his coffee for a moment. “My mother recently passed and I am now in possession of the family estate. I have not had much time to go through the property, my work is my priority. I have no intention of living there and have considered selling it. There are few things I plan on keeping for myself, the rest may go to the museum should you be able to find a use for them. I noticed at the exhibition there were some unusual items on display that I do not normally recall seeing in museum exhibitions.”

Quaffing your coffee, you take a breath. “I am sorry for your loss. The museum is changing its thought process. People are more interested in seeing the everyday life of those from history. The differences are always blown out of proportion, romanticized, too large to be true. The current exhibition is displaying the things of everyday life, to show these were not only persons held in high regard, but also humans with human needs, feelings, emotions. I agree with some of this, however there are personal items that I question if they would really want to have displayed.”

Mr. Vestraegir thinks on these last remarks, savoring the remainder of his caffeinated beverage. “Why are you concerned about the feelings of the dead? It is not as if they can come to you and complain.”

“Let us say this afternoon you are struck dead by lightning. The funeral is held in three days. Open casket. You are dressed in a white tuxedo, no gloves upon your hands. How would you feel about that?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Preposterous!” He blurts out. “I would insist on having gloves on and I have an ample amount of perfectly adequate black dress suits.”

“Why should be concerned with the feelings of the dead again? Why is it that you wear gloves? The weather is certainly warm enough they are not needed. You are extremely familiar with wearing them.”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding, rubbing one gloved hand upon the other.

“You do have me intrigued. It is difficult to find pieces of history still standing today. It has been hundreds of years.” You wonder aloud.

“The original structure has been incorporated into the current structure. At one point walking through a corridor it feels as if you are stepping backward in time. Quite an unusual feeling.”

“When do you plan on returning there next?” You ask, thinking of your full calendar.

“In the next day or so. I want to go through some things personally prior to the movers bringing the more recently purchased furniture here.”

“I would like to accompany you to the estate. If you like, I can drive us there this afternoon. I need only to pack an overnight bag and a few items for research. My guess is you do not have internet there?”

“No.” He answers. You would have to use your phone. Not all of the house has electric, so you may wish to bring some flashlights or long extension cords as well.

Fantastic, less disturbance to the original structure you ponder. “I can pick you up in an hour if that suits you?”

He nods and it is a blur from there. Rushing home, packing, picking him up at the duplex at the address he provides. Stashing his items in the trunk you are headed to the highway.

Vincent as he prefers to be called, tells you what information he knows of the Vestra Estate. He had lived there for the first years of his youth. He and his father did not get along well and mother abided by fathers wishes. By the time he turns 12 he is sent to boarding school, graduating straight into college. Finishing his degree in law minor in accounting, he is an atty and CPA/Accountant.

There may be a few books at the property that have a bit of history in them, he’s never had much interest.

A brief stop at the store close to the house, you purchase groceries. Simple premade sandwiches, a few frozen dinners, drinks and snacks. As you wait in the car you suddenly realize you have driven far from the city with a perfect stranger, not even leaving a trail of where you are or who you are with. The perfect setting for a murder. How stupid! You quickly drop an email to your landlord, advising of your destination and how long you expect to be gone. You hesitate and do not leave Vincent’s name, that would only lead to more questions from her as she is determined to set you up with a nice bachelor.

Another 30 minutes and your car is pulling into the long driveway, the large house comes into view. He unlocks the door to show you in. He really doesn’t know much of the history of the place, it had never interested him. The two of you unload the car and he has you place your things in his mother’s old bedroom, located in a newer section of the house that has electric and running water. He goes back to the kitchen to work on groceries.

Beds are so personal. You take a breath and complete the touch. Trying to keep your mind focused on the edge of your vision. Fortunately, it is a newer bed and does not take long to complete. You will be fine sleeping here.

Vincent invites you to the more modern kitchen and the location of the food, coffee, and sundried items. He has a few things to attend to, leaving you free rein of the house to explore. He will get to specifics later tonight or in the morning.

He is absolutely correct about the corridor, they had built on to the house in multiple stages. You enter through the most recent and modern additions. The corridor seems to reach back further and further.

You slowly walk down the walls touching each section. Perceiving people passing through the corridors fill your vision, styles of clothing changing as you progress. You touch the doorframe of a small bedroom in an older portion of the house. The faces of the occupants quickly parade before you. You will the flow to slow, a young girl clings to a doll, nodding with tears in her eyes. Then the next owner, a young male perhaps ten years old with hair to his shoulders, citrine eyes. His brows are furrowed, and he is shouting, but you cannot hear what he says, anger written all over his face, his brows furrow deeply as if he argues with someone just behind you. The door appears as he is slamming it shut. Was that Hubert? Could this have been his room, you wonder. The room is decorated with old wallpaper with a feminine print. The coat of dust on the few furnishings reveals that the room has not been used or tended to for many, many years. The curtains on the window are of a thin lace, possibly being held together by the spider webs covering them, the bottom inches shredded threads.

The mantel of the fireplace and baseboards are the only pieces painted. The rest is left to the beauty of the original wood and bricks. Running your hands over the bricks at the edge of the fire box you see countless hands stacking wood, lighting the kindling, flames beginning to burn bright in the small firebox. Finally, you see older gloved hands, incredibly long fingers waving as fire bursts from their fingertips into the kindling. There are gaps until much younger but long spindly fingers cast magic into the wood creating flames.

Touching the firebricks making up the fireplace you reach out to the bottom bricks. On the right, the furthest one back is loose. A bit of maneuvering and you pull the block from its wedged in position. Three bottles lie on their sides. Without thinking you reach in to grab them. Hubert’s face comes into view, laughing with the bottles in hand. These are definitely his poison bottles, contents long dried. His handwriting on the side, coded of course, one is foxglove, the next mandrake and last is nightshade. A small paintbrush is also in the hollowed space. Removing the item provides visions of blades and darts being painted, and then the interior of a teacup.

Diabolical bastard. You admire him and hate him both at the same time. The Empire would not have won the war without him, however you did not need to firsthand witness his secrets. Sitting on the floor you catch your breath. The daylight is fading and you need to go back to your bag and set up lights and a flash light.

The room is different in the too bright halogen light. Rubber gloves in your pockets, in case something more lethal is found are at the ready. You begin touching the floorboards with your bare feet. You will notice if any has a special significance of course. Only after moving the bed and the rug that is beneath it do you find something. (the bed is approximately 300 years old, mostly for children, same with the rug.) A pocketknife blade at a corner edge and the board lifts quite easily. Several items are stashed between the supports for the floor. Gloves on and flashlight in hand you reach in and remove the items, placing them in a large clear plastic bag. You replace the floorboard and return the bed and rug to its normal position.

“Keeping yourself entertained?” Victor chuckles as he enters the room.

“Found a few things. Haven’t had a chance to look them over yet.” You say as you take the halogen lamp to the next room to inspect.

“I can make it easy for you as far as what few things I know.” He offers. “You’ve already been under the floorboard there. Next the master bedroom.” He turns that direction and you follow him with the light, dragging the extension cord behind you. He steps until he hears a hollow spot at a floorboard by the head of the bed, taking out his pocket knife, he lifts the board out of place, then steps back for you to see.

Bringing the flashlight you see a jacknife and several gold coins. You pick them up with your gloves on and place them into a separate plastic bag.

“That is all I know. I found the floorboard when I was much younger, so of course I had to stomp on every floorboard after that listening for hollow sounds.” He grins.

“Quite logical, actually.” You nod. “As a boy I am surprised that you left them here.”

He coughs. “There were more coins, I did leave some.” He looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You both decide to stop searching for the evening. You’ve not had dinner yet and tomorrow is another day. Besides, you want to investigate the floorboard items further as well as show him the items found behind the fireplace.

Dinner is quickly tossed into a microwave, coffee brewed and laptops pulled out onto the kitchen table, connected to the internet via the cell phones. Both of you sit quietly, only forks scraping plates or fingers tapping on keyboards for an hour.

Closing your laptop, you place a soft towel on top and the first bag with the items from the fireplace. Wearing a glove on your right hand you take each item out of the bag, placing them on the towel.

“There were owned and handled by Hubert. I believe them to be bottles of his own poison. The brush is used to paint it upon his weapons, mostly daggers.” You relay to your tablemate.

Vincent’s eyes go wide. “You’ve just seen them. How can you swear to their authenticity?”

“The appearance matches what you would find from the time. The writing on the bottles closely resembles his handwriting from the samples we have at the museum, and the code is correct for three different poison types. The brush appears to be animal hair that would be used at the time, stuffed into the end of a tube and then crimped to hold the hair tight.”

Taking a small box of plastic bags, you pack each item individually. As you reach for the third bottle it tips over and rolls off of your laptop. You grab it with your left hand and read its history. Your eyes focus as Vincent’s fingers are snapping in your face.

“Come on, are you all right?” He questions.

“Um, yes.” You shake your head a bit, placing the item in a bag and back into the larger bag with the other items.

“Are you epileptic? You spaced out there. Please let me know if you have health issues.” Vincent pleads, the concern is heavy in his voice.

“It…it’s hard to explain.” You want to tell him something. You’re never this open with people, but he makes you feel like it is okay to let him know.

“Go on.” He says waiting patiently.

“I can see some things related to a history of an item just by touching it. I see who used it, how long ago it was when used. Yes. I must be crazy.” You nod quickly after your confession.

“I want to see it work.” He frowns, two wrinkles between his eyebrows get deeper. He stands and goes to a drawer, pulling out a large spoon and a knife. Both appear to be silver, one more tarnished and scraped that the other. He places them on the laptop.

You grab the spoon. You see his mother’s hand stirring long yellow beans in a pot before pouring a creamy sauce onto them, then it changes to different people, an older stove, another older stove. A black ceramic stove stirring gravy in a large heavy skillet.

“Your mother liked to use it for cooking yellow beans. It has been here for several hundred years, at least 300 based on the dress of the last man who had a beard was dressed.”

He looks down at the table and thinks a moment. “She loved wax beans. They look like green beans but taste a bit different. She would cook them in a sour and creamy sauce. She said the spoon was in the family for a long time. Now the knife.”

Taking the silver knife in your fingers it shows she used it nearly every day to put butter on rolls with jelly. There was a lot of time in the drawer, different users. Clothing styles changed. The age of the silver butterknife is closer to 450 or 500 years old.

You share your findings.

“I’m still not convinced.” Vincent reaches into his shirt, and pulls out a gold necklace with a ring hanging from it. A simple gold band with its necklace is placed with hesitation on the laptop. As he places it there your hand brushes against his glove.

“Your gloves are four months old, purchased at Baers and the saleslady had red hair. Just saying.” You clear your throat and take a sip of now too cold coffee.

Reaching for the ring your fingers touch it softly. Your mind is filled with its memories. He has it with him all the time, takes it off for nothing, then you see the crash, blood everywhere. You fall headfirst into the table. Vincent helps you sit back up in your seat as tears are streaming from your face.

“I…I am so sorry for your loss.” You choke and gasp as the tears fall from your eyes. “M-motorcycle crash. Five years ago. He would bring you little yellow flowers he picked from the side of the road.”

Vincent’s face lost all color. A tear fell to his cheek as he nodded. He took the necklace back and put it around his neck.

After a while he took the cups to the sink, “I think it is time to sleep.”

You nod and head to bed. For hours you lay there, unable to sleep as your mind plays back the last nine years of Vincent and his husband’s lives, together and apart. You should have refused to touch it, but you wanted him to believe. And now…now. You shake your head, turn over and stare at the wall again.

The alarm on your phone wakes you. You want to flee, leave this place. It is one thing when someone shares with you tragedies in the past, it is another to have them thrust upon you. You push yourself out of bed. You can make it through today. Once in the kitchen the coffee has just finished you reach to grab a cup. Seeing the two in the dish drainer, you carefully pick out the cup you used yesterday.

You find a note on the table that he has gone for a walk and to go through the boxes he has left in the living room. Grabbing a muffin from the counter you head to the boxes. Wearing glove you begin. A few interesting books, certainly a possibility to go into a collection, many of them simply too modern or of no interest to the museum in their current condition. A box of random items haphazardly placed into a wooden box. Some woodworking tools, chisels, a pocket watch that did not work but was several hundred years old. A coffee grinder, you would definitely need to check that out. Taking that and the watch you sit at the kitchen table. One by one you experience the history of the items. The pocket watch came from approximately 1300. The coins from the floor and jack knife were owned by Hubert’s father, Marquis Vestra. The coffee grinder, broken by a child, had belonged to Hubert at one time well after the war, during his retirement.

The bags from the child’s bedroom revealed two very different groups of items. Vincent himself had placed items in a pocket next to the ones he had originally discovered. Thinking they were a time capsule, he created one of his own including a letter about his 9 year old self, a green plastic army man named Lt. Schwartz, a yo yo and a few baseball cards. The other group of items were from a young girl. A cloth doll with a few wisps of hair still left on its head. A tiny gold ring. A slate and stylus used for writing letters and numbers, the wax long eaten away. A small carved wooden horse.

Deciding to see if there is anything in the last room as well as completing your inspection of the master bedroom, you take your half cup of coffee with you down the hallway. Coming to the end of the corridor, you hear a sound behind you. Turning slowly, you see the countenance of Hubert von Vestra walking toward you. Outfitted in his full Imperial dress uniform, his large stiff collar extends several inches up from his shoulders. A ruby red brooch holds down his cravat. You drown in the sound of leather creaking from his belts on his clothes and the swish of the heavy material of his jacket. His boots create a deep a thunking sound echoing down the hallway.

“Finally.” He says with great satisfaction. “It has been an eternity.” His right hand, void of gloves, reaches out to you, fingertips softly stroking your cheek. His pale skin is cool to the touch, it has always been that way, you think to yourself. He opens his arms welcoming you to be wrapped within them. Burying your nose in his chest you deeply inhale the familiar scent of coffee, parchment, ink and dark magic. How you have longed for this.

“What of Vincent?” you ask him, looking up into his beautiful yellow-green eyes sparkling down at you.

“We have come to an agreement.” Hubert chuckles.

The vibration of his chest, his deep laughter sends chills down your spine. After waiting nearly a thousand years to have him back in your arms the reward is so worth it.

Epilogue:

Each lifetime you searched for him, but your journeys were fruitless. This girl was the most cooperative, the most willing. You found her worse than Bernadetta in some aspects of her life, especially social. She shared this body, watching from behind, creating stories in her mind. You take control and immediately begin your plan. The museum holds his property, perhaps by touching these items you can call to him. Send a signal that you are here. But they would not let you touch the things that belonged to him. The display items you could reach, touch, were not his, only beautiful recreations. Even items held in storage at the museum were not his. You had developed a spell to obtain the history of an item by touch.

It was awful that you had to burn down part of the museum, but you needed access and you needed legitimate items. What people wouldn’t do to have their name on a placard as a donor. From the items donated several very real items were found. You found yourself touching them frequently, just to catch another glimpse of him. Your cohabitant could not take the violence, she caused you to faint so frequently. Perhaps now she may finalize her agreement with you, being released and then you and Hubert can finally have the lifetime together that was stolen from you during that horrible war.

You spoke often of death, war does that. Both agreed to move on and live the best life they could. Finding out Ferdinand was at his side made you happy, especially since it made him happy. Still, he had promised that no matter what, he would find you again and finish what was started. And so the rest of your lives begins…

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Did I mention already that I love this book? I love this book -Danny

Words: 6,084

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Happy’ -by Julia Michaels

Chapter Eleven: A Faulty Match.

"No way I'll be a teacher," Mel said anxiously. "I'm barely able to speak to more than five people at once!"

"You know that's not true, you're popular now!"

It had been two weeks after their talk in the common room and Hermione was ready to have a go at it for a second time. What was more surprising was the fact that Harry wasn't against it now. He'd finally come around and was behaving properly during Umbridge's lessons, which meant she was finally free to wander around school with her new friends without worrying all the time about what he was doing.

"Yeah, I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by us. We're nutters, remember?" Harry added.

"Speak for yourself," Mel protested.

Her time with Ginny and the twins was surprisingly effective when it came to building relationships with the rest of the houses, she knew a bunch of new people now, people that didn't think she was dramatic or impulsive. It was a nice change.

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione. "Look, you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.

"Because I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."

"So?" Ron looked at both of them with an eager expression. "You'll do it?"

Harry and Mel glanced at each other.

Were they ready for the teamwork that implied? Even if they hadn't argued for almost half a month, it still felt like too much, it was a very thin line they'd been walking those days trying not to push any buttons, but they were bound to falter, they just didn't how or when.

"I'll think about it," She sentenced. "I have tons to do... I mean, I can't teach a bunch of kids how to defend themselves if it's not my priority, I wanna make sure I don't mess up things."

"That's fine," Hermione smiled down at her paper as if Mel had agreed just then.

"So what d'you think?"

"Well, Hermione's idea isn't bad," Ginny shrugged. "You've gone through a lot, and you definitely know more than most, Mel."

"I don't know," She groaned. "I don't know if I want to spend that much time with..."

Ginny eyed her curiously.

"You and Harry are still fighting?"

"Have we ever not?" Mel smiled tiredly.

"Last year when you were all lovey in public..." Ginny replied. "I really thought you two were dating back then. Which is the reason why I gave Michael a chance."

"Hey!"

'Talking of the devil,' Mel thought, watching as Michael and his friends approached them.

"Hi," Ginny smiled at him. "What's up?"

Michal waved at Mel, the boys also greeted her, though they looked as if she were a unicorn.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Michael asked.

"Sure... er- I'll be right back, Mel."

"No worries..."

Mel watched her go with Michael, Anthony Goldstein was trying to tell her something but she wasn't listening, she was just nodding along, laughing when he did.

Only then she realized how lonely she was feeling. She'd been feeling lonely for months, but now she knew exactly what kind of company she was looking for. She wanted to date someone, to feel the same way she'd felt before, a part of her even wanted to try with a total stranger, a stranger meant she wouldn't get hurt.

Mel continued to nod and listen without paying attention as she busied herself, cleaning her bag while Anthony kept talking. A piece of parchment fell from a book and Mel picked it up, skimming through it. It was one of her mother's letters, but it looked old.

'..you should never base your actions on what other people expect you to do, Mel. Not even if that person is one of your closest friends. How do you expect to become your own whole witch if you keep following other people's tails?'

It was the letter the woman had sent her when Ron, Harry and her crashed the Ford Anglia, and she'd been right about everything, Mel needed to stop basing her actions on what others wanted.

What did she want, apart from dating someone of course...

A second piece of parchment fell to her lap and she looked down at it. It was the list she'd done during her second year:

1-I have to control my temper.

2-I have to focus in class.

3-I must listen to my family.

4-I must forget about my feelings for Harry.

Mel stared at it and something in her head clicked. She'd had her answer for years, only that she hadn't been brave enough to accept it.

Ginny came back with an easy-going smile on her face, Mel did her best to match it. The boys said goodbye and left.

"So?" Mel asked. "Do I sense a date?"

"Maybe," Ginny smiled. "I like him, but he can be a bit annoying."

"Aren't all boys like that?" Mel joked.

"Not all of them," Ginny gave her a look.

"I know who you're talking about when you say that," Mel looked away, the piece of parchment hidden inside her fist. "I assure you he's the same."

"He's not that boring, is he?"

"Listen, if you don't want to date Michael I'm sure he'll understand. You're more than welcome to try with Harry and see for yourself if that's what you want..." Cho walked past just then, surrounded by her usual jolly group of girlfriends. "...But something tells me he's busy at the moment."

Ginny looked at the Ravenclaw and let out a heavy sigh.

"So it's true then, he likes Cho?"

"Seems like it," She grabbed her mum's letter and her list and put it inside her bag. "Cho's been acting odd, looking for Harry during every free hour– Alone."

"Hmm," Ginny nodded in understanding. "I hope it works, would hate to see either of them suffer any more..."

Mel felt a sting of guilt at Ginny's comment. Of course she wanted Cho to recover, and of course she wanted Harry to be happy... but did they really have to be together for that? Couldn't they just do it on their own?

'You're one to talk, wishing you could snog your tension out with a stranger...' A voice in her head replied.

"Uh," Mel cleared her throat, embarrassed by her selfish ideas. "Yeah, you're right."

"Talking about people getting together," Ginny's eyes shifted into a more playful gaze. "You've been spending a lot of time with my brothers, haven't you?"

"The twins?" Mel laughed. "We're friends!"

"Are you sure?"

"Don't start..."

"Come on! I know you think they're attractive, you told me once!"

"I was twelve!" Mel chortled.

"Okay then, if you think it's so weird I won't tell you which one I overheard saying he thinks you're a looker now," Ginny crossed her arms and sat back casually, a knowing smirk on her face.

"What?! Don't you dare!"

"I don't tell you which one, you'll think about it!"

"Ginny!" Mel whined anxiously. "I don't want to hurt their feelings!"

"Wouldn't it be cool if you were part of the family for real?" She insisted. "My brothers are not that bad..."

"No," Mel sank further in her place. "They're bloody lovely. That's why I won't forgive myself if I hurt them."

"You're Mellow, you can't hurt anyone," Ginny snickered. "Just think about it..."

It was really sweet of Ginny to put a good word in for her brothers, but she didn't think it was the best idea. However, her old list was clear, she had to move on from Harry. If there was a chance that she could forget about him while still having fun with someone she trusted, well, maybe she could make it work.

"Mel, is it true that you're organizing a D.A.D.A class?"

"Well–"

"I heard you're organizing a meeting, can I go?"

"I mean–"

"Are you actually teaching us the same things Dumbledore's teaching you? Are you allowed?"

"Guys!" Ginny spoke up. "You got it all wrong! Granger and my brother are the ones organizing the whole thing, Mel doesn't know anything... but she's going to be there if that's enough for you?"

A new stream of questions hit her and Mel laughed. With each passing day, she found the attention less and less annoying, she wasn't as anxious as before, and could even spend more time around Harry without snapping at him.

She raised her hands to quiet everyone down and they obeyed, Mel was starting to love this kind of control too.

"Ginny's right, guys. If you're going to ask 'Mione, please be careful? We don't want the toad hearing our business, do we? I don't want to get my friends in trouble."

She left feeling pleased and energized. The group scattered and she looked back at Ginny with a smile.

"Not bad was it? You're improving..."

"I owe it to you," Mel winked. "I'm hungry, you coming?"

"I'm sitting with Michael," Her friend's smile widened.

"I'll leave you to it then... see you!"

As she walked through, several people asked her to join them; she said no, though. She was still a bit uneasy about spending too much time with strangers, it was draining.

When Mel spotted Hermione she made a beeline to sit with her, the group of friends was already in the middle of a conversation. It was normal now, arriving in the middle of something, not really knowing what was going on with them, but she concluded that her new popularity was definitely worth it.

"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," She heard Ron say. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that lunatic elf and Mel's mum."

"You say that like my mum's on the same level as Kreacher," Mel raised a brow.

"The trouble is," Hermione insisted, "until V-Voldemort — oh for heaven's sake, Ron — comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one... I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."

"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up. Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."

"Don't we all?" Mel sighed.

An owl landed in front of her with the usual letter from her mother. It contained very vague things and coded names so Mel knew how everything was going. That morning the letter was surprisingly short, but she kept reading between the lines hoping to see something, anything.

"Still nothing..." She said grumpily.

"What d'you mean?"

"My mum! Been waiting for them to confirm they're together but they won't budge..."

"How're you so sure it'll happen?"

"Didn't I tell you? My mum talked to me the day we left the station, she was more than ready to give Snuffles a chance..."

"Blimey!" Ron's eyes widened. "Congrats to them, I s'posse..."

"I'm happy for them," Mel agreed, handing the letter to them so they could read it. "They've been alone for ages... I'm glad they've got each other now. Don't you agree, Harry?"

He didn't reply.

"Harry?"

The boy was looking at the letter as if it had one of Skeeter's articles on it. Mel called a third time and he looked up, but there was nothing close to real joy there. He smiled tightly and nodded once.

"Yeah, sounds great."

Mel frowned a bit, her smiled faltering.

"Is something bothering you?"

"Not at all," Harry avoided her gaze at all cost.

Hermione tried to lighten the mood.

"Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade."

"Right," said Harry quietly.

"Don't worry. You've got enough on your plate without Sirius too. You read that note they sent to Mel, I bet they must be quite happy."

"They surely are," Mel carefully folded the paper so she could show it to Erick later. "Talking about Hogsmeade– a bunch of kids have been attacking me with questions and I told them to ask you, hope you don't mind..."

"It's fine," Hermione smiled. "I'm happy you're friends with students from different houses– the more we can have in our side the better, right?"

"I think so," Mel was too excited to sit still. "I'm sort of looking forward to it now? They're nicer to me–"

"I wonder why," Ron snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh c'mon Mel," He laughed stupidly. "Half of the boys follow you around hoping you'll let them take you on a date... not that you're not nice and all! Don't hit me for being honest..."

Mel didn't try to refute his comment, far from it, this pleased her.

"I'm not going to hit you, Ron. I hope this works as a lesson to you, it is possible to be friends with other houses even if you don't agree in everything," She said happily.

"Sure is, if you're pretty," He replied.

Harry hid his face further, a clear redness on his cheeks. She fixed her posture and ate in content silence for the rest of the hour.

"Hey, Mel! Mel!" Fred ran up to her in the middle of the hall.

"What's up?"

"Is it true that you'll be having a meeting during our next Hogsmeade visit?"

"'Mione's the one organizing the whole thing–"

"That's all right," He pushed the comment aside. "I was wondering if you'd like to join us before the meeting. We'll go to Zonko's, buy a few things for our products... what do you say?"

"Sure," She exclaimed cheerily. "Should I wait for you at the entrance?"

"We can wait for you in the common room, don't worry," He smiled.

There was no double meaning to that smile, he was simply being him. But even knowing that, she still wanted to find out if she was right about him being the brother Ginny was trying to convince her to date.

Mel knew very well she was playing with fire, hadn't she learned anything? What about her dreadful experience with Harry? Dating friends was a mistake!

She was so lonely though...  for some reason, she kept thinking about her talk with Sirius. Could it be true? Merlin, she was hoping it was.

She wasn't stupid, she could tell that some of her new friends were being too nice to her, but Mel kept her distance, she'd promised not to flirt around just to get what she wanted, and she was keeping her promise. Besides, she was also following the list she'd found in her bag days prior, and it was working.

Harry was making things harder if she was honest, with his puppy eyes and his soft hair... It was obvious that he was miserable– He was traumatized! He just didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to ask for help. Harry still flinched with loud noises, it was pure torture, seeing him in distress and not being able to help.

It was so strange, a few months ago she would've run through the castle to save him from a bug bite, now she would listen to his complaints and his yelling and immediately turn her back. She was sick of feeling.

Part of her kept thinking of the way Harry had broken her heart, but that wasn't it now, it was something else that she couldn't quite understand. Resentment... but towards what?

Was she mad about him being scared? Did she hate the fact that he wanted to protect her?

Did she hate that he didn't trust her to be strong enough? After all those years, and he still thought that she needed to be saved... As if she were nothing but a helpless sidekick.

'I'm not just a pretty face,' she thought bitterly.

No.

She was a pretty face, and she was popular because of that. But she was also a skilled witch and a great friend. She was the reason why Harry Potter was still alive.

It was time to be more than just a boy's best friend. She was ready to step into the spotlight, it didn't matter if she had to leave Harry behind.

She was walking alongside the twins and Lee Jordan, carrying a few bags of Zonko's and chatting cheerfully when someone called her name. Ginny appeared, followed by some Ravenclaws (including Ginny's boyfriend).

Mel was telling stories about her childhood, the group was laughing a lot. Life had improved, she'd taken Erick's advice and she was finally feeling like she belonged.

"This is it, right?" Terry Boot asked her.

Mel looked up at the sign and frowned.

"Here?"

"Hermione said this would be discrete," Ginny shrugged.

"A bunch of teenagers entering the sketchy bar?" Mel snorted. "Not suspicious at all..."

"Wait for us!"

Mel turned around and saw a bunch of students coming their way, her stomach did an odd flip: At least twenty or thirty people had come to the meeting.

"This isn't subtle at all," She said anxiously. "People will notice, they'll follow us in!"

"Er..." Ginny was looking at the bunch reluctantly, but Michael grabbed her hand and dragged her inside the pub at once.

Fred and George did the same with her and soon the group of students entered together. She was already breaking down, but what made her really want to retreat and forget she was ever there was the sight of a tall old man gazing at the bunch with a slightly startled expression.

It was her grandfather.

She tried to leave but Fred put an arm around her shoulders and walked up to the barman.

"Hi," He smiled. "Could we have... twenty-six butterbeers, please?"

Aberforth Dumbledore stared at her and then at the group, he threw aside the rag he'd been holding and then started passing up dusty butterbeer pretending he didn't recognize her. Or perhaps he really did not know who she was, they'd never seen each other in person.

Was she supposed to say something? Maybe 'Hey, you don't know me but your son was my dad! I know you want nothing to do with me, but maybe don't tell my uncle what we're doing? Thanks, Grandad!'

"Cheers!" Fred handed out the butterbeers to the rest. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these..."

They handed the money to her and Fred, she pushed it roughly on the counter mumbling a 'Thanks' without making eye contact. Mel spotted Harry, Hermione and Ron at the very back and walked up to them, ready to kill Hermione.

"What were you thinking?" She hissed. "This looks suspicious in so many ways!"

"We'll be fine, here is less likely we get unwanted attention–"

"Oh, really?" Mel propped one hand on the table and whispered in a furious voice, "D'you know who the barman is?"

"Well, he's always been the barman here for all I know, so–"

"He's my grandad!"

The girl's eyes widened almost comically, Mel sat down next to Ron, her good mood vanishing completely.

"What have you been telling people? What are they expecting?" Harry asked anxiously.

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say. You don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first," Hermione replied, a bit anxious now that she knew her mistake.

"Well that isn't soothing either," Mel grumbled, giving a large sip to her butterbeer.

"Hi, guys," Neville waved at them, one by one the students sat down around the table and waited patiently for them to speak.

"Er," said Hermione. "Well — er — hi."

Mel snorted and Ron kicked her leg under the table.

"Well... erm... well, you know why you're here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea — I mean I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us — because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells —"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" said Michael Corner.

"Of course I do, but I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because... because... Because Lord Voldemort's back."

The group let out their shock in different levels of surprise, some didn't look faced, merely annoyed at the mention, but once they were done they all focused on Harry and her.

"Well... that's the plan anyway," Hermione continued. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to —"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said a Hufflepuff student.

Mel tilted her head, half amusement and half exasperation.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it —" Hermione began.

"You mean, the Dumbledores believe him," He nodded shortly at the boy. "Everyone knows Mel's crazy about Harry, and Dumbledore–"

"Who are you?" Ron interrupted with a tone of warning.

"Zacharias Smith– and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Oh, you think you've got the right?" Mel leaned forward but Ron pulled her back.

"Look," said Hermione. "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about —"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said lowly, then he directed his attention to the boy. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me or Mel, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Mel tried hard not to look in the direction of her grandad, she had to at least pretend she didn't know him so she could deny the encounter in case Dumbledore found out, but she could see him clearly paying attention to their meeting.

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know —"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

She had to admit that Harry was doing a great job, this time she thought it was appropriate to be a bit rough with his answers, after all, this guy didn't have any right to demand stuff. She wondered if someone had approached Harry this way during the weeks she'd spent away from the group. How weird it was, being so foreign to Harry's experiences.

"So... so... like I was saying... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to —" Hermione got interrupted again.

"Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?" Susan Bones asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, then added hurriedly as if that way he wouldn't get all the stares. "Mel too."

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked.

Mel rolled her eyes, of course Harry didn't know his own classmates by name.

"She's my auntie," Susan said happily. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"What about you, Mel?" Terry inquired.

"Mine's a phoenix," She said shortly.

The barman stopped cleaning at that.

"Blimey, guys!" said Lee. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, causing a few to laugh.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot asked eagerly. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."

"Er — yeah, I did, yeah," Harry glanced at her, but Mel wasn't going to speak. All those questions were directed to him only.

"And in our first year," said Neville, sounding like he couldn't quite believe it yet, "he saved that Sorcerous Stone —"

"Sorcerer's," Hermione corrected.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who, and Mel," Neville laughed timidly. "Mel threw Professor Quirrell to the other end of the room without a wand."

"How d'you know–?" Mel started, but Cho interrupted.

"And that's not to mention all the tasks Harry had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things..."

Mel looked at the way Cho was smiling and the eager look on the boy's eyes. The girl tried –and failed– to ignore the fact that she could recognize it like the one he'd given her a year prior after almost kissing him.

"Look– I... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."

"Yeah, well —" said Harry, brushing it away like a very annoying fly.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan.

"No... no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is —"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias.

"Here's an idea," said Ron, this time it was him the one who leaned further, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," Zacharias said, but his voice came out a bit quieter.

"That's not what he said," Fred frowned.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George pulled a long and weird looking metal thingy from one of his bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Knock it off," Mel stopped them. "We're not here to fight."

The boys gave her a grumpy look but put the instruments away.

"Yes, well," Hermione cleared her throat, "moving on... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry and Mel?" There was a buzz of agreement to which Hermione nodded once. "Right. Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week —"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters —"

"Well said! Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!" Ernie exclaimed eagerly. "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells —"

"Is not that she's useless," Mel spoke. "She knows Dark Magic well enough to defend herself against it, I'm sure of it. She just doesn't want us to know because she thinks we're planning on murdering the Minister." Some laughed, others stared at her in shock.

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, nodding at Mel's words. "is that she's got some... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

"Well, that makes sense," Luna mentioned. "After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths."

"No, he hasn't," Hermione retorted.

"Yes, he has."

"What are heliopaths?" asked Neville.

"They're spirits of fire. Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of —"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione.

"Oh yes, they do!"

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?"

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you —"

"Thank you, Luna," Mel said. "I think we should go back to the important subjects of this meeting."

"Hem, hem," Ginny cleared her throat like Umbridge with a horrifying accuracy. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

"Yes. Yes, we were, you're right..." Hermione sighed.

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as —" began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch. Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet..."

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry, then added in a low voice so only Mel could hear. "But it sure is a good place for secret meetings..."

She knew he was talking about Erick, but her mind went to the afternoons spent there with Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah, McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard..." Ron mentioned.

"McGonagall asked us to keep a low profile," Mel raised a brow. "What part of 'secret study group against Umbridge' sounds innocent to you?"

"The study part," Her friend replied with a smirk.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," Hermione shrugged. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting." She then searched in her bag and pulled parchment and a quill. "I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge — or anybody else — what we're up to."

"'Mione–" Mel started, but Fred took the parchment and signed, then winked at her. George followed suit. "All right then..."

"Er..." Zacharias looked at the paper reluctantly. "Well... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

"I — well, we are prefects," Ernie let out anxiously. "And if this list was found... well, I mean to say... you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out..."

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I — yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that it's just..."

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione.

"No. No, of course not... I — yes, of course, I'll sign."

The parchment moved around until it came back to Zacharias.

"What's the matter, Smith?" Mel smirked. "You're not trying to weasel out, are you?"

He looked at her with indignation, let out a scoff and took the parchment, signing down his name.

"Well, time's ticking on," Fred stood up. "George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later. Coming, Lady?"

"Er..." Mel looked around and found Cho staring eagerly at Harry. She shook her head. "No, I think I'll spend the rest of the day with 'Mione and the boys, thanks."

"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione once they walked out of the Hog's Head. Mel had glanced back at the old man once before leaving, unable to say a thing.

"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," grumbled Ron.

"Sure is," Mel scowled. "What an idiot, thinking we owe him an explanation..."

"I don't like him much either," Hermione nodded, "but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really — I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if his friends weren't all crazy about Mel and he hadn't been going out with Ginny —"

Mel let out a short squeak and Ron choked on the last bit of butterbeer he'd been drinking.

"He's WHAT?" Ron yelled. "She's going out with — my sister's going — what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"

"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think —" Hermione shrugged. "Well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on, and his friends weren't trying to win Mel over —"

"That's ridiculous!" Mel blushed madly. "I– They–"

"When did this — when did she — ?" Ron stuttered as well.

"They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year," said Hermione, guiding them to the entrance of a shop. "Hmm... I could do with a new quill."

"Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded.

"The dark one," said Hermione.

"I didn't like him," said Ron at once.

Mel came out of her trance, giving Ron an amused look.

"You've never spoken to him!"

"Big surprise," Hermione whispered.

"But– I thought Ginny fancied Harry!"

Hermione looked at Mel for a moment before responding.

"Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago... when we thought... well... Not that she doesn't like you, of course," Hermione added towards Harry.

Harry merely shrugged, his eyes wondering outside the window, probably looking for a certain raven-haired girl.

"So that's why she talks now? She never used to talk in front of me..."

"Exactly," Hermione glanced at Mel once more. "Yeah, she's not as nervous as before... I think she really is over it... Yes, I think I'll have this one..."

Mel felt a bit jealous of Ginny, she was capable of moving on just like that and find a good boy. Not that she didn't deserve it, Ginny was awfully pretty and she was fun to hang out with, she deserved to date and have fun! She wanted to have that, but if it meant she had to date someone as silly as Anthony Goldstein, she wasn't sure she'd be moving on any time soon.

Her mind wondered once again to Harry, she wanted to know what his opinion was on this whole thing because he was being really confusing. On a good day, she could still see a type of softness on his gaze when talking to her, but more often than not he would be grumpy and serious, not even trying to be nice. She just wanted to know what he was thinking, was that really so hard?

"Ron," Hermione's voice escalated. "This is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake."

"What d'you mean, who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything..."

But he remained pouty and serious for the rest of the day.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @sarcasticallywitty15

[gaaruto-kage]

Bad Ideas - Kakashi x Reader

I hope that you don't think I'm rude

But I want to make out with you

And I'm a little awkward, sure

But I could touch my face to yours, oh

  For the fourth time in the same amount of days, you found yourself ducking behind the nearest object as quick as you could in order to hide from someone. Not just anyone, though, you were hiding from the one and only Kakashi Hatake. You squeezed further into the doorway as Kakashi walked past your not-so-great hiding place hoping the long evening shadows would keep him from noticing you. Luckily he didn’t seem to, so you let out a long sigh of relief as you watched him round a corner further up the street. This couldn’t go on forever, you thought to yourself. Kakashi and you would end up working together again at some point, as was the nature of your jobs, and beyond that he was your friend, so this awkwardness you felt around him had to stop as soon as possible.

  And no one ever called me smooth

But I just wanna see the grooves

Between your hands, your teeth, oh

Tell me, do you think about me?

  You could not get the words Kakashi whispered to you the other day out of your head. It had been a long day of training with your respective teams so the two of you, along with Kurenai, Asuma, and Guy, decided to unwind a bit with some ramen and sake. It started off normal enough, with the five of you talking about your day, laughing when Guy challenged Kakashi to three different competitions, each one more ridiculous than the last, with nothing out of the ordinary happening. One by one your friends all left until it was just you and Kakashi left. He had drunk a bit more than usual, so you took it upon yourself to make sure he got home okay, not to say you didn’t think he could handle anything that could possibly happen ever if he was drunk. Regardless, the two of you walked towards his home together continuing the conversation from the ramen shop, words only dying out once you made it to his front door.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Kakashi. Hopefully you don’t have too bad of a hangover in the morning,” you said. You moved to turn away, but immediately his hand shot out to grab your arm and stop you from leaving.

“Wait, Y/N, don’t go yet,” Kakashi said, his words slurring together just the slightest bit. You turned back to face him and were about to ask why he wanted you to stay, but before you could, you were suddenly wrapped up in his arms in a very un-Kakashi bear hug.

“Kakashi, what- what are you doing?” you stuttered out, confused. He mumbled something into your neck, the movement tickling you. “I can’t understand what you’re saying,” you said through a giggle. He pulled away so you could see his face, but still held you in his arms. The intensity of his eyes looking into yours made you shudder.

“You’re so beautiful, can I kiss you?” he repeated in a whisper. You tried to respond but it took you a few tries before any actual words came out.

“Kakashi, I- you’re drunk, you don’t mean that.” 

“I may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re beautiful right now. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, and you’ve only grown more so each day that I’ve known you.” He paused for a moment just looking at you, then opened his mouth as if he were going to say something else, but no words came out. You turned away from him to try and hide the blush that had creeped its way across your face. His grip tightened around your wrist in an attempt to keep you from leaving, but you panicked and ran down the road, not knowing what else you could or should do in this unexpected situation.

  I just wanna kiss you

And even if I miss you

At least I'll know what it's like to have held your hand, oh

  After your near-run in with Kakashi, you walked home, shoulders slumped and feeling dejected. Why did he have to go and say those things? Sure you thought Kakashi was handsome, but your mind never wandered further than that before. Now it took all you had to stop thinking about what would feel like for him to kiss you, your hands tangled up in his wild hair while his held onto your waist. You knew it could never happen because there was a chance it could ruin your friendship and your working relationship, and you could not put your personal feelings above your duty to the village. Despite this, you let yourself indulge in these daydreams more often than you probably should. More than once you found yourself thinking about his mouth on yours when you had more important things going on.

  Bad ideas

I know where they lead

But I got too many to sleep

And I can't get enough, no

I wanna kiss you standing up

And if tomorrow makes me low

Well it'd be worth it just to know

'Cause I can't get enough, no

I wanna kiss you standing up

  After staring at the wall for what seemed like ages, you groaned and sat up in bed to take a look at the clock. It read 2:14am. For hours you just tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, and you still had so much more of the night to go. You cursed the man whose silver hair and mismatched eyes you saw every time you closed your eyes. If he was going to occupy your mind at night, the least he could do is be in your dreams, rather than keeping you awake. You rolled over and pulled your pillow over your head as if that could block out the incessant thoughts, subconsciously leaving enough room for another person to fit in bed with you. You didn’t know how long it took, but eventually you fell asleep, though not quickly enough to get enough rest for the next day.

  I don't know what compels me

To do the very thing that fells me

I wake up, still high on you

But by the night, I'm crashing through, so

  You woke up to a summons from the Hokage to meet with her in her office, so you quickly got dressed and headed over to the Hokage Residence, running into Asuma and Kurenai on the way. They had recieved summons as well. When you all arrived Tsunade was sitting at her desk and to your surprise, Kakashi and Guy were standing in front of the desk. Guy seemed to be saying something to Kakashi, but the second you walked through the door it became apparent that Kakashi had stopped listening to him. He seemed as if he was going to take a step towards you but hesitated and instead turned to face Tsunade. The rest of you lined up to face her as well.

“Thank you all for getting here so quickly; I know my message came on very short notice,” Tsunade began. “I have a mission for some of you, and whoever does not go on this mission I would like to take over training of the others’ teams for the duration. Several shinobi from the Village Hidden in the Rocks have been seen camping just outside of our borders and while they haven’t done anything in the way of attacking our village yet, they also have not come to talk to me and that just doesn’t sit right. I would like some reconnaissance done to figure out what is going on. Kakashi and Guy have already volunteered to help me out with this, so Asuma, Kurenai, Y/N, which of you would like to join them and which would like to take on a few extra students for a little while?”

Asuma and Kurenai looked at each other without speaking, and before you could think about it you broke the silence yourself.

“I’ll help Kakashi and Guy with the reconnaissance.” As soon as the words slipped out you mentally berated yourself. You had been trying to keep away from Kakashi, why would you volunteer to go on a mission with him where the only other person you could interact with for who knows how long would be Guy? And the mission, you shouldn’t have jeopardized that when you know you’d be distracted the whole time. But it was too late, you already volunteered your services and now you had to deal with the consequences. Tsunade nodded at you.

“Thank you Y/N. Kurenai and Asuma, you can decide between the two of you which students you’ll each be teaching for the time being. As for the three of you, I trust you to come up with and execute your own plan for gaining information on our guests and that you will tell me anything you think I need to know.” With that you were all dismissed from the Hokage’s office.

Kurenai and Asuma walked down the hall, presumably to discuss their new temporary students, leaving the three of you on your own. You definitely did not want to be around Kakashi for any extended period of time, but at least Guy was there to act as a sort of buffer. If something was off between you and Kakashi, which it definitely was considering you refused to even look in his general direction or address him directly, Guy certainly was not picking up on it. Even so, the three of you managed to come up with a decent plan for your mission, which involved having a sort of home base at your home because it was right on the border of the village near where the mysterious Rock Village shinobi had set up their camp. You all agreed that Guy and Kakashi would gather anything they might need and meet you at your home later in the day.

  Why I'd wanna kiss you

Even though I miss you

Guess I just want to know what it would feel like, oh

  The second you got back to your apartment, you began pacing. Why, why, why would you put yourself in literally the most uncomfortable situation you could think of, given your current circumstances? This lasted for several minutes, before you realized you had your own things to get together and deal with before your partners on this mission arrived. You managed to lose yourself in thoughts of the mission ahead, so much so that you didn’t realize how quickly time was passing until there was a sharp knock on your door. Please be Guy, please be Guy, please be Guy, you thought to yourself as you walked over to open the door and - it was Kakashi. Of course. You mumbled something not even coherent to yourself and moved aside to let him in. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him, so instead you just faced the closed door as you heard him put his stuff down somewhere behind you.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, not a hint of questioning in his voice. 

“No, I-” you began. You realized lying to him now would be pointless, so you sighed and turned around, but still didn’t look at him. Instead you stared at the floor. “Yes,” you admitted.

You looked up at Kakashi. He was standing in the doorway to your kitchen, leaning against the door frame. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes. You both paused waiting for the other one to say something. He broke the silence first.

“What have I done wrong? What did I do to make you hate me so much that you’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week?” The hint of pain in his voice made you immediately feel like shit. You knew Kakashi wasn’t one to let onto his emotions that often, so you knew you really must have hurt him with the way you’ve been acting. You quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to him but not wanting to get too near.

“No, you’ve got this all wrong. I don’t hate you, Kakashi,” you assured. “I just- do you remember the other day when we all went out drinking and I walked you home?” He nodded. “Do you remember what you said to me when we got to your house?” This time he shook his head.

“I mean, I remember us talking, and then you ran away pretty fast, but I don’t really remember the specifics of the conversation. That’s why I thought you hated me, because I said something that upset you. I’ve been beating myself up these past few days, thinking I’ve ruined our friendship somehow,” he admitted. “So, what did I say to you to make you run away and avoid me?” You didn’t know how to respond, but luckily you were saved by one Might Guy suddenly bursting through the door.

“You two didn’t start the spying party without me, did you?” he joked, making you giggle. You silently thanked him for relieving some of the tension, even though you knew that you and Kakashi would have to deal with this unfinished business sooner or later.

The three of you went over your plan again and then set out to get into the positions you had planned on for watching the Rock Village shinobi. There were three vantage points on different sides of their camp that were far enough away that unless one of them was specifically looking for you or had a special jutsu that allowed them to detect where you were you wouldn’t be seen, but they were also close enough that if something went wrong you could make it to the camp or to one of your partners quickly. Thus began a long day of watching literally nothing happen, as the shinobi just seemed to be chilling out in their camp.

  Bad ideas

I know where they lead

But I got too many to sleep

And I can't get enough, no

I wanna kiss you standing up

And if tomorrow makes me low

Well it'd be worth it just to know

'Cause I can't get enough, no

I wanna kiss you standing up

  That night, well after the sun had set, you and Kakashi returned to your home, with Guy staying behind to hold down the fort overnight. He had napped during the day while you two kept watch, so he insisted he was fine to keep going. You didn’t bother to argue because you were tired and a little worried about the fact that the shinobi had done nothing worth noting all day. Were they still planning some sort of attack on the village? Did they already have a plan and were now just waiting for the perfect time to strike? Either way, you knew you wouldn’t be in shape for any fighting if you didn’t get a good night’s sleep, and though you offered to sleep in the field in case anything happened, Guy assured both you and Kakashi that you would be close enough to help should he need you for anything. So that was how you ended up alone with Kakashi once again. Without a word, he took a spare blanket out of your closet and started rolling it out on the floor.

“Hey, what are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m setting up a place for me to sleep. I figured it would be fine using this blanket, but I’m sorry I should have asked,” he responded. He sat down on the blanket as if to get comfortable, but didn’t yet lie back.

“You can sleep in my bed, if you’d like to. I don’t want you to sleep on the hard floor if you don’t have to.” You felt bad for him after mistreating him all week, the last thing you wanted to do was make him physically uncomfortable on top of the emotional stuff.

“If I sleep in your bed, then where would you go?” he questioned. He cocked his one visible eyebrow in a gesture that showed he already knew the answer before you gave it.

“Well, I’d sleep on the floor, I guess.” He shook his head.

“I’m not gonna let you sacrifice your comfort for my own, Y/N.” You hesitated before responding.

“Well, we could always both sleep in my bed,” you said meekly. He gave an incredulous look, so you hurried to explain your reasoning. “The bed is big enough for the both of us to be in it without feeling crammed, you know. And that way neither of us will be in pain in the morning from sleeping on the floor.” You were certain he wouldn’t accept your offer, so you were shocked when he stood up and moved the blanket that was on the floor over to on your bed.

“That makes sense to me. Thank you, Y/N.”

The two of you finished getting ready for bed in silence before climbing into opposite sides of the bed. You were practically hanging off the side of it for fear that you would accidentally bump your body into Kakashi’s.

“So, is there any chance you’re willing to talk about why you’ve been avoiding me now that we’re alone?” he asked. You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Kakashi. I can’t. I will soon, I promise. Just, not right now.” He let out a sigh and you could tell he was disappointed, but he didn’t push the matter any further. Soon you could hear a gentle snoring sound that meant he had fallen asleep, but the thoughts swirling around your head kept you awake and staring at the ceiling for a few more hours before you finally drifted off to sleep.

  Smitten's a bad look on me

And if I'm talking honestly

It takes everything I got not to text, and

I just want a kiss to get me through

'Cause now all my bed-sheets smell like you, so

  You woke up to your back pressed up against something and a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Naturally, you screamed. This made Kakashi, the owner of the arms wrapped around you and the thing your back was pressed against (his chest), instantly wake up and fall off the bed in shock. Your hands instantly went to your mouth as you gasped.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he grumbled as he picked himself up off of the floor.

“Kakashi, I’m so sorry, I woke up and you being there scared me!” you explained.

“Y/N, you’re the one who invited me to sleep in your bed, why would me being there scare you?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head where he hit it against your bed on the way down.

“Well yeah I know, I just didn’t expect you to be spooning me!” At that, his face turned red as a beet.

“Spooning? What do you mean I was spooning you?”

“I mean I woke up with you cuddled up behind me with your arms around me, what else would I mean?” you answered, exasperated. This was not how you planned on starting the morning.

“I… was not aware I was doing that, I’m sorry. Um, I’m gonna go grab something for breakfast,” Kakashi said before all but running out of the room. Not thirty seconds later he called for you to come out there.

That was how you came to find Might Guy sleeping on the floor of your kitchen with six tied up and possibly unconscious or else just unmoving Rock Village shinobi. Kakashi nudged Guy with his foot, making him immediately jump to his feet into a fighting stance.

“Ha! Oh, you two. Have a good night’s sleep?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Guy, what happened? Why are these shinobi on my kitchen floor?” you questioned.

“Right! Well, shortly after you left last night they all started moving around their camp, which I thought was weird because we had seen them all go to bed hours earlier and it was also very late. Once I saw them gathering quite a lot of weapons and strapping them to their persons, I knew something shady was going on. There were only six of them, so I figured I would be fine fighting them on my own, so I didn’t bother going to get you guys. Once I took care of them, I brought them back here. Don’t worry though, I left a note at the Hokage Residence to let everyone know what was going on and to tell them where they can find these six. I expect someone should be around shortly to pick them up,” he explained with the utmost confidence, as if what had transpired was the most normal thing in the world to happen.

“Okay,” Kakashi said. “Okay, well Guy, why don’t you stay here and wait for them. Y/N, do you want to go for a walk? Clearly we’re not needed here.”

“Yes, let’s go,” you agreed. You got dressed and ready for the day as quick as you could, and as you and Kakashi left out your front door, Guy called out a farewell.

“See you later you two! Have fun!” he said with his signature grin and a wink. Maybe he did realize something was up.

  If you think you miss me

Come on back and kiss me

I just gotta know what you and I would feel like, oh no, hey

  You and Kakashi walked around town, occasionally exchanging words but for the most part you were just walking in silence. You stopped at a stand to get some fresh fruit for breakfast and then continued your directionless wandering. Eventually you ended up in a part of the woods that many team leaders, you and Kakashi included, took your teams to for training. There were three logs sticking vertically out of the ground, and Kakashi jumped up to sit on top of one. He gestured for you to come closer, so you joined him by sitting on another of the logs.

“So, are we going to talk now?” he asked. You looked away into the distance, steeling yourself to face the truth before facing him.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” you answered. “The other day when I walked you home, it isn’t just what you said to me, it’s how you said it and what you did while you were saying it. It was just a really weird experience and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“Y/N, really, if I did anything to offend you, then I apologize a thousand times. Can you please just tell me what I said and did since I don’t remember?” he pleaded.

“Okay, well, it started off when I tried to leave and you kind of just grabbed my arm to keep me from going. You basically pulled me around in order to hug me which caught me so off guard. Then, you called me beautiful and said you wanted to kiss me. I was so shocked that I ran, but ever since then I haven’t been able to get the thought of us actually kissing out of my mind. I mean, it’s gotten to the point where I’m losing sleep over it and it’s starting to drive me crazy.” You started speaking so quickly to just get the words out that by the time you got to the end of it you didn’t know what you were saying. It took you a second to realize what you just admitted.

  Yikes

  Kakashi laughed. He laughed! Here you were, spilling your most mortifying secret to the one person that secret actually affects, and he was laughing at you!

“Is that all?” he asked.

“What do you mean is that all?” you practically yelled. “This has been tormenting me for a week!” He just chuckled again.

“You should have just talked to me about it and I would have cleared it up. I really do think you’re beautiful. It wasn’t just me saying things while drunk, although I do wish the first time I told you was when I was sober. I’d been thinking about it - thinking about you - a lot lately, so I guess drunk me just got impatient and let the cat out of the bag.”

You didn’t know how to react, so you looked down at your feet and said the one thing you could think of. “Oh.”

“Do you mean that though? You’ve been thinking about kissing me?” he asked, sounding a lot more timid than he was before.

“I mean… yeah. A handsome man tells me that he thinks I’m beautiful and he wants to kiss me, why wouldn’t I think about that?” you scoffed as if it were obvious. He reached over and grabbed your hand, causing you to look up at him. He was leaning closer to you than he had been before.

“In that case, Y/N, I am completely sober and I think you are insanely beautiful. Can I please kiss you?” he whispered, as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered back. You reached up to pull down his mask before your lips met in a tender, sweet kiss, the first of many.

  Bad ideas

I know where they lead

But I got too many to sleep

And I can't get enough, no

I wanna kiss you standing up

And if tomorrow makes me low

Well it'd be worth it just to know

'Cause I can't get enough, no

I wanna kiss you standing up

________________________________________________________________

This is the first fanfic I’ve written in about a year and a half. After listening to Tessa Violet’s album non-stop I just felt really inspired, and so this happened. It feels really good to write something for myself instead of for school.

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE WOES OF MRS. WEASLEY

Lily had to demand the book from Sirius as he was still scrutinizing Dumbledore's departure like that, and he handed it over reluctantly. Before she could get started he said, "can we please take a break, just a quick thirty minutes to do something other than this mess. I really don't want to get started with something all over again already." Harry looked just as exhausted as him and eagerly agreed, and the moment everyone agreed he at once demanded of his Godfather if he could hear some more fun stories of the Marauder's pranks at school. Sirius easily roped James into that conversation and Remus would never resist breaking in as well. Lily watched them peacefully go through several stories, her favorites usually the ones on each other, but the longer they kept going the harder it was to keep leaving one person out. They'd spent seven years as a foursome after all, and it was getting more obvious by the moment they couldn't blot him out of all their adventures.

Still it had been worth it when finally all of their laughter subsided and they all looked almost normal and peaceful again while Lily got herself started.

Dumbledore's abrupt departure took Harry completely by surprise. He remained sitting where he was in the chained chair, struggling with his feelings of shock and relief.

Harry was all the more happy for the little break he'd just had, it gave him some distance so he wasn't as hurt by that as he was at the time, and he did feel a bit better when he watched those around him either frown or scowl at this rather rude dismissal. Sure it wouldn't do for Dumbledore to show favoritism to Harry in that moment, but even a quick word goodbye would have been better than nothing.

The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet preparing to leave. Harry stood too and nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention, except the toad like witch on Fudge's right, who was now gazing down at him instead of Dumbledore.

Harry felt that nasty, prickling feeling returning at once at her mentioning, and he wished he understood why. Surely she had nothing to do with his life.

  He turned to leave, hesitated in case someone called him back, but when no one did he began a very fast walk to the door.

"Escape while you can before they throw something else at you," Remus sighed in agreement.

He reached the door practically at a run, then nearly collided with Arthur who was pale and looking even more apprehensive than when Harry had gone in as he asked what had happened, Dumbledore hadn't said.

Remus tried for a more open expression in regards to saying, "well if he didn't even say anything to Arthur then I'm positive it really was a matter of something else other than this place he had to attend to."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry agreed, feeling only the smallest margin better it hadn't just been him who'd been dismissed like that.

Harry explained his current circumstances as cleared of all charges, and Arthur's face broke into a wide grin of how good that news was. Of course there was nothing to convict, he hadn't been guilty, but nobody could pretend- he broke himself off,

"Honestly that's for the best, he can't have gone anywhere pleasant from there," James shook his head fondly, regretting not having done something similar to his son when he seemed so pleased at Arthur's reaction, but now it would just look silly when the moment had passed.

because the courtroom was pouring out behind Harry now, and Arthur was gaping in shock he'd been tried by the full court.

"Can't wait for him to pass that along," Lily huffed, "I'm hoping it'll drop Fudge's credibility even more."

One or two gave Arthur a nod as they passed, such as Madam Bones who even greeted him with a good morning, but most ignored his existence as thoroughly as the wall like Fudge. The toad like witch,

"Are you going to keep referring to her like that?" Sirius snickered, honestly amused at what he considered a running insult from Harry after he'd gotten her name.

"Yes," Harry said back flatly, causing his smirk to disappear at once as they all scrutinized Harry's look. What had this woman done to him to cause such bad feelings when she hadn't actually done a thing yet? He was acting more hostile towards her than Fudge.

took one last moment to watch him as she passed by. Last to leave was Percy.

Lily winced at even the idea of having to read out such a harsh reaction she expected a parent to have around their own child, yet Arthur utterly deserved whatever was said to Percy, it still left a bitter taste in her mouth before she even knew what was to be done.

Aside from the tightening lines around his mouth, Arthur turned away with no notice he'd just seen his third child.

Lily groaned and shook her head miserably, there was no way that could have been good, but did the boys really have to look so hateful while she said it. She supposed it was better than the lashing argument she'd just pictured herself.

He waited until Percy had vanished before beckoning Harry that he could go back and tell the others the good news now, Arthur still had to see to that toilet in Bethnal Green.

"Was honestly hoping you'd go along," Sirius gave a believable smile to that.

"I'm sure I can give you details later when he tells that night," Harry chuckled at the enthusiasm.

Harry asked what was going to be done to the toilet with a grin, everything seemed five times funnier than normal to him.

"That's usually how it works," Remus smiled in full agreement as the feeling poured back over him he hadn't felt in a few years now but he honestly missed, this must be ten times more powerful to something so strong as what Harry had just gone through.

It was starting to sink in: he was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts.

"Knew it all along," James gave a pompous smile. "Course all you had to do was look at this books length, or Merlin we could have even skipped ahead."

"Oh, now you suggest that," Harry chuckled.

Arthur began explaining the charm used was a simple enough fix, no the real problem was the vandalism itself and what it stood for. Muggle-baiting was an expression of a much deeper- he stopped himself in mid sentence.

"That always seems to happen during the important conversations," Lily sighed as she'd completely agreed with what Arthur was saying.

They'd reached back to the main landing where the lift and door were, to see Fudge speaking to a tall, blond figure with a pale face.

Harry extra despised that cold feeling of dread wrapping around him, forcing him to relive a memory he'd already regained just because of the sight of this man. Though he hadn't seen his face, the last time Lucius Malfoy had been in his presence was in that graveyard, groveling to Voldemort-

His recurring nightmare was interrupted by his dad whispering hatefully, "unless he's in handcuffs, I hope Arthur has the sense to keep you away from him."

"Considering the last time his name was mentioned in relation to Fudge, I wouldn't hold your breath mate," Sirius could already feel his lip curling into a sneer.

The second they'd arrived, the other two broke off whatever they were speaking of as well, Malfoy's cold grey eyes fixing Harry with a stare as he called to him Patronus Potter.

"I see where the young Malfoy gets his wit from," Remus rolled his eyes at the lame insult.

Harry felt winded, as the last time he'd been in the presence of this man was in the graveyard, listening to that voice jeer at him through a Death Eater's hood for Voldemort to continue torturing him.

James could feel himself going for his wand again, now regretting his angry actions this morning just because he wanted to be back beside his son now. It only helped ease his hand away but worsen his mood when Sirius gave Harry a soft nudge and muttered something to him, and he blinked around before smiling at him.

Too see him here, talking to Fudge just weeks after Harry had told Fudge this left Harry breathless.

Mr. Malfoy continued by saying the Minister had just been informing him of Potter's lucky escape.

"The fact that you call him mister," Sirius scoffed while trailing more silently in mutters about that.

It was astonishing really, how he kept wriggling out of tight holes, almost snakelike.

"Well he'd know all about that," Remus snapped, "glory, I think that was almost a compliment."

"Then I'm all the more insulted," Harry groused.

Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.

"I'm sure Arthur needs that just as much to hold himself back," Lily's lip was shaking with anger as she forced herself not to start cursing something. "I still treasure the idea of him hitting that man with a book on toadstools."

"You and me both love," James agreed.

Harry quietly agreed he'd always been good at escaping.

Sirius gave a soft, bitter laugh that he couldn't feel, but Harry deserved someone to admire his humor in the face of that.

Malfoy turned his attention to Arthur now, asking in astonishment what he was doing here?

"Escorting a friend, not that he'd understand what that meant," Remus muttered, not having missed the fact that the two people who should have been there for Harry were busy hiding out.

Mr. Weasley gave the curt reply that he worked here.

Malfoy raised a disbelieving brow as he demanded not here, he'd been under the impression his job implied bewitching useless Muggle artifacts.

"I really didn't think there was a bad way to say that, but Malfoy really managed it," Sirius huffed.

Arthur just said a simple no, his nails now digging into Harry's shoulder.

Even as Lily winced in sympathy Harry's face didn't even do that for the remembered feeling, he was too busy glaring at nothing and wishing he could punch Malfoy in his face already.

Harry demanded of Malfoy what he was doing here, and Malfoy stated that was none of Potter's business while smoothing out his robes.

Harry was distracted from his anger at Malfoy to really ponder that question though, since for some reason he couldn't identify he didn't like the answer given. Why? It wasn't even unrealistic, but something about that corridor and Malfoy was trying to be much louder in his mind than he would allow it.

Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold.

"Subtle," James snorted in disgust.

Fudge still pointed out this should be taken somewhere more private, and the two swept off for the lift, Mr. Weasley not letting go of him until they were out of sight.

"Again, I feel that's more for his benefit than Harry's," Sirius sneered, knowing he'd have to have someone hold him back as well when faced with that man.

Harry demanded why Malfoy hadn't just been waiting in Fudge's office if they had business. What was he doing down here?

Lily froze, cocked her head to the side, and stated, "that's a really good question."

"I, err, well maybe he was meeting up with some other Death Eater that works at the Ministry," Sirius offered. "Arthur said it himself, that's not a commonly frequented area, and I don't think Malfoy probably hadn't known the times were changed, so maybe he just got caught being down there and made, something up," he trailed off unhappily, but Harry was watching with wide, eager eyes for him to keep going. Harry was entirely sure Sirius was very close to being onto something, but none of the others looked very convinced as this was very blatant and almost dumb for Malfoy to be trying to do such a thing.

Mr. Weasley suggested trying to sneak into the courtroom,

Harry fidgeted with unease, as sure that Mr. Weasley was lying as he was that Sirius was far more on track. The two just would not come together for him to make sense of.

looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard.

Harry opened and closed his mouth, starting to shake slightly as word vomit threatened to blow his head off as he was confident in that moment Arthur was looking back for an entirely different reason! To check on-

"Whoa Harry," James finally lost his compulsion so that he was sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Harry. "What's gotten into you? The trial's over, you're going back to school, I'm confident Malfoy won't do anything in the meantime."

Harry had to concentrate very hard on the sound of his voice to unscrew his face and take a deep breath before offering a shaky smile at him, and even that wasn't enough to erase the build of unease that left him sitting that much closer to Sirius.

James, finding himself more intruding than anything when he saw that, went back to his spot and tried to pretend like he hadn't seen any such thing.

Harry asked what private business they had that was so important anyways, and Arthur explained gold. Malfoy kept himself well connected with everyone by constantly donating to whomever he pleased.

Lily would have normally been trying to subtly comfort her husband for what had just happened, but she was too busy grinding her teeth in frustration that was all it took to get in with people, money. Apparently morals weren't worth as much!

They got into the elevator by themselves, and it took Harry a few stops to ask if Fudge was seeing Death Eaters in private, what if he was under the Imperius Curse?

"Honestly if you hadn't had that moment with him at the end of last year, I'd agree," Remus grumbled. "Sadly, as no one at that time had the chance to Imperius him before he acted the way he is, I think he's just an idiot all on his own."

"Jr. could have done it before he took me to his office," Harry persisted even if he didn't feel anything telling him this was the right line of questioning, he should in fact still be more focused on that door-

"I don't see it, he was too busy watching you, it just didn't seem part of the plan," Lily shook her head. Harry was at least grateful he'd asked then just to make sure that train of thought kept getting cut off.

"How do you even prevent a Minister from falling under that though?" He pushed for more, some distant part of him still afraid for this fact.

"The Minister works in very close contact with a lot of people," Remus reminded. "Why do you think Crouch got 'sick' while he was Imperiused, there's just no way to have someone fake it for a long enough period of time it wouldn't get suspicious and someone would look into him, start asking questions. Sorry Harry," he finished truly apologetically, "I guess it would be easier to blame someone else on this problem with magic, but that doesn't usually work."

Harry just sighed but let the matter go.

Arthur agreed the thought had crossed their mind, but for now Dumbledore was sure that Fudge was acting of his own accord, which the headmaster also agrees, isn't much comfort.

Sirius snorted lightly as he realized Remus and Dumbledore had essentially said the same thing, but he didn't really want to compare Moony to Dumbledore right now.

Then adding on more quietly it was best not talk about this right now.

"That's true to," James agreed, "you are in enemy territory."

As they made it to the atrium and were fixing to leave, Harry paused at the golden statue again, and asked Mr. Weasley to wait for him as he reached for his money bag.

Lily felt the happy giggle slide from her with what felt like the first true ease in this book. Something as whimsical as her son keeping this promise was a treasure to her.

Harry got a much more close up look at the designs now, and found that the handsome wizard looked weak and foolish up close. All of the others admiring expressions upon seeing this man were entirely ridiculous from what Harry knew of centaurs and goblins. The only accurate one was the house-elf.

"I'm glad you see the truth in that thing," James happily agreed.

"I honestly think that's why that attempted assassination on Spout-Hole happened," Remus smirked, then catching sight of Harry's bewildered look he explained, "a group of centaurs tried to kill a past Minister, Faris Spavin, and I've no doubts it really had something to do with the timeframe this statue was put up."

Harry didn't have it in him to deny someone deserved a good reality check for thinking up this statue.

With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf,

Harry felt a nasty tug on the edges of his memory, thinking he was now being ridiculous that Hermione and him at the Ministry at the same time shouldn't cause any bad feelings...

as he turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool.

Lily let out a whistle in surprise, as she knew she kept a few galleons on her, but no one could do anything but smile at Harry for this spot of kindness.

Harry in no way regretted his actions of course, but he was thinking hard to himself why that felt so ominous to him, that statue and also that hospital...

Ron punched the air in triumph as he screamed he knew it!

"So I'm guessing you're back at that place." Sirius hadn't been in a particularly good mood while hearing of Harry at the Ministry, but this was honestly only making him feel worse.

As a natural reaction but also hoping it would cheer him up, Remus gave a sarcastic little applause for Sirius' brilliant thinking, while Lily was ignoring them both.

He always got away with stuff!

"Well he's not wrong," Remus snickered while Sirius released a bark of laughter for that being true.

Hermione was still shaking from anxiety as she told him this was bound to happen, there hadn't been a case against him.

Harry smiled around at them all that they seemed quite relieved considering how convinced they all were he'd get off.

"That's right Harry," James nodded in pure agreement, "mock them for trying to comfort you to your face."

"So long as they were silently worrying while you weren't watching," Sirius giggled in agreement.

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face with relief as well, while Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a war like dance, chant around the room about how 'he got off!'

Sirius didn't even consider denying his spark as he got to his feet, James moving only a step behind him as the two began bouncing around their own room doing the exact same thing. Remus only watched long enough to see the pattern the two quickly took to before joining with a stupid grin in place as well.

Harry was about ready to fall off the couch laughing any second and Lily in no way looked like she was going to be stopping them any time soon. They all, especially James, had been so tense lately that it was good to see him acting like an idiot goofing off with his friends again. Finally though, she did pick the book back up and kept going over their noise.

Arthur tried without emphasis to get them to stop while turning to Sirius and telling him about Lucius Malfoy hanging around the Ministry. All the while in the background the three were going as loud as ever while Mrs. Weasley cut in for them to be quiet.

Lily read that part just a bit more loudly, hoping they'd take a hint soon even if she couldn't wipe the smile off her face while doing so, but the lot of them ignored her.

Arthur just explained what they'd briefly seen, and as soon as Sirius promised they'd pass this along to Dumbledore, Arthur said he had to get going. There was a vomiting toilet waiting for him.

"A once in a lifetime experience I'm sure," Harry snickered to himself, his eyes still dancing as he watched the three of them still mimicking his past with amusement.

Mrs. Weasley finally cut off her three noisy children in a sharp voice,

Lily had said that in such a sharp 'mother' voice, that Sirius stumbled in surprise, Remus tried to catch him, and the end results were all three on the ground still laughing like crazy people. Lily was still going as if this was all perfectly normal background to her reading, which it honestly was.

then she turned on Harry and insisted he eat something.

His friends sat down around him as Harry felt the warmth and friendliness of this place for the first time. Even Kreacher's ugly snout like nose poking around the corner seemed friendlier than usual.

Harry's good mood could find no reason to dampen in here either, as for what felt like the first time in ages he was confident that house should always feel like that to him. It was so nice to watch the boys untangling themselves and still smirking at their spot of fun and his mother's purely happy smile he almost wanted to ask her to stop just for a moment so it wouldn't end, but he'd sadly already come to the conclusion time stopped for no one, not even someone out of time.

Ron was dishing food onto everyone's plates.

"That's how I love to celebrate," James snickered as he settled back into his seat next to his wife.

Harry explained Dumbledore was the man to be grateful to, only just managing to stop himself adding it would have been nice if he'd just looked at him once, but that sounded too childish.

"I don't find that childish at all," Sirius pushed his hair out of his face just in time for a frown to reappear there as he thought back to Dumbledore again. "He really was acting off right there, couldn't be bothered to look at you once that whole time. That's most certainly not normal."

Harry wished that nasty tingling sensation would vanish already instead of agreeing with Sirius.

As he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.

Lily jolted in surprise of reading that, knowing if she hadn't just cut the boys off seconds ago that would have as they all paled for this being mentioned again while Harry's smile flickered before vanishing entirely as he was reminded of that.

Sirius was entirely ready to get up and start the jig up all over again before he realized Harry was trying to sit so close to him, and decided for now the best course of action was just to remind his pup everything would turn out okay by staying right where he was.

Hermione looked at him in concern, but he just muttered it was nothing and that it happened all the time now. No one else had noticed a thing, they were still gloating over Harry's newest escape.

Sirius' frown was starting to make a reappearance as well, feeling like smacking himself upside the head if he really hadn't noticed Harry's moment of pain. What exactly had he been doing not to have seen that?

Remus was thinking the exact same thing, and was honestly even more annoyed with himself he didn't even seem to be in the room. What business had he done that was so important he wouldn't have stuck around the house to hear this news as soon as possible?

Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing, but while Hermione was still looking anxious Ron was saying Dumbledore would probably make an appearance tonight to celebrate with them.

"I sure hope he does," James hated watching his two friends suddenly dim right back down into that somber mood this whole book seemed to be leaving on all of them after just a few moments and vented that by saying, "the man needs a few good words said to him by both Harry and Sirius now."

"Here's hoping," Lily agreed quietly.

Mrs. Weasley corrected her son that most likely not, while setting a whole plate of chicken in front of Harry,

"Did she expect you to eat all that?" Sirius did a very good attempt at putting up a smile back in place.

Harry helped nothing by not answering, still seeming distracted by running his hand over his scar which seemed to be bothering him more this year than any before.

but was cut off by saying anything else by her three kids reaching shouting levels of their chant, which she matched in telling them to shut up.

Over the next few days though, Harry noticed one person in particular didn't seem overjoyed at Harry's return to school.

"Kreacher ruins everybody's good mood," Sirius agreed solemnly.

Sirius had at first congratulated him upon the news like everyone else, but directly after he was hardly seen around Harry or anyone, spending most any moment shut in his mother's room with Buckbeak.

"Oh," Lily uttered by the end as they all looked like they'd been hit in the gut. "Oh Sirius," Lily tried to start, not even sure herself what was going to come out, but Sirius snapped back at once with his eyes flat black.

"Don't you even Evans-"

"Potter," James corrected on instinct, though he too looked ready to say something, Sirius continued even louder-

"Potter then, the both of you." He sat there struggling for a moment to put into words that he didn't want to hear their sympathies on his sad state of a future if he even for a moment was acting like that towards Harry, but at the same time the words just wouldn't come as he could all to easily picture it. The only thing that had gotten him through his summers there were waiting on the letters from his friends, and he no longer even had that in that miserable place. Now he was looking at even more of that away from Harry, and even Remus it seemed as he'd been mentioned there all of three times instead of up Sirius' butt like he'd have hoped his friend would be to keep his mind off where he was.

He was almost grateful he didn't have the chance to say any of that as Remus cut in with an almost gentle scolding, "haven't we been over this. There's no point tearing into him when he isn't treating Harry that way now, he's never going there, so this won't ever happen."

Lily still felt like she should say something to him, either a promise she didn't blame him even if he was secretly wanting that or to offer up some suggestions of how to make this even a bit better, but Sirius was clearly relieved at avoiding this all together so she kept going in hopes the whole topic would pass quickly and they could just be with Harry in school again where hopefully nothing too eventful would happen.

James didn't entirely agree, he was a bit convinced there was something else going on with his best mate entirely and so avoiding Harry was just a byproduct of that, but he supposed his Sirius wouldn't know what anyways and kept his mouth shut, for now.

When Harry pointed this out to his friends one day while the three were cleaning out a cupboard, Hermione's first words were to sternly tell him not to go feeling guilty, Sirius was being selfish if he thought Harry should not be going back to school.

"Hey!" James snapped at once, his eyes flashing with such protection Harry was suddenly grateful his wish had never come true and Hermione wasn't here with them, she'd be getting an ear full from his dad.

He couldn't even think up a defense for her, he'd have liked to snap at her right now as well for speaking of his godfather like that while he was talking about his problems, a little sympathy wouldn't have hurt for as much as she showed towards Kreacher.

Remus was flushed in anger as well, he was almost glad of his absence now as he liked to think if he had been present for that he'd have snapped at Hermione for speaking about Sirius like that. He was many things, yes even selfish at times, but not for such an important matter as Harry continuing going to school.

Lily's lip seemed to be curling a bit in that sneer she so often got when speaking about Snape lately. Hermione had always been a vivacious child when she was speaking of what she thought, but while Lily encouraged and even admired that about her, now she was turning what she thought were her ideas on her friend, and she did not read this bit lightly.

Ron scolded her that was harsh, pointing out she wouldn't want to be shut in this house all alone either.

Sirius blinked sourly at the stupid book, still wishing more than anything he could find something in him to deny that claim...and coming up empty.

Hermione reminded he wouldn't be alone, this was Headquarters, he'd have company over all the time.

"Being around the Order all the time holds nothing to being around family," James hissed under his breath. His most daunting missions he'd ever taken were the extended ones away from his own, even when he did have a partner. That person, while a mutual friend, still couldn't replace who he really wanted to see.

He'd just gotten his hopes up Harry was coming here permanently.

Harry corrected Sirius had never agreed Harry could stay here with him.

"It only would have made you feel like the answer was inevitable," Sirius told Harry quietly, who nodded in agreement, he hadn't really held that against Sirius. He'd never thought Sirius would turn him down, but it was nice to still get a reason.

Hermione wisely said he just hadn't wanted to get his own hopes up all the more.

"Not my choice of words," Lily huffed, "more like pompously."

"She'll be the next Percy if she keeps telling people how they should be feeling," Remus agreed, thinking back to how she'd been acting in third year as well.

He was probably feeling his own guilt, hoping Harry would lose, so that they could both be outcasts.

Harry hadn't felt this angry at Hermione since she'd gotten his firebolt taken away, and this was so much worse than that. Sirius was on the run for the murder of his brother because of a long standing friend who'd left him framed and for dead, while Harry was about to be kicked out of school! They weren't comparable problems, and Sirius would never think to insinuate otherwise!

Harry shot back she was being ridiculous, but Hermione shrugged without remorse as she said she believed Ron's mum might be right, and Sirius seemed to get Harry and his own father confused.

Sirius felt like he'd been slapped. He certainly felt the hot burn rushing his throat and threatening to overflow onto his face through his eyes as he found that was proof of what Molly had said earlier. If even Hermione had caught him doing or saying something-

"That arrogant little shit!" James howled, looking as angry as when Sirius had been sent off to Azkaban without a trial. "He's been living in hell for how many years now, and she goes turning any sign of him wanting to reminisce to Harry about me into him being a loon! For Merlin's sake, he's done nothing but try to do everything for Harry since he got out, has everyone just forgotten that!"

"Prongs." The soft little voice was the only thing that could have cut him off, and James had to work hard to focus on him through blurry red vision to see such a resigned expression.

He wasn't having that as he hissed back, "I'm getting sick and tired of hearing people talk about you like this, when none of them can claim to know you worth a damn. Why am I the only one getting hacked off about this?" He finished more towards Remus than anyone.

"You're not," he said at once in short, clipped sentences to keep his own anger held in, "but you were doing such a good job vocalizing I'd be remiss to cut you off or even add in."

"Stop, please," Sirius cut in with more force before any return could be made. He faltered a bit, knowing he'd catch hell in here if he told them the real reason he couldn't work up the steam over this was because he honestly feared how true it was, so instead he put out, "I just, can't get worked up over thinking of myself in any sense in that future, so I'd rather, you know, not think about it anymore than I can." He finished in a tiny voice, clearly not doing as good a job as he'd intended in keeping his real thoughts out of his tones as James's face suddenly flipped to concern, but Lily seemed to understand best of all as she respected his wishes and wouldn't let anyone say another word as she kept going.

Harry was getting angry as he demanded if she thought his godfather was touched in the head?

Hermione denied that claim, but did say he'd been lonely for a very long time in a simple voice.

Remus had to work very hard not to spit out, 'so that's a sign of insanity now?!' When in all honesty that was the most true thing Hermione had ever said, and no one, clearly not him, seemed to be going out of their way to help Sirius anymore than keeping him at arms distance from the one person who could have made that more bearable.

Mrs. Weasley came in then, asking if they were finished cleaning this cupboard they'd been working on this whole time.

"That's gratitude for you," Sirius muttered just for something new to say and still not looking at anyone.

Ron said bitterly he'd been hoping she'd come to give them a break.

She reminded they'd been so keen on helping the Order, they were doing just that by making this place livable.

Lily gave a hollow laugh as the phrase, 'be careful what you wish for,' flitted across her mind.

Ron grumbled they'd been working like house-elves in here, while Molly just turned to leave.

Hermione rather liked the idea though, saying maybe now he'd take a real interest in SPEW.

Lily had to work very hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice Hermione so easily flipped subjects like that. As if talking about Sirius were inconsequential and instead she could make them hear more about house-elves, again. Those boys clearly cared nothing for her thinking on this, and this one just never seemed to take a hint. They were all in such a bad mood, none of them even had the fun to point out Hermione had just referred to her own organization by Ron's stupid name.

Then she added to herself this could bring more awareness to all Gryffindor's if she sponsored a common room cleanup, all proceeds going to the campaign of course.

"More like she'd have to pay them to be doing any such thing," Sirius sighed as he still couldn't find a smile in himself to put up. It wasn't helping no one, not even Harry, was playing along.

Ron muttered he'd sponsor her to shut up about SPEW, but so only Harry could hear.

Sirius gave an obnoxiously loud laugh for himself just having mimicked Ron, at least making Remus roll his eyes again, something Sirius was confident he'd never grow tired of.

Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again,

Harry had some sad little frown on his face he didn't seem aware of at the mention of that,

to play Quidditch,

and no one noticed him wince slightly as without fail, the other boys managed some small enthusiasm for that word alone.

and to simply stroll across the vast lawns. He was always sure to talk about this when Sirius wasn't in the room.

Sirius wished a Bludger would come knock him stupid already just so he didn't have to see Harry look shameful at that!

The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as Harry would have expected before he'd experienced it.

James ran his hand furiously through his hair as he realized what Hermione had said clearly wasn't going to come back up so he could keep going, and he wasn't even sure if he could have anyways after his brothers pitiful little attempts to deflect him from it. That didn't make his simmering anger feel any better, but he managed a mask that at least resembled his joking tone as he told Harry, "nothing ever is."

Harry had to push through his mind to force himself back into this conversation before he simply responded, "Quidditch," and was thankful a second mentioning of it only left another dull sadness in him he didn't have to examine.

"Okay, most things," he conceded.

Members did still frequently come and go, but Mrs. Weasley always made sure all ears, extendable or not, were no where in the area. No one, not even Sirius, had done a thing to give Harry more information since his first night there.

Harry gave an exaggerated groan and a playful nudge to his godfather that went completely ignored.

On the last day of term, the book lists finally came in.

"Oh wow," Lily blinked in surprise and almost relief at this new topic. "I thought that was just glossed over like last year, hadn't realized you hadn't even gotten them yet."

"What are they playing at sending that the day before school starts," Remus agreed in surprise. "Can you imagine how packed Flourish and Blotts is going to be, everyone trying to get that last book for their Defense class. At least the others the parents could have gotten already."

"You do bring up the fun question of who it's going to be this year," Sirius was really trying to put some enthusiasm into chatting about this, but Harry very clearly did not agree as he pleaded his mother to cut him off and go on, they'd get their answer soon enough, and he already had a bad feeling about it.

Harry was standing on a chair cleaning up some owl droppings from on top of their wardrobe as Ron passed Harry his. He chucked the waste into a basket that swallowed the lot with a belch and accepted his letter.

"One of the few good features in that house," Sirius chuckled, "my favorite part being, it spits whatever you threw in there right back up a few minutes later. Great for saying you cleaned your room so you can scarper and then blame the mess on someone later."

"I can't imagine how someone would find a use for that," Lily told him deadpan.

He opened his letter and found only two new books, the Standard new charms book, and Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard.

"That sounds extraordinarily boring," Sirius snorted, forcing himself to get into this now despite Harry's lack of enthusiasm. "Are you sure you can't come back Moony? At least you wouldn't be caught dead assigning anything that has such a title you'd use it for a pillow."

Remus gave an exaggerated eye roll for what he felt was a stupid question, while James sighed and forced himself to add in as well even if he'd prefer to hold onto his anger some more. "You know, it never even mentioned what book you did assign," with a curious look at Harry.

"We only ever studied out of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," Harry shrugged, "he didn't assign any other specific books. I was grateful, as the only other thing I'd used it for before then was just to look up some creature I heard an older student mention and I didn't know." He finished himself off with a curious look though before adding on, "how come that's a first year book anyways? Care of Magical Creatures isn't even mandatory."

"It's intended for individual studies," Lily told, "so that you have a basic understanding of magical creatures on hand even if you don't take the class. By making it part of your first school list, someone likes to think that you've cracked it open at some point."

Harry gave a sheepish smile for that, as the only real time he'd ever done much of anything with that book was a few things for Professor Lupin out of it. He'd managed to accidentally rip out a few chapters at some point he'd never bothered repairing, like his section on boggarts for instance, and at the end of his fourth year him and Ron had skimmed through the whole thing by themselves on one of their off periods in one of their silent 'don't want to talk right now' agreements on Harry's part.*

With a now familiar crack, the twins had Apparated themselves into the room. Harry was so used to this, he didn't even fall from his chair.

Sirius really did laugh that time, though he'd yet to fail when mention of them making an appearance so he was at least happy for that consistency.

The two examined the boys lists and found they'd all gotten the same book, all wondering who the person was to assign this new book. George reminding Dumbledore was having a hard time of finding any new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Did it really take them the day before term to pull that together?" Lily asked with honest concern.

"I knew it must be getting harder all the time to get someone in, but this is just getting sad," James agreed with a very pointed look someone was very pointedly ignoring.

Fred said it must be a chore, considering what they knew happened to the most recent ones.

Harry agreed one had been sacked,

"Sacked?" Remus repeated with a snicker. "Really, that's all the reference I get?"

"Besides, he technically quit," Sirius reminded, giving him the stank eye for the reminder as he finished, "with protest."

Remus ignored the jab.

one dead,

"Deserved it," Lily muttered bitterly.

one's memory removed,

"Still my favorite," Remus savored.

and one locked in a trunk for nine months.

James shuddered all over again in renewed horror of that.

Harry agreed it was easy to not want the post.

"You'd think the job was cursed or something, oh wait," Sirius smirked.

"I wonder what happened to the twins teachers before those came along," Remus puzzled.

"Guess something far more boring," James shrugged.

Fred looked around at his youngest brother and asked why he hadn't spoken up, but Ron made no move he'd heard, he was still gaping down at his letter with his mouth hanging open.

"What's got his knickers in a twist?" Remus asked too enthusiastically, anything to get back off that job he honestly wished he'd never taken, it's not like he'd done much good at it that no other competent person could have.

When he got no answer, his brother snatched the letter away to see for himself, and his own mouth fell open as he mouthed the word Prefect.

"You said perfect, right?" James was staring at her oddly. "What's perfect?"

"You heard exactly what she said Prongs," Sirius corrected, his eyes growing steadily wider as the shock sunk in. "Prefect! Oh wow, go Ron!"

Remus was snickering lightly while Lily was shaking her head fondly at these boys, thinking this was most likely similar to how they'd reacted upon Remus' Prefect status as well. A little humor, some congratulations and then trying to move on by looking at her like, 'get on with it.' Clearly they didn't put much of a big deal into the matter, which made sense considering how often they went through their life ignoring any and all resemblance of authority.

Neither twin could believe this, it must have been a mistake!

"Now that was just hurtful," Lily couldn't stop her twitching lips as she tried to read in Fred's mocking tone, perhaps not doing it as well as the boys, but still almost hitting that playful way she imagined them using.

They turned to look at Harry and insisted everyone thought it would be him, looking at Harry like he'd tricked them himself.

"Harry would never do such a thing!" James gasped in mock outrage. "He's going to be far too busy avoiding Ron the rest of the year to join him!"

"You were a Headboy though," Harry suddenly blinked as he realized this. "Do you not need to be a Prefect to get that?"

"Nah," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I honestly have no idea how they pick them, I feel like they just pull a random name out of the Sorting Hat, it makes more sense than going with any 'qualifications,' which neither of them had to be holding any such title."

"Thank you Padfoot," Remus snorted.

George did remind his brother all the mad things Harry had done must have left him out of it. Fred readily agreed, saying Harry had his priorities right and kept himself in trouble enough for this not to have been his.

"I must applaud them on seeing this in the proper lighting, someone I know never did see it that same way," Sirius said tragically while Remus hadn't stopped laughing this whole time for how much of a flashback he was getting to his friends ribbing on him through the whole, very long, train ride when he'd told them. It had been almost a relief to attend his Prefect duties first, at least they'd had enough time to laugh it off with each other so by the time he came back they'd almost been ready to ignore the whole instance.

George's next thought was to realize how revolting their mother was going to be when she heard about this.

Some of Lily's humor did fade at that, while the boys just laughed harder, though a bit harsher in remembrance of Molly especially so fresh after Hermione's pot-shots. She however was thinking the twins could show just a bit more of both praising and picking on their brother at once, hadn't they learned after they'd dealt with Percy sometimes words could hurt after all those years. They were making the same mistake with their younger brother as they had been with their elder one in treating him like this just because he'd gotten an accomplishment he'd had no real control over. They didn't necessarily have to approve of it, but couldn't they at least not take the mickey out of him for it.

Ron, still with his mouth hanging open, handed the badge to Harry as if in confirmation it was real. Harry gave it a brief examination to see the exact same one he'd seen on Percy's the first time they'd met..

"Which he wore for the next two years straight as well," Harry muttered in remembered disgust, managing to ignore the old conundrum he'd always had at school of having twenty-two Prefects at once running around, plus the Head Boy and Girl, not to mention all the teachers always seeming to keep an eye on all things. It really did boggle his mind how the Marauders got away with anything like that, though it must have helped in fact to have a man on the inside.

The door opened with a bang, and Hermione came in squealing with delight about how she'd gotten- then she spotted what Harry was holding and shrieked that they were both Prefects now!

"Wow, both of his friends got it!" James's tone came out much harsher now as he was still waiting for an apology from her as well as Molly to Sirius' face. "I'm thinking she'll do worse than Ron, she'll be too busy with all her studies to deal with Prefect duties. Least he'll enjoy the attention it gets him from some of the younger students."

"So long as he doesn't let it go to his head," Sirius said a little uneasily, still remembering last year and how Ron got because he thought he wasn't recognized enough. Now the opposite problem could occur.

Harry quickly corrected while pushing it back to his friend this was Ron's.

Hermione at first didn't understand,

"That timing though," Remus muttered at how awkward this could get.

before she turned surprised on him to ask if he was sure?

"Ouch," Sirius winced hard for that one. "Yes he's sure woman, the schools never sent someone the wrong envelope before." He got out quickly before anyone could make a more snide comment about her.

Ron's expression turned defiant as he stated that was his name on the school's letter.

Hermione continued to stand there bewildered for a moment,

"Wow, she came skipping in when she thought it was Harry's but now it's Ron's and she's actually at a loss for words, for once," James huffed.

before finally beginning to congratulate him. This was really-

George input for her unexpected.

Hermione tried to say that wasn't true, Ron had...

the door opened again for Mrs. Weasley carrying clothes, cutting off Hermione's trailing words.

"Saved by the Mum," Sirius looked a bit relieved, that couldn't have been going any more awkwardly.

She wasn't surprised by everyone holding the envelopes, Ginny had already told her letters were in. If they passed them all to her, she'd go into Diagon Alley today and fetch it all for them. Then she turned on Ron and asked if he'd like a new color for the pajamas she was going to get him, the ones he had now were far too short.

"Why does she bother asking? I thought she always gave him maroon just to color coordinate her kids by this point," James snarked, clearly his mood getting worse now that both people of his ire were in the same room, and hardly even reacting when Lily pinched him to get him to stop.

George said for his brother he should have red and gold to match his badge, while Molly rolling up a pair of maroon socks didn't understand what he meant.

James gave Lily a pointed look which she ignored.

Fred emphasized Ron's new prefect badge, his every tone conveying the worst news.

It took a moment for the words to get past her preoccupation with pajamas.

Sirius got a happy snort of laughter for that sentence existence, after all pajamas were a very fascinating conversation topic.

She turned in confusion Ron wasn't a -

"He is as of five seconds ago," Lily giggled.

Then she spotted the badge in Ron's hand, and squealed with delight! Saying how wonderful and perfect this was, that was everyone in the family!

"Hey!" All three Marauders yelped indignantly on behalf of the twins, Sirius persisting the point, "what happened to the other two that are in the room?"

Lily nibbled on her lip for a moment before continuing, feeling just as bad for the twins as she would have if Ron hadn't gotten this reaction. Ginny hadn't even made the status yet, so she really wasn't sure if that was the right thing for Molly to say there.

James wanted to ask if that meant even Charlie had been one, but he honestly wasn't sure if this should be counted as Molly had just brushed aside two of her kids, she might have done it for three in that moment.

George demanded what he and his twin were, neighbors, while Molly brushed past him and threw her arms over Ron, seeming not to have heard him.

"Wow," James rubbed at his shoulder with his own hurt filled eyes. "I'm not even a Weasley and that hurt my soul."

"You'd be just as snarky if she tried to play it off and not single out one of her children for doing something so good," Lily sighed, hating having to deal with her husband when he was in his petty moods, which seemed to be happening more often than not of late.

She kept going on about how proud she was, and his father and brothers would be to! All while Fred and George pantomimed vomiting.

"He'll be lucky if they don't do far worse to him," Remus muttered, knowing the twins, like his friends, might just take this as a new challenge to prank their little brother and see how well they could get away with it. They'd yet to clearly be doing things to Ron at school, but he wouldn't put it past them for this to be a start.

Mrs. Weasley did not notice as she held eyes only for her youngest son, continuing to kiss his face, who was quickly growing as scarlet as his new badge.

"That woman has no shame, the boys in front of his friends," James grumbled.

"Howler," Lily reminded, clearly Molly held absolutely nothing of the world outside her circle.

He finally managed to stop her stream, only for her to continue by asking what he'd like.

Ron at first couldn't dare to understand, as she exclaimed he had to have a reward for this!

Lily crooned, just a bit, as she truly did see the value in doing this for her kids that had done such an accomplishment. It certainly made sense, even if she felt for the twins as one of them would have always been left out of this tradition. There really was just no winning with this.

She at first offered some new dress robes, before the twins reminded they'd done that one, clearly regretting their moment of generosity.

"It was part of Harry's doing, so I forgive their moment of kindness." James rolled his eyes.

"You know, I just realized, Ron and Hermione weren't there when you did that," Sirius pointed out just to change the subject. "Did you ever tell them what you did for the twins?"

"No," Harry shrugged, the thought had never crossed his mind. "I suppose they just told Ron they did it so they wouldn't have the humiliation of seeing him in them again. They were so awful Ron just believed them on the spot."

She at once switched to some other things he could want, like a cauldron, or a new rat, he had always favored Scabbers-

Lily winced hard at getting out the name of that old thing which effectively managed to turn every person in here into a gargoyle like face.

but Ron cut her off instead asking for a broom.

Her enthusiasm faded a bit, broomsticks were very expensive.

"Go big or go home," Remus winced as he easily saw both sides to what both parties were feeling in that moment.

Ron quickly tacked on not the newest model, just a new one for a change...

Her smile was right back as she agreed of course. Then she left the room in high spirits, saying she really had to get going now if she had all this shopping plus that.

They were all surprised she'd so easily agreed to this, but then the boys were suddenly bouncing in place with pleasure as they were begging Lily to get to the part where they hoped to find what exact model Molly would get!

Still muttering happily to herself how she was all a dither.

Lily was giggling herself by the end of that, looking lovingly at her son for a moment and knowing she'd be just as bad if he had been made one. She did a double take in surprise as she saw how off his face looked, like he was really thinking about something, but she supposed it may still be mention of that rat like the lingering darkness in the boys still showed so she didn't press him.

The twins hardly waited until she was out of sight before turning falsely anxious looks on him, asking if it was alright they didn't kiss him as well?

George at least offered they could curtsey.

"That I would like to see," James snickered.

Ron just told them to shut up, while Fred gave an evil grin and asked what if they didn't? Was their baby brother going to put them in detention?

"No, no," Sirius corrected at once, a look of intrigue now dominant. "That is what I want to see! Hermione tried it last year, now I really want to know who would win, the twins or Ron. With Harry as backup of course," he finished with a smirk at his godson who did not show a hint of listening.

"My money's on Harry and Ron," Remus kept going, clearly not noticing the same thing. "The twins owe Harry big, if he asks them to take a dive and fall into detention, they just might for him."

"I don't think it'll ever come to that," James rolled his eyes. "I can't think of a moment where Ron cares enough to go at them that hard, he's hardly a ruler himself when it comes to school boundaries."

Hermione snapped he just might if they didn't watch themselves.

"I feel like that's more her part than his," James sniffed, there she went again, speaking for everyone.

The twins burst out laughing while Ron told Hermione to drop it.

They kept going as if Ron hadn't spoken, Fred speaking to his brother about how they'd better watch their step this year, George agreeing he was shaking in his boots at the thought. The two concluding their rule breaking days were over.

Then they vanished with a loud crack.

"They're off to a great start," Remus snorted.

Hermione shot a nasty look at the ceiling where laughter could still be heard from them as she told Ron not to pay them any mind, they were just jealous.

"I don't think jealous is the right word," James grinned, "but I'd think something was entirely wrong with them if they didn't have some fun with Ron about this. Then again, I'd think Hermione wasn't acting like herself if she didn't say what others are thinking as well," he finished with a huff.

Ron disagreed, they'd always said anyone who was a prefect was a prat.

"Am I the only one remembering Bill?" Lily chuckled, thinking he hadn't sounded one bit like a prat.

He cheered himself up though that at least he was getting a new broom out of it, and then decided to himself he'd like a Cleansweep model.

"Not a bad model at all to choose from," Sirius snapped away from watching Harry curiously, who hadn't pipped up in ages now, and still wasn't showing much interest in this, which meant he must really be thinking of something in his head.

"You think he'll put it to any good use?" James said wistfully as he remembered a large portion of his agitation last year. "There's a spot open on the Quidditch team with Wood gone, and assuming Anglina or one of the other Chasers might have graduated, that could mean some new potential on the field."

Harry did blink a bit at this news and looked around curiously to find them still talking about Ron just getting the broom, so he smiled happily and forced himself to engage in his own hopes that this would happen with a distant smile the whole time before Lily cut off the Quidditch talk for her own sanity.

He jogged out of the room to go tell his mum this, while Harry was left alone with Hermione, whom he didn't feel like looking at all of a sudden.

"Least I'm not the only one holding a grudge," James grumbled to himself, half wishing Harry had said more to his friend in defense of his godfather earlier, but he'd long accepted Harry was not the confrontational type much.

Hermione began to say something tentatively, but he cut her off with a hearty congratulations he didn't really seem to feel.

"Oh," they all muttered, looking to him in surprise and quickly away again as Harry's eyes widened with panic, realizing what he'd just been thinking about all this, and how that most likely was fixing to end up in this stupid book!

She began again, asking if she could borrow Hedwig, to send an owl to her parents and tell them about this.

He agreed at once, keeping his back to her as she took his owl from he room, and he sat down by himself on the bed, his mind spinning. The only noise left was the waste basket spitting the owl droppings back up.

Sirius opened his mouth to repeat his joke, but in fact performed a small miracle by instead taking James's small little head shake as warning and closing it again.

He had forgotten prefect badges were on the way, far to anxious with his upcoming trial.

"A daunting enough fear, you're forgiven," Remus muttered under his breath, as they all now realized they were hearing exactly what Harry had just been thinking without having shared. No one had really missed how silent and speculative he'd just gotten, but they'd left him alone with his head for a moment since it clearly had nothing to do with poking at his memories. Now, well this just felt a bit invasive as shame began burning up his face. They were all starting to feel more than just pity for him, it really couldn't be fun for him not to have had a single private moment while he was here.

Lily suddenly stopped altogether and began running her thumb down the length of the page, and the moment Harry realized what she was doing, he took a deep breath and told her, "don't bother skipping, I guess you lot may as well hear it."

"We don't have to," James said at once to no one disagreeing. "Honestly, it doesn't even occur to me half the time, but really Harry, you can tell us to shut it at any time for hearing every single thing you think."

He took another deep breath, but looking more accepting than defeating now, insisted, "you've heard far worse than my being jealous for a moment by now, may as well get through it."

Lily waited a moment longer to realize he truly meant it, before going on.

But if he had remembered, what would he have expected? A small little voice in his head pointed out, not this.

James went to say something, but Lily gave him a small kick to get him to stop, she was trying to get through this as fast as she could. Up to this point the books, while centered around him, hadn't exactly delved into his head quite as much as this moment, and she was at least going to try and stop her boys commenting on his private thoughts no matter her opinion on them.

Harry buried his face in his fingers as he couldn't deny that, wondering now if he really thought himself arrogant like Malfoy.

Sirius didn't take the hint as he rolled his eyes and said, "not even close. Thinking you should have gotten something doesn't automatically make you a self-entitled little berk. It's how you act when you do or don't get it. You aren't going to treat Ron any differently now that he has it, so you're fine pup," he finished with utter confidence, at least making Harry smile again.

Did he really believe he was better than Ron? No, was his own instant rebuttal. Still Harry anxiously probed himself to admit he was better at Quidditch, but that was the only thing, they were equal in class. Outside of lessons though, both Ron and Hermione had risked worse than expulsion with him on those adventures.

"The fact that you refer to those as adventures, rather than life or death moments that you really shouldn't have been in except for extraordinary circumstances, really gets me in this moment," Lily muttered.

Not at the very end though, Harry had always done those alone. Especially in that graveyard...

"Thank you for detailing all of that," Remus shivered, though they all had at some particular moment Harry had brought up.

All those bitter feelings over the summer swelled in him again, how he'd done far more than them!

Lily had to fight her own insistence now not to say anything in comfort for her son. He was having a human moment after all, but she restrained herself from pointing out again badges weren't chosen because of things you'd done. Honestly no student had a clear idea who was chosen and why, it was simply the Headmaster's decision, and he really could be picking at random or for any arbitrary reason.

The small little voice was back, pointing out badges weren't necessarily chosen because of dangerous situations you'd lived through.

"I really love the way you worded that though," James gave a bit of a laugh.

Harry buried his face again to remember Fred's words about no one would make Ron a prefect, and Harry snorted with disgust at himself.

"That was a bit harsh," Sirius gave Harry a sympathetic pat he still didn't really feel like he deserved. "I'll bet a ton of other kids are having far worse reactions than just a bit of jealousy for their friends getting something. Imagine how Malfoy's going to act when he didn't get one and Ron did," he finished triumphantly. That did make Harry laugh again, albeit a bit more held back than he understood why.

Ron hadn't asked for this, nor was it his fault. Harry was not going to sit around sulking, nor mocking his friend behind his back for this, just because Harry had been beaten at something.

"The thought never even crossed our mind," James rolled his eyes, causing Harry to flush anew as he realized just how well those around him seemed to know him in these few short days, and it didn't really seem it was just because of a bunch of books.

Harry could hear footsteps on the stairs again and immediately put a much more welcoming smile in place as Ron reentered, telling his best friend congratulations. The smile disappeared from Ron's face instead.

"Well geez, clearly he didn't want to be congratulated," Remus frowned in surprise.

Ron at once said his own surprise, he'd thought it would be Harry.

"Everyone thought it would be Harry, even Harry," Sirius mocked, pleased Harry stuck his tongue out at him for the picking like normal again.

Harry echoed Fred from earlier, saying he'd caused to many problems to get picked.

Ron agreed with a laugh while beginning to pack up his things. He seemed to be having a bit of a problem though, as he kept moving the badge around. First to his pocket, then the nightstand, and then putting it onto his schools robes and gazing for a moment at the red on black.

"He's acting better than I was," Remus smirked in remembrance, "I hid it in with my knickers until we were all on the train and it was moving before I managed to spit out the words. Which I regretted, since it only then occurred to me they could pitch me out of a moving train."

"The thought occurred to me," Sirius agreed, "but only because you actually dropped a pair of those on my head while getting the badge out to show us."

Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk.

"I wonder if we'll get a return on the badge pranks," James said curiously.

"I'm having trouble picturing it," Remus shrugged. "Despite their jokes already, I can't see them having at Ron every opportunity like they had Percy, mostly because I don't see him dogging the twins to deserve it."

"I wish I could be following the twins around," Sirius sighed wistfully. Remus grimaced at his own choice of words, never admitting to his dying breath he'd done it on purpose to keep the good mood alive.

Mrs. Weasley came back from Diagon Alley and was at once pounced upon by her youngest son, but she scolded even while handing him his new broom she'd have dinner ready in no time and now wasn't the time for him to be using that.

He still ripped the wrapping off the moment she was out of sight.

"A proper response," James giggled in agreement.

When they did make their way downstairs, it was to find a large banner already in place congratulating Ron and Hermione on being the new prefects, while Mrs. Weasley was looking in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday.

"That is so sad," Lily murmured to herself, really thinking back to how she'd acted towards Sirius now, and seeing the strained mother protecting her family as opposed to this side where she saw Sirius as her family and Molly the threat. It was hard to keep both perspectives in line at once, but she tried her best to shake off the last of her ill will towards the woman, even if she did maintain Sirius hadn't deserved what was thrown at him.

She explained to them they'd be having more of a party tonight, she'd invited everyone along. Some of the guests were already there in fact, as she made her way over to Moody and told him she'd been wanting to ask for ages if he could take a peek inside the desk in the drawing room to see what was in there. They were sure it was a boggart, but just in case it was something worse.

Moody agreed at once, turning his magical eye in that direction while repeating her instructions, and agreed yes they were right on the creature inside.

"I'd actually like to watch that," Remus said eagerly like he'd just been invited to his own show. "See what Moody's Boggart would be before he dispelled it."

Harry agreed, honestly hoping that was exactly what had happened. Why would he be getting such a bad feeling from such a silly little thing like a boggart, those hadn't frightened him in ages.

Molly insisted she'd do it later, for now he should be enjoy himself down here, pointing out this was a party while gesturing at the banner.

"Really? I wouldn't have thought he'd notice," James rolled his eyes.

Moody turned his normal eye on Ron now, his magical one remaining out the side of his head, and Harry got the eerie feeling it was on him as he moved towards Sirius and Lupin.

"Glad we can be of some help, even if it is just to protect you from scary Alastor," Sirius fixed a smile in place, Harry really starting to feel bad both continued to twitch uneasily whenever they were mentioned.

He could still hear though, as Moody congratulated Ron for this new authority, saying Dumbledore must not be worried about him withstanding jinxes.

"Well he's not wrong," Remus blinked in surprise at such advice while James and Sirius got a chuckle out of that.

Ron looked unsure how to take this news, but was saved answering by the arrival of his father and eldest brother, who'd also brought along Mundungus.

"Why?" Lily balked at the idea.

"Suppose they ran into him for any number of reasons, and I can guess Arthur was just too polite to not invite him," James shrugged.

He was wearing a long overcoat that was oddly lumpy and declined the offer to remove it.

"Because that's not suspicious at all," Sirius said with chipper.

Tonks was telling Hermione and Ginny that she'd never had the honor of being prefect, her Head of House said she lacked certain qualities.

"The fact that she asked for a reason really makes me question her sanity," Remus smirked.

"I remember asking McGonagall who possessed her to make Remus one," James reminded, "she just told me to move along."

"What house was she in?" Sirius suddenly demanded curiously, thinking it would be interesting if she'd been yet another Slytherin.

"Hufflepuff," Harry informed, she'd mentioned Sprout as her head of house to Hermione at some previous time.

Sirius smiled all the wider his little cousin had broken even more traditions instead.

Ginny asked what that could be, and Tonks happily said the ability to behave herself.

Causing everyone to burst out laughing.

Ginny laughed, while Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it.

James scoffed heavily, even more annoyed than usual at Hermione's inability to laugh at anything, even a harmless joke!

Ginny turned and asked Sirius next.

Sirius pretended to faint at the very thought.

He gave a bark-like laughter and said no one would have been insane enough to do a thing like that, he was in detention with James too much. It was Lupin who was the good boy and got the honor.

"Good boy?" Remus asked of him, poking him slightly as he was still theatrically slumped over. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said about me."

"Wasn't saying it to your face, but to others, and you know I always covered for you," he told while still miming unconsciousness causing the others to just laugh harder.

Lupin jumped in saying he was under the impression Dumbledore had done it to try and exert some control over his friends.

"If that's what he was going for, he began with a lost cause," Remus said in surprise, as the idea had yet to even occur to him that's what it had been for.

"Wonder what made you think that," James agreed, "we all thought it was Dumbledore's subtle way of rewarding our winning personalities and keeping the school's spirits up."

"You lot and your fat heads," Lily muttered.

He'd failed dismally.

Harry suddenly found himself in an even better mood, his father hadn't been a prefect either!

"Best hope neither of them pass along my Head Boy badge then," James muttered for Lily alone, who agreed. It was apparently a good thing he'd forgotten Hagrid mentioning this right now.

Ron was rhapsodizing about his new broom to anybody who would listen.

"Honestly, his mother's lucky he was just talking about it rather than trying to be on it in the house," Sirius chuckled.

While Hermione was chatting with Lupin about elf rights.

"I'd rather go back to hearing about the broom," Remus muttered, everyone else looking just as disappointed except Lily, who hushed them so she could see a conversation she'd actually been looking forward to. If anyone could get through to Hermione how she was acting regarding house-elves, she'd put money on Remus.

She was saying how the segregation on them was the same as werewolves, stemming back to how wizards thought they were superior to other creatures...

"That's all we get," Lily pouted as she saw the next line changed topics.

"I wasn't really listening to them," Harry said apologetically.

Molly and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair, the mother even asking of Harry that wasn't it too long.

Harry was alarmed at being asked,

"Boys," Lily muttered.

and quickly slid away to where Fred and George and Mundungus were in the corner.

"Now we're tuning into the important conversations," Sirius' grin turned eager to hear about this.

When Mundungus saw him coming he stopped talking at once, but Fred quickly said Harry was good to hear this, he was their financial backer.

"That's an excellent term for that," James brightened, before turning a calculating look onto his friend and saying, "hey Moony-"

"Don't even start you," he shot back without looking over, so James put a pin in the idea for later.

Fred eagerly held out what was in their hands, Harry finding tiny shriveled up black pods that were making a rattling noise though they were still.

None of them considered themselves Herbology experts, the closest one was Lily who could recognize a wide variety of plants for her potions, but they were all curious to hear what the twins had gotten their hands on now.

George explained they were Venomous Tentacula seeds, but since they were a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance, it was really hard to get them outside of people like their friend here.

"What on earth would they need those for?" Lily yipped in concern, thinking they could get themselves killed by just one little accident.

"Well they'll certainly get sick enough by them," James said uneasily, hoping for more details as well.

Fred offered ten Galleons for them, but Mundungus corrected he wouldn't take less than twenty with all the trouble these tings had caused him.

George gave a heavy laugh, saying that was a worse deal than the time he'd tried to sell them a bag of Knarl quills for six Sickles.

"Now I know he's been off his rocker," James shook his head in disbelief at that one.

Harry warned someone could be watching, like Moody's magical eye.

"Really should count our blessings he isn't around more I guess," Sirius chuckled.

All three agreed it was best to wrap this up, and then they all departed, only Harry staying in the corner as he watched Mrs. Weasley with a sudden fear. He'd never informed her or anyone he'd given the twins his Triwizard Winnings to start their joke shop, and it suddenly occurred to him what if their mother, who greatly disapproved of this idea, had a row with her kids about it. What if it caused another Percy-like estrangement? Would she still care about Harry in the same way if she knew he was helping them along with something she found so unsuitable.

Lily had already tried to instill into her son how unlikely she found that, and while Harry was looking anxious again at the returning topic, he'd yet to really start working himself up over it so they let him be on this one for now.

He was dragged out of his own thinking by hearing Kingsley say he'd been sure Dumbledore would make Potter a prefect, while Lupin returned he was sure the man had his reasons for doing otherwise.

"I don't think you were too enamored with Hermione's house-elf topic if you're already hanging around someone else," Sirius said, easily slipping into another topic to take that look off of Harry.

"He always thinks Dumbledore has his reasons," Lily muttered to herself.

Kingsley persisted it would have shown the world he had confidence in Potter though-

"Or it could have done worse, and made Dumbledore really seem he was playing favoritism with Harry," Remus shook his head. "Nah, best to not let you have this one honestly." Giving the others a moment of odd amusement as they were sure that's what Remus would have said back to Kingsley at the time.

"Not like I ever really wanted it," Harry shrugged in agreement, the idea had never crossed his mind until it was gone.

Harry did not look around, not wanting them to know he'd overheard.

"If they didn't want you hearing," James rolled his eyes at this idea, "they wouldn't have had the conversation with you in the room.

Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.

Both Lily and James were leaning into each other just that little bit closer than was strictly necessary, just for that moment to remind each other they were here now instead of a constant source of some painful memory for Harry. The cheer of knowing that little bit more about his father had been tarnished by his now fear of what the woman he looked to as a mother could think about him. There was just no winning.

He heard Molly yawning and telling her husband she was going to take care of that Boggart and turn in, telling Harry goodnight as she passed.

"Why did she only say goodnight to you," Sirius quickly pointed out just to give Harry some moment of singularity in Molly's eyes which he had clearly been wanting a moment ago, but now he looked all the more distracted and distant as he was clearly trying to ignore some bad feeling.

He got caught by Mad-Eye next pulling him to the side and saying he wanted to show him something.

"Well this should be interesting," Remus said, Moody singling Harry out could be, fun...

It turned out to be a photo, original Order of the Phoenix according to Moody.

"Wow, don't think we've had this picture taken yet," Sirius blinked in surprise.

"I'm surprised Moody has such a thing, you'd think it would be considered a security risk," Lily agreed. "Even we're not entirely sure who everyone in the Order is."

"Guess Dumbledore may have asked for one at some point, and no one turns him down," James muttered without much enthusiasm, as he'd already been keeping a mental list of all the people he'd heard of dying already. He was entirely sure he didn't want to hear much more about this.

He'd found it the other night since Podmore hadn't returned his Invisibility Cloak and he'd been looking for his spare, and he'd decided to bring this picture along to share. He began pointing people out, like himself, whose nose was still intact at the time.

Harry had already once seen Moody before his face was really a mess, but even seeing it again a photo right next to the real thing could be a shock for his mind.

Then Dumbledore, Dedalus Diggle, Marlene McKinnon, while he added in she was found two weeks after this was taken dead with her whole family.

Lily paled to a ghastly white color and couldn't seem to keep going for a moment, just concentrating instead on that warm spot her husband provided while Sirius tried wildly to point out, "well, now we have a time frame! Dumbledore asks for a group shot, we put Marlene on extra watch!" He said this too loudly, but it gave Lily enough of a reminder this hadn't happened yet to another person she knew, she could still be saved.

Then there was Frank and Alice Longbottom, whom Harry could have picked out all on his own as the woman he was seeing so resembled his dorm mate Neville.

Sirius ran his hand through his hair bitterly as he remembered the details of that being recounted, of who all had been involved. He was now more than jokingly considering asking Lily to please skip this part already, it didn't feel worth it to hear how their friends were soon going to turn out.

Moody adding for himself better dead than what happened to them, then flipping to Emmeline Vance, Lupin, Benjy Fenwick, they'd only ever found bits of him.

James retched and couldn't help but recoil from her for just a moment.

As well as Edgar Bones, late brother of Amelia, she was the last of her line now because they'd gotten his family, Sturgis Podmore, Caradoc Dearborn, he'd vanished six months after this and nobody ever found a body, Hagrid, Elphias Doge, though Moody had forgotten he used to wear that dumb hat.

Remus had to blink slowly, but he couldn't quite erase his blurry vision even as he tried to picture Doge without his hat considering he wore it all the time. This was by far the easiest thing to be comparing in these time frames though, so he forced himself to linger on this rather than having to keep listening to these wretched details.

Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they died like heroes,

Harry tried desperately to think of some way to erase those haggard looks from their faces, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "so the Weasley's aren't in the Order now?" Figuring Molly and her husband would be mentioned next to her brother.

"Oh, err, no they're not. I think they were offered, but both declined. I really don't know much about them honestly, only met them once through Gideon," Lily murmured.

Next was Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother,

"Wow, what?" James had to snap himself back into paying actual attention to what Lily was saying just in time to hear that, and he frowned at her in confusion. "So I guess Dumbledore does have a brother that's in the Order."

"Wonder what he gets up to," Sirius agreed with honest curiosity, thinking this group meeting might be worth it just to meet this man of such a famous wizard. He was suddenly sure this Aberforth had all sorts of amusing, blackmail, stories about a younger Dumbledore.

Harry could feel a bead of sweat beginning to form on the back of his neck with mentions to this, of Dumbledore and his sibling, or more than one...

that was the only time Moody had met him, strange man. Then there was Dorcas Meadowes, she'd been killed by Voldemort personally,

This group had never even heard that name, and it was a kind distraction just for a second to try and theorize how they could go to Dumbledore and warn this woman as well without gaining suspicion of how they'd know such a thing.

Sirius, when his hair was still short,

Sirius brushed his hand through his now shoulder length hair curiously, wondering just how long it was in Harry's time.

and the last three on the list hit Harry the hardest of all, his smiling parents, along with Peter Pettigrew.

Lily's voice hitched, and then failed her all together at that coming up twice in this chapter now. The hurt was always sitting there in the back of her mind, waiting to pounce even without someone explicitly bringing it up, now she really could feel a traitorous tear slipping through before she brushed it furiously away and kept going entirely too loud, but it was all she could do, otherwise she'd break down. She couldn't even bare to glance at her boys again or she'd lose herself entirely.

Harry could think of nothing to say, and looked to Moody who had the expression he'd just given Harry a treat. Harry at once tried to retreat out of here, and was saved an excuse by Sirius calling over what Moody had there, giving Harry the chance to slip away as Moody turned to answer.

Sirius ran a shaking hand down his face, but the words failed of him trying to say he'd been looking out for his pup, perhaps seen something of Moody talking to him bothering him, it was just hard to pretend he was thinking of anything except removing a spine from a spineless creature.

He didn't know why it had been such a shock, he'd seen pictures of his parents before, after all, and he'd met Wormtail.

Remus could still feel the permanent mark those encounters had left on them all.

It was mostly just having them sprung on him like that, and he began to grow angry as he thought no one would appreciate that! He kept thinking of all those, left timeliness in the picture, so many dead...Moody may have found that interesting, but Harry found it disturbing.

"Glad we're not the only ones," James whispered for himself, but Harry heard anyways and they met eyes just for a moment in silent understanding.

He went silently back towards his room, but stopped curiously outside the drawing room as he heard sobbing.

Lily shifted uncomfortably, she was still reading in a too strained and tight voice, and if she was forced to deal with anymore bad news she'd likely toss the book away and turns into James chest any moment just to be done with her feelings for a change. Who else could be having a breakdown now? It was her burning desire to try and help anyone out if they were in pain that managed to help push her own away so she could find out.

Harry pushed the door open curiously, and found in the center of the room, a dead Ron.

Sirius really almost did faint in surprise as scenarios began flipping through his head, of Death Eater's storming in and catching Ron off guard while he'd snuck upstairs to check on his broom, of the poor kid being attacked by something in that house they hadn't managed to exterminate yet, his falling down those stairs and someone coming across his body-

Harry gasped wildly and lunged forward to snatch the book away from her. He'd just had to relive the sharp experience of his parents being out of his life all over again, he couldn't stand losing someone else!

"Harry breath," Remus reminded coolly, even if his face was still a bit too pale from what he'd just heard from Moody and the honest shock of that scenario ever being a thing. "There was a boggart in this room, remember. Molly wandered off to go get rid of it, I think you just walked in on some bad timing."

Lily got the book back from her son while he was still wavering with understanding this, and quickly kept going even more loudly than before, every last bit of her hoping beyond all hope that was really what was going on!

Harry stumbled in fear, his brain flooding with ice this couldn't be real!

Then the sobbing continued, and he looked wildly around to find Mrs. Weasley cowering in the corner, and as he watched, she pointed her wand and got out Riddikulus.

The book nearly fell out of Lily's shaking hands, a combination of relief at such a drastic misunderstanding and still lingering sorrow of her own for this mother whom she now completely could sympathize with. She had so many she cared about, it was only natural this was any mothers boggart.

Harry watched those around him relax even as he couldn't shake this nasty feeling that his fear still pounding through him wasn't so unfounded, he had a very good reason to be worried about a dead Weasley...

Crack, the body changed to Bill instead, eyes open but lifeless. Mrs. Weasley kept sobbing harder than ever as she tried the spell again, but instead crack, it was now Mr. Weasley with blood dripping from his mouth.

Harry choked and shook his head furiously to push away something so powerful it was rearing up inside him to strike him down now if he lingered on that idea.

She kept trying in-between broken no's, but instead crack, dead twins,

James was running his fingers in agitation through his scalp as he fought whether to break in and ask if the boggart had managed to create both at once or was he just simplifying another two bodies. He came to his own silent conclusion it must be the first, even in death Molly couldn't picture the twins apart it seemed.

crack, dead Percy, crack, dead Harry.

Lily's voice wavered and nearly failed her as she was forced to imagine the same thing, while James wrapped an arm tight around her in comfort and a sudden tightening in his throat finally dispelling the majority of his anger at Molly. She'd still said some way to harsh things to his best friend, but at least now he could see she'd truly meant it in her heart of seeing his son as her own, and he couldn't really hate someone like that.

Harry shot at her to just get out of here, let someone else handle it, but then Lupin, Sirius, and Moody came into the room behind him.

Harry almost felt his own sob of relief escape him for this finally being cut off, he just couldn't imagine if that thing had kept going, he'd be forced to see even more people he cared about. Maybe even Ginny- his left hand suddenly spasmed and he clasped them tightly together in his lap instead to ignore whatever that moment was.

Lupin grasped the situation at once and shot his own spell, and while the boggart at first turned on him instead and changed shape to a silvery orb, he'd put enough force into the spell it finally vanished.

Molly was still a crying mess on the floor as Lupin went over to her, and the next second she was sobbing her heart into his shoulder.

Lily was fidgeting with the last page of this chapter, finally, as she all too easily envisioned that. She wondered if Remus was having any other flashbacks to comforting a redheaded mother in fear for her child.

He tried comforting it was just a meaningless boggart, but she brokenly told him she saw that, all the time! All of them dead...she dreamed about it!

Remus was staring vacantly at nothing as those words registered. Molly wasn't the only one who had those kinds of nightmares, though at least she'd never been the featuring monster doing the act to her loved ones.

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the Boggart pretending to be Harry's body had lain.

Sirius felt his vision tunnel, a ghost crawling slowly up his spine and wrapping tight around him and refusing to let go of the idea that this would be the second time in his life he'd see his dead best friend, now somehow actually made worse as the fear of losing Harry all at the same time was shoved in his face...

"Sirius?" Harry gave him a hard poke, all of them watching him fearfully for that haunted look he usually only got when Dementors were being spoken of. Going with that assumption, Harry tried to laugh off, "it was gone before it could zone in on me, nothing else happens because of it."

"Right," he nodded hard, still staring steadily at his brother and forcing himself to watch the odd, curious look in place rather than the vacant eyes he'd envisioned.

Harry saw Moody was still watching him, and he had the feeling his magical eye had tracked him up here and told the other two about this.

Molly was still half sobbing out not for any of them to tell Arthur, he'd think she was being silly...

"Hardly," James murmured with conviction while Lily snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm.

Lupin continued comforting her while she pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose, before she turned watery eyes on Harry and said how foolish he must think her, not able to get rid of a Boggart.

"I would never," Harry said almost indignantly, unable to picture such a fierce woman and mother as less because of her greatest fear.

Harry at once told her not to be stupid as he tried for a smile.

"That's not something to be saying to a crying woman," Sirius told purely because the words had escaped him without him even realizing it, there was no trace of him that could find mocking humor in this.

Tears spilled back over as she couldn't seem to stop herself from continuing how worried she was, it would be a miracle if everyone survived!

Harry made a terrifying, rasping noise of fright, his whole body tensed as if ready for a fight while he was seconds away from reliving something of what that boggart had just shown him-

"It's going to be alright Harry," Sirius marched into his train of thought with a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, clearly taking his own fear he'd just experienced and forcing it aside to pay attention to anything else, even Harry's resembled one. "That Weasley family is as tough as they come, things will work out. You're fine, everyone's going to be fine."

Harry forced himself to meet his eyes even if he in no way felt the comfort.

Percy wasn't even speaking to them, what if something happened and they never made up!

Lily couldn't read that without a hard hitch in her throat as it was exactly the fear she held for the woman and child. She'd always felt pity for Percy, could almost see how his offense could have lived with his parents choosing some outsider of the family rather than refusing to see his side, but as she knew her son was the one in the right all she could really do was cling to the now bleak hope it all somehow just had to work out.

And Ron and Ginny were still so young, what would happen to them if her and Arthur-

Lupin cut her off firmly that was enough. Explaining the Order was much better off than the last time where they'd just been picked off one by one.

James hated that it all kept floating right there as a constant reminder. His friends, his wife, how soon they'd all succumb to this war... and who's fault it was. Even if he hadn't raised the wand, even if some of them would have died without the intel that had been provided, he could never look another member of the Order in the face again without always knowing there was one member to kill them all.

Sirius abruptly cut in telling her not to worry about Percy.

Remus was honestly grateful Sirius had stopped him, even now he didn't think that was the best line of comfort, he'd just been trying to fling around facts in hopes she'd quiet which is what normally worked for himself.

Sirius wasn't at all surprised that's what he'd caught on. He knew a little something about regret when it came to losing estranged family. He was still living through that highlight.

He'd come around when the Ministry had no choice but to admit Voldemort was back, he was bound to come into the open soon and then everyone would be begging them for forgiveness, which Sirius bitterly finished with he wasn't likely to give.

"Absolutely no one will blame you at that time mate," James agreed nastily while Harry gave an obligatory laugh for the statement while ignoring some vicious little thought popping up in his mind he hoped his godfather lived long enough to see that day. He stamped that right back out and refused to acknowledge it as anything other than his pessimistic side having some bad timing while watching Molly fear the same for her own loved ones.

While Lupin gently finished with of course Ron and Ginny would be looked after, the whole Order would see to that, no one was going to let them starve.

Harry had never even imagined the idea of where his best friend would live if not with his parents. His first assumption he supposed would be one of his older brothers, Bill seemed the most likely, but what Remus had just said really struck a chord in Harry as he realized how much Remus did care. Making him want to question all the more where his stance had been back when Harry had gone to live with the Dursleys. He was growing more confident by the day though he did not get an answer to that.

Mrs. Weasley gave one little smile for the lot of them as she again told herself how silly she was being, but as Harry stepped back out to finish going to his room, he could not find her silly for a moment.

It suddenly hurt James too much just to even look at Lily. To see the emotions that caused to play out on her face, to hear how broken her voice came out with that, so he turned busy eyes anywhere else while unable to remove himself from her side to keep her soft warm body as his comfort.

Without warning, the scar on his forehead seared with pain again and his stomach churned horribly.

This was certainly a big enough thing anybody normally would have eagerly flipped topics, to discuss and try to figure out why Harry's scar would be burning at a time like this, but for once they were all to clammed up in their own heads for fear of this future for that to have even made much of an impact past the smallest bit of registering it happening, and Harry immediately brushing it off.

He rubbed at his forehead and told it to knock it off, while the empty painting snidely told him the first sign of madness was talking to yourself.

"Absolutely not," Remus muttered to himself, "talking to yourself is perfectly normal."

"Most people still bother keeping it in their own head," Sirius remarked quietly, leaning just a bit more closely to Moony than normal for that reminder he still had one friend with him in this bleak future.

Harry ignored the jab, feeling suddenly old as he sunk down onto his bed and realized just hours ago he'd been worried about stupid little things like a prefect badge.

"I'm done," Lily snapped with triumph, wishing she could go back to that moment, to so many before of her sons more childlike memories rather than having the harsh reality of the life she was living slammed down around them.

"I know it's hard love," James promised, running his hand up and down her back and still looking vacantly around the room, "so if you need me to fini-"

"No, I meant with the chapter," she corrected, all of her features still brittle with everything she'd been feeling in these moments. James finally looked back over at her, and it took a moment to drag himself out of the depth of her eyes to remember he had a book to grab.

HPHPHPHP

I'm not sorry for how harsh I was on Hermione in the portion of this chapter you all know I'm talking about. She really ticked me off while she was talking about Sirius, just like Molly before. Both women just seem to have this high and mighty status when it comes to him where they think they know everything about him and are trying to correct his everything, thinking they know and understand the reasons he acts the way he does, and I just want to smack both of them and tell them to leave the poor guy alone because both aren't true even one little bit. The closest person is Remus and even he lost a lot of rights in telling Sirius anything after twelve years. Molly earned back some sympathy here at the end, but now Hermione's in the hothouse which probably won't last long because...well honestly because it doesn't really come back up again which really makes me mad, but doesn't hold much focus so there's no point in continually revisiting it.

I've heard that in some of the original drafts of this book Ron was slated to die at some point, and I feel like that's made pretty clear in this chapter in particular. Am absolutely not saying I wanted it to happen, I love Ron to much, but credit to this woman for constantly setting up so many things.

* I do realize I created my own little plot hole in saying this was the book Lupin used as boggarts can't be found in that, but rather than just making one up on the spot I wanted to incorporate that into cannon a little better, and just pretend that the actual book is longer than the version we all get.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Make me hot(ter)

This is a continuation of my fic “Mark me up” and it was inspired by this post by @antiquecompass and @ruensroad who is the worst most wonderful enabler.

Mo Xuanyu weighs his eyeliner in his hand. He knows Jiang Cheng would look gorgeous in one, and Mo Xuanyu is itching to prove it.

But he’s not sure he can ask.

So far, Jiang Cheng has been understanding of Mo Xuanyu’s make-up habits—has even been downright enthusiastic most of the times—but Mo Xuanyu  knows that being supportive of someone else wearing make-up and wearing make-up yourself are two very different things.

And he really, really doesn’t want to drive Jiang Cheng away.

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” Jiang Cheng suddenly says as he leans over Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “What’s going on?”

Mo Xuanyu turns around to him and drags Jiang Cheng in a lingering kiss before he even thinks about replying.

Mo Xuanyu can still sometimes barely believe that Jiang Cheng actually stayed after that first very hot night.

Mo Xuanyu had been half-convinced that that would be all he got—a lot of people think him pretty enough to spend the night with him after all—but then Jiang Cheng had asked for breakfast with him, and wanted to have his number and asked for dates and phone calls and Mo Xuanyu doesn’t even know how he got this lucky.

He must have been lost in his thoughts for too long, because Jiang Cheng pokes his head.

“What’s going on in there?” he asks again, now clearly more worried than he had been a few moments ago and Mo Xuanyu holds up his eyeliner instead of verbally answering his boyfriend.

“Is it new?” Jiang Cheng asks and Mo Xuanyu suddenly knows how he has to play this.

“Yes,” he agrees, even though it’s anything but, but he’s counting on the fact that Jiang Cheng won’t know that. “And I need to practice with it.”

“Okay?” Jiang Cheng slowly gives back and moves his thumb gently under Mo Xuanyu’s lined eyes. “Maybe you should take your make-up off for that first?”

“I usually practice on someone else first,” Mo Xuanyu tells Jiang Cheng and now that, at least, is not a lie.

Nie Huaisang is always very willing to sit still for Mo Xuanyu when he wants to try out some new brushes or colours or styles.

“Nie Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng says with a small nod. “He’s away with his brother, isn’t he?” Jiang Cheng then goes on and Mo Xuanyu nods.

“Yes,” he agrees. “And I am in desperate need of a model,” he tacks on with fluttering eyelashes and watches in fascination as Jiang Cheng blushes.

He does enjoy the effect he has on Jiang Cheng immensely.

“Well, I wonder if anyone would be willing,” Jiang Cheng mutters and thumbs over Mo Xuanyu’s lower lip, coated in a deep violet, before he reels him in for a scorching kiss.

Mo Xuanyu is more than happy to go along with it and get his lipstick smeared, especially because it means Jiang Cheng’s own lips are getting all messed up.

It truly is a sight to behold.

Lately, Mo Xuanyu might be choosing colours that would fit Jiang Cheng so very well, though he’s not admitting to anything.

Plus, Jiang Cheng’s willingness to get all messed up like this is something Mo Xuanyu will forever be amazed about, partly because his previous relationships were very clear on the fact that they enjoyed the make-up on Mo Xuanyu but that it should stay there.

And now there is Jiang Cheng who doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“You seem pretty willing to me,” Mo Xuanyu eventually says, taking up their previous conversation and Jiang Cheng smirks at him.

“So willing,” he agrees and sits down at Mo Xuanyu’s table, face turned up and clearly ready to let Mo Xuanyu do whatever he wants.

“Gods, how did I get so lucky,” Mo Xuanyu mutters under his breath as he steps closer, eyeliner already raised and ready.

It’s quick work, putting it on Jiang Cheng and when he’s done, Mo Xuanyu takes a step back to critically look Jiang Cheng over.

His lips are still purple and the eyeliner is such a look on Jiang Cheng, it takes Mo Xuanyu’s breath away. Mo Xuanyu has always loved Jiang Cheng’s eyes, but now they are almost other-worldly.

Mo Xuanyu is going to cry bitter tears when Jiang Cheng takes it off again, he already knows it.

“And?” Jiang Cheng asks when Mo Xuanyu has stared at him for long moments and Mo Xuanyu blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him.

“Thanks, babe, but I was actually asking about the eyeliner,” Jiang Cheng says with a roll of his eyes and Mo Xuanyu dies a little bit inside, it looks so good.

“It’s a look on you,” Mo Xuanyu tells him breathlessly and Jiang Cheng stares at him like he’s stupid.

“I was asking about your ability to use your new eyeliner,” he says slowly, as if he thinks Mo Xuanyu is stupid, and Mo Xuanyu might as well be, because he forgot all about that lie.

“Oh, right,” he breathes out and gives Jiang Cheng his most winning smile. “I feel confident in my ability to use it.”

Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him, making Mo Xuanyu’s knees weak in the process, but he also knows that he’s in trouble.

“Xuanyu, if you wanted to try this out on me, specifically, you should have just said,” Jiang Cheng tells him then and Mo Xuanyu presses his lips together.

“Yeah, right,” Mo Xuanyu mutters, because he knows how that would have turned out, but before he can turn away, Jiang Cheng catches his hand in his.

“Hey, talk to me, I’m here,” Jiang Cheng gently urges him and Mo Xuanyu melts at that.

They have done this a few times already, were one of them were all caught up in their own head and bad memories and this sentence never fails to bring them out of it.

Mo Xuanyu would hate Jiang Cheng for seeing through him so easily if he didn’t love him so much.

“It’s just,” Mo Xuanyu starts with a sigh and then threads their fingers together. “My partners in the past haven’t been so understanding or accepting,” he admits and can see the flash of anger on Jiang Cheng’s face.

“Well, I am,” Jiang Cheng says, pressing a kiss to the back of Mo Xuanyu’s hand. “And you can always ask me.”

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu agrees.

“And I’m never against wearing make-up. It’s just us here. Who is going to mind?”

“Clearly not you,” Mo Xuanyu gives back and Jiang Cheng gives him a huge grin.

“Exactly. Now let me see,” he then says and gets up to walk into the bathroom where he stops in front of the mirror.

He’s silent for a worrying long time.

“Jiang Cheng?” Mo Xuanyu carefully asks and clearly jolts Jiang Cheng out of his thoughts.

“Holy shit, it looks so good,” Jiang Cheng blurts out and leans closer to inspect himself better, clearly not caring that Mo Xuanyu’s jaw just hit the floor.

Not even Huaisang had that reaction yet.

“I told you,” Mo Xuanyu eventually manages and Jiang Cheng turns back towards him.

“And I should always trust you,” Jiang Cheng says seriously and Mo Xuanyu can’t help but to walk over and kiss him again, dragging him off to the bedroom.

He can’t wait to have those eyes stare up at him.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is busy in the bathroom, getting ready for his night out with Wei Wuxian when Mo Xuanyu suddenly hears a lot of cursing.

It’s not particularly uncommon—Jiang Cheng has quite the mouth on him—but it still makes Mo Xuanyu look over in concern.

“Goddamit,” he can hear Jiang Cheng grumble, before he calls out “Hey, A-Yu, come here for a second?”

“What’s wrong?” Mo Xuanyu asks, but he’s already on his way over.

“Can you do my eyeliner?” Jiang Cheng asks and Mo Xuanyu stops dead in the doorway.

“Your what now?” he asks, too surprised by the question and Jiang Cheng levels him with a look through the mirror, eyeliner still in his hand.

“I can’t get it right, I know I should have practiced before wanting to go out, but you made it look so easy.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes are red rimmed, so he must have been trying several times, only to wipe it off again, and Mo Xuanyu is still staring at him.

“You want to go out in eyeliner,” he repeats and now Jiang Cheng turns around to him, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yes. You got a problem with that?” he asks, a clear challenge in his voice and Mo Xuanyu is quick to shake his head.

“You—liked it?” he carefully asks and Jiang Cheng scoffs at that.

“Please. I was fucking hot,” he says and then tilts his head. “Well, hotter than normally,” he adds with a wink and Mo Xuanyu loves this man so goddamn much, it’s ridiculous.

“Of course I’ll help you,” Mo Xuanyu says and steps closer to pluck the eyeliner out of Jiang Cheng’s hands. “Come here,” he softly says and when Jiang Cheng obediently tilts his head for him, kissing him seems much more important.

And it’s not like Jiang Cheng doesn’t indulge him. At least for a few wonderful moments.

“I’m going to be late, A-Yu,” Jiang Cheng gently reminds him after he moves his head away and Mo Xuanyu sighs.

“Fine. Guess I’ll have to wait to kiss you until you get back long after midnight.”

“If someone would wear my favourite lipstick and send me photographic proof of that, I could be back earlier,” Jiang Cheng cheekily suggests as Mo Xuanyu applies the eyeliner with a sure and steady hand, and Mo Xuanyu goes hot at the promise in his words.

“Someone might be tempted,” Mo Xuanyu gives back and gives Jiang Cheng one last kiss, before he ushers him out of the room. “Now go, so I can have you back earlier,” he instructs him and Jiang Cheng salutes at him before he grabs his bag and is out of the door.

Mo Xuanyu reaches for the violet lipstick and uncaps it, before he takes a picture of it. It can’t hurt to document the lipsticks’ way after all.

(Jiang Cheng is back barely two hours later. Wei Wuxian is the only one who complains.)

Next part

[jj-lynn21]

Santa’s favorite Elf Part 2:  Ch 5:

Warnings: male masturbation, hot tub flirtation, other flirtation. Can Bill handle “being friends” before lovers again very much longer?

Santa’s fav elf Part 1: ch 1, Santa’s fav elf ch 2, Santa’s fav elf ch 3, Santa’s fav elf ch 4

Santa’s fav Elf Part 2 ch 1, ch 2, ch 3  ch 4 ​ ch6

“You can go faster.” You scream with laughter as you sped across the open snow-covered valley on a snowmobile. “Catch up already.”  

Bill sped to your side jumping a mogul on his machine that put him ahead of you. “What did you say?” He yelled back at you. “Something about you will try to catch up if you can.” His competitive side was not going to let you win a race back to the rental place easily if at all.   

You put the pedal to the metal. Your machine right on the tail of his. You were sweating underneath your hat and heavy clothes. But your eyelashes had snow built upon them. Your nose was red with frost. You were ready for some hot tub time. Gunning the throttle, you ran neck and neck with him. You both slid in opposite directions towards the sign that said stop.     

“I guess you don’t have any fear driving these things.” He got off as two workers came over to drive the snowmobiles into their parking shed.   

You got off the machine. Thighs were a bit sore from having them spread over the seat. Your legs a bit like rubber as you wobbled a little. “No fear at all. Can we go to the hot tub now? I can barely walk normally.”  

“I could use some heating up myself.” He walked you to the rental SUV. “I turned on the heat with the keys when we pulled in on the snowmobiles so it should be about heated up. Do you want to stop at the wiener hut? I heard they have a mac and cheese hotdog.”  

“I’ll eat anything with lots of cheese especially mac and cheese.” He helped you into the SUV.   

Bill chuckled. “That is what I thought.” He patted your hand before driving off to grab lunch.  

Later you were immersed in the hot tub. The area closed off to others for the next half hour. You sat with your head back. A smile on your face as the steam rose. Your frozen toes and nose were now thawed. You breathed in the chlorinated steam clearing your sinuses. You let out a long “mmmmmm” as you relaxed. 

Bill was doing much the same. His eyes were closed. That is until he heard your sound of pleasure. One eye popped open. Then the other. He looked over barely able to see you through the heat. The heat he felt deeper than just his skin. “Hey come over here.” he beckoned.  

You glide over on the water. You ducked your head under to flatten your hair back when you get close enough for him to reach out to you. “This warmed me up quite a bit. How about you?” Your eyes connected with his in a slight flutter of flirtation.  

“Yeah.” His eyes gazed into yours then drifted down over your flattering bathing suit that clung to your breasts. He took a deep breath. “Can I hold you?” 

“If you can handle it.” You grinned.  

He smirked as he pulled you forward. Your eyes on his. Your knees rested on the ledge on either side of his lap. You held on to the wall behind him making sure not to touch him at all. You thought if he was going to break his own rule you were not going to make it easy.  

“Is this how close we will be when we fake it for the camera tomorrow?” You teased. 

“Closer.” He licked his lips. “We will kiss as we have done before.” 

You leaned down to press your lips to him gently before pulling back. “Like that?” You tiled your head questioningly.  

“I think our characters miss each other more.”  

One of his large hands rested on your lower back. The other crept up your back, along your neck, pushing his fingers through your hair until he was palming the back of your head. He coaxed you back down for a more passionate kiss opening his mouth and you reciprocated. You could feel it through your whole body letting out a small moan you did not want to make.  

He pulled you back. His eyes sparkled with lust. The rest of his face placid as if it was all part of the job. “Something like that.” He breathed. “They will stop use several times to position us differently. Do you want to go over your lines and more of this scene back in the room?” 

“I do know my lines but maybe you can give me some pointers.” You suggest. “Work on this scene more also if you think we need it.” 

“It is never good to go in blind.” He moved you to get up. “It is best to be as prepared as possible.” 

“I agree.” He helped you step out of the hot tube wrapping you in a blanket like towel.  

You go into the changing room to dry off. The hair drier there is weak but it is better than nothing. You don’t want to go out in the freezing weather without being as dry as possible. You try to convince yourself you will only be studying lines and working on blocking scenes like they are in the script, but the process excites you.  

Bill is feeling some excitement of his own as he dries his hair. His mind might be telling him to get to know you better, but his body is showing signs of dissension. He decides to rub one out before leaving the changing area. They have a nice bathroom with comforting aquamarine tile. He closes his eyes as he takes his throbbing cock out to stroke. Thinking of.. ”oh fuck” the way the water rolled off your nose to the cleavage of your swimsuit. The way you giggled. The way you looked when you got mad. The way you called him out when he needed it as no one had ever done. How would he ever be able to hold back his desires much longer he thought as he bit his bottom lip so he would not come loudly. 

You waited for Bill patiently near the check-in desk. People were waiting for the pool and hot tub to be open for the general public again which  was supposed to be five minutes ago. Bill came out wrapped in his winter wear. The scarf around his face barely showed even his eyes. It was a way to hide from the public. You knew it was him. He nodded for you to come to the SUV with him. You told the desk clerk thank you for letting you and Bill use the hot tub alone. Then went to join him. 

“Which scene do you think we should go over first?” You asked as he started the vehicle.  

“Do you want suggestions on your big monologue?” He watched the snow-covered road without a glance towards you. 

“Sure.” You turned on the radio and hummed the song playing until it got to the chorus you knew well. Then you sang along.  

Bill just started smiling as you sang. When you noticed your cheeks got hot with embarrassment.  

“Keep going.” He prodded as you got quiet. “The chorus isn’t over yet.” 

You laugh. “I don’t know it that well.” 

He pulled into the hotel. Ease's car rental would pick up the SUV Monday and drop it back in the parking lot Friday evening for Bill to use on the weekends. Joe would drive during the week. After he stripped to his briefs, he jumped in the bed cupping his hands behind his head. 

“Show me how you will bring Santa back Miss. Winterblows.”  

You smirk. Your eyes narrowed as you wrapped your arms around an invisible caldron for your wintertime spell. You carried it across the room as though walking through the winter’s snow. You look up and back down into the mouth of the caldron. Then toss the invisible bag of ingredients beside you. 

“As the bright lights in the skies above as my witness, my Santa will return on this night to seek revenge on those who dared to slander his name and kill him before last Christmas morn. Snow is falling. Christmas Eve is near, There's plenty of magic this time of year.” 

You pretend to dust the caldron with snow and add a handful inside. You keep adding ingredients as you speak. 

“I give to thee freshly fallen snow. A splash of brandy to let spirits flow. I made fresh cookies so into the pot they must go to bring Santa forth. A carrot and orange with colors so bright to feed the reindeer pulling his sleigh tonight. I stir it, please come to me Santa, please come.”  

Your eyes look to Bill, big saucers of freight. You bow to him with a smile. “That’s the first part of the scene. What do you think?” 

“You did that good.” He got up. “Maybe try it bigger. I mean more chanting than conversational. It was sexy how you said it in a lower tone. And I’m not sure they will want you to go bigger, but it is best to have a few different ways to present the material in your back pocket. I always go big first before they calm me down.” He chuckled. “You might want to try it just how you did it first. They will love you have it memorized so well.” 

‘I will probably fuck up a billion times tomorrow in front of the camera.” You tense up a little at the thought. “It will be a little different with all the props and when to pick up what as I am saying the lines, and everyone is watching.”  

“Just stay in the scene,” Bill suggested. “Let the character guide you not the people around the set. They don’t even really exist in the world we will create on film.”  

You nod.  

“Now take a breath.” He took a breath with you. “Do it again. I will come in when Santa makes his appearance. The big fearful eyes worked great. I am not as holly jolly as I once was in the first movie. I think your expression will be much like you just gave me.” 

You repeated your monologue giving that big, frightened look towards him as he stood feet away. “...please come to me Santa, please come.” 

He took a few steps as your eyes were pinned to his. “Santa” You whispered. His (cold dead: the script says) hands reach out for you. You look away. He turns your eyes back on him. Your heart races as it should be according to the script. You cringe as Santa’s tongue licks the side of your face. Bill does this even though the tongue will be a little bit of CGI magic.  

You gasp even though you want to giggle. You close your eyes. The character is supposed to remember Santa as he was and kiss him passionately. You kiss Bill which is much easier than the grotesque dead zombie Santa he will become on set. He kisses you back as his hands reach behind your head to grab your hair roughly. He pulls your head back for his lips to graze and suck at your neck as you make a small coo.  

Bill steps back taking a deep breath as he muttered “cut.”  

You open your eyes standing before him. Chest heaving slightly.  

Bill gazes at you as he licks his lips. “In the script, they cut there to Santa and his girl fucking in the snow. We can do some basic blocking since I have done this before or wait until they tell us how they want it tomorrow?” 

“Teach me everything you know, Bill.” You bite your lips nervously. 

“Take off everything but your panties.” He swallows hard. “I will teach you everything you always want to know about filming a sex scene and more.

[totallyrhettro]

Blacklight

Word Count: 2296 Rating: PG Warnings: Implied activities Summary: After pulling a harmless prank, Chase learns more about his bosses than he every wanted to know. Notes: Present day, Rhett and Link aren’t married, Chase POV

Three days. Three long days. That was how long they’d been filming this new music video. Rhett, Link, and many of the crewmembers had been all working their butts off to finish this video and tensions were running high. The room they were working in was almost completely dark during shots, with glow-in-the-dark paint splattered over the walls, floor, props, and even on Rhett and Link themselves.

“It reminds me of ‘So Dang Dark,’” Link commented between takes. Rhett nodded in agreement. The set from the first music video of their Buddy System series was very similar. 

“Only we were wearing less clothes then,” he noted with a smirk, holding up his costumes’ head. It was a cross between a wolf and a bear, plus horns. Link had a similar mask to wear and both of them looked like something out of a kid’s nightmare. In ‘So Dang Dark’ they had been wearing what amounted to modified underwear and their bodies had been painted in orange and green stripes. Sometimes even they didn’t know where they got their weird ideas.

“Okay, guys,” Stevie was saying, coming up to the two of them. “I think that’s a wrap. We got everything we need.” A cheer went up in the crew from all corners of the large room, excited and gleeful. Rhett and Link smiled, happy along with them, and pleased with what they had accomplished over the last few days.

“Great, I’m going to take a shower,” Link told her, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I got next,” Rhett chimed in, quick to follow his lifelong friend out of the room. While the bosses meandered off to get themselves clean, the crew set about cleaning up the room. It had been a hard three days and they were all eager to be finished but there was one last thing they had to do: the after party. It was to be hosted in this very room and they had to get rid of the props and paint first.

Once they finished cleaning they started getting ready for the party. They left on the lights from the shoot; the multicolored spectrum giving the place a wonderful glow. The blacklights were turned off, however, as all the paint that would glow under it had been washed away. A long table for snacks was set up on the far end and a large stereo was wheeled in for music. Everything else was to be put in storage, including the tubes of glow paint; under normal light the paint was invisible but it would glow green under blacklight. It had a neat effect and they had used quite a bit for the music video.

Chase was just packing up the tubes of glow paint when he had a sudden thought. It was silly, it was devious, and his prankster side loved it. After checking if anyone was looking, he quickly tucked the small tube into his pocket for later. Then, very nonchalantly, he continued working. The rest of his plan would have to wait until later. 

Soon enough the party room had been set up and the rest of the crew was already starting to gather around the snack table. There was still no sign of their bosses, Rhett and Link, in the party room or their office and it was to the ladder that Chase went. Checking and double checking that the loft was empty, he crept in and headed straight for Rhett’s desk. Pulling open one drawer, than another he rapidly found Rhett’s stash of lip balm (wondrously wild wood ‘n berries) and a wicked grin came over his face.

Taking the tube of glow paint he had taken earlier, twisting open the cap, he picked up one of the lip balms and speared a very small drop onto the side. With his finger he smoothed the drop over until it covered the entire tube in an almost indistinguishable layer of the invisible liquid. When he was done even he could barely tell he had done anything at all. Putting back the balm he immediately moved onto the second and a third until every single tube had been laced with the paint.

Once he was finished, and all the lip balm was placed back exactly where they had been before, Chase closed the drawer and stuffed the leftover paint tube back into his pocket. The deed was done and all that was left was to get out before anyone caught-

“Hey, Chase,” came Rhett’s charming and melodic voice. Chase turned on the spot to see one of his bosses leaning on the doorframe, looking a bit smug and very curious as to what his employee was doing here. “What’s up?” He didn’t look mad in the slightest, with a bearded grin and raised eyebrow, but Chase couldn’t help but immediately feel guilty. After all, he was guilty.

“I, uh, just looking for a-” ‘Think fast!’ “Pen.” Not the best excuse but it was all he could think of.

“For what?” came the obvious response.

“To… leave you a message.” ‘Good answer.’ Not good enough.

“Well,” Rhett chirped, stepping into the room with slow but long strides. “Now you don’t have to. You can just give me the message in person.”

“Right, yeah,” Chase agreed with a nervous smile. There was a short pause filled with awkward silence before Rhett shook his head.

“Well?” he pressed. “What’s the message?”

“Ah, right. Um, the… party’s getting started?” It was a lame answer, but the best he could think of. Rhett didn’t exactly buy it but he was in too good a mood to second guess it right now. Chuckling more to himself than at Chase, Rhett waved it off.

“Okay. I’ll meet you guys down there in a minute.” He strode past Chase to his desk and opened the middle drawer. “I just came in here to grab something.” Chase held his breath, watching as Rhett picked up one of his lip balms and popped off the cap. With practiced ease he spread the balm over his lips before putting it in the front pocket of his jeans as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He gave Chase one last smile before heading out. It wasn’t until he was gone that Chase could finally breathe again.

Everything was fine. Everything had gone completely according to the plan.

He held back his celebrations for now but he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot that things had gone so well. Any minute now Rhett would touch his own hair, beard or shirt, and there would be invisible glowing paint all over him, just waiting for a blacklight to show it off. It was a silly prank, but harmless, and that was the kind that Chase liked best. 

Scurrying back to the party room, he waited near the light controls for the final part of his plan. Everyone else was already there, hanging out, chatting away and eating snacks. They’d even started up the music and it was blaring through the stereo. There was talk of karaoke later but Chase didn’t pay close attention. He was waiting for Rhett.

Five minutes went by. Ten. Twenty. Finally after twenty five minutes Rhett strolled into the room, Link close behind. Their eyes lit up at the sight of what the crew had managed to cobble together for the party and immediately began to mingle with everyone. Rhett went straight for the snacks, of course, while Link went to see what tunes were available for the karaoke. Chase waited until his boss was close to the blacklight before making his move. 

His hands were quick, his movements precise. With one flick he turned off all the lights in the room. With no windows to the outside world, the entire space was instantly plunged into total darkness. Then, at nearly the same time, he turned on the blacklight that stood just a few feet away from Rhett. Turning his head he eagerly hoped to see the results of his handy work.

Just a few seconds later, he hastily turned the house lights back on and the blacklight off. His jaw was still set firmly on the floor. Everyone was trying to get their bearings, frantically talking as they tried to figure out why the lights had gone out for a second. Chase, of course, was right next to the switches and several people turned to see if he had done it and why he had done it. Picking up his jaw and blushing furiously, Chase profusely apologized to everyone, fiening his clumsiness and telling them he had bumped the switch by accident. A few people were skeptical but no one questioned it. They just resumed their fun and conversations while Chase dashed from the room, unnoticed.

He was still reeling from what he had seen when the lights had gone out.

The glow paint had worked alright, wonderfully in fact. There were streaks of the green illumination in Rhett’s hair, specks on his beard and all over his fingers- but that was not all. Link, who had been standing right next to Rhett, was also marked. Green on his shoulders, green on his arms, green all over his head and hair.  Lines of green all the way down to his waist and smudges of green at his zipper. 

Oh gosh, so much green on his pants.

Chase tried to blink the memory away, to reassemble what he had seen into a reality he could comprehend, but every time he closed his eyes he saw those tell-tale green marks just the same. All over Rhett. All over Link. The implications were intense, to say the least, and his mind just couldn’t handle it. Surely this couldn’t mean-

Maybe Rhett let Link borrow his lip balm? Maybe. Maybe. Still, that couldn’t have accounted for that much green, could it? All over his arms, his shirt, his pants. It was barely any on Rhett and Chase knew for certain his boss had used the tainted lip balm. No, there was only one explanation that, despite the connotations, could even begin to explain those marks. 

They could only have been put there by Rhett.

Had anyone else seen it? The lights were only out for a few seconds and Chase had already been looking at Rhett when he turned the black lights on. He hadn’t heard a single gasp of shock, or any murmurs about Rhett or Link’s clothing. Maybe he had been the only person to see the green on their bodies, or at least understood how they got there. Chase wished he didn’t understand how they had gotten there. He really wished he was still ignorant but he had seen the evidence and now… Now he could never look at his bosses the same way again.

How could he even look them in the eyes, knowing what they had done? Plus it had to have happened somewhere in the building. At the thought Chase’s mind immediately began to run through all the rooms it could have happened in. The loft, their dressing room, the recording studio? Which room would was now tainted by the libidinous activities of the two men he thought were just friends? The more he thought about it, the more he shuddered.

It wasn’t that he was upset that Rhett and Link were having what appeared to be a physical relationship. He was fine with that, if very surprised. It was the fact they had been hiding it from everyone for who knows how long and (apparently) having their relations in the very place their employees worked nearly every day. Chase really didn’t want to think about Rhett or Link naked in the spaces he worked, the places he ate, let alone doing anything else in those places.

Chase took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the wild and lurid scenes that his imagination was currently conjuring. Instead he tried to focus on how happy he was that his bosses, who have obviously been in love with each other for like, always, had finally realized it. He was happy for them, honest and truly, and he was just about ready to relax and rejoin the party when Link came around the corner and found him.

“Hey, Chase,” he began, kind and worried. “What’re you doing out here?” It was very nice of his boss to come and check on him, but Chase immediately remembered why he had come running out of the party room in the first place. He focused his eyes at Link’s face, trying very hard not to look anywhere else, trying not to picture the green paint that covered the man’s shirt and pants, but he could still envision the green on his face and in his hair even though it was all totally invisible right now.

“Just… needed some air,” he explained, feeling very embarrassed and still picturing the green. ‘Did Rhett just grab fistfulls of hair to get that much paint in it?’

“Alright, well… look- no one’s mad about the lights. You just scared us, is all.” He patted Chase’s shoulder reassuringly before heading back towards the party. Without thinking Chase let his eyes look over Link’s backside. Not because he was really into his bosses’ ass but because he couldn’t help but wonder how much paint was there that he just couldn’t see. He immediately shook the burgeoning thoughts from his head and looked away. Leaning against a wall he sighed to himself. Now that he knew, he wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to work here without getting distracted. Even worse, he wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to keep this a secret from everyone.

Especially Rhett and Link.

~

More Fics

[thiswasinevitableid]

47 for OT4, SFW or NSFW I love your writing! :))

Thank you! I went SFW for this one.

47: you overhear me complaining to my coworker about your ridiculous daily coffee order, whoops

“Oh christ, here he comes.” Duck mutters to Indrid as he pumps hazelnut syrup into a cup, “the one I was tellin you about.”

Indrid, stationed at the counter, tilts his head as he watches the windows, “would he be the one that looks like a lumberjack or the one who looks like a secret agent?”

“The second one. I dunno what it is, but his order drives me fuckin nuts. It’s super specific; dark roast, single origin only, heavy cream until it turns about that color” he points to the wall, “with a half pump of caramel and a half pump of vanilla. You’re gonna be that specific, just make it at home.” He’s busy putting a lid on  the drink and therefore misses Indrid’s hand waving. 

“I do, and it’s not that hard.” A deep voice makes him turn; the lumberjack, looking more amused than annoyed.

“And since you know my order so well already” the other man, smile, tight lipped, at him before turning to Indrid, “one of those and one large, black coffee.”

Duck starts the drink, making it as fast as he can so he can slink off into the back room. Shit, if the guy rats on him he could get in trouble, he’s already on thin ice after throwing out some rich kid for harassing the staff. 

Indrid takes the drinks, mouths, “go” and heads around the counter while Duck makes a bee-line for the supply closet. 

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

Indrid sets the cups down in front of the two men, then slides a plate with a large, hot monster cookie on it between them. 

“On the house, as they say.”

“This an apology cookie or a ‘don’t give us a bad review’ cookie?” The lumberjack smirks.

“Both.” Indrid says mildly, smiling and returning to his post.

 As he walks away he hears the deep voice whisper, “wouldn’t kick that one outta bed for eating crackers.”

A soft laugh, “Agreed. Pity his friend is an ass.”

When Jake and Hollis arrive a few minutes later to take over for him and Duck, he finds his boyfriend clonking his head into the wall by the break room. 

“Don’t worry, love, I smoothed things over.”

“Thanks. Just feel like a dipshit. Both for gettin overheard and complainin in the first place.”

“I assumed it was stress from waiting on interview results.”

“Yeah.” Duck pulls on his jacket, “still feel shitty though.”

“Come, let’s go home. I have some ideas for relaxation.” He purrs, kissing Duck’s cheek. 

“How may of ‘em are fuckin’-based?”

“Half.”

“Good, gives us some variety just in case.”

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

“We’ve paired you with another duo, if that’s okay?”

“Sure” Duck smiles at the Escape Room employee, takes Indrid’s hand as they follow him down the hall, “Aubrey says these are more fun in a group.”

“I look forward to--oh dear.” 

Duck turns to see the pair from the coffee shop last week. The lumberjack looks about the same, but the secret agent is dressed more casually than usual. His black hair is loose rather than slicked back, and he’s in jeans and shirt that reads, “Champ” with a dark outline of sea monster on the front. He almost looks cute.

“You’ve been  trapped in the lair of hostile, highly intelligent space aliens. You have an hour to escape. Good luck” The employee shuts the door, leaving the pairs to stare at each other. 

“Uh, hi. Again.” Duck waves awkwardly

“Hey.” The lumberjack waves back, “so, uh, this is hella awkward, right?”

“Yes.” The other three respond.

“Cool. Look, I dunno about you but I don’t wanna get dissected by aliens. So, bygones?”

The others nods and he smiles, “I’m Barclay, this is Joseph. My, uh, my boyfriend.” It’s distinctly odd watching such a large man blush like a schoolgirl. Joseph smiles, kisses his cheek, then looks around the room.

“Alright, we need to find the four symbol code to enter onto that pad. Spread out and look for places symbols might be hidden.”

They find the first one easily. Indrid’s eye for color and patterns helps them locate the second, and when a clue points to the third being high up, instead of having to construct a makeshift ladder or step-stool, Barclay simply reaches up and grabs it. It does not escape Duck’s notice that both Indrid and Joseph get appreciative looks on their faces when Barclay then moves a “cloning pod” out of the way all by himself. 

“I suspect the last symbol is hidden one something that is in...that hole.” Joseph points to the newly revealed wall lined with several cubbies, one of which has danger signs written all around it.

“Not it. Too close to a garbage disposal, and I have nightmares about putting my hand down that at the wrong time.” Barclay shudders.

“I would also prefer not to be the one to reach in; such elements often have a loud noise gimmick and I do not enjoy that.”

Joseph glances at Duck, blue eyes glinting with a not-entirely-friendly challenge.

“Fuck it, I’ll do it.” Duck steps forward and cautiously slides his hand in. Indrid’s instinct was right, as the whole starts vibrating with a loud, grinding sound. Indrid yelps, grabbing the other two men, who in turn jump and scream  in surprise. Duck grits his teeth, fights the urge to pull back, and finds a smooth tile waiting for him. When he removes his hand the noise stops, and he grins, triumphant, as he shows off the last symbol. 

“WHOO!” Barclay cheers and high-fives Duck  as Joseph punches in the symbols, stopping the timer on the wall, “shit, that was wild man, scared the living hell outta me and I wasn’t even  the one doing it.”

“Mmmm, my brave hero.” Indrid drapes his arms over his shoulder, kissing him.

“Sap.” Duck teases, kissing him back.

“You know, we make a pretty good team.” Joseph brushes stray hair off his face.

“Yeah. Would, um, would you guys like to go grab coffee or something?” Barclay looks genuinely hopeful, which is why, ten minutes later, Duck is sitting across from Joseph in a dark-wood coffee shop. Indrid has excused himself to wash his hands and Barclay is outside taking a phone call from someone named Mama.

Duck sips his coffee (black) as he watches Joseph measure cream into his mug.

“That explains it; guys who drink black coffee are always weird about guys who don’t.”

“Don’t Barclay drink his black?”

“Only when we’re out, when we’re at home he’s always making fancy coffee. Trying out new recipes. It works well. Or, um, mostly well. There was a green tea cherry espresso that was not his finest.”

“Eech. Heh, that reminds me of the time ‘Drid was so groggy he poured strawberry syrup into his coffee instead of caramel. Didn’t phase him one bit, but I felt like I was kissin a berry patch the whole day. Swear the man’s half moth or some shit from how much sugar he drinks.”

Joseph snickers, “sorry, imagining Indrid as a mothman is a funny image.”

Duck pictures it and giggles, which makes Joseph laugh harder. When they recover, he scratches the back of his neck, “Look, I’m sorry I was a dick about your coffee order. Just havin one of those weeks where everythin got on my nerves.”

“It’s alright. I’m not all that bothered by it. Not intellectually, anyway. Being particular or precise is something people have been, um, less than kind to me about in the past.”

“Nothin wrong with knowin what you like.”

Joseph glances out the window at Barclay, “No, no there’s not.”

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

It becomes a weekly arrangement; the four of them meet for some kind of activity, then go to lunch or dinner. Duck learns many things over those weeks; that Barclay can figure out how to reverse engineer Indrid’s favorite cupcakes from a local bakery, that Joseph has a worryingly deep yet very endearing knowledge of bad horror movies. That while Joseph is terrifying during a trivia match, Duck can still wipe the floor with everyone when it comes to the science categories. He learns that Joseph is trans, like him, and that Barclay and Indrid actually went to the same high school but were two years apart and thus didn’t know each other. 

Right now, he’s learning that he’s not as good at laser tag as he thought he was. 

They went during the cheaper hours, mid-afternoon on a Sunday, and while all four of them are on the same team they’ve gotten separated in the neon-tinted darkness. 

He can tell the enemy team has spotted him, and is moving as fast as he can out of range, when a hand reaches out of a darkened turret and pulls him in.

“GAHoh, phew, scared the hell outta me Joe.”

“Sorry, it was safer than calling out.” The space is small, built for kids rather than two twenty-six year olds, and so Joe is pressed right up against him as he watches the door. He might be the only guy Duck knows who wears honest to god cologne, clean and minty smelling, and the scent wraps around him when Joe pulls him back against his chest to hide them from passing opponents. 

“Fuck, that was close.” He whispers.

“Don’t worry” Joe murmurs in his ear, voice huskier than normal, “you’ve got me to look out for you.” He breaks away as if nothing happened, pulls Duck’s body out into the glowing chaos, while his mind stays in the little room, wondering what the fuck that was.

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

 “Can’t believe we got our asses handed to us by a bunch of eleven year olds.” Duck groans as they sit, licking their wounds along with soft-serve from a tiny shack that Barclay swears by.

“That one blonde girl is gonna grow up to be a sniper.” Barclay offers his cone (chocolate and sour cherry) to Joseph, who takes a prim bite.

“It may run in the family; I think her dad was the one with the ‘Go Army’ shirt.” 

“Oh, were we not supposed to be going easy on them?” Indrid cocks his head. The others stare at him in mute shock. 

“I’m kidding; I was utterly outmatched in there.” He grins before dragging his tongue up his cone (pineapple and marshmallow). When he reaches the tip he opens his mouth wider, taking it all in with a satisfied moan. He pulls off, stray ice cream dribbling down his chin until Joe hands him a napkin. Indrid thanks him, then proceeds to do the exact same thing, over and over, and Duck realizes neither of the other men have looked away from his boyfriend. Barclay’s legs are now crossed, and Joe’s cheeks are pink. Duck can’t really blame them--he knows exactly what Indrid can do with that mouth--but what’s stranger is he doesn’t feel jealous or annoyed. He knows Indrid sometimes struggles with looking, in his own words, “offputting.” It’s nice to see two other people catch on to just how hot he is. 

Then again, he kind of wishes Joe would stop staring and eat his own cone; he wants to see what his tongue can do, too.

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

“Watcha drawin’?” Duck slides onto the couch next to Indrid.

“Just random images.”

“That us with Joe and Barclay?”

“I, ah, yes it is.”

“Like it a lot. Christ you’re talented, it’s like how much you like us is comin’ right off the page.”

“Is, ah, is that so? I hadn’t noticed, ah, oh dear, I just remembered I need to go call Jake about covering my shift.”

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

Duck: That new barcade is finally open, wanna come with us on Saturday?

Barclay: Wish we could, but we got a friends birthday that night.

Duck: No big, let us know if you want to catch a flick on Sunday

Barclay sets the phone down, not remembering it’s a group text until Joe pokes his head out of the bedroom.

“Shit, whose birthday is on Saturday? We need to get a gift.”

“Oh, uh, no, no one. Just, uh, didn’t feel like going out but didn’t want them to think I was, like, angry or something. Sorry, shoulda asked if you wanted to go without me, shit, that was rude.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind time that’s just for us.” He crosses the living room, fiddles with Barclays hair, “but let me know if you want to see a movie Sunday, I’m happy either way.”

“Uhuh, will do.” Barclay nods, not really paying attention, as he imagines silvery hair in the dark theater and holding slender, cool fingers in his own.

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

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t actually have that DVD to loan me?”

“I do” Duck shuts the apartment door behind Joe, “but we got some things to discuss first.” He waits until Joe is sitting next to Barclay (lured here by the promise of cookies) and across from Indrid (lives here, not that hard to lure).

“Look, I don’t think I really gotta point out how weird it is that we went from hangin out every week to not seein’ each other for near a month. But what I do gotta point out is why it’s happenin’.”

“We’ve all been busy?” Joe hazards.

“Yeah, but we all were busy before and we made time for each other. Now we, myself included, are cancelin shit.” He takes a deep breath, “Barclay, Joe, you both got a thing for ‘Drid, don’t you?”

Joe nods while Barclay blushes and mutters, “yeah.”

“And ‘Drid, you got a thing for both of them?”

His boyfriend shifts nervously in his seat, but nods all the same. Barclay looks genuinely surprised. 

“Well, you three ain’t the only ones realizin’ you want more than you got. Joe, I, uh, I really like you. As in wanna date you. So, uh, that’s where we’re at.” He sits down next to Indrid, who instantly takes his hand. 

“That’s...wait, don’t we all want the same thing?” Joe looks between them, puzzled. 

“You’d really be okay with me dating Indrid?” Barclay asks softly. 

“We’d both be dating him. And I’d be dating Duck as well as you two. Assuming that was alright with Indrid?”

“....You know, I think it is.” Indrid squeezes Duck’s hand, “I was afraid to admit how I felt; I didn’t want to come between you and Barclay, because you clearly love each other, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Duck. But I’ve also seen how happy he is around you, Joseph; there is no reason we could not all work things out to be happy as a, ah, polycule? Is that the term?”

“Think so.” Barclay relaxes, “fuck, I felt so bad thinking that wanting Indrid would fuck everything up, don’t know what to do with my self now that I’m not stressing about it.”

“I propose we order dinner and just...talk.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “I think that will help us sort out where to go from here.”

Duck orders takeout from the Chinese place down the block as Indrid and Joe arrange the living room into a place where they can all sit together comfortably and Barclay grab drinks. Soon they’re gathered on the floor, working out logistics and boundaries and hopes and fears between bites of fried rice and chow mein. Joe keeps notes, curling closer to Duck as the evening goes on. 

There’s a part of him that wants to jump straight to sex, to pin Joe to floor and fuck him while his other boyfriends do what they want to him, to Duck, to each other. But this thing between them is a new leaf in spring, vulnerable and just beginning to grow. 

So, after dinner, they cuddle up on the couch and floor to watch the midnight movie on local T.V, hands tentatively finding each other and bodies gradually resting closer together in new configurations. 

He falls asleep on the floor, Indrid spooning him and Joe resting his head on his belly. Wakes up with Joe curled around him and Barclay cuddled up to Indrid, snoring softly. 

Duck slips out of the configuration, pads into the kitchen to start coffee. When Joe sneaks up behind him he gasps, snickers as the taller man kisses him good morning. Then he grabs two mugs, smiling to himself at his luck as he opens the fridge. After all, he already knows just how his new boyfriend likes his coffee. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.33 pt.1

Lance was still a bat come the following morning. When Keith had finally had to get up to make himself something to eat, Lance decided he needed to go with, the bat scaling up his back to sit himself on Keith’s shoulder. When Keith had gone back to bed, Lance had climbed up his shirt and settled himself next to Keith’s chest. The following morning went much the same, though Lance had had a bath in the bathroom basin while Keith tried not be embarrassed as he showered. Blue wasn’t keen on her master being a bat. When Keith had started making his morning coffee, the feline had stretched herself up so she could swat at Lance from the kitchen counter. Lance protesting profusely over the treatment which Keith didn’t stop until Blue smacked Lance on the head as she hissed.

Juggling his two “problem children”, Keith wasn’t prepared for the doorbell to ring so early... not that he was prepared for it to ring, but someone coming around before he’d even had his first cup of coffee was something someone cruel and viscous. Squeaking at him, Keith lifted Lance to his other shoulder, as the doorbell rang again

“Yeah, I fucking heard them the first time. How mad will you be if I throw you at them?”

Lance didn’t seem amused, not that Keith was joking. He wasn’t in the mood for people who had no respect for others and their clear lack of need to interrupt him before his coffee. Waiting for the last drops to drip from the machine, Keith cradled the precious cup as he made his way to the door, nearly yelling to “fuck off” when the person on the other side rang a third time.

Opening the door, Keith nearly dropped his coffee in shock. The man in front of him he’d known, until he dropped off the surface of the damn planet by being reassigned suddenly

“I believe you’re expecting me. It’s nice to see you again, Keith. And this must be Lance... Coran should have mentioned I was coming?”

Keith kept gaping at Curtis. The man had been Shiro’s charge for a short time, what felt like a lifetime ago

“Keith?”

“I thought you’d been reassigned. Hell. I thought you were dead”

Curtis laughed, brushing his fringe back to reveal a nub protruding from his head

“Had to transfer after a run in with a nasty little curse. You know what those werewolves were like. Curses might as well be the damn plague. Are you going to invite me in?”

Lance squeaked at him, Curtis smiling as he nodded

“I have no idea what you’re telling me, but I assume it’s “hello”. Don’t mind me. I’m a little cursed, but mostly human on the outside”

Keith had never heard of anyone being actually cursed. It was like those “friend of a friend” kind of stories back in the Blades. James didn’t need a reason to be a dick, but a curse would have made it pretty hard for him to keep working on the front lines

“Does Shiro know...?”

“That I’m alive? Cursed? Or that I’d transferred here? He knows I’m alive, but you know how the Blades can be when they want a secret kept”

“Fuck... you’d better come in... What’s in the case?”

Curtis wiped his feet on the doormat before slipping inside past Keith, who still hadn’t moved

“Oh, just some things Coran thought might help. Now, how long has Lance been a bat?”

“Nearly a day”

Curtis whistled

“That’s rather impressive”

“His record is three days”

“Oh... I hope that’s not the case this time. Why don’t we head back to the kitchen? You look like you need that coffee. From what I remember you could barely function without your daily caffeine dose”

“Which you interrupted. Who rings a doorbell three times?”

“It’s not my fault you’ve gotten lazy. Lance, I hope he isn’t a terrible house guest”

Lance decided to be a pest by climbing down along the hem line of Keith’s shirt. The bat miscalculating and ending up with his butt in Keith’s face as his squeaks directed at the floor as he flapped his wings. Keith had no idea how to interrupt that. Lifting Lance off his shirt, the bat started flapping his wings as he squeaked at Curtis

“You’re a spirited one, aren’t you little fella?”

That only severed to make Lance squeak more

“Lance, stop moving. You’re being too loud”

At this rate Keith was going to drop his coffee, which might bring actual tears to he hunter’s eyes. All he wanted was his morning coffee in peace... now it seemed they had an extra houseguest...

Curtis placed his briefcase down on the kitchen table, smiling as he looked around the space

“I like it. It’s all very homely. You must be enjoying your time off?”

“It hasn’t been terrible”

Taking his seat, Keith moved Lance to the kitchen table where he immediately started “protesting”. Laying his left hand on the table, Lance wobbled his way over, before chomping down on Keith’s thumb

“What did I do?”

Lance licked at the spot he’d bitten, then looked up at Keith

“You’re hungry. Are you trying to tell me you want blood?”

Lance continued to stare up at him

“You want me to get you a blood bag? Cant you just bite my thumb? You don’t need a full bag”

Lance squeaked loudly, Keith not about to be bullied. Raising his coffee cup, he finally got his first mouthful of his beloved caffeine

“Perhaps I can help? Where’s his blood stock? The fridge?”

Lance wouldn’t want a stranger in his office. Keith regretfully placing down his coffee cup

“It’s in his office, so I’ll go . He doesn’t like people going in there due to client confidentiality”

“Ah, family court I believe. Given your own experiences with the system, I can see how going in there may make up uncomfortable...”

The Curtis Keith remembered wouldn’t say things like that. He had no right at all

“... though, I suppose knowing Krolia has eased some of that pain. Coran mentioned she’d enquired as to why you hadn’t returned from you last mission”

“That’s enough. She made it clear that my life isn’t her business. Lance doesn’t need to hear about this”

Curtis looked uncomfortable

“Sorry. With the curse, one of the stipulations was truth telling. That’s why I was asked to transfer to the technical side of things. It’s hard to maintain cover without a cover story”

Keith groaned. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need Curtis telling Lance too much. Lance would want to know about Krolia and then about him, and how his dad died and how he was a legacy and this was all too much for a man who hadn’t had his coffee

“Maybe you can tell Lance about what’s in the briefcase while I’m gone. Lance, Curtis is a friend of Shiro’s from work. Try not to bite him while I’m out the room”

Lance looked sad about being left behind. Grabbing the already open blood bag from Lance’s person stash, Keith wondered if keeping blood in the fridge might not be more convenient, though he supposed Lance was all about being human and having your own blood bank in your kitchen wasn’t exactly a normal human vibe. Returning to the kitchen, he found Lance very much not looking at the range of sex toys across the dinner table. Curtis had shown up like some Tupperware salesman, only with a different kind of plastic casing

“What is that?”

“Well, Coran said Lance may be feeling certain urges sexually. He sent me to pick an array of toys, which I was explaining to Lance”

Keith nearly groaned again. He’d brought this upon himself, and now a great big pink dong was sitting next to his cup of coffee

“I think maybe Lance isn’t comfortable with this. Is there anything else in there that might help with the situation?”

“I do have lube and condoms, if you’re interested”

Lance let out a miserable squeak, Keith with him on that one. No one had told him that he’d have to deal with damn dildo display. Why did everyone they know have to be so weird?

“Let’s just pack that up for now... Lance can work these things out later in private”

“Oh! Right! Sorry, my mistake. I was under the impression you two were a partnership”

“We’re friends. Just friends. I’ve been taking care of him where I can, seeing it’s my fault his body started to change”

“Yes. I’ve been informed of your quintessence connection”

“Not this shit again. Lance, bag or saucer?”

Lance squeaked at him, Keith being nice and fetching Lance a saucer. Sitting himself down, he could only shake his head mentally at how routine blood bags had become. No longer disgusted over the fact Lance had to drink from a bag, Keith untwisted the cap, pouring out what he hoped was enough for Lance, while not being enough to cause a mess. Climbing over the saucer, Lance had no balance or grace as he got himself settled to lap at the blood

“He doesn’t feed from you?”

“Nope. He’s his own vampire. He prefers bags to fresh, and that’s fine”

“Coran had mentioned he’d hoped you would try feeding him?”

“Lance didn’t want my blood when I offered. You and Coran seem pretty fixed on this quintessence thing”

“It is the spark of life. I believe in human terms, your closeness would be called soulmates”

Keith choked on air, Lance face planted into his blood. Retrieving the bat out of the blood, they both glared at Curtis

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Lance squeaked, like he was agreeing with what Keith said

“It means your compatible one a base level. Soulmates don’t need to be romantic, some may even be siblings, it means you’re very close and naturally drawn together. Most friendships revolve around a closeness in quintessence”

“You could have just said we’re friends. Nothing romantic here. Lance is having a hard enough time as it is”

“I misspoke. I apologise. Sorry, I’m still learning how to talk around the curse”

Keith huffed, before taking a breath and trying to channel how Lance would approach this. Lance would be all calm and sympathetic, while counting down the seconds until Curtis left. The damn vampire has sass coming out of his arse

“Alright. Is there anything you can do about the curse?”

“Not at the moment. Coran is hopeful up it’ll fade with time. We’ve been having issues with a nasty coven, who left me like this for meddling. They had hoped to channel a berserker into one of their wolves. Instead, I was forced to prove my loyalty and this is the result. Half a horn, half a tail, and foot odour”

“I didn’t think magic like that was real”

“Yes and no... Coran and Allura prove that, though there aren’t many actual spell casters left. For the most part bloodlines have become too diluted, or people are relying on popular culture for law. How can you not believe when Lance is a bat in front of your eyes”

Stupid logical points. But Lance wasn’t human, so the normal laws didn’t apply

“They don’t teach us about that”

“There’s a lot the Blades of Marmora fail to teach hunters. Now drink your coffee, I have the feeling you’ll find it quite cold. With Lance eating, I’m finding myself quite peckish. Have you two been shopping lately? I expect housing two wolves and Shiro will put a major dent in any foot supplies you have”

“I thought he was only bringing Matt back?”

“Shiro secured both Matt and his girlfriend from the order with transfers for you both. I expect he will tell you when he returns here on Thursday”

“Wait. You’ve talked to him?

“This very morning. Now, don’t tell me where anything is, I want to figure it out by my self”

For the second time that month, Lance’s toaster went up in flames. Squeaking up a storm, Lance changed back to his human form on the kitchen table right in front of Keith. Copping an eyeful of a naked Lance, Keith blushed hard. Lance had nice proportions... very nice proportions that Keith stared very openly at. Lance’s butt jiggling as he slid off the kitchen table and fled the room trailing that scent behind him, starting to swear about the loss of his new toaster as he did. Casting a glare at Curtis, Curtis shrugged, not even offering an apology as the toaster smouldered in the sink

“Stay here. I’ll check on him”

Walking slowly up the stairs, to give Lance time to dress, Keith knocked on the wall beside Lance’s open bedroom door. Out of all the places in the house, it felt the one place he was never supposed to be in, and he was fine with that for the most part. Lance gave him privacy when he was in his room, the least Keith could do was the same

“Lance?”

Lance was sitting on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands, he’d gotten as far as putting pants on before giving up

“Want to talk about it?”

Lance raised his head to look at him, the vampire looking a messy jumble of emotions

“Not really”

Keith snorted, forcing himself to invite himself into Lance’s space in a way he hoped seemed casual. Sitting down beside Lance, the hunter nudged Lance’s knee with his own

“I’m sorry about Curtis. He’s not a bad guy. Well, he didn’t used to be before this curse thing”

“You know him well?”

“Shiro trained him for a bit after Adam died”

“I gathered that... God. Why is when I think things might look up, something else happens?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how deal with you being unhappy”

“I’m not unhappy... well, I am, but, I’m mostly confused”

Keith snorted, bumping Lance with his shoulder

“Try being me”

“No thanks. Being me is hard enough. I’m sorry I turned into a bat again”

“It’s fine. You can’t help it, plus, you’re much nicer as a bat. You’re all cuddly”

“Don’t remind me. I came to ask if you’d watch over my body, then turned into a bat all over again”

“Again?”

“Turned in the kitchen. It was only a minute or so, but... I don’t want to be a bat. I’m sick of feeling so out of control. I spent years living the same way, only for this... and I don’t know how to get back into the same routine”

“Maybe Curtis can help us figure out how to control it? Was there anything you remember that set it off?”

With a long groan, Lance flopped back on his bed

“Nope. I’m scared that I’m going to randomly turn into a bat in front of Hunk and Pidge, plus Blue wasn’t that fond of me not in human form”

“I don’t think she’s fond of anyone really. She rules the house and we just live here”

“She’s perfect. And she’s got you trained. God... I’m so frustrated over being so scared. I’ve always been afraid of myself, but I was alone then. Now I’ve got you and Curtis to think about, and apparently Shiro, and two mangy mutts... I’ve got the spare rooms, but... why is my house getting so full?”

“It won’t be forever. Apparently Shiro decided we’re moving. He didn’t even ask me”

Keith was pissed. Sure, if Shiro was transferring then he probably would too, but to just move them both without telling him was too much. Lance patted the spot beside him, Keith taking the invitation to lay back like the vampire was. Turning their heads, they laid there looking at each other. Keith taking a good look at Lance’s features for any kind of clue what to do next

“You can talk to me. You’ve done a lot to support me, and the least I can do is listen to you”

“Because I’m known for my great conversation skills”

Lance smiled at the retort, Keith’s heart giving a funny beat as he did

“You’re no where near as bad as you were. You’ve finally accepted not being turned, and that I’m out to poison you, or kill you. I know things are complicated with Shiro, but I’m not asking you tell me everything, or anything if you don’t want to. What you tell me I’m in no position to judge, and what I learn, I’ll keep to myself until you’re ready to tell me in your own words. I want to be able to do something for you, support you, even if it’s in just some small way”

“You provide the coffee and you know not to disturb me until I’ve got some form of caffeine in my veins. Seeing we’re living together, maybe we can work on your schedule? You said everything was complicated”

“It is. I’m so used to being alone, you know?”

Keith nodded, because fuck if he didn’t know what it was like to be independent, only relying on himself and cautious of the whole world around him

“What did you used to do? Before Shiro and I turned up?”

Lance stretched his arms above his head, before lifting his head and crossing them to use as a pillow

“One bag of blood a day, across three meals. A glass or two of wine before bed. Work, mostly. I used to reach out to people seeking advice and try to help them out the best I could without all the ridiculous fees. Hang out with Pidge and Hunk, visit Mami on the weekends... online shop for things for Blue... I might have spoiled her too much”

Keith wasn’t in a position to say anything about how Lance had lived his life, but it was clear he was happier then than he was now

“You can’t change that you need more blood now. Maybe we can make mornings your time? Where you work and catch up on what you need to? You won’t have to be stuck with me as much when Shiro returns”

“I suppose... but... I’ve thought about it. I think I should take a break from work. I don’t want to be a video call, then suddenly I’m a bat...”

“We can work on that too”

“This is too much about me as it is. I mean, what are you going to do?”

“I can train...”

“There’s more to life than training”

“It helps... Shiro says I have anger issues”

Lance chuckled, still smiling the same damn smile that made Keith’s defective heart go weird

“I never would have guessed. I suppose we need to get up. I can’t believe Curtis killed my toaster”

“I don’t think we should leave him alone in the kitchen”

“Probably a fair call... I don’t want to go back in there”

“If it’s about what he brought with him, I’m not judging. What you do is up to you”

“You don’t want to hear me masturbate? I’m shocked, absolutely shocked”

Keith snorted. Right now he wanted to lean over kiss Lance’s troubles away. It’d be far too easy... Covering his awkwardness over wanting to kiss Lance, Keith joked

“I mean, if you want me to...”

“Nope. Fuck. I’m 44 and the most I’ve done is kissing... I don’t know how I feel about more”

“I haven’t had sex either. You’re not the only one who wished they could unsee all those dongs”

“Did you see how big that pink one was? My butt was totally clenching”

“I don’t want to think about it. I didn’t know what to say, then Curtis started talking about soulmates... I didn’t think magic “magic” was a real thing”

“I did try to tell him we were just friends...”

“It’s a bit hard to translate when I don’t speak bat”

“Try thinking you’re speaking, only to remember what you’re saying isn’t even human...”

“You did seem to have a lot to say”

“Of course I did. My house is being invaded. I was thinking maybe you and Shiro could take the spare room up here? Werewolves tend to be sexual creatures, that don’t think of others... No offence to Matt, but I really hate werewolves”

Keith wrinkled his nose

“I don’t want to hear Matt banging it out. It was bad enough when Adam and Shiro would forget to close the door”

Lance cringed

“Great. Now I’m going to be thinking about that for, like, ever”

“It was just as bad the next morning when one of them would be limping around, trying act smooth about it”

“Ewww... that’s festy. Ugh... Do you think Curtis would notice if we ran away?”

Keith’s heart was still being arsehole, his heart rate picking up at the thought of running away with Lance. They’d be hunted down if he ever thought of skipping out on the Blades

“Your bedroom’s on the second floor”

“Shit”

“Pretty much. Besides, Curtis really wasn’t that bad. He can’t help being cursed”

“He doesn’t feel like a normal human... I mean, I don’t know, he kind of feels like when there’s death close”

“Like a ghost?”

“Maybe, but not quite... I guess it’s the same though. I don’t see like ghosts, and whatever’s going on with him it’s there and it’s not at the same time”

“You’ve got really weird superpowers, you know that right?”

“I’m more like a “superzero”, than a superhero”

The only people allowed to pick on Lance was his friends, not himself

“What’s it you’re always saying? Something about “you’re fine the way you are”?”

“Ugh. Don’t start quoting me back at me, I’m old and lame as it is”

“Yep. Super lame. So laaaaaame that the 70’s called and want their idiot back”

“Sick burn, you better call the wambulance before I start crying”

Keith snorted, before rolling on his side. The position kind of awkward seeing his legs were off the end of the bed

“You’re going to need an ambulance after I fight you next”

“Puh-lease. You haven’t kicked my arse once since you moved in”

“I will, one day”

“I look forward to seeing that. Right. We’re doing it this. We’re really getting up and going to talk to Curtis”

Neither of them moved, Keith the first to break. Rolling on his stomach, the hunter climbed off the bed backwards, quick to extend his hands towards Lance, eyes on the thin line of hair disappearing beneath the man’s jeans

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might be forced to believe we’re soul mates”

“Dream on. You heard Curtis, platonic and stuff...”

“Right. Yeah. I suppose. As if anyone could have a Hollywood love story with you. You’d awkward them into mumbling through the date then skipping out mid movie”

Lance’s words stung. He knew he wasn’t the greatest looking person, with the greatest personality, but he thought he and Lance were teetering on the edge of maybe something... now Lance was shoving him away and it fed on those parts of his abandonment issues. Biting the insides of his cheek, he pulled Lance to his feet, Lance sighing as he looked him in the eye

“It was a joke, dude. I’m sure you’ll find someone out there who’ll make you happy. You’ll have a whole broody little Keefy babies with scowls and mullets, and a good life being a dad. Whoever you love will be a lucky person”

“I don’t know how to be a dad. My dad died when I was around 8. He left for work and died in a house fire”

It slipped out. Keith couldn’t picturing putting his future children through the loss of him so had pushed it aside. He didn’t mind kissing girls, but had preferred men since his hormones started deciding they were a thing. Keith was sure he’d mentioned his dad before, but he couldn’t quite remember what he’d said

“I’m sorry to hear that man. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me”

“It’s not like you’re going to run around yelling from the rooftops that I was in the system. We talked about this before”

“Yeah, but talking about it is always a big step. I told you, I want to know about you. If we’re soulmate friends, I feel like we’re gonna be in each other’s lives whether we like it or not”

Keith nodded

“Especially with my douche brother transferring us...”

“Hey, if you get a house here, you’ll officially be a Garrison local”

“Ugh. It’d have to be Platt. Shiro needs access to greasy junk food”

Too much healthy living was bad for the soul. They ate mostly healthy enough, for a pair of two single men, but Keith would never recognise kale as edible. It was disgusting and far too over hyped

“Shiro does, or you do?”

Shiro had a soft spot for curry, Keith for kebabs

“Both? Both is good”

“Well, tonight, as a special treat, I’ll treat you to the greasiest pizza you’ve ever had in your life”