#ignoring hermies death

[yeahiguess3232]

They deserve a vacation

Next polaroid

[llumimoon]

i love living in au land with my wonderful friends and mutuals 🥰💝

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

The Badun detective agency in the 1920 mafia AU

For @hannahhook7744 I hope you enjoy!

There is a child at Jace's doorstep.

A fucking child, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes, like a fucking cherub. His hair a wild mess flung around by the chilly wind, and their ends were dyed blue.

(Who on earth lets a child dye its hair?)

Jace slowly blinks and looks down again: the boy is still here. Well.

„What do you want, kid?“ he asks, hoping that the child might want, well, directions back to his parents? That would be nice?

„My mom has three disembodied corpses in her basement,“ the boy states blankly, a picture of perfect innocence. His eyes are suddenly mildly unnerving, and it takes Jace's brain a moment to catch up on him.

„…What the fuck?“ he mutters more for himself than for the child, who takes it as an encouragement to repeat its words anyway.

So Jace draws a sharp breath and yells down the hall at his cousin: „Harry! Come here this instant! And bring your gun!“

You know, just in case-

Harry Badun runs to the door in truly record speed, the weapon safely pointed down. He looks disappointed when he sees only a child.

„Tell him what you told me,“ Jace sights towards the visitor.

„My mom has three disembodied corpses in her basement. They talk to me when I sleep.“

Ok. 

That is a new info.

This is cool. Totally cool.

Harry tightens his grip on the weapon and looks around the street, then up the roofs, which, you know, always a good idea.

They are clear, though. It doesn't look as if anyone is gonna jump them, much less some psychotic woman. Those don't tend to be too quiet, and the Badun cousins would know.

Oh, and by the way. That silhouette against that balustrade over there? That is totally Reza. Snogging Jade. Harry owes Jace for this one. 

Anyway. Right, the corpses.

„Come on, kid,“ he says, „Go inside and then tell us what you know, yeah?“

The kid's eyes shine as he steps inside and exclaims: „Do I get to be a detective too? I have always wanted to be a detective! I would be an awesome detective, since I know how do bodies look how long after death already!“

This is not a worrying statement at all. Not at all.

A shadow peels off the wall. Hermie. She was listening the whole time, of course she was.

„Dead bodies?“

„What exactly do you mean?!“

The kid answers and Jace bites back the irrational need to scream his lungs out. A vein at his temple pulses as the kid starts describing a rotting corpse with freakish accuracy to way too interested Hermie.

„Quiet! I need to concentrate!“ shouts Yzla from upstairs, „This is a delicate process!“

„Stop painting your pretty pictures for a moment,“ shouts Harry back, „This is a bloody murder case!“

„I'm trying to recreate Renoir here, you ignorant simpleton-“

„A what?“

Yzla screams incoherently and Jace interrupts the argument before it can truly begin: 

„We also have a kid that might be in danger and knows absolutely too much.“

„…I'm coming. But if the paint dries and I won't be able to get back to it, it will be all your fault.“

Jace doesn't even acknowledge that as worthy of an answer.

„Jace?“ Hermie nudges him slightly, while the kid infodumps at slightly traumatized-looking Harry about the different types of gunshot wounds, „Should I get Reza too?“

„…Nah,“ decides Jace, „He is snogging Jade right now, and we wouldn't want to interrupt.“

Hermie nods curtly and turns over to Harry: „You owe me and Yzla a bottle of cognac,“ she says, and Jace whistles. His cousin is losing in the big, today.

The kid tugs at his sleeve: „So what about my mom's basement, Mr Detective?“ the kid asks and he really should ask who his mom is. Also, what is his name?

So he asks, and when the child answers, looking at him with impossibly wide eyes, he almost gets an aneurysm.

„I'm detective Hadie, sir,“ the child reports proudly. Harry and Hermie just shrug – they don't know what is happening either. Nor does Yzla, who just appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but a negligee, and didn't she say she was working?

Oh, well.

Jace clears his throat.

„Right, kid. Hadie. And who is your mother?“

„But you are detectives!“ the child protests, „You gotta know that, no?“

„…Sure. We know that. Absolutely. And the bodies? Wait, no,“ Jace catches himself. This will certainly be a conversation, so:

„Let's go to the saloon first, shall we?“

Even if the saloon is just a fancy name for a room with a dining table and the kitchen counter, as he and Harry can hardly afford anything else.

They do have enough chairs, though, even if they are rarely used and mostly ignored: Hermie sits on the table, swinging her legs idly in the air, and Yzla plops herself down Harry's lap, setting his weapon aside. Fucking menace, that girl.

Jace himself takes the chair next to them and the boy stays standing.

(If Reza wouldn't be too busy with his current hookup, he would just lean against the wall and try to look very cool and intimidating, and smoke his cigarettes. Jace could do with a cigarette himself. Or better yet, a drink. The cigarette smoke reminds himself and Harry a bit too much of Cruella.)

„Now, tell us what you know,“ Jace asks the kid and damn. That kid. Does not shut up. Ever.

By the first thirty minutes, Yzla gets up and opens a bottle of wine to pass around, not even bothering with the glasses.

By an hour, Hermie is playing with her favourite dagger a bit too much and Harry has reclaimed back his handgun.

By hour and half, Jace is very ready to bleach his brain, thank you very much.

Hadie slows for a moment and Jace immediately stops him: „I think that's quite enough for today, Hadie,“ he says, „Thank you. Would you just step behind that door real quick?“

The kid pouts at him.

„Ehm… Me and my detectives need to discuss the evidence you just presented to us. And decide the, ehm, next course of action.“

Hadie finally steps behind the door when all present adults – including Eddie, who showed up half-way through – point at them.

And there is not much of a discussion, not really.

„Tell me we are taking that kid to Uma,“ blurts out Yzla before he can even speak.

„We could keep him,“ propose Hermie and Harry at the same time, and, yeah, no. As if Harry didn’t know they are barely staying afloat as it is, never mind, you know, not remotely responsible enough to raise a child?

…Yeah, it says a lot when a child would be safer on the streets, under the protection of one of the wildest Auradon City gangs, than anywhere else.

„We are taking him to Uma,“ decides Jace, and Yzla sights in relief. Eddie motions for her to pass the wine.

„You can come back, kid!“ Jace raises his voice, „We have decided!“

„Yay!“ the tiny disaster runs back to the room, „Do I get to be a detective too? Will we solve the case of my mother’s basement? Track down the victims’ family?“

Actually…

Jace knows how to get the kid to cooperate and go to safety voluntarily now: He winks at his associates, as to signal the general „don’t question me, I’ve got this.“

„Sure we are, kid. But, you see, right now we are working on another serious case, and we need you to help us. Will you be our eyes on the streets, detective Hadie?“

„Yes! I will, Mr detective sir! When do I start?“

„As soon as we can get you to the location. Now, let’s not lose any more time: We will debrief you on the way.“

That will hopefully give Jace enough time to come up with decent backstory, so, yeah.

With a yawn, Yzla gets up and sets off to her atelier, also known as the attic, not bothering to say goodbye, and Harry sets off to find his metal boxer and emergency knife.

„Reza is gonna be so mad he missed this-“ Hermie giggles, „It’s gonna be so much fun!“

And then, the Badun detective agency escorts its newest member, or, more accurately, adoptee, to Uma.

They don’t have any idea how much trouble they are causing Uma in the long run.

[iersei]

i just. i can't make myself care about the finale. i can't make myself care about a lot of the recent stuff period. the stakes got so big with so little time to rest that each new development felt less and less like anything that i should be invested in. and like! it sucks! i still love these characters! i still love this world! but i just don't believe that the narrative loves them the same way anymore!!

i'm sorry, but you can't honestly expect me to believe a final speech about "you did it! you ended the cycle!" when there's been a severe lack of closure and emotional connection on several fronts from all of the core families. i have a plethora of issues about dood's goodbye in general, the biggest of them being the fact that i didn't feel anything about it. they didn't even get to leave on much of a good note, and it felt so unsatisfying when it felt like that was what the whole season was building up to! none of what was being said felt earned. none of it felt TRUE either.

even without going in-depth on my personal feelings about the writing of the close family and how they were handled in general (because believe me, i can), the end of their arc was literally "there's no fixing this" like you've gotta be KIDDING ME.

in a series where the core theme is meant to be intergenerational trauma and interpersonal relationships, those ideas have taken a major backseat in favor of throwing a handful of teens into situation after situation of increasing difficulty and it's felt less and less like there's been any good reason for any of it. a lot of the major stakes ended up centering the doodler specifically instead of the main families, and i honestly think this could've worked! but it's gotten to a point where neither idea was fully realized in a way that kinda destroyed the main messaging and any investment i had left in this series.

i want to care about dood. i love dood! i think they're such a cool concept for a character! BUT THEY BARELY GOT TO FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER! when the narrative disregarded so much of the relationships the teens had with their parents in favor of dealing with the doodler and then the PCs barely even acknowledge dood, it almost feels like it's all been for nothing.

and if i may say, i truly believe that hermie was the canary in the coal mine in regard to how the lack of care of NPCs was destroying this season.

forgetting all of the essential NPCs was bad enough as is, but with the power of hindsight, doing it so constantly and consistently to the one that's been in their party this entire time to the point that it became a complex for him (and then not even fully resolving that to the very end!) and killing him off without much closure or fanfare felt so unfair on so many levels.

if you don't have the patreon or didn't keep up with the news of why the cast did what they did (regardless of how i feel about their reasoning), hermie's death also came out of nowhere within the story itself. there was no roll of the dice. there was no check to make. there was nothing any of the PCs could actually do to prevent his death from happening. it happens so suddenly that you think it should be a fake-out, but it fucking isn't!

hermie had SO MUCH potential! his relationships with most, if not all, of the main cast should've been important after all this time! THEY'RE LITERALLY A BROKEN MARRIAGE WITHOUT HIM AND IT MEANS SO LITTLE! the narrative gave him a family and a hint of a complex relationship with them and it barely mattered! his relationship with normal is its own can of worms. and to an extent, so is his what-could've-been with scary. but the thing that really irks me is that he's literally taylor's family.

we're just going to completely ignore the aspect of him that directly ties to one of the main families? we're just never going to give any closure to whatever relationship that jodie and scam and hermie could've had? the clusterfuck that is the close/foster/freeman/swift/likely family line is built upon relationships that never had the chance to be realized from the lack of emotional vulnerability and all the time they can't have back, and it's all so deeply ironic to me that i have to laugh or else i'll start to cry.

there's missed potential, and then there's everything that happened this season. there are so many loose threads to pull at with the kiddads especially, and it's one of the reasons that they're my favorite group of characters in the series! but at this point, it's piled up so much that it's beyond frustrating. i hate that sparrow said that he can't wildshape and be a lovewolf anymore, and that's never been addressed again. i hate that the flashback of the betrayal was so glossed over before the lot of them were shoved to the sidelines once again. i hate how telling it is that they had to have nicky awkwardly state that his arm was shot off with magic bullets and that's why he can't regenerate at some point because it was painfully clear the PCs were never going to question it.

I HATE THAT LARK AND SPARROW BARELY GOT ANY INTERACTION WITH DOOD.

and on all that is good in this world, if any of the kiddads die arbitrarily next episode, then i just might drop this series for good. i can't live in a world that treats such essential characters as disposable. it has been treating them almost like they're disposable for the longest time, but wiping even more of them from existence like that will really be my last straw.

i just feel. really empty about it all. i feel like the parts of this series that i love and care about and that i thought were supposed to be important have been stepped on and snuffed out. and i still want to stick around and explore the space this series created because there's so much that can be explored.

but in regards to the series proper? i can't care anymore. i really can't care anymore. there's almost nothing left for me to care about. i'm just waiting for it to end.

sigh. with the dungeons and daddy issues season finale on the horizon, i feel like i need to say something but i need y'all to not eviscerate me on the spot for it.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 22

“Please please come in quickly,” the honorable wizard Yen Sid urged Uma, barely muffling his own coughs from the dusty air of Judge Frollo’s “house.” Quite ironically or perhaps more telling, Judge Frollo’s abode was the basement of a brothel. A cruel twist of temptation or perhaps a house of convenience since it was no secret that Frollo indulged in his hypocritical desires while preaching at his imaginary pulpit during the day.

But Uma wasn’t here to hear how she was destined for hell. It was night, the perfect time to meet the rest of the Anti-Villain Club while Frollo was away.

It felt like the situation was getting more dire the more time past. Amplified by the restlessness Uma felt because they weren’t getting anything done!

Sometimes Uma wanted to give in to her temptation to just dump the Auradonians for themselves. They didn’t really offer her any information or skills that she needed. Plus, they were slow at best. Uncaring and disobedient at worse, far more concerned with their own problems and feelings. They didn’t know how to work with a team or for a cause other than themselves.

Such royal behavior. Must be nice to put your moods first when your need for food, shelter and safety were never in question.

So it was a breath of fresh air to meet with the Anti Villains. Though they did not give her the assuring efficiency of her pirate crew, they were still Vks, her people. And she would need all the allies she could get if they were to stop the Coven.

Yen Sid gestured to the faded rug with, of course, an image of a man bleeding and crucified while a red devilish monster stabbed at his torso with a pitchfork.

Frollo’s erstwhile, rebellious daughter, Claudine took the head of the rug with Diego De’Vil and Yzla on both sides of her. Harold, Jason, Hadie, Big Murph, Hermie Bing, Eddie Balthazar, Celia and a blonde girl that Uma didn’t recognize rounded out the rest of the circle. Uma took place across from Claudine and Yen Sid stood by, pacing around.

“What news can you give us?” Yen Sid asked, starting the meeting abruptly.

Uma hadn’t noticed when Yen Sid signalled to her from the alleyways but the elder wizard looked even older. He was hunched over, not from age but like there was an invisible yoke on his shoulders. His face was riddled with new lines of wrinkles, stress and fatigue. And he was pale. So pale.

Uma had seen that sort of sickly paleness before. The sheen of sweat from a non-existent flu. He looked like death. The Isle after 20 years was starting to take its toll.

Though Uma had no personal attachment to the wizard nor did she care for his method of teaching goodness so Vks would be accepted in Auradon, when they should be accepted because they like any other person should have a home without abuse or poverty, she respected what he was trying to do. He didn’t see them all as one mass of worthless deviants to be scorned and ignored. He could have stayed in Auradon, doing nothing like all the rest of the so-called good guys, but he didn’t.

And this place was slowly killing him.

This place was going to be the death of all them if Uma’s revolution didn’t work.

Uma cracked her neck, inhaled and began to brief them, even though her report didn’t offer much encouragement that their plans were going to be successful.

“Our communications link with King Ben no longer works thanks to the Isle’s crappy service. However, we were able to inform him that the invasion is taking place in less than a week before we were cut off.” “Circe is officially on our side and will assist Yen Sid on more complex, powerful spells against Nerissa and the others.”

“The rest of the Coven-” “Believes.. Well actually tolerates the idea that you and Calix are still loyal. Lala still is on their side but Jade thinks she can convince her to switch again. Zevon and Ginny are lost causes. But you are going to round up your crew, and Harriet’s crew for extra manpower.” Yzla interrupted, and shrugged at Uma’s glare, “Jade told me.” “Ah yes.” Uma pursed her lips, shaking it off to not act too ruffled. She had been aware that Yzla and Jade were close but she didn’t particularly like that they were discussing things without her. That’s how plans got overturned. And people were overthrown.

Uma pushed that thought away as too paranoid. After all, they were all here for the same thing. Escape, not power.

“Yes, so you already know that. I do believe we will be able to persuade the rest of the Isle on our side.” “Wait the rest of the Isle. Like you mean some other kids right? Or the Hun gang. Not not the whole Isle?” Eddie asked. “I meant the rest of the Isle. The adult henchmen. The orphaned kids. The Huns, the mercenaries, the prostitutes. Anyone and everyone who has no power or big villain names.” The rest of the club looked at turns confused, intrigued and disbelieving at her.

“They are like us. They gain nothing from the Coven gaining more power. They get everything if they helped the revolution. No more oppressors. And a promise from King Ben to take all of us off the Isle to better housing, new jobs and actual food. A better life.”

“Whether Mal likes it or not.” Uma added internally. That had been the one thing she managed to speak to King Ben about, and surprisingluy he agreed wholeheartedly. He had seemed horrified when she described the living conditions that children dealt with. The way teens had turned to violence among other things to survive their abusive parents. He didn’t think he’d be able to convince Auradon should be abolished completely. Big villains would probably stay indefinitely. But he was welcome to her suggestions for programs to hep Vks.

“That’s why I need your input. King Ben is putting me in charge of VK Integration Programs and I want to know what we need.” “Uh, that’s nice. A truly Christian thing to do,” Claudine sneered saracastically, she had always been the most doubting of anyone having good intentions what with who she had for a father, “But shouldn’t we get out of here before we plan any VK Integration Programs?”

“This is part of how we are going to persuade the rest of the Isle to help us,” Uma smoothly bridged the two disparting ideas, “We need solid plans with how, what, when. Something solid and real that people can imagine and believe in. When the other Vks and adults hear of these programs, these programs that are as real as when King Ben invited the Core Four, they will be willing to fight for their chance to get in. They will rise up against the Coven so that they could be free.”

Claudine and Diego still looked suspicious, but Jason, Harold, and Big Murph practically had stars in their eyes. Hermie was smiling shyly and Hadie was tapping his chin thoughtfully. He was the first to pitch in.

“I think there should be something for the victims of Hans and Lars.” Everyone turned to look at him which caused the spiky-blue haired teen to flush and clam up. , Uma nodded empathetically, “Continue.” “Well, I mean-uh.Well we all had it bad. But Prince Hans is another level of bad. I went there once with dad for one of Staylan’s parties and I lurked around and man, that dude is nuts. He has photos of his “harem” all “sexy bruised” and stuff. And Lars…”

Uma narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need Hadie to elaborate on Lars. Gil had already told her everything she needed to know about the icy sadist. It was a term that was generally thrown around for an island full of villains with bloodlust, but Gil described the sickeningly calm way Lars acted. How Lars almost described it in seductive terms the way a whip would constrict a person’s throat until the breath left them. The calculating gaze he’d watch the ones he picked as “lovers.” Apparently a sadism that he picked up from his dad.

“Yeah, everyone knows Drizella is his favorite. Poor Dizzy.” Eddie shook his head.

Dizzy had always been left alone with her grandmother, Lady Tremine, but Uma had always assumed that Drizella, like almost all the parents on the Isle, was neglectful and uncaring. She hadn’t thought that Drizella may have been dealing with her own things.

And why wouldn’t she? That was Gil’s mother had to go through everyday with being Gaston’s unfavorite. While Uma was more concerned with the kids on the Isle, she could see now that some adults may need help too.

“Great. Center for sadist victims. What else have we got?”

“Do we have to go to school if we go to Auradon? I just don’t think I need it. My band is doing pretty well and I bet those royal dorks never heard music like mine.” Diego mock-shredded on his guitar

Uma cocked her head. She got his point. She didn’t think there was anything Auradon Prep had that could teach her anything useful. Like smizing as she heard from Celia Faciliar’s letters from Freddie. Plus there were some teens near adulthood like Harriet who probably wouldn’t want to be forced into classes when they could get jobs. Same with adults who never learned to read in their lives and still didnt want to.

“I’ll talk about it with King Ben. What else?” Uma said.

“Food that isn’t covered with flies. Fresh food, not trash.” Hermie said.

“Uh that’s just a given. None of their food is rotten.” Celia told the lithe brunette before Uma could clarify that good food comes with the territory.

Several ideas were thrown around, but the main ones came down to food, homes away from the possible revenge of their parents and others, and none of the Goodness 101 that Celia heard Freddie taking.

“Great. Now the important thing is that you spread the word of these programs to the other. You have to make people want this badly enough that they will fight. Act like its their only chance because it is. From there, I will send my crew to organize them to key points and learn some better and dirtier fight tactics.” Uma announced.

The rest of the Club nodded somberly at the announcement. There was not much emotion from Uma’s command. No relief, excitement or even nervousness. Just a numb sort of nod that they understood. But the words, “This is your only chance,” clearly rang in their heads.

It was now or never.

Everyone slowly got up to leave, thinking their own thoughts except the blonde who slipped to walk next to Uma, expertly slinking through the alleyways.

“Hi, um, I know we haven’t met before but um.. I’m Cosette.” The literally dirty blonde introduced in a fake high voice, clearly highlighting her nervousness, “I’m Gaston’s daughter. Gil’s half sister? You know Gil right? I mean, of course you do. I’ve seen him and everyone knows he hangs with you. I’m sorry I’m babbling. It’s just this is all so new-”

Uma stopped walking so she could give her her full attention. Yes, now that she stopped to actually look at Cosette, she could see a bit of the resemblance. The blonde hair, the high forehead and cheekbones. She looked older, maybe Harriet’s age, though her ample chest peeking from her corset gave the impression of a woman in her 20s. Unlike Gil, she didn’t have the usually confused look in her eyes. Just scared.

That look heightened Uma’s protective instincts. The helpless usually did that, as unvillainous as that was, plus the Gil resemblance.

“Why haven’t I heard of you before?” Uma asked skeptically even though she was pretty sure Cosette was honest.

“Um I’m a girl. Dad wouldn’t acknowledge me. Actually he tried to throw me away and try again which is why Mom left and… it seemed safer to avoid him. But- but I heard from Celia about this Anti-Villain Club when I went in for a reading, and Celia said you’d come so I thought I’d ask you. You know, for permission.” Uma thought. The story was realistic enough. But there was too much to do right now to focus on a family reunion. Unless…

“I will. You have my word. But first, how good would you say your fighting and/or spying skills?”

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 12 - December

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The Yule Ball has been announced and Fred Weasley has made the sinking realization that he’s completely and utterly attracted to Hermione Granger. But is he the only one with seemingly unrequited feelings?

So many questions and yet the biggest one of all: Who is taking Hermione Granger to the ball?

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS WAS LATE! The week got away from me and before I knew it, it was Sunday and I hadn't written ANYTHING. So, I ended up writing this entire chapter in one day and fell asleep editing it. I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I do!

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST) (except for this time...ha ha ha...)!

Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 11

  December come to me I hope I can see You not just in dreams

I will let you be

Why can't you believe

How much you really mean

 Hermione sat in the library, feeling more on edge than she ever had in her life. Krum was due to meet her at any moment and all she could think about was…her face heated just thinking about it. She’d had the dream again. No, not her nightmare. Her nights of fear inducing dreams were long gone ever since she started spending most of her days with the twins. No, she had had the dream again. The one that left her stomach in heated knots and raised her pulse to a terrifying level. While the dream started the same as last time – the library, the couple, the hands on her body and lips kissing up her neck – this time, when she turned to catch a glimpse of the fiery red hair, the world spun around her. It spun and spun until she realized the world wasn’t spinning at all – she was. She was dancing, turning circles in space as the same pair of hands held her close. Her mind fought tooth and nail to catch a glimpse of the mystery man, but it was as if her spine was fused – unable to look anywhere but straight ahead. Who was it and why did they turn her hot and feverish? Why did she melt at just the thought of their embrace?

When she awoke that morning, sweaty and out of breath, she couldn’t ignore the thrumming of her heart at the apex of her thighs. Shifting in her seat, she tried to quell the achy feeling starting to rise just from the brief memory of her subconscious escapades. Fully expecting to become a jumbled mess of embarrassment and arousal, she was nervous to see Ron in History of Magic that morning. However, much to her pleasure and confusion, when she saw him, she felt nothing more than a slight heat on her face which she attributed to nerves over how she might feel, rather than a true reaction due to her dream. Perhaps her ability to compose herself was better than she thought. The possibility quelled her racing mind, but she couldn’t ignore the small nagging voice in the back of her head that said she knew more than one person with red hair.

“Hello, боец, you are vell, yes?” Krum’s voice broke Hermione from her thoughts. She jumped, dropping the heavy book in her hands onto the parchment covered table with a muffled thud.

“Viktor hello. Yes, I’m doing quite well,” greeted Hermione breathlessly. “I can call you Viktor, correct?”

“You can call me vhatever you vant, боец,” said Viktor, giving her a reserved smile that Hermione found to be quite charming.

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose if we’re going to be studying together, I should probably introduce myself properly—” she extended a hand to him “—Hello Viktor, my name is Hermione Granger. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hermy-own?” said Viktor with great difficulty as he shook her hand. His full lips twisted and stumbled over the vowels and consonants.

Hermione laughed nervously. “No, no. Hermione. Like this: Her-my-oh-nee,” she spoke slowly, sounding out her name bit by bit.

Viktor’s brows scrunched in concentration as he repeated her to the best of his abilities, “Her-my-oh-ninny.”

“Close enough,” sighed Hermione in good nature, gesturing for Viktor to take a seat across from her.

He surprised her by seating himself in the chair next to her with ease. Or at least as much ease as possible for the tall Bulgarian. He was surprisingly uncoordinated for someone who flew with such grace on the quidditch field. The one advantage to seeing Viktor Krum off of his broom, however, was the ability to see just how handsome he was. He had a very pleasing face, with a broad brow, sharp cheekbones, strong nose, and equally strong jawline. Yes, he was really quite handsome, Hermione thought indulgently as she observed him. His black hair was cropped exceedingly short, which Hermione thought was a shame – she quite liked the way longer hair looked on men. Feeling as though she had been staring for much too long, Hermione turned back to her book as Viktor pulled out a notebook, quill, and ink.

“This library – it is much larger than the one at home,” commented Viktor casually.

Hermione looked up from her book again and glanced around at the tall shelves, expansive stone walls, and large tapestries. “Really? What is your school like?” she asked curiously. While she had read everything she could on Durmstrang, she had been left wanting – the Bulgarians were quite secretive.

“Vell, it is a castle much like yours, but it is much smaller. Ve have less students, I am thinking. The library is smaller, but you do not have all the same books here, I have noticed. Ve do not have a, what you call a restricted section,” said Viktor thoughtfully.

“Really?” asked Hermione in surprise.

“Yes. Ve do not view knowledge as good or bad at Durmstrang. Just knowledge.”

“I’ve always thought the same thing,” said Hermione excitedly, mindful to keep her volume low with her increased enthusiasm. She didn’t need to be kicked out of the library a second time that year. “I think knowledge should be accessible to everyone. Sure, some things can be quite vile, but it’s not the magic that makes the witch or wizard bad and a bad person will find the information out one way or another if they really want it. Tell me more about Durmstrang.”

“It gets very cold in the vinters and the fires are only lit for classes and such. So ve vear heavy cloaks to keep us varm. But in the spring and summer, you should see the grounds. Vhile our castle is smaller than yours, the grounds are triple the size! Ve vill fly for hours over the mountains and lakes. It is beautiful,” said Viktor proudly. Hermione tried to imagine a school with grounds triple the size of Hogwarts. She already felt like the space around her school was expansive.

“That sounds lovely,” responded Hermione with a smile.

“Do you fly, Herm-own-ninny?”

“Oh no—” Hermione chuckled bashfully “—I’m quite afraid of heights if I’m being honest. But I love quidditch. I think the sport is so fascinating. The theory and tactics behind it are very interesting and of course the talent it takes to fly the way some players do is very impressive. Like you, for example—”

Viktor raised his dark, thick brows in surprise.

“—I saw you at the world cup, you know. You’re an excellent flyer. Even Harry agreed. He was quite impressed with your…oh what was it…oh! The Wronski Feint. Does that sound right?”

“Yes, yes! That is vone of my favorites. Unfortunately, ve did not vin…” Viktor trailed off, frowning as if the loss of the world cup was still a freshly open wound.

“Yes, but you ended things on your own terms,” said Hermione, remembering Harry’s explanation for Viktor’s catching of the snitch while Ireland was up by 160 points.

Viktor perked up at her comment. “Yes, that’s exactly it! Ve vould not be able to catch up, I knew that. Their chasers vere too good.”

“So, you caught the snitch to end the game with only a loss of ten point, as opposed to three hundred and ten,” concluded Hermione, settling comfortably into her seat. She felt much more relaxed now than she did when Viktor had first sat down.

Viktor smiled at her in appraisal. “That is exactly vhat I did. You are very smart Harmony. Smart and strong.”

Hermione blushed at his compliment, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, and looking down at her textbook shyly. Still, she couldn’t fight off the smile that formed on her face at his praise. They were silent for a moment, both of them turning to their work to fill the time. Afterall, they were there to study.

Hermione was just finishing her chapter when Viktor spoke again, “Have you heard of the ball that is happening at Christmas time?”

Hermione looked up, finding an earnest Viktor staring back at her. “Yes, they announced it formally last night with some unfortunate dance lessons as well. Did you have something similar?”

“No, ve at Durmstrang learn how to dance first and second year. It is expected that ve know how, for formal events vhen ve are older,” said Viktor.

“How fortunate,” said Hermione. “I was lucky enough to have my dad teach me a bit when I was younger. My mum and dad like to play the radio in the kitchen and sometimes on Sunday mornings my dad will pull me away from whatever I’m reading at the table and make me dance with him.” She smiled at the memory, feeling a small pang of homesickness. It was high time she sent her parents a letter – with all her extra time spent with Fred and George her weekly letters home had dissolved into a dismal once or twice a month.

“That sounds very nice,” responded Viktor genuinely before clearing his throat and looking down at his folded hands on the table. “Perhaps you vould like to accompany me to the ball?”

“Pardon?” Hermione pulled out of her innocent musing of home with confusion. Surely, she must have heard him wrong because she could have sworn Viktor Krum just asked her to the Yule Ball.

“The ball – vould you like to go vith me?”

The question hung in the air – Viktor looking expectantly at Hermione as she tried to comprehend it. Viktor Krum wanted to go to the Yule Ball with her?

“Why?” The question blurted out before she could stop herself.

Krum blinked in surprise. He took a moment to mull her words before answering, “Vell, I think you are very pretty. You are very smart, and you have the heart of a fighter. Vhy not?”

Hermione was struck – mouth gaping and brain short-circuiting. Viktor Krum thought she was pretty. Out of all the girls in the school to pick, and there were many available girls as the ball was only announced the day before, and he chose her. Answer him you daft airhead, her brain screamed as she still delayed her response.

“Of course, if you already are going with someone then—”

“No, no. I’m not,” Hermione reassured him in a panicky manner.

“Then you are just not interested or…?”

“No—I just…Can I have some time to…think about it or something?”

Krum stared hard at her for a moment, before nodding with a small smile.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you—” Hermione sat forward, running her hands through her frizzy curls and pushing them out of her face as she rambled “—it’s just I don’t know you very well. Perhaps we should get to know each other a bit more first. It’s important that we know each other before we decide to go together, otherwise we’d get there and risk finding out that we can’t stand each other. But please don’t think that I’m just delaying an inevitable ‘no’ to be nice. I swear—”

“Of course, Herm-oh-nee. Take all the time you need. Until then, ve vill spend more time together. Yes?”

Hermione was grateful for the interruption of her nervous babbling. Any second longer and she was sure to make such a fool of herself that Viktor might rescind his offer. “Yes, I would like that.”

Viktor stood, collecting his things, and placing them in his bag. Hermione glanced at the large grandfather clock across the study area and noticed it was almost time for Charms. She stood too, placing her book in her bag. Once the two were packed up, they headed towards the exit of the library. It was just outside the large double doors that the two parted ways, headed in opposite directions of the castle for class. Expecting his usual bow of departure, Hermione was surprised when instead Viktor grabbed her right hand in his and brought the back of it up to his lips. She blushed something furious, her face growing hot as embers as his soft lips brushed the sensitive skin. Then he was gone, and she was left to gawk in his direction as a bubbling glee built up in her chest.

The joyous moment was cut short however by her two troublesome shadows.

“My, my, my…was that Viktor Krum?” asked one twin as the two of them rounded the corner.

“You know, you two really must stop spying on me. It’s getting sad and weird,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes and turning away from the two ginger boys as she headed in the direction of her Charms class.

“Excuse you missy. We were not spying. We were merely walking by and decided to stop and watch the show,” said who she now recognized as George.

“Hmmm,” responded Hermione flatly, continuing to walk.

“So, what did Viktor want?” asked George.

“None of your business George Fabian Weasley.”

“I’m wounded—” George held a hand up to his heart “—we simply want to be a part of your life, Hermione. You know, be good friends and all.”

“Sure, you do,” she grumbled.

“I don’t think she believed me. Back me up, Freddie,” said George turning to his brother.

Hermione waited to hear Fred’s familiar sarcastic quip and cheeky tone but was surprised when all he did was give a distracted hum. She turned her head, looking at Fred fully for the first time. Catching his hazel eyes, he looked at her with an indistinguishable expression. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest and the heat that had occupied her face shot south, leaving a burning sensation in her lower stomach. Oh no, thought Hermione quickly looking away from Fred and instead focusing on the grey stone beneath her feet. They reached the Charms classroom a moment later, much to her relief. She made to head into the room, but a long arm extended in front of her, blocking her path.

“I have class. Can’t you just save your routine till tonight? I’ll laugh and everything,” promised Hermione, trying her best to keep her voice light and not show the inner turmoil she was currently experiencing.

“About that – change of plans.”

“What? Are we not meeting at the usual place?”

“No, Fred and I have a bit of a surprise for you—” George looked to his twin with a pointed stare “—isn’t that right Freddie?”

Fred, who had been staring off down the hall, turned to his brother and nodded distractedly. If Hermione hadn’t been trying so desperately to get away from Frederick Weasley and into the safety of her classroom, she would have noted his odd behavior. But instead, she raised a curious brow at George.

“Right—” George stared at his twin with an odd expression before looking back down at Hermione “—meet us in the common room after dinner and make sure to bring Harry and Ron along as well. It’s really a surprise for all three of you.”

“Okay, yeah, we’ll be there,” Hermione said before ducking under George’s arm and disappearing into the classroom. She found Harry and Ron already seated a few rows back from the front and took her chair between the two of them.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” asked Harry as she stared down at the desk in front of her breathing deeply in through her nose.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she squeaked, before taking out her notebook and writing utensils.

It all made sense and simultaneously no sense at all. Fred was the person in her dreams. It explained the dancing certainly. It also explained the timing. The first time she’d had the dream was the night Fred found her in the hallway and walked her back to the tower. He had held her in his arms that night, even held her hand. At the time she thought nothing of it, but clearly her subconscious had been squirreling away those brief moments of contact and saving them to manifest in an entirely different way. No – this was not good. She didn’t like Fred! He was loud and obnoxious and troublesome. He wasted his potential and squandered his talents. Two things she wholeheartedly disagreed with. He pushed her buttons and got her into trouble. How could she possible like him as anything more than a friend?

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all of Hermione’s waking thoughts dedicated to Frederick Weasley in the worst possible way. By the time dinner was over and she found herself in the common room with Harry and Ron, she had come to decision. She did not like Fred. It was simply her subconscious playing a cruel trick on her. Dreams didn’t mean anything anyways – even if they did happen twice. Dreams were simply an amalgamation of your conscious memories and thoughts mixed into an incoherent jumble as your brain tried to process them at night. They weren’t accurate representations of ones waking feelings. They held zero stake in reality.

Unfortunately, that didn’t keep her heart from stopping when Fred and George emerged from the portrait hole with wide grins as they chuckled mischievously.

“What’s got you two so chuffed?” asked Ron, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket, and opening the package.

“Just ran into Adrian Pucey in the hallway—”

“—struck him with a nasty sticking charm.”

“Won’t be going anyways for a while,” laughed George, leaning on the back of the couch to peer down at the work in Hermione’s hand. She’d dedicated this time in her day to working on the Canary Creams and was still determined to do so, change of plans or not.

“You can’t do that by the way,” stated George casually as he pointed over her shoulder to a bit of Charms work detailed on the page.

“Excuse you,” sneered Hermione, pushing his hand away. “And just why do you say that?” she asked taking offense.

“Because I’m the Charms master, remember?”

Hermione sighed, knowing begrudgingly that George was right. He was very well adept at Charms work – even better than herself. Slamming the notebook shut, she placed it on a side table and stood.

“Well – what’s this surprise then?” she asked digging into her pocket to distract herself from the two tall ginger boys in front of her. Her fingers closed around one of the hundreds of sugar quills Fred gave her and she pulled it out satisfactorily.

“The whole point of a surprise, my dear Hermione—” began George.

“—is to surprise you with it—" continued Fred.

“—not just tell you!” the two finished together before turning and heading back towards the portrait hole. Ron and Harry followed them, Hermione hanging back as she unwrapped the sugar quill and placed it in her mouth. She trailed behind the four of them as they traveled deeper down into the castle.

“Hey,” said Fred, dropping behind to walk beside her as George boldly led the way.

“Hi,” Hermione responded shyly, worrying the candy in her mouth to calm herself.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Hermione felt stiff and uncomfortable, like at any moment her skeleton would relieve itself from its fleshy prison, shedding her skin and running as fast it could from Fred and this painful conversation. The worst part of it was that she knew why she was being weird, but why on earth was he in such a strange mood? For a brief moment, the mortifying thought that perhaps he knew about the dream, flashed into her head, but she quickly brushed it away. That was impossible. There was no way he could know.

The four of them continued further into the castle, heading down stairway after stairway until they were in its deep underbelly. It was when they found themselves in a large, well-lit corridor – the walls adorned with portraits of food – that Hermione realized where they were headed. Harry seemed to have the same realization as he groaned, turning around the look at her.

“Hermione…this isn’t another S.P.E.W. thing, is it?”

“Please don’t let it be a spew thing, Hermione. How many times have I told you – it’s no use! House elves like to work!” exclaimed Ron.

“First of all, it’s not called spew—”

“Oh, what is it now then – the House Elf Liberation Front?” asked Ron sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare thank you very much, and secondly in case you didn’t remember, I’m not the one dragging us down here. They are!” She pointed to Fred and George who now held amused grins on their faces.

“Quit your fighting and come on you lot,” laughed George coming to a halt in front of a picture of a large fruit bowl and ticking the green pear. The fruit squirmed and giggled until it turned into a large green door handle. George grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the door open to reveal the cavernous kitchens. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what she imagined the Hogwarts kitchens would look like, but it definitely wasn’t the enormous space in front of her. With ceilings almost as tall as the Great Hall, it seemed to host everything you could even want or need to make a large feast.

“Harry Potter! Oh, it’s Harry Potter!” a squeaky voice yelled out before Hermione heard Harry let out a guttural yelp. Turning to her best friend she saw Harry standing there with a small house elf nearly wrapped entirely around his middle, holding him tightly.

“Dobby?” Harry gasped in surprise.

“Yes sir! Dobby has been waiting and hoping Harry Potter would visit him and now he has!”

Dobby released Harry, stepping back, and allowing Hermione to get a full view of the infamous house elf Harry had told her so much about. He appeared to live up to his description. Long thin nose and batlike ears. However, instead of the filthy pillowcase Harry had described, he donned the strangest assortment of clothing Hermione had ever seen. Dobby wore what appeared to be a tea cozy adorned with brightly colored badges on his head like a hat, a patterned tie with no shirt, shorts, and mismatched socks. However, despite his strange fashion sense, Hermione found Dobby to be quite appealing. His enthusiastic personality and overwhelming love for Harry was enough to make her fond of the little house elf – no matter how odd he was.

“What are you doing here Dobby?” asked Harry.

“Dobby works here, sir! At Hogwarts! Professor Dumbledore has given Dobby and Winky jobs!” proclaimed the small elf proudly. Hermione perked up at the mention of a second house elf she was familiar with.

“Winky’s here?” she asked looking around her to try and spot the poor disgraced house elf she’d met so many months ago.

“Thought that would interest you, Hermione,” said Fred in a knowing manner. “She’s over there by the fire. But be warned, she’s not in a great mood.”

“Or at least she wasn’t when we were here yesterday,” added George with a grimace.

Rounding the corner, Hermione was greeted with a large crowd of busying house elves. They bowed and greeted her kindly as she passed them, spotting a small and slumped figure on a stool by the fire.

“Winky?” she asked hesitantly.

The little creature turned, looking a complete and utter mess. While dressed unarguably more fashionable than Dobby, in a matching blouse and skirt, her clothes were dirty and wrinkled. One look and Hermione could tell she was a very unhappy house elf. That sentiment was only confirmed when Winky burst into large, hysterical tears.

“Winky, oh Winky, please don’t cry,” pleaded Hermione, rushing forwards and placing a hand on Winky’s shoulder. Winky only cried harder. Unsure of what to do, Hermione stepped to the side, allowing Harry to take the lead. She watched in rapt horror as Winky, Bartemius Crouch’s ex-house elf wailed at her failure as a good, loyal elf. The whole thing was so upsetting. So upsetting, in fact, that by the time they left the kitchens – after Harry promised Dobby about a thousand times that they would visit – she was in a whole new kind of bad mood.

“Cheer up, Hermione. Winky will be alright eventually,” said Ron casually as they strode through the halls back up to Gryffindor tower.

“It’s just absolutely horrid. I can’t believe that anyone has allowed this to go on for so long,” cried Hermione, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Now, now. You’re forgetting that house elves like to work. It’s their way. Their tradition,” said Fred, slinging an arm over her and squeezing her shoulder kindly. A gesture that would usually calm and reassure her, made Hermione jump out of her skin, pulling away from Fred and his touch that filled her with new sensations and confusion.

“Yes, and why is that Frederick? Because they’ve been used as slaves by wizarding kind for so long that they’ve been generationally brainwashed into thinking that working for nothing and being treated horribly is some sort of badge of honor!” she shouted at Fred, all of her conflicting feeling bubbling up into one unanimous feeling of anger.

Fred gawked in surprise before responding with equal annoyance, “Well if they were truly so unhappy, they would say so like Dobby. Clearly, they’re smart enough to think for themselves or Dobby wouldn’t be walking around asking to be paid for his work!”

“But even Dobby said he’s been looking for a job for over a year. No one wants to pay a house elf to do work when they ask for it! Don’t you think there should be laws to help him with that kind of discrimination?”

“Sure, but he’s different! If more elves wanted rights, then there would be a demand. But seeing as it’s ONE house elf out of thousands it doesn’t really make sense that they would rewrite legislature,” scoffed Fred.

“But if there was new legislature then perhaps they’d feel more inclined to break away like Dobby—” Hermione ran a hand over her hair, feeling it already growing ten times its size as her anger increased “—you know what? Clearly you are all either too thick or too heartless to understand.”

Pushing past their group she charged forward, determined to put some space between herself and the lot.

“Hermione!” one of the twins called after her.

“Just let her go. She gets like this, but she always gets over it,” said Ron.

“Hermione!” the twin called again, ignoring Ron’s comment.

Continuing to march ahead of them, she made it as far as the end of the hallway before a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her into the air. Hermione let out a cry of surprise and then a ragged grunt as her stomach made contact with one of the boys’ shoulders. Sputtering in indignation, she attempted to brush her hair out of her face enough to figure out who had the audacity to pick her up. Finally making a part in the curtain of her curls she saw Ron, Harry, and George laughing as they caught up.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, you put me down right this instant!” yelled Hermione, pounding her fists on his back,

“You three go on ahead. Miss Granger seems to have her knickers in a horrible twist. Just needs a moment to decompress. We’ll catch up,” said Fred casually as Ron, Harry, and George looked down at her in amusement.

“Are you three really just going to let him do this?” Hermione asked, looking up at them with pleading eyes.

They pondered her request for a moment, before George gave her a sweet smile and bopped her on the end of the nose with his pointer finger. “Yep.”

Ron was next, rubbing a hand on top of her head and messing up her curls. “Good luck, Hermione,” he chuckled before disappeared around Fred.

Harry was last, smiling the widest. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. Sorry, Hermione,” he said giving her a small wave and disappearing as well.

Hermione listened to their fading steps as they turned the corner and left for the tower. Then, Fred began to walk, and Hermione let her head hang once again, tired from the strain of keeping it upright.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” she questioned, feeling all the blood in her body rush to her head.

“Hush now. No talking,” said Fred gripping her legs tighter. Hermione tried not to focus on the way his grip sat dangerously close to the top of her knee-high socks. Instead, she focused on the ground moving below her and the backs of Fred’s shoes as he walked down hallways and corridors. It felt like they’d been walking forever when he finally lifted her off of his shoulder and deposited her down onto the ground. She stumbled, all the blood rushing back to her limbs and making her faint. Fred caught her, grabbing her by the upper arms and keeping her vertical. After a few moments he released his hold, instead reaching up and brushing her messy hair out of her face. He smiled down at her as he did so, making Hermione’s heart stutter as he tucked the pieces behind her ears.

“So…” Fred sighed looking down at her and then to his left, staring hard at the wall. Hermione followed his gaze to see what he was staring at and realized just where Fred had taken them. It was the painting he’d found her at, those few months ago.

“Why…?” she drifted off, confused as to why he had brought her there of all places.

“Well last time I found you here you were upset. I figured it might be a good place to take you. Clearly something’s bothering you—” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck nervously “—I’ll just…leave you to it then.”

He made to walk away but before Hermione could stop herself, she called out to him. Fred halted in his tracks and turned back to her. “You can stay…if you’d like,” Hermione said softly, turning away from him and sitting down gently on the cold stone. She heard the shuffling of shoes before she felt Fred take a seat next to her. Hermione stared at the painting with unwavering concentration. Just like last time, the field had metamorphosized into an entirely new vision. While previously it had housed a mixture of many flowers on a bright sunny day, now it showed her nothing but thousands upon thousands of purple lilacs with an overcast sky.

“Viktor Krum asked me to the ball,” Hermione blurted. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone – at least not until she made her decision. But something about the moment, the painting, and it being Fred, made her want to tell him more than anything.

Hermione expected him to be surprised. She expected him to look at her incredulously – perhaps call her a liar. Instead he smiled and gave her a look that said: ‘I could have guessed that’ before asking, “Is that what’s got you all in a twist? Worried you made the wrong choice by saying yes?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

That did surprise Fred. “What? You said no then?” he asked, a glint in his eye that if Hermione knew any better, she could have sworn looked something akin to hope.

“No – I told him I’d think about it.”

Fred laughed.

“What?” asked Hermione defensively.

Fred wiped a tear from under his right eye before catching his breath and answering, “Nothing, it’s just…only you would tell an international quidditch player ‘maybe’ when he asks you to a ball.”

“I want to make sure his intentions are right.”

“What? Want to make sure he’s not just trying to get into your knickers?” asked Fred with another laugh.

“More like I want to make sure he actually likes me and isn’t just trying to get to Harry,” admitted Hermione with a whisper. Looking at her hands, she worried the inside of her bottom lip. She felt foolish for her confession, but Fred had the annoying ability to put her at such ease that she blurted out all her worries before she even knew what she was doing.

“Hey—” Fred brought a hand up, grabbing ahold of her chin softly and turning her to face him “—why would you think a silly thing like that?” He smoothed his thumb over her skin, pulling her lip from out between her teeth as he frowned at her.

“I just…why would he like me? I’m nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Hermione Granger, I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. Nothing special, she says,” Fred scoffed.

“Well, it’s true! My hair is a ratty nest, I’m skinny and knobby, and plain and freckly—”

“What’s wrong with freckly?” asked Fred accusingly before breaking out into a wry grin.

Hermione laughed. “You know what I mean,” she said, aware now that Fred’s hand had never left her face. Instead it found it’s home cupping the side of her cheek sweetly.

“No. I don’t think I do because…well because when I look at you, Hermione, I don’t see a knobby plain girl with ratty hair.”

“You don’t?” Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly the space between them seemed much too close but not close enough. Fred’s eyes scanned her face, flitting from her forehead to her lips before landing back on her eyes as she waited with bated breath for him to speak again.

“No.”

“What do you see?”

Fred hesitated, swallowing audibly as his sight flitted once again from her eyes to her lips and back up. “I see a beautiful girl with a wild mane and an equally wild fierceness. I see a beautiful girl that any man would be lucky to take to the ball,” said Fred, his voice a low timbre.

Hermione let out a shuddering breath. “What if…” she began, but stopped, unsure of whether to say next what she wanted to.

“Yes?” asked Fred, pushing her on.

“What if…what if I didn’t say yes because I was secretly hoping someone else might ask me?”

Fred deflated at Hermione’s question. Releasing her face, he dropped his hand and looked off to the painting once again as he sighed. For a brief moment he thought he saw what looked like disappointment on Hermione’s face, but that couldn’t be. Not when she’d just confessed, she said no to Viktor Krum because she hoped Ron would ask her to the ball. Still, it was probably for the best. He was taking Angelina after all – he hadn’t asked her yet of course, but she had made it exceedingly clear after Professor McGonagall’s abysmal dance lesson that she expected them to go together.

“I was thinking purple,” said Angelina, leaning lazily into Fred’s side as he stared into the fire of the Gryffindor common room.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, Angelina’s comment pulling him out of a deep concentration. He’d been thinking about Hermione. He was…always thinking about Hermione.

“For my dress for the ball. Purple – I like purple. It’s my favorite color, you know?”

“I didn’t know. Is it really?” asked Fred, looking down and wrapping an arm around Angelina’s waist.

“It is. I figured you’d want to know now so you’ll know how to match your dress robes.”

“I think…” began Fred, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. “I think that if you’re holding out for someone else and you’re not 100% sold on Krum, then you should wait.”

“Really?” asked Hermione, looking at him with those wide, Firewhisky brown eyes.

“Yeah, make Krum sweat it out for a bit. I’m sure he isn’t used to having to work for dates – it’ll be good for him. And it’ll give this other bloke some time, maaaybe he has something special planned for you.”

Hermione stared at him speculatively. “You say that as if you already know,” she said with an earnest, vulnerable expression on her face.

“I have it on good authority that by the end of next week you’ll have more than one invitation to the ball, ‘Mione. Trust me,” he winked, trying to keep a cool composure and not show the inappropriate disappointment he currently felt.

They continued to sit and stare at the painting above them for a while longer until Hermione broke the silence once again, “What about you?”

“What about me?” asked Fred, continuing to stare straight ahead.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been…off today. Something bothering you?”

Fred breathed deeply. “You remember how we won all that money off Ludo Bagman at the world cup?” he asked.

Hermione nodded.

“Well, the arsehole paid us in leprechaun gold. We’ve tried to get in touch with him since, but he’s been dodging us and well…not only do we not have the money he owed us, but we also don’t have the money we gave him either. It’s why supplies are so tight for the business,” he admitted, remembering when Hermione had asked why they weren’t putting their development efforts into more than just one thing at a time.

The soft touch of Hermione’s hand on his brought Fred’s attention away from the painting. Briefly he looked down at the place where their hands were entangled. He should stop her. The touch while friendly in nature, did nothing to quell the stirring attraction in the pit of his stomach. But he didn’t. Instead he allowed himself to indulge in the small bit of intimacy. After all, it was innocent enough.

“Have you considered writing to him and reminding him just how serious unsanctioned gambling is in Britain? I’m sure he’d like to know how…consequential it would be if someone in the Ministry found out he’d been gambling illegally at the cup, especially with at least two underage wizards,” said Hermione.

Fred look at her incredulously. Had he really heard her say what he thought he did? “Are you suggesting blackmail, Miss Granger?”

“I’m just saying that if I were Ludo Bagman, I’d like to keep my job at the Ministry. How he chooses to do so, is entirely up to him.” She said the words so casually, you would have thought she was discussing an article in the Daily Prophet – not the plotting of blackmailing a Ministry official. But Fred didn’t miss the evil glint of mischief in her eye as she stared at him impishly. Good god, he did not deserve Hermione Granger.

And neither did his little brother, thought Fred as he sought out Ron that afternoon. It was Wednesday – a week and half till the ball and he had a mission. Despite his feelings towards Hermione and the thought of Ron being not nearly worthy of her, he knew that what Hermione wanted was for his idiot of a brother to ask her to the ball. So, he was going to make sure just that happened. He found Ron on the grounds, under a tree near the black lake with Harry and Hermione. Despite the snow and freezing temperatures, the three were huddled up arguing about something as a small blue flame floated near them. Wrapping his robes around him tightly, Fred trudged through the snow towards the three of them.

“What’s this then? Not you three freezing your arses off in the snow when there’s a perfectly good castle just over there!” he called out to them, breaking the small trio out of whatever spat they were in.

“Hullo to you too,” called Harry.

“What do you want?” asked Ron.

“Oi. Very rude! I can’t come and see my favorite baby brother?”

“Is it me that you want?” questioned Ron, sending a glance in Hermione’s direction.

“Actually yes—” Fred dug his hands deep into his pockets “—mind if we…” He gestured behind him and Ron stood with a huff – clearly put out by having to pause his conversation.

Fred walked a distance from where Harry and Hermione sat before he stopped and turned to Ron.

“What?” asked Ron again, looking down at him expectantly. Merlin, when did he get so tall? wondered Fred.

“Have you got yourself a date to the ball yet?”

“Why do you care mate?” laughed Ron, looking around like he expected George to pop up at any moment and pummel him with snowballs.

“I’m just saying, time’s running out and before you know it, the ones you really want to ask will be taken,” he said sending a purposeful look towards Hermione.

“What? Hermione? Don’t be ridiculous,” squeaked Ron.

It took every last ounce of his strength, for Fred to not throttle Ron for his stupidity. Here he was trying to do a nice thing for Hermione and subsequently his little brother and what did he get in return? He was Father bloody Christmas at this point.

“Listen – you can say whatever you want, but your little crush on Hermione—”

“—I don’t have a crush on Hermione—”

“—your little crush on Hermione isn’t as big of a secret to some. So, I advise you ask her before somebody else does.”

Ron scoffed, “Sure.”

“Hey—” Fred held his hands up in defeat “—I’m just saying. And now that I’ve said my peace, my moral obligation is done, and I can leave you to it. Don’t cock it up, mate.”

Ron looked at Fred like he was a strange creature from the depths of the Black Lake itself. “Okay…well if that’s all, I’m gonna head back. Weirdo…” Ron breathed the last sentiment as he turned away from Fred and headed back towards Harry and Hermione.

Fred shook his head, having the sinking feeling that Ron would, in fact, cock it up.

And he’d been right. Two days later and Ron had yet to ask Hermione to the ball. Even worse, he had it on good authority – from some gossiping third year girls – that Krum had approached Hermione on the grounds the day before. For all he knew, Krum had asked her again and the poor girl had said yes because at this point it was so close to the day of the ball that she probably thought Ron would never ask! Fred glared down at the parchment in front of him and then over to Ron who was seated on the couch between Harry and Hermione. Scratching a quick note onto a bit of spare parchment, he crumpled it and threw it in Ron’s direction. Ron picked it up, unfolding the note and reading it out loud.

“Hurry up and ask someone before all the good ones are taken. Who are you taking the ball then?” Ron asked in annoyance.

Fred looked from Ron to Angelina who sat at a nearby table with Alicia working on her potions essay. Crumpling up another piece of parchment, he sent it flying in Angelina’s direction. She looked up at him with a tired expression when the paper landed on a bit of ink not yet dried.

“What?” Angelina asked.

“Fancy going to the ball with me, Johnson? I think we’d make a rather good-looking pair.”

Angelina smiled widely, looking excitedly at Alicia before turning back to Fred and nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, I’d love to Fred.”

George clapped a hand on Fred’s back in congratulations which he gracefully took. Really it wasn’t the most romantic thing. Perhaps it would have been more romantic if Angelina hadn’t already decided they were going together. But at least he’d asked her. Fred shot a smug grin and wink in Ron’s direction. While the irritated expression on Ron’s face was expected, the look on Hermione’s face was not. She almost seemed upset as their eyes met momentarily, but before Fred could properly tell, she looked away.

“Say…Hermione…” began Ron.

Alright, not off to a great start, but it’s something, thought Fred as he listened closely.

“Yes?” asked Hermione, looking at Ron in trepidation.

“You’re a girl…”

“Very well spotted,” Hermione said, giving him a confused look.

“Well, why don’t we go together?”

Yes! He’d done it! Just when he thought Ron didn’t have it in him, he overstepped Fred’s expectations. Fred was almost tempted to walk over and pull him into a hug, but then all temptation was erased at what he heard next.

“Really?” asked Hermione in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean it’s one thing for a guy to show up alone, but for a girl it’s just sad.”

No…no, no, no. Fred groaned, laying his head in his hands. George winced beside him, knowing that a comment like that absolutely would not fly with Hermione.

“What makes you think I’d be going alone?” asked Hermione – a seemingly innocent question, but Fred knew that behind it, lurked only bad things for Ron.

“I mean, come on…” remarked Ron, faltering a bit when he saw the rage in Hermione’s eyes. Just when Fred thought it couldn’t get any worse…

“For your information. I won’t be going alone because somebody already asked me…” Fred looked up when Hermione hesitated. While he knew it wasn’t really any of his business, a part of him was wildly curious as to what the next thing she had to say was. Hermione seemed to agree with his involvement, for her eyes landed on him for the briefest of moments before she looked back at Ron and seethed her answer, “And I said yes.”

Christmas morning came without a hitch. The term had been over for nearly a week now and Fred could finally focus all of his time and effort into working out the remaining kinks of the Canary Creams. In fact, he’d spent the last week cooped up in the small classroom that was their work area, reading and brewing. George had been there quite a bit as well, but he often snuck out to the kitchens or to play a few rounds of exploding snap with Lee. Usually Fred would go too, but with the added company of Hermione he found he didn’t mind staying behind to continue working. Hermione had almost no qualms with spending most of her time hidden away in their workspace as she was still vexed with Ron over his disastrous attempt to ask her to the ball. While Fred felt bad that it didn’t work out the way he planned, he hated to admit that a small part of him was happy Ron wasn’t taking Hermione to the Yule Ball. She was too good for him, he told himself resolutely.

Fred rolled over in his bed and pulled back the curtains to see the sky still inky black. Winter mornings were always so bleak and dismal. He preferred summer when he woke with the sun. But still, the cheer and excitement that came with Christmas morning left him wide awake and so he sat up excitedly, ready to see what presents were waiting for him. The pile at the end of his bed looked its usual size except for a rather large box at the very bottom. He wondered for a moment who that could be from. Did his mother hit her head and forget they were poor? he pondered, reaching out and grabbing the first present from the top. Looking at the tag, he recognized it was from Angelina. He smiled, knowing with a chagrin that it was most likely sweets. She always got him and George sweets – despite Fred mentioning many times that he didn’t care for candy all that much. Tearing the wrapping, he was pleasantly surprised to find not candy, but a small golden compass for his broom. They had seen it in a shop last Hogsmeade weekend. Fred had innocently mentioned he’d quite like a compass for his broom, but never did he imagine Angelina would buy it for him. Amusedly, he thought of the present he got her. That same Hogsmeade visit she’d spent hours eyeing a scarf in a little side shop. When she wasn’t looking, he’d snuck back and purchased it for her. Placing the compass gently to the side, he dug into the rest of his presents. A big box of chocolate frogs from Lee, a sweater from his mum and dad along with some fudge, and a year-long subscription to Jokester’s Magazine from Alicia. All in all, a good turn out – but there was still one present he had yet to open. A big box that simply read: To Fred and George, From Hermione.

Fred reached for the box and then stopped. Looking over at the closed curtains of George’s bed, he wondered if he should open the present when it was meant for him and George. Really, he should wait for George to wake up and open the present together, thought Fred before grabbing the corner of the wrapping and tearing it open. Ridding the large box of its wrappings, he pulled off the lid of the box to reveal a number of small vials and boxes.

“What?” Fred pondered out loud.

“Oi! You started with out me, ya git,” grumbled George, pulling back his curtains and glaring at Fred.

“Come and see what Hermione’s got us Georgie. I’m not quite sure what it is.”

George groaned, rolling out his bed with a heavy thump of his feet and shuffling over to him. George stared down at the contents of the box and reached in. His fingers closed around a vial of deep blue color. Turning it over and reading the card attached to the top George read aloud: “Billywig sting—" George reached in and grabbed a box this time “—dried mandrake root. Freddie, I think the girls gone and bought us potions ingredients for Christmas.”

“Really?!” Fred asked excitedly, reaching down, and grabbing a jar of newt spleen. Sure enough, it looked like the box was filled with a bit of ingredients Fred had ever heard of and then a few he had not. This would help their progress more than he though Hermione even realized. Brilliant. It was just brilliant.

“We’re set for a while now, Freddie!” exclaimed George, sitting down on his own bed and beginning to open his presents.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Fred couldn’t wipe the grin from his face for the rest of the morning. With the knowledge that they were free to explore and experiment to their hearts desire, he was constantly reminded of one of the best Christmas presents he’d ever gotten. He meant to tell her as much too, but Hermione was distinctly missing from the breakfast that morning and the common room as well. When he finally ran into Ron and Harry and asked about her, they had said something about her getting ready for the ball. Ron had scoffed, still convinced that Hermione was lying about her date for the Yule Ball. While Fred was one of the few who actually knew who she was going with, he wasn’t going to tell Ron any different. Secretly he couldn’t wait to see the stupid look on Ron’s face when Hermione arrived that on the arm of Viktor Krum.

How could it possibly take her all day to get ready for a stupid dance? thought Fred as he settled into a game of chess with Ron. While his little brother walloped him, checking his king for the third time that morning, Fred thought of Hermione’s fantastic Christmas gift. Self-consciously he wondered if his gift to her matched up. What was a small book compared to all those ingredients? It must have cost her almost all her pocket money and then some. The rest of the day was spent in the common room, alternating between chess, exploding snap, and chatting with his fellow Gryffindors. The tower was much busier than any holiday Fred had spent at Hogwarts – the Yule Ball keeping everyone over Christmas break that usually would have gone home. It was a little after two when Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Ginny stated they were headed up to their dorms to get ready for the ball. He, George, Lee, Ron, and Harry bid they goodbye before deciding to take a walk around the grounds before getting ready themselves. The wind was bone chilling as they strolled from the castle to the quidditch pitch and back, leaving their faces tinged pink and raw.

By the time they got back, they had nearly an hour till the ball began and so, they all departed to their dorms to get into their dress robes. Fred’s dress robes were a standard black, but he’d purchased a purple tie a week ago via owl-order to match Angelina’s dress. Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he straightened his tie and smoothed down his long, ginger locks. George appeared in the mirror behind him, straightening his tie as well and giving him a shit-eating grin.

“I reckon we’ll be the best-looking blokes at the ball tonight,” said George definitively.

“Yes, but only if you mean I’ll be the best looking and you’ll be a close second,” quipped Fred.

“You both look like two huge identical prats to me—” Lee rolled his eyes, pulling at the sleeves of his baby blue robes “—now let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get to hear the Weird Sisters play.”

Lee hadn’t shut up about the Weird Sisters playing at the Yule Ball since Dumbledore had announced it. Fred and George were excited too, but they didn’t hold quite a candle in their hearts for the band like Lee did.

The night went by quickly and spectacularly. The food was divine, the Weird Sisters were just as good as Fred imagined, and Angelina was as good a date as he could imagine for the night. They talked and joked and danced, never lulling into awkward silence like so many couple there that night. It wasn’t until Angelina excused herself to the restroom that Fred realized it was nearly eleven at night. Where had the time gone? Glancing around the marvelously decorated room, he saw George laughing loudly at something Lee had said near the punchbowl, Kenneth Towler was dancing slowly to a ballad with his Ravenclaw date, and across the room sat Ron and Harry looking miserable. Their dates had long since abandoned them, Fred noted, as they had failed to dance with them once – a missed opportunity as Fred acknowledged that both Padma and Pavarti Patil were very pretty girls. Unfortunately, Ron and Harry were just too preoccupied with Hermione and more importantly her date. When he failed to spot the duckling turned swan of the evening, he meandered casually out of the room and into the adjoining corridor where several students stood mingling. Traveling further down, he spotted a terrace door ajar and peaked through the glass to see Hermione standing by herself in the cold. Hands braced on the stone railing, she looked out into the dark expanse of the knight.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” exclaimed Fred, noting Hermione’s flushed appearance and looking for any signs of her turning blue. Luckily, the only thing blue about her was the fabric of her dress – a dress that every girl apparently adored that evening, for even Angelina had spent a fair bit of time discussing it with Alicia. Hermione truly did look beautiful. Everyone had been gossiping about her since the moment she walked into the ballroom on the arm of Viktor Krum. Her dress revealed a figure Fred had never seen before – one that was womanly and soft, her skin looked soft and dewy like she’d stepped out of a painting, and her hair had somehow been tamed into an elaborate updo with a few loose curls framing her face. Although, if Fred was being honest with himself, he preferred her hair the way it usually looked – wild and lioness-like.

Hermione jumped, grabbing ahold of the railing in front of her and bringing a hand up to her heart. Clearly, she hadn’t expected company out here and Fred didn’t blame her – only someone truly insane would be standing out in the cold like this without the proper robes. “Merlin Fred, you scared me!”

“What are you doing out here?” he asked again, stepping towards her.

“Nothing…Viktor went to get drinks and I needed a bit of fresh air,” said Hermione, but the way in which she worried her bottom lip, her deliciously tempting bottom lip, between her teeth told him there might be more. So, he stared at her, raising an eyebrow in question until she broke.

“Oh god, Fred. I don’t know what to do!” she yelled, bringing a hand up to her temple. She began to pace back and forth, the hem of her dress dragging in the snow that was beginning to build on the terrace.

Fred reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, halting her movements. “What happened? What’s the matter?” he asked, looking over her for any signs of physical ailments. Had Krum hurt her somehow?

“Nothing, well no that’s not true. It is something, but it hasn’t necessarily happened yet and I—”

“Just tell me why you’re out here trying to freeze to death, please Hermione,” said Fred, cutting her ramblings short.

“I…what if he tries to kiss me?”

Fred wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I mean, you kiss him back. If that’s what you want and if it’s not what you want, then kick him in the shins. You’ve got a killer kick – I can attest to that personally.”

Hermione smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, the golden amber color shining with worry. “I just…I was dancing with him and there was a moment where I thought he might kiss me and then someone interrupted us and so we didn’t. But I had the realization that he might try to kiss me again and I’ve never kissed anyone before. What if I’m bad at it, Fred?” she asked looking up at him with a desperate expression.

“It’s a first kiss – everyone’s first kiss is a little awkward,” reasoned Fred, trying very hard not to look at her plump pink lips.

“Yes, but what if I’m so bad that he never wants to kiss me again? I just…I don’t know what to expect or what to do and I—”

Before Fred could weigh the pros and cons of his actions, he was leaning down and capturing Hermione’s frantically moving lips in his own. The kiss was sweet at first, a firm yet gentle press of his lips to hers, but like a man thirsting in the desert, the moment he reached water he had to drink his fill. Reaching up, he cupped her face and deepened the kiss. Slotting their lips, he moved in slow measured movements. For her first kiss, Hermione was more skilled than she knew. Her lips moved naturally and achingly sweet with his, parting just enough for him to swipe his tongue along the crease and taste her. Later on, he would reason with himself that he only did it to shut her up. He’d go on to tell her, after breaking the kiss, that he merely did it so she wouldn’t be nervous for when Krum kissed her later – she’d be prepared and know what to expect. But in that moment, as he felt her soft skin beneath his fingertips and breathed in her essence, he couldn’t lie to himself. He kissed her because he was selfish. He kissed her because the idea of Krum being the first man to sample her sweet lips lit a burning fire of rage in his veins. He kissed her because he wanted to.

Chapter 13>>>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[daandyli0n]

HOO FUCKING BOY, HERE WE GO:

so. first off, the main characters, based off of Tilin and Flippa: Bonnibel "Bonni" Martinez and Artemis "Arti" Nolan

(not the official designs for anyone, just some doodles. also, if you can't see the numbers too well, Bonni is eleven and Arti is twelve at the beginning of the story)

as you can see, right off the bat, A Lot Of Divorce.

all you need to know on both ends:

- [REDACTED] is dead. Quincy caught him abusing their Three Year Old Child and had the Quite Understandable Response of Immediate Murder. Bonni has a burn scar on their left hand from The Incident and has also repressed the memory of what happened that day. both of The Incident and of The Murder.

(also, ignore Doppelganger for now. we'll get to him in a bit :))

- Hermie and Lee did what i call The Gay Couple Equivalent Of "Let's Have A Child To Save Our Marriage!" it. Basically Backfired. Horribly. Herman's final straw was when Lee caused an accident that heavily injured and Almost Killed Artemis. the pair divorced after that, but Lee still visits Arti on occasion.

- oh yeah, fun fact: Quincy and Hermie have Feelings for each other, but they both have such complicated feelings from Previous Relationships that they just. can't bring it up to each other. so they both just Yearn And Pine™️.

- Quincy owns a casino in a nearby city, and works in the Actual Building on weekends. Bonni stays with Arti and Hermie those nights :]

- Quincy is genderqueer and gay, and also uses any pronouns

now! PLOT TIME:

- so. weird stuff starts happening in September of 20XX in this little small town called Sleepyfern. Weird Tall Teddy Bears stare ominously from the woods (listen. you know i love The Horrors of the Cucuruchos, so adding something similar to them was bound to happen), a guy goes missing, that same guy's four-year-old son Fucking Dies mysteriously during the night with Absolutely Zero Clear Cause Of Death. stuff ain't going so well, right?

- well, It Gets Even Worse! a kid Bonni and Arti were close to, Joshua Canary (i'm sure That last name doesn't have any symbolism to it whatsoever :) Definitely Not :)), gets killed on his way home from school in late September, and it was so bad that their body is described as "barely recognizable." they say it looks like he was mauled by Something, but no one is sure what exactly could've done it. Bonni walked in on the scene being discovered. She Doesn't Take It Well!

- Bonni, due to not taking it well, is told to go to appointments with the school counselor. she helps him the best she can, but even Quincy thinks that sending them to an Actual Therapist will help better.

- about a week later, Bonni is walking home from school, waiting for Arti, when they get dragged into the woods by a figure who Looks Like Quincy and then gets beaten up. Arti comes along after hearing Bonni start screaming for help and throws rocks at the figure until Bonni can get away, at which point they both sprint home, with Bonni bruised up.

the figure? That's Doppelganger. long story short, it's a shapeshifting being who copies the appearance of people in the town, typically those who are missing or dead, in order to blend in or lure people off. he usually takes on the appearance of Quincy just to fuck with this One Specific Kid (Bonni). why her specifically? good question! no one really knows!

- a few days later, Quincy goes missing for a whole day, before "miraculously" appearing again. uh yeah, that's Doppelganger again. Bonni, understandably, doesn't want to be alone in a house with something that had tried to kill them just A Few Days Prior. Arti decides to help Bonni find a way to lock his door (i just thought it'd be an interesting bit that Arti just knows how to do A Lot Of Random Useful Shit. no one really knows how, and she never explains it. yes, this list of things apparently includes Installing A Lock On Someone's Door), to help him feel safer, and offers to let Bonni stay over at her house if they need it.

- Bonni, over the next few days, comes up with an interesting idea: they both love mysteries, exploring, and horror stuff,

Why Don't THEY Try To Figure Out What The Fuck All Of This Weird Shit Is, And How To Make It Stop?

Arti is a bit reluctant, but decides to agree to go along with this. after all, everyone needs a little adventure, right?

- Bonni decides to create a little motto:

"For Dad and For Josh."

(Because Bonni DEFINITELY Doesn't Feel Guilty About What Happened To Josh, Because He Offered To Walk Home With Him And Didn't Press It When Josh Insisted He Could Walk Home Alone, And So She Feels Responsible For What Happened To Them. Definitely Not)

- so yeah! Bonni And Arti Decided To Investigate The Horrors, And Now Are Being Forced To Face And Deal With The Horrors!

that's all for now, i might write some things in a bit and tag you in them, but if you wanna ask about anything, then feel free 100%! i love this little thing that i've created and wanna talk about it!!

Doc, would you like to hear about a new oc universe i created that might've been inspired a bit by the qsmp (mostly character-wise and partially plot-wise)?

long story short: mix the vibes of Coraline, Gravity Falls, and the Qsmp, and add the themes of loss of childhood innocence due to trauma, guilt, and trauma in general, and make it a mix of the horror and mystery genres. oh yeah, also make it Very queer.

general warnings for both harm to children and child death, because. Jesus Christ.

(plot summary: Weird Stuff Happens In A Small Town And A Couple Of Queer Preteens Decide To Get Involved With Figuring Out What The Fuck Is Going On, Partially Because The Weird Shit Is Affecting Their Lives. The Horrors™️ Ensue)

Yesyesyesyes tell me your brain worms!! I love consuming my friends oc stuff it gives me enrichment ^v^

[unidentified-flying-sparrow]

I still love Harry Potter - but not JKR

Warning: This gets wordy. I really just rambled and let my thoughts take me where they will. And these are only my personal rambles - they aren’t meant to be a deep political statement or super eloquent or anything. They’ll be messy and meandering and mainly for my own benefit.  I just...needed to think. And remember. And feel.  You have been warned.

JKR has been in the news a lot lately. And not in a good way. To put it bluntly, she’s basically revealed herself as a TERF and is rightly being called out.  It hurts, because Harry Potter made a large impact on my life. But the author has shown herself to be flawed and I had put her on a pedestal for years of my life. I admired her “rags-to-riches” (sorta) story. Her success. Her talent with writing. I wanted to be her in some ways. She was living my life’s dream!

And now she is making hurtful remarks about a marginalized group of people who have done nothing except demand equality and recognition.

I first heard about the books through my mom. She was a substitute teacher at the time, and in the class she was covering, the teacher had just started reading The Sorceror’s Stone. Mom went out and got a copy, read it, and loaned it to me. She also griped about how no one knew how to pronounce the name “Hermione” - the kids she was reading to kept ‘correcting’ her with ‘Hermy-own-knee” as the pronunciation. It drove her nuts. I remember bragging to my friends when I figured out what the Mirror of Erised actually said. I was in junior high - eighth grade. I was reading a kids’ book that wasn’t hugely popular yet, and trying to lure people in.  I remember seeing more and more people I knew picking up the books. In high school, when we had free days in band (aka the teacher was sick and the sub didn’t know music), my friends and I would talk Harry Potter.  I was giddy when I got my own copies - hardback copies - of the first three books by saving my money and shopping the second-hand bookstores. It’s not that my parents wouldn’t have gotten them for me, but I wanted to buy them for myself. My original, paperback copy of Sorceror’s Stone was battered and tattered and well-loved.  Mom kept loaning out our copies to people. Sometimes, they didn’t come back. In that, it was like when she would loan out copies of The Lord of The Rings when I was a kid (which is why there are probably 4 or 5 copies of that in my parents’ house today). She knew the books were special. I put up Harry Potter posters. I glommed onto Hermione as a favorite character - a bookish girl who could still stand up for herself and have great friends? It was everything I had wanted for myself when I was eleven and struggled hard to have. So I adored her. And I shipped Harry/Hermione. Still do, but now days, I prefer just having an OT3 of the Golden Trio and an OT3 of the Silver Trio (or Sub Trio or whatever name the fandom uses now).  I sometimes had trouble sleeping and would pop the audiobook of Sorceror’s Stone into my cassette player on those nights. It helped me relax. When the first film came out, my parents and I were there to see it. I was amazed. I remember griping about minor tweaks, like Harry’s eyes (until I read about the contacts issues). Oh, what little I knew of how the books and films would splinter more. But still be fun. Goblet of Fire the book was released 4 days before my 15th birthday. I made the mistake of telling my parents I could hold off on reading my copy until then. After I saw my mom sobbing -for reasons she couldn’t tell me - at the end of the book...I never made that particular error again. When Order of the Phoenix came out, we went to the Barnes and Noble midnight release to get our pre-ordered copies. During the long wait, a guy wandered up and down selling Little Caesar's pizzas. Another guy had visited Wal-Mart, purchased every copy of the book they had, and was selling them for only a couple of bucks over what he’d paid to anyone in line who was desperate for an extra copy. My parents bought one and I spent the rest of the waiting period crouched under a parking lot light, reading, until my parents got the copies we’d actually come for.  I lost sleep reading all of the books as they came out. I was always done within a few days, at most. I just couldn’t put them down. I got T-shirts. Bought dolls/pillows/bedding. Got myself a T-shirt, a poster, and Quidditch Through The Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them when I visited the UK in high school. I saw the latter films at midnight releases with my friends. Half-Blood Prince the book came out during my first summer as a camp counselor. Almost all of us - camper and staff alike - were reading it or talking about it. Spoilers were forbidden but there would still be hushed conversations during bedtime hours or “me-time” after lunch (rest period).  Deathly Hallows - both book and film - came out after my mother passed. I got my copy of the book, quietly, at a Kroger at midnight. 

Harry Potter got me heavily into fandom. I was there for The Draco Trilogy and Pawn to Queen. My Immortal and The Shoebox Project. Squickfics that made it onto GodAwfulFanfiction and its successor, Why God Why. LiveJournal communities. Fandom wank. And so much more. Reading updates on MuggleNet and The Leaky Cauldron and watching fanvids. Listening to music uploaded from Draco and the Malfoy and other fanbands. Roleplaying communities that were being hosted on Proboards message boards. Countless Sorting quizzes.  I made sure to visit Universal Studios on my honeymoon with @lechevaliermalfet​ and want to go back one day, as only Hogsmeade existed when we went. I also remember how grumpy I was that @lechevaliermalfet​ had resisted my urging to read the books - he read them after they were recommended by an unlikely source. In hindsight, it makes sense. I was a solid fan. The person who recommended the books was not. I celebrated the release of Cursed Child with my family at a day-long celebration in Naperville, IL. I have a T-shirt to commemorate it, and a wand that I made with the help of my niece.  Just this year, @lechevaliermalfet​ and I did a date night - dinner and the first Potter movie on the big screen.

I’m rambling, I know, but the point is, Harry Potter got me involved. I made online friends and honed writing skills by writing fanfiction. I learned to have a thicker skin because of some of the feedback I got. I made at least one fanvid (I’m reasonably certain it’s been lost to the ether and good riddance). Sure, I participated in other fandoms (especially Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew and Witch Hunter Robin). But this was a fandom I shared with more of my family and friends than any other. And I could even - and did - read it to kids I babysat. Now, I know Harry Potter isn’t perfect. Lord knows, Cursed Child reads like a bad fanfiction, and I have seen those ideas executed in ways that fired up my imagination and emotions more effectively. Repeatedly. Then there’s the issue of worldbuilding. The not-so-great aspects/implications of much of what has come out of Pottermore aside, Harry Potter’s wizarding world has always been a shaky society. Others have touched on this far more eloquently, so I’ll just say that it was interesting that we only had a few token “good” Slytherins - who were still shown to have ambition that overruled their better judgement at times.

I always saw the films as a different interpretation of the same story, so I wouldn’t go nuts over the stuff that was altered, so that stays. They have flaws of their own. Sometimes they exacerbate what is in the books - sometimes not.

I can’t speak to the more recent Fantastic Beasts stuff as I haven’t gotten involved. Maybe eventually. But I never realized that the poor representation in JKR’s world might reflect her worldview more wholly. I honestly figured it was a more innocent ignorance or reluctance to risk upsetting the market at the time. But the more she tweets and posts...the more obvious it is that no, she just really is that biased.  I guess, at this point, I’m going to have to follow the Death of the Author route. I used to live for the engagement Rowling had with fans, and the tidbits she’d dole out. Now, I cringe every time I see one.   For the books themselves, I think I’m going to have to take the Death of the Author approach from now on. Because JKR cannot take away the positive things Harry Potter gave me and other fans. I won’t let her. And I am grateful that there are Potter cast members stepping up to denounce her. I love Harry Potter. JKR can go jump in a lake. 

[milliebeeweasel]

Draco Sinister: Still a Better Time Travel Story than The Cursed Child

A while ago, I read Draco Dormiens, the fanfic famous for propelling Cassie Claire into BNF-dom, and for being a terrifying Frankenstein’s monster of plagiarism.  My masochistic streak kicked in again, and I decided to try the sequel, Draco Sinister: a tale of dumb love triangles, Shakespearean Wormtail and ignoring Voldemort for 900 pages.

The fic starts when Draco wakes from a nightmare, and struggles to decide who to tell about it, before settling on writing to Hermione … in exactly the same way as Harry wakes up from a nightmare at the start of Goblet of Fire and writes to Sirius.  Yeah.  The plagiarism starts that early.

Harry and Draco are spending the summer at an unnamed Magid school (and yes, it remains unnamed for the whole fic), where Fleur Delacour is also a student/Magid.  Weird Canon Divergence #1: Fleur here is not described as having veela heritage.  She is a veela.  Because Cassie Claire only skimmed the Harry Potter books .  Also Lupin teaches at this school, because the whole drama about him being unveiled as a werewolf apparently didn’t matter in Cassie’s world.

Anyhoo, Draco got this fancy sword at the end of Draco Dormiens during the epic bitchfight with Lucius.  It’s all green and sparkly, and totes belonged to Salazar Slytherin (because if Godric Gryffindor got a sword, Slytherin did too, apparently). But Harry’s hella suspicious of it and convinces Draco to let Lupin take the sword and make sure it’s not, like, cursed as all get out.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at the Burrow, Hermione’s chilling with Ron and Ginny when she gets Draco’s letter.  She merrily writes back to him and Harry, before receiving another letter from Victor Krum.

Because the love triangle in Draco Dormiens wasn’t infuriating enough. Now we need to toss Krum in the mix.

She agrees to meet Krum in Diagon Alley.  Yeah. I’m sure this’ll shake out fine.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at Magid school, Draco wakes up in the night again, this time because a demon has broken into his and Harry’s dormitory looking for the sword.

Weird Canon Divergence #2: despite JKR’s efforts to keep the afterlife vague and mysterious, Cassie whacks a Christian Hell into Draco Sinister a la Buffy the Vampire Slayer, complete with fire and brimstone.  O … OK?

Harry and Draco banter with the demon for a while, but since Lupin currently has the sword they can’t exactly hand it over (and Draco doesn’t want to because, you know, Draco Malfoy). Eventually the demon decides fuck it, and tells Draco to keep the damn sword because it’s cursed as all get out anyway, and promptly disappears.  Lupin works out the sword is a Living Blade, meaning it has a mind of its own and that mind is kitten-murdering  evil, and Harry’s like, ‘Mate I told you that sword was cursed as all get out,’ and Draco’s like, ‘Shut up I still want it.’

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at Diagon Alley, Hermione promptly loses both Ron and Ginny and talks to Victor Krum alone.  Because of course.  When she comes back, she says screw Harry, she’s madly in love with Krum now and is going to run away with him to Bulgaria.

Well that didn’t take long.

Back at Magid school, Harry receives a letter from Hermione informing him of her newest true love, at which he has a full on meltdown, smashing everything in the vicinity with his Magid powers until Draco yells, ‘Oh hell nah, we did not go through all this love triangle bullshit for Hermione to run off with Krum, something is up,’ and slaps some sense into Harry, a scene which essentially ends in Lupin running in screaming, ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING MOTHERFUCKERS?’

And I wish that was the last My Immortal comparison I’d find in this fic.

They get Fleur Delacour to seduce Lupin out of his office (I threw up in my mouth a little), before breaking in so Draco can nab his cursed sword back. Lupin’s locked it in an unbreakable case, but Draco deliberately pisses Harry off until his Magid rage comes back and smashes the case open.  This is the first of several times they use enraged Harry to break shit, a trope I will henceforth refer to as Incredible Hulk Harry.

Harry and Draco team up with Ron and Ginny, and march up to Krum’s hotel room in London.  But Krum’s like, ‘Oh, Hermy-ninny?  I haffn’t seen her, but then I don’t remember literally any of yesterday except someone yelling “Imperio” at me.’

Luckily for the gang, Draco gave Hermione his epicyclical charm—that ugly ass necklace Lucius had in Draco Dormiens that contained Draco’s life force or whatever.  So Draco can use that like a homing beacon to find Hermione.  Also Harry has another mini meltdown because he’s so glad Hermione does love him after all

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away Hermione wakes up locked in a tower.  Wormtail walks in and she’s like, ‘Aha, I should’ve known this was Voldemort’s doing!’ but Wormtail goes, ‘Nah, I got a bitchin’ new master now, check it out,’ and in walks motherfucking Salazar Slytherin.

Hermione understandably freaks the fuck out, not least because apparently Slytherin thought it’d be fashionable to get the Dark Mark tattooed on BOTH HIS CHEEKS.  Yeah.  Like Star Butterfly’s lil’ hearts.

He tells Hermione the Dark Mark was actually totes his idea, and Voldemort’s basically just a DeviantArt thief. Then he shows Hermione a tapestry of the Hogwarts founders, who look suspiciously like Hermione (Ravenclaw), Harry (Gryffindor), Ginny (Hufflepuff) and Draco (Slytherin).

The fic continues to spiral wildly into insanity as Slytherin announces Hermione is the Heir of Rowena Ravenclaw, who he was in love with until she ditched him for Gryffindor. But that’s OK because Slytherin has a handy dandy love potion to force Hermione to love him 5ever!  Wormtail blindfolds Hermione and makes her chug the potion, and says she will fall in love with the first person she sees once the potion kicks in.  Like a baby duck!

Side note: why does everyone, including the villains, want to sleep with Hermione?

So at this point I’m side-eyeing the fic furiously, because I can sense incoming love triangles like cats can sense earthquakes.  Cast your bets who she falls in love with.  (No, it’s not Wormtail.)

Halfway to Hermione (a great band name), Harry and co. are attached by dementors.  Draco falls off his broom and breaks his leg, so while Ron and Ginny look for help, Harry teaches Draco the patronus charm.

Draco’s patronus is a dragon. Because of course it is.

Ron and Ginny happen to find Charlie Weasley, who happens to be in England and not Romania and happens to have a hoard of dragons with him and happens to have plenty of healers to fix Draco’s leg.  Of course! He patches them up, shows them his dragons (not a euphemism) and lets them nance on to save Hermione.

Except Ginny.

Ginny’s not allowed to go.

Weird Canon Divergence #3: Ginny’s characterisation.  Hindsight is 20/20 when you’ve read Order of the Phoenix, and I know the Draco Trilogy started before that.  But still, reading Ginny Weasley, the quidditch champion, queen of bat bogey hexes, tomboy badass as a ‘girl’s girl more interested in boys and make up’ /stroppy teenager from hell is just … wrong.  She acts, and is treated, much younger than the other characters, despite the pretty minimal age gap.  I had 15 year-old friends when I was 16.  The maturity level was not that different.

ANYWAY.  Harry, Ron and Draco march up to this old castle in the woods, but it’s all locked up and guarded, so Draco’s like, ‘Well everyone pretty much still thinks I’m a Death Eater anyway, so why don’t I go in and let you in after?’  And Harry says, ‘Good idea,’ and Ron says, ‘Actually I’m also still 90% convinced you’re a Death Eater,’ but Draco goes in regardless.

He runs into a bunch of veelas, who fawn hilariously over him and reveal Weird Canon Divergence #4: veelas in the Draco Trilogy are straight-up bonafide dark creatures, who seduce men and then fucking eat them.  Like a praying mantis.

Why not?

The veela tell Draco he’s defo got some veela heritage in him, before waltzing off, presumably to seduce and eat some men who aren’t related to them.  Draco decides fuck Harry and Ron, and goes off to rescue Hermione on his own.

Hermione, also currently trying to escape, has a moment of mind-numbing stupidity and takes her blindfold off—and of course, sees Draco Malfoy.

It could’ve been Wormtail, Hermione.

He was in that castle.

WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THE BLINDFOLD OFF?

Hermione’s nearly as devastated as I am to discover the plot triangle Cassie killed at the end of Draco Dormiens has risen from its grave, and begs Draco not to tell Harry about the love potion.  Because, you know, honesty isn’t that important in a relationship.

Weird Canon Divergence #4: love potions are illegal in the Draco Trilogy.  I actually approve of this, because it’s always kind of boggled my mind how literal mind-control date rape drugs are A-OK in JKR’s world.  Good job, Cassie, I guess?

Draco and Hermione leg it out the castle, but Slytherin blocks their way.  He’s surprisingly chill, though, considering his whole love potion plan is now utterly fucked—he essentially pats Draco on the head and says, ‘Go get ‘em champ,’ before letting them out the door.

Suspicious as hell, but whatever.

Hermione sees Harry outside and flies into his arms, because apparently the love potion hasn’t cancelled out her love for Harry.  Because otherwise the love triangle couldn’t continue!  Then they all toddle back to Charlie’s dragon camp, and THEN.

Draco.

In leather pants.

YES IT HAPPENS.

(For those who don’t know, Draco in Leather Pants is a trope coined specifically from this fic, referring to bad boy characters who are really good at heart, but struggling with an inner turmoil because they might be kinda evil.  Like Spike from Buffy. Except Spike was well written.)

Anyway, Ginny sees Draco in leather pants, and her ovaries basically leap into her throat and throttle her.  She tells Hermione she fancies Draco now, and not ten minutes later she catches Hermione and Draco snogging the shit out of each other.  Because love triangles.  Painful, painful love triangles.

Ginny’s mad as hell, but for some reason also agrees not to tell Harry about the love potion, and they all jet back to Malfoy Manor, aka Sirius and Narcissa’s house.  Because yes, in case you forgot, Sirius/Narcissa is a thing in this fic.  And they are engaged.  Making Harry and Draco soon to be brothers.  Sort of.

Hermione hits the books looking for love potion cures and they send a letter to Snape asking for help, figuring Snape will at least help Draco if not the rest of them.  Meanwhile, Draco visits Daddy Dearest in prison, who tells him being good is dumb, Malfoys are always evil, and Draco is destined to murder the shit out of Harry and become either Slytherin or Voldemort’s minion. Then, shortly after Draco leaves, Lucius summons demons in his cell and accidentally blows himself the fuck up.

Good job, Lucius.

All the love potion research comes up nil, and they find the only way to end it is for either Draco or Hermione to die.  Then Harry finds out about the love potion after all and has another Incredible Hulk meltdown.

Draco, who by now is living through Draco Malfoy and the Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad, No Good Day, takes the epicyclical charm/ugly ass necklace off Hermione, kisses her, probably insults her, and shoots away on his Firebolt. Not his Nimbus 2001, because apparently Cassie forgot what broom Draco has.

I won’t lie, a good chunk of the middle of this fic is a blur, but it involves:

Sirius and Lupin having 10x the chemistry of Sirius and Narcissa

Slytherin’s Evil McNasty sword trying to make Draco kill Harry, and also refusing to be thrown away like goddamn Three Wolf Moon

Ginny exploring a quarry underneath the Burrow and finding Fred and George’s porn stash

Draco getting a will-strengthening potion off Snape so he can fight the temptation to murder Harry, and discovering Snape’s heart-print pyjamas and beautiful singing voice

Draco making out with Fleur, because why not?

Sirius, Lupin and Snape going to St Mungo’s because a ~mysterious dark wizard~ killed Cornelius Fudge and put Dumbledore in a coma

Neville giving Draco a concussion

Harry and Hermione doing lots of kissing and not much else

An illustration of Snape and Malfoy in which Snape has a fucking evil goatee

Arthur fucking Weasley is announced as the new Minister of Magic

Draco appearing at the Burrow to apologise for being a dickweasel to Ginny, and then making out with her as well

Harry appears outside the Burrow to try and talk sense into Draco, but Draco’s will strengthening potion runs out and he stabs Harry in the chest.  Luckily, Harry isn’t really Harry, but a magic projection thing, and the real Harry is chilling in bed back at Malfoy Manor courtesy of some spell I can’t remember well enough to explain.

Regardless, Wormtail chooses this moment to pop up and … Christ on a bike, Wormtail is without doubt the single worst written character in this entire godforsaken fanfic.

See what I mean?  It sounds NOTHING LIKE Wormtail.  Although I’ve never seen that dialogue before, my suspicion is it’s nicked from something else.  When I said I read Draco Dormiens with constant paranoia, this is what I meant.  Some dialogue’s out of character, or the style changes for a few paragraphs, and the alarm bells just won’t stop ringing.

Wormtail demands Draco come and work for Slytherin, and Draco refuses, so Wormtail reveals his shiny new arm-sword and they have a scrap, until Wormtail pushes Draco in the river and drowns him.

Wormtail vanishes, and Draco gets to have a fun time in Purgatory nattering with Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and also Harry’s parents, while Ron and Ginny drag Draco out the river. Harry makes Ron perform mouth-to-mouth on Draco because boys kissing is hil-arious!

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at Malfoy Manor, Hermione knows instantly that Draco’s died because she feels the love potion break.  She panics and runs for Sirius, but finds him a wee bit occupied with Lupin, who’s turned into a werewolf because Slytherin is Calling all the dark creatures to come join him.  Luckily, Hermione found this funky silver necklace, which turns out to be a lycanthe, which repels werewolves, and also does whatever other plot-helpful Cassie needs for a given chapter.

They lock up Lupin safely, and also manage to lock up the demon that attacked Draco right at the beginning of the fic in the cell right next to him.  So you know.  He’ll have a friend.

Harry wakes up and tells Hermione to chill, because Draco is alive thanks to Ron’s CPR, and they zip to the Burrow together to celebrate with Jesus!Draco. Then we get Moment I Unironically Enjoyed #1: Ron offering to teach Draco to play chess.  D’aww.

We get some flashbacks via Draco and Hermione’s dreams, and learn that Slytherin got all his power from Hell, and also his bitchin’ ass sword, which he was meant to give back but has somehow wangled his way out of it until now (thus the pissed-off demon in the Malfoy Manor basement).  Also he created werewolves, veelas, basilisks and a shit tonne of other dark creatures, which he refers to as ‘experiments’ like a mad scientist.  Hermione reads a bunch of books about Slytherin and tries to tell Harry and Ron about this magic orb Slytherin has that either unleashes all his powers or kills him or probably both, but they’re like, ‘Yawn, boring,’ because of course they wouldn’t be interested in information about the villain they are supposed to be fighting against in this fic GDI.

Anywhoo, the group all chill out until Salazar Slytherin kicks in the door, like ‘GRANDMA, IT’S ME, ANASTASIA’ and kidnaps Harry and Draco, leaving the others behind because meh.

At this point, I’d like to take a brief break from the plot to address a question I kept asking myself throughout the entire fic:

What the fuck is Voldemort doing all this time?

He’s nowhere.  Wormtail makes vague assertions he might be dead, but Slytherin later says he’s alive. Voldemort’s return in canon is the turning point of Harry Potter.  It changes everything.  Hogwarts isn’t safe anymore.  The children have to grow up.  Characters die.  But in the Draco Sinister, Voldemort’s fobbed off like he’s unimportant or uninteresting.  Characters keep crying ‘Slytherin is far worse than Voldemort!’, which might make sense if Cassie had killed off Voldemort in Draco Dormiens, and needed a bigger, badder villain for the sequel.  But she didn’t.  Voldemort is still out there.  Twiddling his thumbs.  Knitting jumpers for Nagini ,for all we know.

OK.  OK, back to the fic.

So, Narcissa has a natter with the demon in the basement, who reveals that yep, the demons want the sword back from Slytherin, but Slytherin has to return it by his own hand. Otherwise, the demons will have to take a descendant of Slytherin blood has repayment.  Handily, it turns out Harry and Draco both have Slytherin heritage, so now Slytherin has a choice. Good for him.

Hermione’s lycanthe activates GPS mode, and takes them into the quarry underneath the Burrow, where Ginny says she had another older brother who drowned.  Seems like a weird, shoe-horned in detail now, and that’s because it kind of is.  After some puzzles, they discover a time turner that used to belong to Hufflepuff. Since Ginny is the reincarnation of Hufflepuff or whatever, she gets the time turner.

You may be wondering why the boys get swords and the girls get necklaces.  And I’m sure Cassie Claire has a good explanation for that.

But I don’t.

So, Harry and Draco wake up locked in a big adamantine cell.  Adamantine is basically Cassie’s Magid kryptonite, meaning they’re basically stuffed. They argue for a bit about whether Draco is gay, ending in Draco giving Harry hair care tips because this fic is weird, and then for the lols, Draco decides to teach Harry how to fence.

Now, I’m not an expert on sword fighting.  I know a bit.  But one thing I know for sure?

You cannot fence with swords made in the Dark Ages.

Fencing foils are lightweight, thin and poky, made for stabbing your enemy so full of holes he bleeds to death. Swords in the Dark Ages were whacking great bludgeons with sharp edges, made for separating limbs from bodies. They were heavy bastards; they were not made for lunging and poking and riposte-ing.

You cannot fence.  With a sodding broadsword.

While Harry and Draco are having their ridiculous and physically impossible sword fight, the cell door opens and Fleur Delacour walks in like, ‘I’m here to rescue you, bitches!’  Harry doesn’t trust her because she’s ‘boy crazy’ (a trait of every female character in this fic, so hardly a reason for distrust) but regardless they follow her outside.

She leads them through the famously plagiarised nightmare grass scene, and then underground to a locked door. Draco gets Harry to Incredible Hulk the door open by informing him his dead parents are stuck in Purgatory, after which Fleur betrays them and leaves them to get eaten by a manticore.

Harry and Draco kill the manticore, getting Harry utterly soaked in manticore blood in the process.  Like, ‘took a bath in blood’ kind of soaked. Slytherin shows up, and in Moment I Unironically Enjoyed #2, Harry yells, ‘We killed your monster and we’re not sorry!’ and Slytherin says, ‘Well, duh, that’s what I wanted you to do.’

Slytherin sends Harry back to the dungeons but keeps Draco to be his evil minion, then hacks open the manticore and pulls his magic orb out of its stomach (um … you might wanna wash that off, bud).  But now he needs all the Hogwarts founders’ Heirs to touch the orb so he can get his power back.  Or die? The fic never seemed decided on whether opening the orb was a good thing or a bad thing.  Both sides seemed to want it to happen, and also to not happen.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Ron, Hermione and Ginny use the time turner to go to the Dark Ages, during the original war with Slytherin.  They meet wee Ben Gryffindor, Godric’s twelve-year-old son, and Rowena Ravenclaw, who is dying.  Rowena initially refuses to speak to Ron because he’s not an Heir, at which point I started screeching incomprehensibly, because that’s not how heirs work.  If anything, Bill should be Hufflepuff’s heir.  Definitely not Ginny, the youngest sibling.

But no, Heir is Cassie Claire’s dumb way of saying “reincarnation”, and eventually Ravenclaw lets Ron in anyway and tells him that, as a seventh son, he’s totes psychic.

If you just counted the Weasley brothers on your fingers, don’t worry, I did the same.  I also got to six, got annoyed, and then remembered that extra brother Cassie shoehorned in who drowned.  I guess you got me, Cassie.  Bravo.

Wee Ben Gryffindor takes the gang to Slytherin’s castle, and lets them in the adamantine cell.  Ginny uses the time turner to take them back to the future …

… Where Slytherin is having a whale of a time psychologically torturing Draco.  He has his own Mirror of Erised dealie, which shows you ‘who you truly are’.  Draco sees his whole ancestral line of unapologetic dickfucks and realises he can never be truly Good™.  Slytherin also gives Draco the Dark Mark, because FASHION, then sticks him in a room with Fleur Delacour and tells them to get it on, because apparently he invented veela for the sole purpose of procreation and I just threw up in my mouth again.

Draco and Fleur do not get it on. Draco does what any sensible person would do in this situation: orders cocktails and gets thoroughly shitfaced.

See the thing is, Draco’s whole tortured evil/good dilemma would be a lot more compelling in this fic if he actually had to overcome something besides teenage angst bullshit. The fic separates everything into pure Good and Evil, states that Harry and Hermione are just naturally good, and the Malfoy family are just naturally bad, and that’s it. But that’s not how morality works.  

Real people have good traits and bad traits, and in fiction, overcoming those bad traits is how redemption arcs happen.  For Draco’s redemption to be rewarding, we need to see him overcome a character flaw. But he doesn’t.  He just Decides To Be Good.

SIGH.

So Hermione, Ginny and Ron pop into the future, and find Harry sitting in the adamantine cell alone. And Harry’s like, ‘I guess Draco’s evil now?’ and they’re like, ‘I doubt it, this fic is literally named after him,’ but then the door opens and Hermione, Ron and Ginny all have to huddle under the invisibility cloak.

Draco comes in with Slytherin, gloats evilly for a bit, cuts Harry’s arm probably by accident, and nances off again.  Ron and Hermione run out to free Harry, and realise Ginny’s missing because she ran after Draco.

Oh.  BOY.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Sirius gets a will-strengthening potion off Snape to cure his lover Lupin’s permanent-werewolf-ness, then they visit Godric’s Hollow to get Harry a magic scabbard that also used to belong to Godric Gryffindor.  Happy Christmas, Harry.  No more chopping your belt off every time you try to sheathe your sword.

(And yes, swords do basically replace wands in this fic.  Magids can do wandless magic anyway.  IDK. Cassie Claire just really hates wands, apparently.)

Sirius and Lupin break into Slytherin’s castle with a scene ripped from Buffy, and are swiftly separated as Lupin is shut in with the other werewolves, and Sirius, claiming to be a vampire, is dragged off to meet the new general of Slytherin’s armies.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Draco, still pissed as a parrot, is chilling in his room when Ginny marches in.  Then, in Moment I Unironically Enjoyed #3, Ginny proceeds to rip the sweet shit out of Draco Malfoy’s emo ass, because if he wants to be Good™, he can start by being less of a pussy and fixing his shit.

Draco kisses Ginny, and the whole thing is thoroughly ruined when Fleur reminds them she’s still in the room. Ginny assumes Draco is sleeping with Fleur (and pretty much anything on two legs); Draco does nothing to help this assumption; and Ginny magically sobers him up as revenge.

At this point, Draco’s called away to deal with some other shit, so Ginny talks to Fleur and finds out she’s not evil either, she’s just protecting her sister, blah blah blah. Fleur also gabbles more about how SUPER SCARY Slytherin is, like he made a whole army disappear once, and he can control his minion’s minds, and Ginny’s like ‘OK cool bye’ and uses her time turner to GTFO.

The other shit Draco has to deal with turns out to be Sirius, because Draco is apparently now head of Slytherin’s armies.  For convoluted reasons, Draco has Sirius locked in the dungeon.  For his own protection.  Or something.

Then Draco runs off to rescue Harry with Hermione and Ron, but Slytherin catches them.  He locks up Draco with Harry in the adamantine cell, and sends Hermione and Ron to the dungeons with Sirius.  Lucky for them, Sirius has his magic pencils, which they get to work using to draw a door back to the adamantine cell.  (Ron can draw in this fic.  Ron the Psychic Artist, still better than Ron the Death Eater.)

In the adamantine cell, Slytherin makes Draco run Harry through with his sword, but it’s OK because manticore blood apparently makes you temporarily immortal, and Harry got drenched in it.  Cassie actually points out that this is in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which is great and all, but good writing would have still involved actually foreshadowing that shit in the fanfic.  Then bunch of demons pop up to explain the whole contract with Hell Slytherin’s got going on, and to remind them they really, really need to get Slytherin to give that sword back by his own hand, or Hell will take one of them instead.  Just to remind you.  No pressure.  The demons vanish as Hermione, Sirius and Ron get inside the room.

This is another part of the fic that I don’t 100% remember because there’s a lot of Scooby Doo style running about and getting separated and getting unseparated again, but it includes Sirius running to save his one true love Lupin and finding Fleur as well, Harry and Hermione winding up in an underground cavern with a bunch of merveela (yes, mermaid-veela) and Draco and Ron getting chased by dementors.

In the distant past, Ginny meets grown-up Ben Gryffindor, and convinces him to let her pinch his army and send them to the future.  It turns out Slytherin didn’t make the army disappear—Ginny did.

So Cassie Claire understands how time turners work better than the people who wrote Cursed Child.  Go figure.

Ginny pops into the future with her army, and in Moment I Unironically Enjoyed #4, rides in on a FUCKING DRAGON to rescue Ron and Draco from the dementors.

Sirius gets Lupin and the other werewolves out safe, who turn out to be … pretty adorable?  They all just want to bake cakes and make bunting. Lupin stops them all going haywire by giving them Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans spiked with his will-strengthening potion, so they basically all wander off and make a drum circle somewhere for the rest of the fic.  I don’t know.

Ron’s injured and thus out for the count, but Ginny and Draco charge back in the castle to rescue Harry and Hermione.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Harry and Hermione find Slytherin’s orb and try to open it, because … ???

Well, the orb doesn’t open because they’re still missing the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Heirs, but Slytherin himself appears and promptly captures Harry and Hermione until Draco and Ginny show up, and also try to open the orb.

That’s all four Heirs, so Slytherin now becomes Super Saiyan Slytherin, laughs maniacally, and mind-controls Draco to toss Harry over to the demons.  Draco has one last moment of pure emo dipshittery, until Harry, Hermione and Ginny collectively yell at him to get his shit together.

Draco chops off Slytherin’s hand, wraps his fingers around the sword, and tosses that at the demons. This would be a clever twist on the whole ‘give it back with his own hand’, except I read Avocado’s exposé and I know it’s stolen.

Oh well.

The demons take the sword, and for good measure also take Slytherin to Hell.  Draco passes the fuck out while the castle collapses like Ganondorf’s dungeon at the end of Ocarina of Time, but they all escape ready to live happily ever after.

At this point, I looked warily at the word count.

Draco Dormiens wasted half a fic on sodding love triangles long after the plot was over.  Draco Sinister is way longer, and I was honestly dreading slogging through the miles of shipping at the end of this fic.

But actually, Cassie was merciful. The end of the fic is one chapter, featuring Harry’s birthday, for which Sirius basically throws together a freaking Gatsby Party.  I guess he realised he had access to the Malfoy vault all of a sudden.  For some reason I cannot fathom, Snape is invited to this party.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t end with him getting shot in the swimming pool.

Harry and Hermione smooch. Ron makes out with a veela … which … not a great idea, considering they’re still literal man-eaters, but whatever I guess.  Draco and Ginny do some romance, but it’s interrupted.

By Enoby Raven Dark’ness Dementia Way.

I’m not kidding.

Well I kind of am.

But not really.

She’s pale, and black-haired, and wearing a corset, and she introduces herself as Draco’s cousin, Rhysenn Malfoy.  And immediately invites him to stick his hand down her top.

She gives Draco Lucius’s signet ring, and also a message from Lucius, which essentially reads, ‘Not dead, ur lame.  Thnx 4 killing slytherin tho, voldy sends love and kisses.’

Because apparently Voldemort has finished knitting Nagini’s sodding jumper.

Draco runs into Dumbledore, now recovered from his coma, who tells him not to worry about Voldemort, because that’s Harry’s job.  He also says Draco did a good job resisting Slytherin’s mind-control because of love. I suspect Dumbledore whips this explanation out for anything he doesn’t know the answer to.  What happened to Amelia Earhart?  Love.  What’s with the Bermuda Triangle?  Love. What’s the answer to life, the universe and everything?  IDK, probably love.  Or 42.

Dumbledore also says Slytherin lied about that magic mirror—it actually shows your greatest fears, not your true self.  So Draco totes has every chance to be Good™ after all.

Draco heads back to the party, and he and Harry agree to be frenemies next year, and … that’s the end of the fic.

 --

 When I read Draco Dormiens, I couldn’t understand how Cassie Claire became a BNF.  Draco Dormiens was bad.  Bad characters, bad plot, bad writing, bad, bad, bad.

The first half of Draco Sinister is bad.  Dredging the Harry/Hermione/Draco love triangle back up with a love potion is dumb.  Voldemort just pissing off doing nothing for the whole fic is dumb.  Every line of dialogue given to Wormtail is dumb.  The dozens upon dozens of lines lifted from Blackadder, Red Dwarf and various other sources, regardless of whether they’re in-character or suit the mood or the scene or the setting, are infuriatingly dumb.

But about halfway through the fic, it’s like Cassie got her act together.

I don’t know if this is because halfway through the fic, Cassie was banned from FFN for plagiarism.  I don’t know—she still uses quotes all the way through, but possibly doesn’t lean so heavily on them.  Maybe it’s because she realised an actual plot was more interesting than constant angst romance.  But for whatever reason, it got better.

And I want to read Draco Veritas now.  Not just to look at a trainwreck, but because I’m kind of invested. But when I do, I will spork the hell out of it.

[hary-and-droc]

CHAPTRE 10

Ginney was walking down the corridor when she came across seamus and deen standing and talking. This confused her because she had not seen either of them without their tongues down the other’s throat, and didnt exactly know what they looked like. Seamus had freckles, apparently.

‘Halla ginney’ said deen.

Ginney took a moment to process what was happeneiing. ‘....halla deen. Halla seamus. What is happening?’

The boys stared longinly at each other. ‘Every time we kiss, climate change becomes more of an issue.’

Ginney was baffled. ‘Hva? Since when!?!?’

Seamus narrowed his eyes. ‘In a potion gone wrong. It happened in potions lessons the other day.’

Deen sighed. ‘Let us demonstrate.’ They kissed.

Ginney suddenly became aware of the polar ice caps melting. They flashed across her mind. How DARE seamus and deen kiss when the ice caps were melting and polar bears were dying and there was an island of rubbish and penguins had plastic around their necks and there was pollution in the moat and the trees were dying. Ginney decided to leave and begin a riot for climate change. She gathered her peers and they began designing posters and inspiriing speeches.

Seamus and Deen decided not to kiss again, at least until an antidote was found. But some promises couldnt be kept. (they kissed 42 times that night)

Thenext day was 1396. Minvery and Hermy were playing wiazard chess on the ground on miversy bedrooms. The two had connected quite a lot over the past two days. Hermy still had the tinglging thought at the back of her mind about her exam, and about getting back to her friends, but every time they went to turn hermy back to her time, someone had always thought of an excuse for her to stay for a little bit more. Hermy wasnt complaing. Mnivery was beautiful and had let hermy borrow some of her (mainly black) clothes.

‘Bam. i win. Again. Best out of three?’ mineery asked.

‘Okay!’ hermy said. ‘But theres no way i’m going to win, even if i beat you in the next game. You’ve already won two.’

‘Best out of ten?”

Hermy agreed. Ten chess games. That would take a lot of time. Good. She got to spend more time with mivery.

‘Pawn to D6.’

Hary and droc left the room or reqipment, blinded by the light. It was day time? ‘We must have stayed the entire night!’ droc muttred. Hary took his hand and smiled. ;lets go down to breakfast.’ Mcognoal walked past them down the hallway, giving them a death glare. ‘A hundred and forty seven, a hundred and-’ (They ignored her)

When they appraoched the GreatHalleOFfOOD, Ginney ran past excitedly, holding multiple pieces of cardboard and two magic marker pens. She was dressed in an odd potato sack - looking outfit, and seemed to be chanting something. A couple of students followed behind, clad in the same clothes, singing a song, somewhat out of tune.

Droc could only make out the phrases: ‘Dogs bark!’ ‘Cappuncino loyalty card’ and ‘better education for our children!’ and wondered what Ginney was up to. Hary, meanwhile, was confused. Wasn’t Ginney crazily in love with him?

It had turned out, that Ginney had focussed her obsession with hary on climate change instead. But hary didn’t know that. And because he was a Pretentious Bitch, he wanted multiple people in love with him because it made him feel Special.

‘Why does Ginney not love me anymor?” he asked droc. ‘Why do you not LOVE ME GINNEY’ hary asked ginney. She ran down the hall, practising her tribal chants instead. Hary dropped drocs hand quickly and followed after her, desperate for attention, in hope that ginney would notice him and try to kiss him, so that he could ignore her and tell her that he had a boyfriend. Droc went to breakfast alone.

Roon was standing in the doorway of TheGreatHalleOFfOOD, gathering a feather and ink from his pocket when Droc arrived. Roon had once again forgotten to put the lip on his ink and there was a large stain acorsshis cloak. Luckily it was black so it didnt matter.

‘What are you up to, roon’ droc asked. Roon and droc were friends now because hary had told roon to be nice to droc or he would steal his pet rat scabber.

‘I’m getting out my stuff becaue i want an autograph. Where’s hary? And where’s hermy. She’s gonn be so mad she missed out on THIS.’ roon said exctiedly.

‘Missed out on what?’

‘Shrek is her fave movie’ roon continued.

‘what s a movie’ droc asked. He was a wizard and didnt know technology. Roon didnt either, and only knew the word bevause hermy told roon it was her fave movie every day. ‘And what is a SHREK’

Roon gestured with his ink stained hand. ‘THAT’S  shrek.’ a big green fella stood in the GreatHalleOFfOOD. Many studenst surrunded him, asking for autographs and trying to get their posters signed. What was this guy doing here? He looked like an orge. And orge’s weren’t good. Maybe if he killed the orge, hary would notice him again. It seemed like a plan. ‘DIE ORGE’

‘A hundred and fifty’ mcamgogo said.

[alcoholicseraphim]

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Twenty Two- Year IV- Greater Good

"Where is Vici? Dark! Dark!"

"You're fine," Hermione grumbled. She opened her eyes and for a moment saw nothing at all. "Can you see, Vici?" she asked.

"Who is you? Where is Mistress? Mistress, Vici is sorry, Vici is bad elf, please take Vici out of dark!"

Hermione sighed. The house elf's outline was gradually forming in the darkness. But how could that be? There was no light source whatsoever, as far as Hermione could tell. Her wand arm itched to raise and cast some diagnostic spells, but that would hardly help. She couldn't even cast a Lumos. "Vici, come here," she said, cutting off the elf's hysterical squeaks.

Vici obeyed, shutting up immediately, and Hermione watched with sharp eyes how her feet didn't press upon a floor of any kind. When Hermione concentrated, she noticed that the space around her was neither solid nor gaseous, but almost as a liquid. Yet, her movement wasn't hindered in the least.

"Are we even occupying space?" she muttered to herself. "Just where are we?" The answer came almost as soon as she voiced the question: they were in the Nothing, the place between destinations, the place where Vanished objects go.

"Who is you? We must be leaving this place," Vici squeaked, real terror in her voice.

"Soon," said Hermione. Couldn't Vici see what an opportunity this was? There were no, absolutely no records of anyone being in this place. She was sure there would be negative effects were they to remain too long, but a few minutes would hardly hurt. "I am Hermione, and I am your Mistress. Don't you remember?"

She stood- had she been sitting in the first place? Was it perhaps just a matter of perspective? Hermione grasped Vici's tiny hand and focused on the comparatively simple act of moving. Just putting one foot in front of the other didn't seem to be enough, but there was no landmark to use as a focal point.

No gravity, no light, no objects- and so she and Vici were the Something which contrasted the Nothing.

Sooner than Hermione had hoped, she felt the pressure of thought begin to lift away. It was time. "Take us home," she said, and Vici obeyed with stupid eyes.

The noise, the vision, the Presence of Something was both painful and comforting. Yet again it took them a few moments to adjust to their surroundings.

"Who have you brought us, Vici?" cried Rhea, alarmed and calm in the same breath.

That was right. Hermione had a job to do.

She swept into a curtsy, directions surfacing like blisters from a burn through the haze of a swelling migraine. "You look tired, Lady Selwyn," she said, trying not to slur. "Do you jest?"

Rhea stopped short and, in her confusion, allowed Hermione to take her hand. The power Hermione sent through her foster mother was overkill, more than likely, and she had to clench her fist to keep Rhea from jerking away.

It was much, much easier to nudge the appropriate memories into place now that she knew the structure of Rhea's mind. After that initial struggle, Rhea kept still and allowed Hermione to work on her brain.

"What is Miss Hermi... Herman... Hermy doing?"

There was the other problem: Vici didn't remember her. How terrifying it must have been, to be pulled into the Nothing without warning! "Transfer the bond," Hermione said, addressing Rhea. Rhea, still glassy-eyed, raised her wand and spoke the words.

"As I said before, I am Hermione Selwyn. I am your Mistress. You are my companion- now give me your hand."

Vici, now having no choice, obeyed. It took a minute more to transform her into the Vici of the previous timeline. The moral implications never even occurred to her.

Now she just had to find Morfan, and her family would be just the way she wanted it.

*|II8II|*

She didn't leave Selwyn Estate until well into July, and even then only when Vici could accompany her. Her consciousness grew swollen with idle power. Was this how Tom Riddle had felt? Had he grown weary of having no external conflict, of being universally adored? Perhaps he saw it as his due. Perhaps he'd been angry and confused when the rare person saw through his tricks- Albus, for instance.

Hermione was beginning to become uneasy. Men forged in fire did not welcome the tranquility of a still lake. Men borne of battle knew not how to handle peace.

Not that it was peace, exactly. It was avoidance. She knew that, knew that it wasn't healthy, but still she isolated herself.

On July 31st, Hermione decided that enough was enough. She saw Harry everywhere: in the chair opposite hers in the library, next to her on her bed, on his broom in the sky outside. How different she was! Would he even recognize her anymore? She had the same hair, same face, but her mind was no longer the same. Her morals were trashed and twisted. She wasn't golden anymore.

It hurt. She screamed into the baby-gradient walls, tore apart her room with her bare hands and feet, and still it hurt.

"Vici!" she cried, staring at her ruined bedroom.

"Hermy, what has you done?" Vici tsked, and with a wave of her thin little arm everything was as it was.

"Take me to Hogsmeade." Hermione tore a hand through her hair, ignoring the pain as it caught on the knots and tugged at her scalp. "Now."

Even Vici's light touch made her skin crawl, and she pulled away as soon as they touched down in front of the Hog's Head. How Vici knew, Hermione couldn't say, but it was the right choice. Aberforth was her last connection to the future, to the good fight, to her old self.

Still, her feet were as if staked to the ground. For several long seconds, Hermione could not move. Her emotions rose and rose until her vision went black and her breathing stopped, and then as if a drain opened it swirled down into the depths of her again, and she could move.

The Hog's Head was a time capsule. It never changed. Even the patrons, wizards she'd come to know her first year in the past, were the same. Feeling as though she dragged her constraints behind her, Hermione found a booth and sat. "Wine," she said to the scuffed oaken tabletop. "Quality doesn't matter."

Out of the corner of her eye she tracked Vici, the diminutive being reaching up to the counter to collect her bottle with one hand and dropping a few coins with the other.

Not for the first time, Hermione missed her magic with a desperation which ached. Her skin was coated in crumbling concrete, and it was a chore to move. Vici, knowing somehow what she wanted, pulled the cork from the bottle.

Harry... Harry would understand. He would, wouldn't he? She wasn't sure. She remembered his irrational obstinance in the face of Ginny's death, remembered how oblivious he was to Draco's choice to follow him to hell, remembered how stubbornly he clung to the Light. Remembered his fury as they knelt before Ron's makeshift headstone. Remembered how cold it got, how tired they both were, how food was scarce. Remembered the shock in his eyes as the Avada Kedavra hit him. Remembered his belief that everything would work out, that despite everything they would come out victorious. They were the heroes, after all.

She was the last of them. They'd passed the torch on to her, and she'd let it go out. No one could call her a hero anymore. When she saw him again, would he forgive her for losing herself? Even if she ended up failing?

There was only one way he would forgive her, Hermione decided. If she killed Voldemort, if she saved everyone, he wouldn't mind that she'd become tainted. He would welcome her into death as his friend once again. She knew it, she knew it, she knew it.

The wine was gone. Hermione stared into the thick, green glass, feeling an ancient determination mingle with the warmth in her belly. She aches, and for a moment she is acutely aware of the setting sun. It was time to stop filling her well with sludge. It was time to feel again.

Hermione scowled at the tabletop. "Let's go, Vici."

"But we just got here," Vici said. "Vici doesn't understand. Does you not like your drink?"

"The drink was fine," said Hermione. "But it's time to go."

"Where does you want to go?"

"The Ring."

"The ring, Miss?"

"Give me your hand," Hermione grumbled. She'd forgotten to plant the memories of the Horcruxes and their locations when she was reformatting Vici's mind.

The deed done, Vici blinked her tennis ball eyes and took Hermione by the elbow. They were gone a moment later.

*|II8II|*

"Hermione, honey, please be careful," Rhea said, looking very much as though she wanted to hug her foster daughter but knowing better. "I trust you'll make us proud."

"Of course," Hermione said. "With luck, I'll be accepting an offer by graduation." It was a harmless promise, since she knew full well that she wouldn't make it to graduation. Rhea wouldn't care about her grades, anyway.

"I know you've made up a list, but we would appreciate it if you'd send us another based on your personal impressions."

"As you wish," Hermione said, looking behind her at the nearly-empty platform. They were early, at Hermione's request. "I need to go stake a claim before too many people get here. I'll see you in a few months. Take care."

"Take care," Morfan grumbled.

"Take care!" said Rhea.

Hermione pressed her lips together in what passed for a smile and stepped around them to the train entrance. She hauled herself up and inside. She saw not a single other soul but nevertheless passed the first few compartments before choosing one in the middle of the train.

She stretched across the length of a whole seat, one arm dangling off the edge and the other tucked under her cheek. There was no change for some time as she hovered between consciousness and sleep, unseeing eyes trained on the door.

After at least an hour, the door slid open so forcefully that it recoiled from the wall. The glass shuddered, and so did Hermione, who came to alertness with a rapidity that left her panicked for a second or two. "Oh," squeaked a tiny Gwendolyn Morgan. "I'm sorry! I'll find another seat." The future Quidditch player spun and nearly ran, slamming the door behind her with a force that Hermione believed was simply uncontrolled.

From then on it was impossible to relax into the same trance-like state as before, because even when the door didn't open, the footsteps outside echoed like small armies. Hermione shivered in her seat and waited with wide eyes for the train to move.

Soon, the compartments were so full that students stopped passing her by and instead insisted on filling in the seats around her. Hermione jealously guarded her bench, and no one was so eager to have it that they challenged her for it.

At last, the whistle sounded and the ground shook, and they were off.

The hum of conversation vibrated in her head, and Hermione leaned back with a heavy sigh. No sooner had she begun to adjust to the noise level when the compartment door slid open again.

"Edgar Bones, I know it was you!" A stocky, red-headed seventh year girl shrieked. She was flanked on either side by a young Rolanda Hooch and another girl whom Hermione was fairly confident would become Amos Diggory's wife. Diana Fawcett, if she wasn't mistaken.

Edgar Bones, far from being intimidated by his assailant, was shouting with laughter. Aidan Lynch and Benji Fenwick were just as amused.

Hermione squinted at the redheaded seventh year—Amelia, her memory told her. Amelia Bones. Edgar Bones's older sister. Now that she was paying closer attention, she noticed that her shoes weren't shoes at all, but waggling fish tails.

"You tell me the countercurse right now!" Amelia Bones demanded, seeming almost on the verge of tears.

"Not a chance," Edgar Bones snickered.

"It's Finite Piscores," Hermione said. "Same wand motion as Finite Incantatem."

The three seventh years looked to her, surprise and suspicion on their faces. "Thanks," said Amelia cautiously.

"Uh-huh." said Hermione. "But would you mind doing that somewhere else?"

They muttered their assent and closed the much-abused door far more gently behind them.

"You didn't have to do that," Aidan Lynch whined, Irish accent so strong as to render his tone comical.

"Just imagine her having to go to the Welcoming Feast like that!" said Benji Fenwick.

"It would've been better if they'd needed help undoing the whole thing, though," Edgar sighed.

Hermione shook her head. She wouldn't ask.

The boys chattered their disappointment for several more minutes, having evidently forgotten their displeasure with Hermione's interference.

She looked out the window, trying to catch individual trees as they blurred past the glass, and the voices dulled into white noise.

Hours passed like that, with Hermione and the two third-years quietly entertaining themselves and the three fifth-year boys getting louder and louder as teenage boys tended to do when left unchecked.

It was almost pleasant.

Before long, those who hadn't already changed stuffed themselves into their robes. Half an hour later, they pulled into Hogsmeade Station.

The short walk to the carriages was just as uneventful as the longer ride to Hogwarts, and soon they all piled into the Great Hall.

Hermione could taste the excitement in the air. It was hard not to love Hogwarts, even if only because those under seventeen could only perform magic on her grounds.

They didn't have to wait much longer before the first years filed in in neat columns, chattering their nerves like birds. The list was read, and, unlike the year before, Hermione's name was nestled in between Pontner, Roddy and Smethley, Veronica. She stood, wondering whether they'd assumed she would go with the first years for a boat ride and feeling a perverse satisfaction that she'd disrupted their plans. Eyes lined her walk up to the dias, and when she put the Hat on her head she felt them all the more strongly.

"How many times will I have to do this?" Hermione sighed.

"As many times as necessary," the Hat supplied unhelpfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do your worst," she said.

There was silence for a second, and then the Hat said, "When you were in the Nothing, what was your motivation for staying there?"

"You already know," Hermione grumbled. "Pursuit of knowledge."

"Ravenclaw would suit you," the Hat said, sounding disappointed.

"Then put me there."

"About that... Well, you have some mighty ambition in that brain of yours. And you are a Pureblood now. You wouldn't go amiss in Slytherin."

"Are you kidding? I would be destroyed in an instant. Ravenclaws leave well enough alone, and I can do what I need to do. Not so in Slytherin. They're far too involved in one another's business, and I have no confidence whatsoever that I won't end up ruining this timeline because I can't keep my Housemates in check."

"If you say so. RAVENCLAW."

Hermione pulled the hat off and returned to her seat at Ravenclaw table. At least she was more lucid this time around, and she met the curious, wary gazes with a level of fury which she wasn't even aware of.

No one spoke to the angry transfer student, and that was fine with her.

*|II8II|*

Hermione wasted very little time reintroducing herself to Regulus and Severus. It had become clear over the years that she needed companions, if not friends, and those two at least fulfilled the dual purpose of being useful.

She'd already wasted more than enough time, and she had none to spare. Not for the first time, she cursed her tendency to flounder in the face of the long-haul.

It was vital that she have all the Horcruxes destroyed. Without that, there was little point in doing anything else. Sure, she could leave it to the Dumbledore brothers, but it was no sure thing and even after that Voldemort would need to die. It was too easy to forget that no one had known of the Horcruxes because no one had ever gotten close enough to try killing him. Even without Horcruxes in the picture he was a formidable wizard, and certainly difficult to kill.

In order to destroy every Horcrux in enough time to also bid to destroy Tom Riddle, she would need everything in its place. That was no blind guesswork, either; she'd calculated this problem again and again, and every time the solution was the same.

The easiest was undoubtedly the Diadem, which she'd already collected on her very first night. It was safely in Vici's care. After that were those which were already in position and had been since before her arrival: the Diary, the Cup, and the Ring. That left only the Locket. Of the Horcruxes, it was undoubtedly the most elaborately guarded. That was likely because it was Slytherin's.

What were his plans, then, for the others? Entrust them to other families for a few decades, sure, but what about after the inevitable deaths of his followers? Would he really be so cocky as to think that all of their descendants would follow him? The Lestranges never procreated, true, but Lucius Malfoy's only child turned against the Dark Lord to protect Harry. If the Diary had still been in action, he would have delivered it to Harry and Hermione. That was one Horcrux which was doomed to destruction several ways over!

And Gringott's. He'd given the cup to Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange as a wedding gift and they'd placed it in their vault. At least Gringott's was thought to be the safest place to store something, but it wasn't foolproof by a long shot. It just wasn't viable as a long-term plan, and certainly not considering Voldemort didn't plan on ever dying.

His first Horcrux, the Ring, was placed in the Gaunt house, further displaying his arrogance. It was under minimal protection, as well. He relied on the secrecy of the location, which was never a good long-term plan, ever.

For someone so intelligent, he seemed to have put very little thought into the protection of pieces of his soul.

It gave Hermione the jitters. She wouldn't discount the possibility of an ace up his sleeve. She would be stupid to take his carelessness for granted.

If all of the Horcruxes were in place except for one, then she needed to get that one in place. The Locket would be hanging about his neck until the Cave was ready, and she'd have no chance of retrieving it there. How could she speed up the series of events which led to its successful placement?

The potion would have to be brewed, the Inferi created, the blood wards activated. It wasn't the work of a day, or even a week. The potion alone would take a moon cycle to brew, and that was after cutting a few corners. Would he do that himself, or trust someone else with it? She couldn't quite picture Tom Riddle cutting time out of his day to slave over a potion, for it required almost constant supervision. Someone else, then. The reason Severus had been such a prize before he'd ever turned spy was that he was a Master Potioneer.

That was her way in, then, for Severus wouldn't become a Death Eater until after graduation, though he'd been sponsored by Lucius Malfoy by Christmas his sixth year. He wouldn't be immediately saddled with the job, so it would be months before the potion would be brewed and ready.

She would have to find a way to brew it herself, or to get someone to brew it for her. Once that was done, she would have to get it to Voldemort in a way he wouldn't be suspicious of. She needed to know what he was thinking, what he was doing. She needed an in. A spy.

But who would have both the clout to know these things and the conscience to defect? Anyone who attended Hogwarts would still be proving themselves and unlikely to hear anything truly important. She needed someone who was already influential.

Perhaps she was going about it the wrong way. With her magical core still wildly unstable, she couldn't possibly join the Death Eaters herself, nor would she have the time to rise up in the ranks. However, just because she couldn't join didn't mean she couldn't pretend to be sympathetic to the cause, as so many Pureblooded wives and daughters were doing. She was the direct family member of Gwion Selwyn, and in fact her rank within the family surpassed his own, for she was of the patriarchal line and he was not. How could she have overlooked her own influence? It would be the work of an afternoon to find out what she could about him, and then to begin a correspondence.

Her smile had grown too large, and Severus looked up from his book to watch her with unease so clear on his harsh features. "All is well," she assured him. Then she lowered her voice, looked him directly in the eye, and said, "I have a favour to ask of you."

"What is it?" He was unable to look away, not with their minds connected as they were. Hermione spread over his relatively flimsy mental barriers, spreading in a thin layer over the entirety of his walls, surrounding his mind. Once she was hooked in place, it took only a moment to contract, thus pulling his defences out of place. She slipped in through the crack with ease.

"There's a potion I want you to make for me," she said, nudging his mind. "Please?" That word, used with a certain inflection, was programmed to trigger automatic acquiescence, but only when coming from her. She solidified the command, and was pleased to see him nod.

"If that's what you want," Severus grumbled. "What potion?"

Hermione smiled but didn't let his mind go. "The Drink of Despair," she said. "I will give you the recipe. You may make alterations to the preparation so long as the end result is the same. I trust in your abilities."

To Hermione's pleasure, his resolve didn't even twitch. "I'll be expected to fetch ingredients?" he asked.

"No," she said, tilting her head. "I don't suppose that would be fair. I will provide everything you'll need." Sometimes she forgot that Severus was, essentially, a nearly-destitute Halfblood. Some of the ingredients were both rare and outrageously expensive. Hermione wasn't used to having the means to collect such things, herself, but she supposed there were multiple advantages to having attached herself to a Pureblood family of good standing.

She would still have to be careful that she not involve herself too obviously by leaving a gold or paper trail. That meant she would have to use someone unconnected to herself to do the actual purchases. Complicated, perhaps, but certainly doable.

Satisfied that Severus wouldn't argue with her, she slid from his mind. He blinked, and a certain spark reappeared in his eyes. Hermione had to resist the urge to pout. She hoped to someday get to the point with her Hybrid Legilimency skills that her subjects would display no difference at all. Perhaps then it would feel like she'd never meddled at all, leaving no recognizable trail.

"Get me the recipe soon," Severus said, his voice no sharper than before. "When do you need it?"

"As soon as it's viable," Hermione replied. She wished she could design a potion which would be indistinguishable but with less devastating effects, for she knew she would have to imbibe the potion herself, but she didn't need an Arithmancy projection to figure out that Voldemort would thoroughly test any potion he didn't make himself. It must be exactly what he needs, or he would not risk using it.

This answer didn't seem to comfort Severus, but he nodded thoughtfully.

"I'll have the recipe by tomorrow," Hermione said. When she met his eyes again, any cursory test of her Occlumency would have shown nothing but an impenetrable wall of mirrors, and from Severus's expression, he didn't like what he saw.

She may not have the ability to use a wand, but at least she had this.