#it makes harry look SO pompous and full of himself. it makes his face look very punchable. to me

[viulus]

So everyone always talks about their favorite clothing items in DE, but what are your least favorites?

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We'll heal together: Chapter Seven

Not Strong Enough Boygenius

Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x Reader (Ambiguous-Past)

Masterlist

Summary: Remus confiscates the map and sees a name he never thought he'd ever see again/how Remus lost the reader

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Mean Remus, Jealous/Jerk Sirius, Harry with hurt feelings, mentions of death, mentions of character death, cusses, mild sensual content (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 5963

If you were asked in school when was the first time you had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the eldest Black brother, you probably would have told them your first year when you met with James to be sorted into your houses. 

The Grand hall was magnificent, it looked as amazing as you had always guessed, with so many faces you had never seen before, and such a warm feeling that came with it. You looked around, eyes following the floating candles that cut down the middle aisle and tried to stop you before you could reach James.

You were bouncing on your heels, holding James’s arm, and swaying. Sirius didn't say anything to you, but he stared. Stared the whole time James introduced you to Peter and Remus, telling you the story of how they met, luggage mixed up after several of the suitcases on the platform had been knocked over.

You and Lily shared a look and amused snickers at that.

When James got to Sirius, you two shared a look but nothing else. There was a tension in the air, as you twisted your lips into a skilled and annoyed pout that James knew very well. Sirius just scoffed and looked away from you, stepping closer to James.

You gave a small huff, it felt like you were watching a dog lay claim on their favorite human. You grabbed James’ arm tighter and Sirius in turn wrapped his arm around his shoulder. You glared at Sirius while James stood there with a confused but content look. 

“James Potter.” Professor McGonagall called to the front, and he wiggled himself out of your grasp, You and Sirius still remained tense. You looked up at James with a hopeful smile, and your jaw dropped as the hat announced ‘Gryffindor!’ and the kids adorn in red cheered.

You also cheered. Then when Lily was called, you gave her a thumbs up as she glanced at you. With your reassurance, she walked forward, nose upward and full of confidence. The hat hardly touched her head before it boomed out the same house. You lit up as Lily looked over to Snape. The boy slowly nodded, as she hurried off to the red table. 

“Severus Snape!” She called forward and the boy climbed the steps. He sat down and his face twisted with determination, before the hat gave a scoff. “You can't just ask for a house, boy! There is more to it than that!” 

Snape's face fell but his eyes remained closed. 

“Slytherin!” The house called and you gave a worried look at how distressed that seemed to make him. You heard a pompous laugh beside you, turning to look at the gray eyes of Sirius Black. 

“Don't be cruel.” You hissed at him and he simply stuck his tongue out at you. You gave a gasp and before you could retaliate, the assistant headmistress called you forward.

At the sound of your last name, a few students looked at you wide eyed. Ignoring the attention had become a useful skill you picked up on when you were younger. You walked up and sat on the stool. Closing your eyes tight, you listened. Praying for Gryffindor. The hat gave the best impression of rolling his eyes. “Hm.. A {L/N}, you have some legacy here. Brave, wise for such a young child. Loyal and ambitious.. Oh, very ambitious.” He muttered and you twisted your face. “You, small child, are an interesting one. Mind is nothing like your father’s years ago..”

You slowly peaked your eyes open, looking over at the red table and smiling as James and Lily met your gaze. By chance, you glanced over at the Slytherin table, eyes locking on Snape who seemed so awkward and out of place, People talking to him and he didn't respond, staring at Lily. You frowned and the hat seemed to notice something in you shift, before the rim curled and he bellowed. “Slytherin!”

Your face fell and your jaw unclenched in shock. Standing up you walked over to the Slytherin table, ignoring people as they tried to call out to you sitting by Snape. He snapped his head up as if he was about to snap at you, before he paused. You both held a look at each other before he huffed and laid his head on the desk. You were content with the silence.

You always told everyone that was the day you were cursed with the parasitic knowledge of Sirius Black. For the trained eye, however, like Lily Evan’s, you two clearly knew each other before that. 

“So.” Lily mused as she laid in your bed, facing the canopy above her, and legs curled up. One thing you loved about being Prefects, was your dorms were not but a few yards away from each other. All it took was a silencing charm and James’s cloak to get you and the girls together.

Mary was on the floor facing your mirror, using the back end of your comb to line up her eyeliner while Marlene, her usual make up partner, was distracted.

Dorcus, your fellow Slytherin Prefect, was sitting on your bed by Lily, looking down at Marlene who was laying her head on her lap and biting her lip. Trying to flirt with the usually stoic girl. You raised your eyebrows in surprise when Dorcas actually smiled back. James is going to owe you so much money.

“So?” You asked, sitting on your desk and reordering your record collection Lily had slowly smuggled in for you over the years. As it was Lily’s gifts, it mostly consisted of ABBA and Queen, but all songs you adored.

“Well, I’ve been meaning to ask you, when did you meet Sirius?” Lily asked and your face twisted up in confusion. “What?”

“Don't ‘what’ me, there is clearly history there even before you met in the first year. There is so much hate in that boy's heart for you it's unrivaled. I sometimes wonder if James is the only thing keeping you away from meeting the other end of his wand.”

You gave a bitter laugh and rolled your eyes. “As a training Auror,” The girls collectively groaned and you giggled. “I could totally land him on his arse, thank you very much.”

“You're deflecting.” Mary sang from her seat on the floor and closed her makeup, turning to face you four. You bit your cheek as Marlene snickered. “And clearly there is something going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“I have to agree.” Dorcas called over and turned to face you, hands still on Marlene’s face. The glossy almost transparent lipstick stains all over Marlene’s face did NOT go unnoticed by you. You contemplated honesty, biting your cheek before you groaned.

“It's.. It's stupid, really. I know why he hates me, and it's not complete rubbish.” You sighed and set one of the records on to play with a wave of your wand. “He is just a child. Still thinks he's the only one suffering regardless of the situation. Narcissistic and cruel.”

The room was quiet for a moment before Lily gestured you over to your satin green sheets. You sat down and turned to look at her, as she squashed your cheeks together and Mary, feeling left out, hurried over to practically shove you across the bed. You guys fell down, head to head, looking up at the ceiling, and with another glance at Lily you caved. “Well, I may have met him one other time.”  

“Where?” Mary prodded as she shifted to her stomach. 

“At our engagement party?” You winced out as you cautiously looked at the girls who were all giving you serious looks of appalled shock. 

“You're what!?” Lily finally shouted. 

~~~

You couldn't have been more than five, maybe six, when you were told by your father that you were engaged. You were sitting in your room, having just finished your cleaning and making sure there were no blemishes to be seen. Your father and mother came in for their nightly overlook. 

You stood in the center of the room, head held up, back straight, and your nose turned so you looked like a presentable young lady. Your hands clasped behind your back as your father walked around you and ran his finger along one of the tops of your bookshelf. 

“We are going to the Blacks tomorrow, do you understand?” Your mother’s piercing bird-like voice filled the quiet dark room. “The house elf will dress you, but after your next birthday we expect you to be able to do it yourself. Understand?”

“Yes mother.” You mumbled. You hated the Blacks’, Mrs. Black was always so.. cruel. You couldn't imagine her home would be much better. 

“What is the occasion, mother?” You asked in a faint voice.

Your father went to stand by her and began to lead her out. “Your engagement to Sirius Black, her oldest son.”

You had to fight to keep your expression even. Oh.

“You will be on your best behavior, understand?” 

“Yes sir.”

As promised, mid afternoon next day, you were dressed in a complicated black dress, with frills and feathers to match the Black’s matriarch. You stood at the door, hands in front of you as you presented your full self, as your father always said. You had to fight back the tears as the door opened and it revealed a rather cruel looking house elf.

“{L/N}s, we welcome you to the noble house of Black.” He drew in a slimy way. You pouted and followed him in, your parents following close behind. Your father took off his coat as Kreacher took off your mothers, then yours. 

The first thing you noticed when you entered the house was the smell. It was awful. It was a burning rotten stench, like when your father would come back from his meetings with the dark lord. You would speak more on it if you knew more than the hushed whispers between him and your mother. Everything around you was so dreary, so depressing. All black and dark colors, it made you feel smaller,

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn't notice as the Black family made themselves visible at the entrance of a rather large ballroom. 

“Mr. and Mrs. {L/N}, how lovely to see you.” Mrs. Black called out to the three of you dripping in fake honey. Looking at your parents, your mother nudges you with her plastic smile, moving you both forward. “Mrs. Black, lovely to see you again.”

Their little interaction fell on deaf ears as you looked at the boys across from you. The taller one, who you assumed to be Sirius, was standing in front of a shorter boy, Regulus. The younger black was clinging to his brothers tailcoat and half behind him

Sirius was glaring at you, as much as a seven year old could glare. The look made you slowly lower your gaze down to your feet. What have you done? Only two minutes in and your future husband already seemed to hate your guts.

You winced as your father gave you a firm pat to the back of your head when he noticed your head down. You quickly raised it and looked towards the boys. Slowly, you offered your hand. “{Y-Y/N} {L/N}. It's a pleasure to meet you. You waited for Sirius to offer his hand in return, but it never happened,

Your father sent Walaburga a look, and she twisted her lip and smacked Sirius rather hard, and the boy hissed out in pain, rubbing the spot before he took and shook your hand.

That night was spent mostly clinging to your mothers leg as Sirius avoided you. Getting congratulations and proud looks from people you didn't know, and frankly, didn't want to know. Even Beatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda Black came to congratulate you. Though, the eldest, Andromeda seemed more sympathetic than actually happy for you. The other two didn't have a truly readable look, but Narcissa kept her eye on you for the rest of the party.

When it was time to go, you were at the door waiting for a proper farewell from Sirius, but even at his mothers insistence, he refused to meet your eyes. You didn't really want this to work, you didn't want to marry someone as mean as Sirius. All you could think was that you wanted to see James and hide away at the Potters. They were the only truly comforting family you knew.

~~

“He just kind of.. Hated me ever since. As a kid, I think I can see it. He has associated me with his family since that night. I don't know much about them, but I could make a few guesses.” You rattled on and sniffed, you didn't even notice you began to cry until Lily ran her thumbs across your cheeks. You puffed up your bottom lip and Lily gave a faint laugh at that. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” She whispered and you shrugged, moving to sit up. “I don't plan to marry him, you know that. I just have to push it, avoid it until my seventeenth birthday and I have left Hogwarts.” You declared, self assured.

“I will have access to my vault then, and when I move it to my own account I can go back to the Ministry as an Auror, my own person.” You sat up straight as your eyes landed on one of the many books you had read about your hero, Alastor Moody. You scrambled to your feet, past the girls and their sympathetic looks. “I learned not to hold onto it. Sirius will thank me eventually.”

You pulled out a book and flipped a few pages, down to the ‘dedicated to’ page that had Moody’s signature. The only gift your father ever gave you that wasn't about his preset image of your future.  The one thing he ever gifted you that showed you he knew who you were. Even if he seemed to hate it.

Dorcas and Marlene shared a look before Mary laid down flat against the bed with a huff. “I never figured Sirius for that kind of person.” She mumbled into a pillow.

“Really?” You, Lily, Marlene and Dorcas asked in shock, making you guys sputter out a laugh. Easily diffusing the tension of the room.

~~~

It had been a few days now, of you sneaking away from the Weasleys to go and watch Harry simply… live. It was the best feeling, watching him exist in the walls you once called home. It was nostalgic, gave you a bit of pride to watch him make choices you knew James never would, and acted with so much of his mothers patience and bleeding heart.

His friends, Merlin his friends, that Hermione girl behaved so much like Lily you caught yourself doing doubletakes whenever she would say something that sounded a bit too much like the red head. Ron, he was like a balancing act, shy like Peter, but his personality reminded you of his uncles. Particularly like Fabian.

You were quite fond of them, following them around almost everywhere you could. Eventually you cut the visits to every other day, you needed rest at some point. So, here you were, following after Harry with his two friends, listening to their complaints about a rat of some kind. The simple reminder of the animal had you huffing.

Apparently, you were a bit too loud. Harry, who was behind his friends, turned his head to look into the forest. He spotted you again, and you simply stared. This time, he smiled at you, and you gave a happy shrill. Your entire body wiggling, from your nose to the tip of your tail. He gave a laugh, and mumbled. “Hello again.”

“What was that?” Ron shouted from down the trail, and Harry only looked away for a moment, but when he looked back, you were gone. He frowned a bit before he hurried down the trail to catch up with his friends.

You followed them all the way down to the river, your ears rotating around as you watched them meet with Hagrid. You tilted your head, curious about the impromptu meeting. You remembered Hagrid vaguely, he was a charming man, but you didn’t have much time to spend with teachers casually. Like… well, a normal student. Hagrid was probably the only exception to this in your eyes. You admired the guy, but he was basically an overgrown child. Didn’t make him any less appealing.

You slipped past a few sticks and twigs to keep your volume to a minimum. That was, until you heard a few snaps behind you. You quickly turned to hide under a bush. You had run into too many wolves and other creatures who were looking to make a meal of you to take any chance. 

Your thoughts were derailed when you saw it, however. A muggle dog, larger than average, black and matted, he looked like a stray riddled with mange. You lowered yourself closer to the earth, but then, something clicked. No… truly? That silky fur you knew from his constant pampering, his full coat and frame had been whittled away to nothing, but you knew him. You knew that mutt anywhere.

You took the chance. You ran from cover and bit down on his tail. He gave a yelp and whipped around with a snarl. You held his eyes, it felt like he was moments away from pouncing. You took a shaky breath before you turned sharply and dashed off deeper into the forest. It wasn't long before you heard his heavy footsteps behind you. You ran for a while, until you were positive no one else could see you. You jumped down into a miniature cliff that was once a rushing river that had run dry. The second you jumped down, you transformed back. You raised your wand to the dog before you. 

Sirius, those eyes, they were his. He stared at you, and you returned the blank sentiment. He slowly shifted back and you saw him in all his tortured beauty. 

He didn't look much better than he did as a dog. Hair patchy, you assumed from neglect, He did always have a hair pulling problem when you were younger, you couldn't imagine what that did for him in Azkaban. “{Y/N}...”

Your name sounded broken coming from his lips like that. He walked closer and you stepped back, He didn't relent, walking you straight against the dirt walls that encased you. He only stopped when your wand hit his chest. He looked from your wand, looking up your arm, and to your face. He gave an almost crazed smile. “Scared of me, pretty girl?”

His voice was haunting. It put a weight down your throat, even in this state he had an effect on you that you could never understand. Your hand began to shake, and he took your wrist, lowering it and stepping forward. His dirty hands took your head so gently. You both stared into eachothers eyes and he gave a crazed and desperate laugh. His grip on your cheeks growing harsher. The dirt that was on his palms and under his fingers stained your skin, “Sirius-”

“Again.”

“What?”

“My name, say it again.” 

You stared at him. His voice was so strangled, likely from under use. He wet his lips and you took a shuttered breath.

“Sirius.”

He let out a sound that you were sure only a dog could make. Grinding his teeth, he dug his nails into your cheek and jaw as he forced you to look completely up. Into his eyes. “Where have you been, vixen?”

You raised your hand to grab his wrist in warning, but the crazed man seemed to have come to terms with it. “I have.. Quite the tale for you, Sirius.” You breathed, and he slowly nodded, Hands lowering to your sides and you bit your bottom lip. Looking away from him. Giving him the chance to lean into your ear to speak. “Better make it quick, Vix.”

You almost forgot how to breathe. Struggling to hang onto your anger. This man had gone after Peter alone, told no one, not even thinking about how he was abandoning your godson in the process. Your mind was suddenly fogging once more when his thumbs pushed hard against your waist and his nose found its way to your neck.

You pushed him back just a few inches, turning to face him again, “Let me start from the beginning.”

~~ Harry’s POV~~

He saw the name, he knows he did. Peter Pettigrew. He knew something was off, walking down the hall alone. The steps were getting closer, but the name tag had disappeared. He ran his thumb over the sheet as he stood still in the hall. There was a tense moment, where he was sure Peter was getting closer. He flinched at his own reflection. 

He was going mad, looking at this old parchment. Surely, it was mistaken. He had gone on a wild goose chase this whole time. Oh great, now Snape is coming? “Mischief Managed, Nox”

As if he was just waiting for him to hide, a blinding light took over his peripherals. 

“Potter.” Snape drawls, his lips curled up in a permanent scowl. “And what are you doing, wandering the corridors at night?”

“Uhm,” Harry stated and began to look around for any excuse he could muster. “Uh, sleep walking?”

He cursed himself as it came out as more of a question than a statement.

Snape scoffed. “You are so extraordinarily like your father, strutting around the castle.”

“My father didn't strut.” Harry snapped back and Snape narrowed his eyes at him. “And nor do I. Now, if you would be so kind as to lower your wand from my face.”

Snape lowered his wand and rolled his wrist. “Turn out your pockets.”

Harry sighed and pulled out the parchments and his wand. “Open it, now.”

He thumbed over the paper and unfolded the map. Snape lowered his wand to utter an incantation, before gesturing to the words. “Read it.”

“...” Harry sighed and lifted the page to his face. “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Vulpes, Padfoot and Prongs offer their compliments to Professor Snape and..”

“Go on.” Snape insisted and Harry glanced up at him before sighing and looking back down.

“And request that he keeps his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.” Harry remarked as he snapped his eyes up to Snapes, looking him dead in his dark pupils.

“Why you insolent little-”

“Professor?” Lupin called down the hall, turning the nearest corner and narrowing in on the two. 

Snape turned sharply and slowly smirked at the fellow professor. “Ah, Lupin. Taking a stroll out in the moonlight are we?”

Lupin resisted the urge to scoff, and looked around him. “Harry? Are you alright?” He called over in a gentle tone. Harry nodded but Snape snapped his hand forward and snatched the parchment from him before he could stop him. 

“That remains to be seen. I have just now confiscated a rather curious artifact.” Snape remarked as he looked it over. Lupin felt his heart fall to his feet. He hadn't seen that map since Finch confiscated it, Lupin quickly recovered,as Snape handed it over.

“I believe this is your area of expertise.”

Lupin looked it over with a firm sigh, threw his nose, rolling his tongue to try and stifle a laugh at the words. “Looks to be a parchment designed to insult whoever reads it. Likely a Zonkos product. Severus, but.” He lifted the paper higher as Snape tried to grab it back. “I will look it over. As you said, it is my area of expertise. Now!”

Lupin turned on his heels and gestured to his side. “Harry, a word of you'd please?”

Harry nodded and quickly passed Snape, head down as if in shame.

Once they made it to the classroom, Harry followed Lupin to his desk. The professor was clearly upset, so Harry stayed quiet. He spoke calmly, but his tone was anything but, like he was holding himself back from rage he didn't recognize.  

“Now I haven't the faintest idea how this map came to be in your possession, I would say I am shocked you didn't hand it in, if I didn't see James doing the same thing. I am, however, incredibly disappointed in this behavior. Did you stop to think of it? For a moment?” Lupin raised his voice steadily before he took a pause and a deep breath, turning to face Harry fully. “That if Sirius Black got his hands on this map, that this would lead straight to you?”

Harry’s eyebrows raised. It wasn't that he was unused to people's rage being directed at him, or their disappointment for that matter. But something about it being Remus looking at him like that, it broke a bit of his heart. He was just so used to Lupin’s warmth. “... No.” He admitted.

“No. Of course not.” Lupin hissed. “I understand the thrill of it all, I was a student in these halls once too, but it is time to stop looking at this like a game. You are in danger Harry. Danger that your father and your mother lost their lives trying to keep you from. Danger that the people dearest to me were killed and maimed to protect you from! And wondering about the castle with a killer on the loose seems to be a pretty poor way to repay them.”

The professor waved the paper around like it had done some horrible offense. He tossed it on his desk with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don't mean-” Harry tried to explain and Remus didn't want to hear it, raising his hand to tell him to be quiet.

“Didn't mean what? To sneak out? Endanger yourself and in turn, this school?”

“I didn't think it was-” He began in bewilderment and Lupin simply raised his voice.

“Do you know how many people were affected by this war? How many people were on the front lines to ensure your safety?”

“No..”

“Fabian Prewett, do you know that name?” Lupin walked up to a letter that rested on his desk. He flicked it open. Harry frowned, hard.

“No-”

“Molly Weasley’s older brother, dead. Do you know Gideon Prewett?”

“No, I-”

“Fabian's twin brother, he was splinched and lost his left arm, moved to America. Marlene McKinnon?” He prodded. Harry looked down at his shoes. “Dead, death eaters killed her entire family. Dorcus Meadows? Voldemort killed her himself after she snapped and went rogue, looking to avenge Marlene. Mary McDonnell?”

“No-”

“She was killed in her safe house days after your parents death. {Y/N} {L/N}?” His voice cracked at the name.

“Yes, that name I-”

“You don't have a clue about that woman! About your Godmother, because she was killed. Killed trying to protect you and saving lives. All of these people put themselves on the line. Not just for your parents, but for you. For the concept of what we believed was our family. Peter Pettigrew faced Sirius Black for you! And to you that means nothing but for a boy like Peter that meant the world.”

There was a thick and tense silence.”Do you know what that means? Family means we look after eachother. In order to do that, you have to look after yourself first.” He tutted as Harry sniffed and looked away. He hated to be this intense about it, but Harry needed to wake up at some point.

“I will not cover up for you again, Harry. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.” He whispered low and Remus huffed. “Go to your dormitory.”

Harry had never run quicker from Remus, before he paused and cleared his throat. “Professor?”

Lupin gave a deep sigh and slowly turned to look up at Harry. “Yes?”

“I think it may be broken. It's uhm.. It’s been showing me Peter Pettigrew.” He spoke carefully and Remus narrowed his eyes. Harry gave an awkward nod, muttering a good night before running off.

Remus was left alone with his thoughts, eyes wandering up to the window behind his desk. He thinned his lips as he let his mind wander next. Those names, Maybe it was the date that led him to be so hard, even close to the full moons he had learned to manage his temper for the most part. The date was getting closer and closer to when he made one of the stupidest mistakes he has made in his life.

~~~

The spring formal, in lue of the triwizard tournament in the winter. He remembered when Lily suggested it to the other prefects then to the professors. They hadn’t held the tournament in years, and the kids were close to their last years at Hogwarts.

He thought it was a cute idea at first, having been one of the many students Lily had referenced to get the whole thing reviewed by the professors. Then, he started getting those bloody questions. It started when you were all sitting together in the library, the boys, you, Lily, and Mary.  

You were talking Mary threw the process of making liquid luck, when a hufflepuff boy walked up to the table. He cleared his throat and looked at you in a way that made Remus want to pull you closer. His lip twitched and the boy didn't even seem to see him there. You two always sat together, no matter where it was. 

You sat up straighter and your knee pulled from his, he almost whined at the loss of your warmth. Merlin, he was a mess. 

“{Y/N} {L/N}?” He called over to you and you looked up at him with your beautiful eyes. He saw the boy take a nervous breath and you sat there so patiently, eyes fluttering. “I was wondering, if you had a date yet? To the Formal, I mean.” 

Your mouth shaped an ‘o’ and you gave him the sweetest look you could, avoiding pity or sympathy. “Sorry hun, you're very cute, but I am actually waiting on someone.” You remarked, Remus glanced at you to see you were already looking at him with this cheeky look. Didn't know if his blood was rushing to his face or leaving it, but he suddenly felt dizzy. You gave a giggle at his look before you turned back to Mary and got back to helping her. The curly haired girl was staring at you with a slack jaw. “Did you really just say that?” She whispered to you before Lily spoke up next. “Did you really just do that?”

He turned to face the boys and they were staring at him with wide and cheeky looks, all but Sirius who seemed annoyed by the whole thing.

“Well, he knows what I want.” You remarked and he just about fainted on the spot.

You damned Vixen.

That's how he got here, sitting in his dorm room with the boys, as they interrogated him.

“You're not going to ask her? The girl you've been mooning over for years says she wants you infront of everyone and you're not going to ask her?” James sounded like Remus had personally offended him.

“First of all, I resent that. Second, it's only been a year.” Remus muttered the last part, remembering the day he fell for you fondly. Waking up to your warmth after one of the worst nights of his life. You had found out about his condition months ago, he had been avoiding you. You always had a playful and flirty friendship. But when he woke up to you in the chair beside him, sound asleep. He thought he could see that for the rest of his life, and he fell even harder when you let out the most embarrassingly loud snore.

“You flirt with her all the time! What’s so unappealing about doing that for an entire night?” Peter, ever bold when it came to you challenged and Remus sighed.

“When the full moon is close, she can't possibly think I'm serious, and! it's hard to think the same of her when she flirts with Lily and Marlene all the same.”

“She does what now-” James sat up straight like a rocket and that made Sirius cackle.

“It's easier when it's not serious. But, a spring formal? That's like.. asking her to be my girlfriend!” Remus declared in offense and Sirius scoffed, looking over his book as Remus struggled.

“Do you not want that?” James asked and Sirius chuckled. “Must have realized how vile she truly is.”

“Watch it Sirius.” Remus huffed before he looked back at James and Peter. “Of bloody course I want that. I just can't have it.”

James gave him a confused look before he groaned. “This shit again-”

“I will ruin her life! She'll be an Auror the second we cross that lake after graduation! Then what will people think? It won't be cute anymore. A werewolf husband can't keep a job, and I can never have kids. That's the one thing she wants the most. A family.” He mumbled and James sighed. Sirius winced and sunk into his bed a bit more as Remus spoke about his betrothed without knowing it.

He was going to tell them, but you had never made it known if you wanted him to share it or not. Not that you willingly interacted with him after how he treated him. Then you started this fling with Reamus. He figured at first it was to make him jealous, and it worked. Though, the way you looked at him was chilling. He quickly realized he had gone too far, but there wasn't much he could do now. So he stayed quiet.

“Do you think maybe you would be enough for her?” Peter offered and James nodded along.

“I think knowing she settled for me would be worse.”

Remus Lupin, despite his best efforts to prove otherwise, was not stupid. He saw the way you looked at him, the tone you took with him and no one else. You were wild. fun, but responsible and respectful. You were the coolest witch he ever met, and when he first said that out loud Lily gushed like a schoolgirl. Well, as a school girl. He knew that the remark in the Library was true,

He wanted to know what loving you meant. The feel of your hand in his. He wanted to know what it was like being your number one, you already had a way of making people seem special, but to be special to you was something he wanted all to himself. He wanted you all to himself. 

He couldn't have that, he couldn't do that to you. To anyone. So, he made a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He would let you go, and let you down easily. Before it got too real.

~~

Remus shoved away the memory as he sighed, pulling open the map and looking it over. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” He whispered to it, looking it over with a frown. He curled back the pages, looking over the forest and the names around. It was oddly stimulating, watching the prefects doing their rounds and the occasional professor here and there.

His eyes wandered all over the map, looking to see if Harry was being truthful about it having Peter’s name. He didn't see it, but his nearly dropped the map when he saw his name. Sirius Black.

And he wasn't alone.

[ameliora-j]

sure // rw x reader

words: 1.8k

warnings: smut, overstimulation kinda, finger sucking, size kink if you squint, daddy kink, subspace but not focused, sort of enemies to lovers

a/n: i hate the ending to this i’m not gonna lie but aye first smut

you didn’t really know much. you learned a lot, but you never truly retained the information. after tests and exams, knowledge went just as quickly as it came. however, one thing that you did know. one thing that you were absolutely sure of was that you absolutely despised ron weasley. and nothing in the world could ever change that. you can admit, you did used to have a crush on the redhead... before you found out his true personality of arrogant asshole.

the two of you were in the same friend group, but don’t be mistaken... he was absolutely not your friend. you would first die before ever calling the selfish, pompous, arrogant git your friend. he was so full of himself. you didn’t understand how harry and hermione could be friends with someone like that.

harry and hermione were tired of the two of you constantly bickering and ignoring your—quite obvious, according to them—feelings for each other. and you guess that’s how you wound up in this situation. harry and hermione had taken both you and ron’s wands and locked you in the room of requirement with the threat: “if you two don’t speak to each other and become friends we won’t ever let you out.”

at least they made the room cozy. it was everything you needed, a small room with a bed in the center, and a desk against one of the walls. it was also accompanied with a small en-suite bathroom and water and snacks. you were happily reading in your dorm alone before hermione dragged you here, saying that it was an issue that needed immediate attention.

you had probably been here for about an hour with the redhead, sitting silently and not even looking at each other. finally, you were bored of counting seconds, so you retreated to the desk and opened your book and continued reading where you had left off, still ignoring the tall, muscular redhead laying on the bed.

it was going very well untill you began to see small paper butterflies landing on the desk in front of you. you contained your smile as you watched yet another charmed paper butterfly fly across the room and land in front of you. this caused you to close your book and spin around to face him as you set it on the desk. “did y’need something, weasley?” you asked him.

“they won’t let us out of here unless we talk. and i need to study our playbook for the next quidditch game,” he told you. you hummed softly before turning back around and opening the book again.

“i don’t have anything to say to you. you hate me, you don’t want to be my friend, and i’m okay with never speaking to you again,” you spoke, matter-of-factly as you began reading again.

you heard a deep sigh before ron’s footsteps began coming closer to you. you felt his presence behind you and he put his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. your face heat up as you swallowed thickly and bit your lip nervously. “we both know that’s not true now, is it, princess?” he smirked devilishly.

you don’t know what it was, but something in his eyes made you want to listen to his every word. do whatever he told you to. submit. you nervously shook your head as you struggled to remember exactly how to breathe. he hummed again, keeping his grip on my jaw as he stared down at me. “tell me, princess. how do you really feel?” he raised an eyebrow.

“nervous,” you croaked.

“nervous?” he hummed. “why nervous?”

“you,” you breathed out.

“i make you nervous?” he found great pleasure in this information as he smirked down at you. you nodded again and he removed his grip from you, moving to sit on the desk in front of you. “c’mere,” he beckoned, reaching his hand out.

you nervously took his hand and moved so i was standing in between his legs. his hands moved your hair away from your neck before landing on your hips and tugging you closer to him. you sucked in a gasp as your senses became engulfed with him. “y’very pretty,” he murmured into your ear before placing a soft kiss behind it. “thank you,” you stuttered as you searched for air.

“‘m gonna kiss you now,” he spoke and you nodded your consent. he tangled his hands in your hair and pulled you impossibly closer as he pressed your lips to his. it was already very clear that he was the one in charge, the kiss just solidified that as his tongue licked inside of your mouth and you mewled against his lips. he stood from the desk and lead you backwards to the bed, pushing you gently down on it and crawling over you.

“‘s this your first?” he asked, and you shook your head nervously. “good. cus ‘m not gonna be gentle,” he smirked as he began to leave kisses down your neck. you tugged gently on his shirt, causing him to sit up and pull it off. the two of you undressed each other as you continued making out.

once ron had your pants off, he began kissing down your body. you whimpered and squirmed slightly as he got down to your thighs. “please,” you whimpered breathlessly. he smirked as he pulled off your panties and left a kiss on your clit. you moaned softly, tangling your hands in his hair as he licked up your slit.

“so wet f’me,” he commented as he circled your entrance with his middle finger. “please, want it,” you whined, bucking your hips into him. he shushed you, pushing your hips back down to the mattress as he finally gave you what you want, pushing his middle fingers into you. you moaned as he curled them and quickly found that special spot.

“fuck,” you whimpered as his thumb came up to rub at your clit. “so good,” you whined as he began moving his fingers faster. you whimpered as his free hand reached up to play with your nipple, rolling the rapidly hardening bud between his fingers.

“you gonna cum?” he asked and you nodded, whimpering out a small “please,” making him smirk at how quickly he got you to submit to him.

“go head, princess,” those three words were all you needed. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as stars danced across your vision and your legs shook as you fell into ecstasy. his fingers fucked you through it and his thumb never stopped it’s circles on your clit, even as you came down.

“please, please, please,” you whimpered as you tried to squirm away from it. “one more for me, princess,” ron hummed. you whined softly as you gripped his wrist, letting out small gasps and whimpers as he practically tickled a second orgasm from your already tired body.

“good girl,” he praised as he fucked you through the second release, only pulling away when you whimpered and squirmed away. “open,” he instructed as he brought his fingers up to rest on your bottom lip. you followed his instruction, lolling out your tongue as he pushed his fingers into your mouth, making you clean them off. “y’ready to take me, princess?” he asked.

you nodded with a small whimper of “please.” he ran his tip up your slit, collecting your slick on him before slowly pushing his cock into you, making you moan at the stretch. ron wasn’t your first, but he was definitely the biggest. you were sure he knew that as you saw him smirking down at you as he kept pushing it in. “is that all?” you whimpered after a while.

“almost princess, halfway there,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed you softly. you whined softly as he pushed in even further, bottoming out as he hit your cervix. you moaned loudly as you arched into him, begging him to move.

he obliged, setting a quick pace as his arm wrapped around your leg, setting it over his shoulder for a better angle. “fuck. so tight,” he grunted in your ear as he rutted into you. you couldn’t contain your moans as the head of his cock repeatedly hit your spot inside of you, making you beg for more.

“daddy,” you shrieked as he moved your other leg over his shoulder, making his cock go that much deeper.

“oh fuck say it again pretty girl,” he moaned as his thumb found your clit, rubbing in time with his thrust.

“daddy please,” you whimpered as you took his free hand and moved it to rest on your throat. he raised an eyebrow as he smirked down at you. “such a dirty little girl,” he hummed as he squeezed gently.

you moaned louder as you arched further into him, whimpering and begging. “shh. take it,” he hummed as he abused your cervix with his cock.

“wanna cum please,” you whined softly as you felt your lower abdomen clench. “please please please,” you whimpered repeatedly as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“hold it,” he demanded. however, he didn’t let up, causing you to whine loudly as you thrashed about the bed, trying not to release the pleasure ron was currently giving your body. “cum with me princess, now,” he hummed.

the third orgasm hit you even harder than the first two. it was unending as ron continued to fuck you through it, every drag of his cock against your walls intensifying it twofold as you cried his name over and over, feeling his hot cum spurt inside of you. you whimpered softly as you came down, looking up at him doe-eyed. “you okay, pretty girl?” he asked softly.

“thank you daddy,” you hummed softly, ignoring his question. he smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he slowly pulled out. you mewled at the ache in your lower body and hissed as you felt the sheets drag against your swollen, sensitive clit.

“just gonna clean you up, yeah? then we can nap,” he spoke gently as he carried you into the bathroom. he sat you on the toilet, making you go so that you didn’t get a uti before he ran a bath for you. he got in behind you as he gently washed you off, careful of all your sensitive areas as he hummed gently to you, bringing you back down to earth.

“ron?” you asked gently as he wrapped you in a big, fluffy towel. he hummed in acknowledgment and you looked up at him. “what does this make us?” you asked shyly.

“how bout i take you on a date first. and then we’ll decide that. deal princess?” he asked as he lead you back into the room and began to change you.

“okay,” you hummed. he smiled as he pulled on a pair of boxers and got into bed with you, pulling you into his chest.

you didn’t really know much. however, if there was one thing that you were absolutely sure of.. it’s that... maybe you didn’t despise ron weasley.

[rebelwrites]

You Don’t Know Her Like I Did

Jax Teller x Reader 

Text in bold is present day and the rest is memories

Warnings Death

That day would stay with Jax until the day he died. The day his world finally crumbled, the day his life changed forever. The boisterous, loud mouth biker everyone knew had gone and had been replaced with a quiet, lost biker. He remembered the day like it was only yesterday, the one call that broke the untouchable Jackson Teller.

Leaning against his bike, he felt his phone ring for a millionth time. Pulling it out of his pocket he saw all the missed calls from his mom. Hitting call he pulled the phone to his ear whilst he lit a cigarette.

“Mom you know I’m on a run” he sighed.

“I know I’m sorry son but this is important” she sighed, by the tone in his moms voice he knew something was wrong, something had happened.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s been an accident” Gemma said shakily. “It’s Y/N”

Instantly he felt sick, panic ran through his veins at the thought of his old lady hurt.

“I’m on my way”

Shoving the phone back in his pocket and tossing the half smoked cigarette in the mud he squeezed the throttle, racing home to his baby girl. He was at least two hours away from home yet he managed to get home within the hour, not caring about breaking the speed limits.

His feet pounded the floors of the hospital as he made his way to you. His heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw you laying in the hospital bed, cuts and bruises littering your soft skin. Tubes and wires keeping you breathing.

“What happened” he breathed sitting by your side taking your hand in his.

“A lorry ran a red light” Gemma said her voice barley a whisper. “Jax the doctors are saying it’s not good. We could, she might” she was unable to say the words but he knew what she was saying.

Brushing his fingers over your cheeks, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Come on princess” he sobbed “just open then beautiful eyes for me. Please”

The only sound in the room was the steady beep of the heart rate monitor that was until the door opened, making Jax glance up to see who was entering the room.

“Sorry Jackie Boy” Chibs sighed “This one wants their daddy”

“Daddy” Harry said squirming in Chib’s arms before he place him on his feet and he ran into Jax’s arms.

Picking his son up, holding him tight in his arms he placed a long kiss on the crown of his head.

“Is mommy going to be okay” He asked as he played with the bullet hanging round Jax’s neck.

“I don’t know buddy” Jax sighed not wanting to lie to the 4 year old. “Mommy isn’t well baby, but no matter what happens I need to remember that she loves you so much”

A couple of hours had passed and nothing had changed.

“Okay Mr Teller, we are going to bring Y/N out of the coma and the rest will be up to her, unfortunately there isn’t much we can do at this stage” The doctor said softly as he did whatever he needed to do to wake you.

Jax watched intently as your eyes fluttered open, one look in them he knew things wasn’t good, the twinkle you normally had, was gone. He knew it was only a matter of time.

“My prince charming” You said, voice horse and not much more than a whisper.

“Mommy” Harry grinned trying to clamber into your arms.

“Buddy be careful with mommy okay” Jax whispered placing your son on the bed, watching as he snuggled into your side.

“Where does it hurt momma” Harry said placing his tiny hand on top of yours “You say kisses make everything better”

Jax thought he had no more tears to shed until Harry spoke.

“I don’t think kisses are going to work this time baby” You whispered using all your strength to hold your son tight, taking in his scent.

You and Jax knew this was the end, your body was shutting down and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do to stop it.

“Jax” You whispered looking at your husband who was trying to squeeze himself onto the tiny hospital bed.

“I know baby I know” He sighed kissing your lips softly, like you was made of glass.

“Look after our baby” You whispered tears streaming down your face as you felt yourself getting weaker. “Look after yourself, raise our son to be an amazing man like you”

“Baby I don’t want to let go” He sobbed into your hair.

“I know but you have to” You sobbed “Just remember I will always love you, you will always be my outlaw prince” Leaning down you placed a kiss on your sons head “my baby boy, I will always love you even when I am not here”

“Momma I love you too” Harry said looking up at your with his big blue eyes full of innocence.

“I love you” You said, your voice getting weaker.

Jax knew what was coming, he knew it was time.

“I love you to baby girl” He sobbed placing one last kiss on your lips, resting his forehead on yours, he watched your eyes close, a smile on your face as the monitor beside you stopped beating constantly and was now just one long beep.

Leaning against the bar, nursing the bottle of Jack, Jax felt a hand on his back. It had been 6 months since the worst day of his life, he had hardly been home, hardly seen his son. Just spent his days at the club.

“Maybe talking to someone will help Jax” Chibs said lowly.

“Don’t really feel like talking” Jax grunted “She’s gone and I feel it might just be too much to bear if I spoke about that day”

After a moment of silence Jax spoke again.

“You’ll never understand, no one will, you don’t know what we’ve been through. That girl’s my best friend and there’s no way you or anyone else is gonna be able to help me. She’s the only one who can and she’s gone” Jax said as hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he held onto his chain that now contained your wedding and engagement ring alongside the bullet. “Chibs, I can’t forget that day, no matter what I do and I feel like I’m drowning in all these memories. Our whole life together is replaying in my head”

The day you walked into the lot of Teller-Morrow, Jax knew his life was gonna change.

“Isn’t that Y/N Y/L/N?” Opie asked making Jax look up. “Yeah man, Jheeze not seen her since we dropped out of school” Jax said wiping his hands on the rag before sauntering over your you.

Jax had the biggest crush on you during his school years yet for some reason never had the balls to ask you out.

“Well I didn’t think I’d see you back in charming darlin’” Jax smirked.

“Fuck me, if it isn’t the famous Jax Teller” you laughed as he gave you a hug.

“But seriously what you doing in charming” Jax nodded offering a cigarette which you accepted, he noticed straight away you wore no wedding band “thought you’d be married to some pompous prick”

“I guess you are half right on that” you laughed pushing smoke out your nose “I dated a pompous prick but all the money in the world wouldn’t make me to go back to that life style. The bastard had an issue with me riding and how I dress so I left his sorry ass”

“Jheeze, guess you can take the girl out of charming but can’t take charming out the girl” Jax smirked “What can we do for ya”

“New tyres for the beast” you laughed nodding your head to the bike parked at your side.

Jax couldn’t help but smile as he watched you catch up with Opie, you had changed a lot since school, and definitely more women now, you wasn’t the skinniest person with your well defined hourglass figure, he couldn’t help himself as his eyes trailed your body, the ripped jeans hugging your curves, the vest stop revealing the perfect amount of cleavage, the battered leather bomber jacket was like a second skin, your hair pulled into a simple pony tail, cigarette hanging out your mouth. Jax was infatuated.

As he walked closer he overheard your conversation with Opie as you sat on top of the bench.

“He just couldn’t handle the fact I’m not who I was in school” you laughed.

Back in the day you were a straight A student Daddy’s little girl" Jax smirked making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I just want a bad boy” you shrugged smirking as you saw Jax’s breathing hitch.

There was only one person that knew you had always crushed on Jax and that was Opie.

“I’m gonna sort your bike out” he nodded leaving you and Jax alone.

“If you want a bad boy then baby you got it” Jax winked “I’ll take you to the wrong side of the tracks”

After about half an hour Opie tossed your keys to you.

“So what do I owe you” you said pulling a wad of cash out your leather jacket.

“Put you cash away women” Jax laughed putting his arm around your shoulders “I think letting me take you on a date will be enough payment”

“And I can’t cope, it’s another death inside the family. It’s like she stole my way to breathe” Jax said playing with his wedding band. He could tell by the look on Tig’s face what he was going to say so Jax held his hand out stopping the words escaping his lips “Don’t try to tell me it stops hurting, don’t try to tell me she ain’t worth it”

The sound of little feet running along the hard wood floor of the club made Jax look up from the bottle. Reaching down he pulled Harry onto his knee.

“Daddy please don’t cry” Harry said standing on Jax’s knee wiping the tears from his eyes. “Momma wouldn’t want you crying”

“I know baby” Jax sighed kissing Harry’s head

“Are you coming home tonight?” Harry asked as he sat on the bar resting his feet on Jax’s stomach.

“I don’t know buddy” Jax said ruffling his sons hair.

“Pwease daddy” Harry said looking up through his eyelashes at him, tears filling his eyes “I miss momma too but you are never home anymore”

“I’m proud to be in the bad news crowd. The one my mama warned me about. The closest thing to hell she’s ever raised” you winked at Jax as you threw you leg over your bike “you coming baby”

“I’d go anywhere with you” Jax smirked placing his hand on your upper thigh, eyes full of lust.

“Come on then big boy let go bend the law and break some laws” you giggled placing a cigarette between your lips.

“Mmmm there’s other things we could do” Jax smirked running his finger across the top of your boobs.

“Maybe I’d let you do me on your bike” you whispered in his ear biting your lip causing him to growl.

“Grandma said we can order pizza tonight daddy” Harry grinned.

“That’s great” Jax nodded no emotion in his voice.

“Come on Harry” Chibs said picking him up and placing him on the floor. “Go find uncle Hap and annoy him”

As soon as Harry had ran off to find Happy, Chibs places a firm hand on Jax’s shoulder. Squeezing him tight.

“Right you listen here Jackie boy” Chibs said, his tone firm “you have a gorgeous son that’s trying so fucking hard to get his daddy’s attention and you are shutting him out, just like everyone else”

“Come back to me when you lose a wife” Jax scoffed.

“That shit don’t wash with me and you know it” Chibs snapped. Someone needed to be firm with him. “You aren’t the only one that is hurting. Everyday I find Harry just sat on the swing crying. The little lad is trying to be strong for his daddy”

“I swear you two was baptized in dirty water, by the hands of the devil himself, between the banks of a Whiskey River, beside the Highway to Hell” Opie laughed as he passed you and Jax a beer. “You are like the perfect match for each other”

Tonight was a massive celebration for your and Jax engagement, you was currently sat on Jax’s knee, his arm round your waist whilst your arms was tangled in his hair.

“Girl you got an outlaw. Ready to lay down all my guns. A dirty old hound dog. Learning new tricks like cuddlin’ up. You’ve got a hellcat purrin’ like a kitten. You’ve got a sinner down on his knees. It had to be hell on an angel. Lovin’ the devil outta me” Jax’s whispered as he kissed on along your jaw.

“Jax baby, we can’t dip out just yet” you giggled feeling full affect of the weed and whiskey.

“I will be quick” he smirked “promise”

“Fine” you giggled “show me a good time Teller”

“With pleasure princess” he said placing his hands under your ass as he carried you to his dorm room.

“I don’t have to sit here and take this shit” Jax snapped storming out of the club.

He threw his leg over his bike and sped off to the cemetery. The one place his brother wouldn’t nag him, the one place he could think.

Soon enough he was now sat in front of your grave.

“I’ve got too many I care about in this fucking place” jax sighed as he lit a smoke. “Babygirl I’m struggling, I really am. I don’t know what to do”

“It still amazes me even to this day how you got my every flaw, my rebel heart, every tattoo, every scar and still loved the outlaw in me” Jax whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I know everyone is probably thinking I should be moving on with my life right now but right now I can’t, they didn’t know you like it did baby girl, they don’t really know how I’m struggling to live without you, I’ve hardly spent time with Harry and I know if you was here you be kicking my ass right now”

“Thought I’d find you here baby” Gemma said sitting on the grass next to Jax placing a soft kiss on his head.

“How did you do it Ma?” Jax asked tears clouding his vision “how did you carry on after JT died and continued to raise me?”

“I didn’t shut family out baby” she whispered taking his hand on hers “I leant on the club, I know you are hurting baby but you actions are hurting that gorgeous little boy of yours. He asked me today if you always be this sad”

“I don’t know what to do Ma” Jax sighed.

“Take some time off, let Chibs lead the club for a bit and spend some time with your son” she smiled softly “he lost his momma too and needs his daddy so much. I know things may seem dark right now and like there is no way up but the one thing that got me through my grief was you. You was the strength I needed to carry on every day”

“Daddy” a little voice shouted.

“Sorry Gem” Rat sighed panting slightly.

“It’s okay” she nodded.

Harry climbed into Jax’s lap, snuggling into his chest.

“I’m sorry son” he sighed burrying in face into his sons blonde hair “I know I’ve not been a good daddy recently, in fact I’m sorry for a lot of things”

“Daddy I don’t want you to be sad” Harry said placing his tiny hand against Jax’s cheek.

“I know buddy” Jax whispered wrapping his arms around him.

The two of them just sat there not saying anything, Gemma was right, the only way he would start to try and mean his heart was from the love from the 4 year old snuggled into his chest.

[ickle-ronniekins]

the one i was meant to find

request: from nonnie! “soulmate au with George??? maybe tattoos or something with the red thread of fate?”

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

warning(s): angst, mentions of impending war, torture, sadness, anxiety

desc: your seventh year takes a wild turn when umbridge announces the arranged establishing of relationships to keep things in order. keep things in order? sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? people shouldn’t be paired off, you should find one another through fate! so when umbitchbridge ultimately decides to pair students off by blood status, it seems as though fate (or the ministry) is pulling you and your boyfriend miles and miles apart.

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight | message me to be added!

Umbridge’s slimy voice rang violently throughout the Great Hall. Suddenly everything sounded very muffled in your ears, and you swallowed thickly in the hopes of unpopping them. Your breathing became heavy, just as it had that winter day at the Weasley home.

You’d been sitting outside the Burrow in the snow near the garden shed with the lot of them, before Fred, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all excused themselves, leaving you and George alone. You’d sworn that you’d seen Fred wink at you before vanishing inside the bustling home. You’d bit down on your lip, knowing exactly what he’d been trying to do. Damnit, Fred.

You’d stolen a glance at George, who’d looked as calm as could be. That hadn’t helped your nerves at all. Neither had the slight mistletoe that had materialized above you both, the unmistakable sound of Frederick Weasley cackling emanating from the second floor of the house.

“You know,” George began, his voice steady as a rock as he inched closer toward you. He lifted his eyes to glance above you both. “Legend has it that if you don’t song whoever you’re with whenever mistletoe appears, you’re both cursed for life.”

You’d actually snorted and immediately caved in on yourself. How embarrassing was that? Your cheeks flooded red, both from the embarrassment and from the way his laughter had warmed your entire body. You’d hadn’t even known what to say. “You’re full of it, Weasley,”

He’d placed a hand dramatically across his chest. The tips of his ears and nose were pink from the cold, and you’d sworn you were going to spontaneously combust at the sheer sight of it. “Swear to Merlin, Y/N, I read about it.”

“You? Read about it? Sure. In what -- Ten Ways To Charm Your Crush?” you’d internally scolded yourself for saying something so bloody stupid, but George had clearly thought it was cute because his grin deepened alongside the dramatic drumbeat of your heart. You’d decided to dive in head first. “I reckon you just want to kiss me.”

His features had twisted into a childish smirk and the wind ruffled his bit of bright red hair sticking out from his hat. A few snowflakes had fallen onto his eyelashes and melted when he’d blinked. “Absolutely, I do.”

He’d caught your lips with his in a moment of clarity. It was new and invigorating and familiar all at once. You may had been informed of your magical abilities at the age of eleven, much to the surprise of your Muggle parents, but in all the years you’d been attending Hogwarts, you’d never felt magic quite like this. The feeling of his eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones and his tongue gliding gently over your bottom lip had sent you gasping for air --

A hand on the small of your back pulled you from your memory. You turned to your side and looked at George for some reassurance, except all he was able to give you were worried eyes and a clenched jaw. You noticed the way his eyes glistened, but not the way they had underneath the snow and the stars and the mistletoe. They were glistening with tears.

“You can’t pair people off like this!” Yells were ringing throughout the Great Hall, along with complaints and quite a few expletives. You squeezed George’s hand. All you wanted him to do was tell you everything would be okay. “George, she can’t --”

Umbridge kept on talking, annoyingly enough, and you were surprised at how loudly her words echoed in your ears. “The Ministry has concluded, boys and girls, that students will be paired off by blood status. Pure-bloods are to marry pure-bloods, half-bloods with half-bloods, Muggle-borns with Muggle-borns. No intermingling will be tolerated. There will be daily checks to make sure you are abiding by the rules. Be warned, children, there will be disciplinary actions for those refusing to obey. No exceptions.”

You felt as though your throat was closing up. George’s face was blurry through your vision, but you could still see the worried look glazing over his eyes. How the hell did she expect to pull this off -- daily checks? This woman was absolutely mad. Somehow though, you knew she’d stop at nothing to make sure her rules were being followed. The thought terrified you to your core. To George, you said shakily, “But -- I love you.”

You’d known it since the day you met him, and even before that. You knew that he was the one you’d been waiting for. The overwhelming feeling of warmth you’d felt when he’d introduced himself with a lopsided grin all those long years ago in the middle of a Herbology lesson was like nothing you’d felt before. You had first met his gaze across the classroom, and he’d held it a little longer than he normally would have. You’d been in love ever since. And so had he.

It isn’t fair, you wanted to yell out. What authority did Umbridge have to decide who you’re meant to be with? Weren’t soulmates to be determined by fate, and not by the corrupt Wizarding government? You had a thought of hexing her right now, but her pompous laugh made you feel as though you turned to stone. By the look on McGonagall’s face from the other end of the hall, you were quite certain she felt like hexing Umbridge, too.

Who the bloody hell was she to think that she had a say, any say, over who you were allowed to marry?

George’s lip wobbled a bit as he breathed in deeply. “I love you, too.” His voice was hoarse and different and worrisome. “It’ll all be okay, darling, I promise.”

Somehow you knew that George didn’t fully believe his own words.

What were you supposed to do, coming from a Muggle family, when the whole lot of Weasleys were pure-bloods? What were you supposed to say to this vile woman to make her reconsider her choices? When your eyes met hers in a fit of fury, you squeezed George’s hand tighter, all while Umbridge threaded her brows together and stood up a little straighter.

What were you supposed to do if your soulmate wasn’t allowed to be your soulmate at all?

-- -

As you stealthily flicked your wrist, a dull light emanated from your wand, causing Professor Snape’s hair to stand up on command and turn a rather ugly shade of yellow.

You squealed; how you’d managed to pull it off was beyond you. Behind you, your boyfriend squeezed your shoulders and grabbed your hand before pulling you out of the Great Hall and around the bend. He was finding it very difficult to suppress his laughter, as evident by the red colour rising in his cheeks and the slight tears in his eyes. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

You flipped your hair and grinned at him. “I know,” you said cheekily, earning yourself a playful jab to the ribs. You locked your arms around his neck. “I learned from the best.”

You adored the dimple that appeared on his cheek each and every time he smiled. You pushed his long hair out of his eyes. “The best, eh?”

“The best of the best,”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and lifted you into the air, your feet dangling just above the corridor floor. He spun you a bit until you claimed you were getting dizzy. “My girl is going to out prank me one day.. how’d I get so lucky? I reckon I’m the luckiest bloke there is.”

You giggled and played absentmindedly with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” George breathed, placing you back down and bringing a hand to the back of your neck. The cheekiness in his features almost immediately twisted into that of compassion, of admiration, of --

“I love you.”

If you hadn’t been so absolutely floored (even though you’d kind of been expecting it), you would’ve noticed how very quickly those three words had brought tears to your eyes. Except, you were too excited to notice such things. Nothing at all could’ve prepared you for those three words. You reckoned your smile was stretching from ear to ear now.

The three words you’d been waiting to hear for so long were playing in your head on repeat. You couldn’t wait another second before saying them very quickly back through a very excited squeal. “Iloveyoutoo!” He laughed and kissed you softly, his mouth moving very carefully against yours. You whispered against his lips in a calmer, more serious tone, “I love you, too.”

-- -

Your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was not going according to plan. Not only had Umbridge mechanically established relationships via blood status, but she also split all of the students up by blood status as well. So there were no longer Hogwarts houses. Each student were given new, generic Hogwarts robes and new common rooms. You shifted uncomfortably in a particularly painful armchair in what used to be the Slytherin common room. How convenient, you thought, that Umbridge had deemed the dungeons an appropriate spot for the new “Muggle-born Residencies”.

And George.

He was struggling to get used to the strange entrance of the previous Ravenclaw common room, now deemed the “Pure-blood Dormitories”. Umbridge had completely banned the selling of any and all Weasley products, even confiscating their trunks and blasting their items to smithereens. Everything George and Fred worked on for so long was just...gone, and you couldn’t even be there to comfort them.

The most interaction you were able to have with George were stolen glances across the Great Hall and in lessons. McGonagall didn’t have much say over the pairing off, but she did have a say in how lessons ran. She shut down Umbridge’s ludicrous “lesson by blood status” idea almost immediately.

George had sworn to you that it would be easy to sneak around, that he could jinx Umbridge or remove her memory or outsmart her any day. But bloody hell, it was proving to be difficult. This woman had certainly done her research. The Ministry had you all on a strict lockdown control.

Fleeting moments with George came less often than both of you would have liked. One recurring time Umbridge couldn’t stop you (because she wouldn’t dare step out onto the Quidditch pitch) were matches. The schedule had already been established, McGonagall had fought. It was the only time the “four houses” were able to reconvene during the school year. You waited patiently, nervously, restlessly outside of the Gryffindor changing rooms and yanked George rather violently behind the tent before pulling him onto a bone crushing embrace.

An exasperated breath left your lips. “I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.” you told him. It had only been a month -- surely it had been longer? Like five bloody years maybe?

“Me neither, love.” The feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist was exhilarating in a way that nothing else was. When he pulled away to look at you, he kept his hands gripped tightly on your hips, as if he were afraid you were going to slip through his fingers. Which, you thought, was pretty accurate. These fleeting moments were exactly that. Fleeting.

You expected to see the usual cheekiness glistening in his eyes, but he looked -- empty. Like the life had been sucked right out of him. Like he didn’t care about anything anymore. Like he hadn’t caught sleep in days.

You tugged hesitantly on his robes. “I -- I got paired off last week.”

You didn’t say this to hurt him; you said this to be truthful. You saw his jaw clench as he prepared himself for answers. “Who is it? I know him?”

You waved George off. “He’s just some guy.”

And then, amazingly, incredibly, George actually snorted. For a brief moment, you saw traces of happiness nearly lift him off of his feet. “Some guy?”

“Well I don’t bloody know!” you laughed too. It felt like discovering a completely new emotion, since despair seemed to be the only thing you were feeling these days. “We -- haven’t really spoken much. Just the bare minimum. He’s got a girl in Ravenclaw. Half-blood. So he’s dreading this just as much as us.”

George breathed a sigh of relief. “Same with mine.”

So he’d gotten paired off too. You felt a huge bout of nervousness tense your muscles, and you nodded. The question you were wanting to ask must’ve appeared blatantly in your eyes, because George took your hands in his and squeezed them. “You know that Hufflepuff? Lead singer in the frog choir?”

Your heart dropped about a thousand stories. Of course you knew her. She was stunning. And dating that Slytherin bloke, the one who was exceptionally good at Charms. It didn’t stop the nerves from bubbling up inside of you though. You bit your lip and stammered, “She -- she’s beautiful.”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. He hated seeing you like this, you could tell, because there was a type of yearning in his eyes you’d never seen before. He shook his head and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “No, you’re beautiful.”

Just then, the very obnoxious foghorn-like sound emitted from the castle, signaling the end of Quidditch and that all students must return to their respective dormitories immediately. Gravity was pulling you both apart, but you both defied it, testing fate, holding onto one another just a moment longer.

George kissed you with an intensity you’d never known -- you didn’t exactly know when the next time you’d be able to be this close to him. It proved to be the most difficult thing you’d ever had to do to pull away. “Be careful, be safe -- I love you.”

“I love you too, George.”

You watched as he ran forward to meet Fred, who shot you a sympathetic gaze. You mechanically entered the group of Muggle-borns who were heading back to the dorms. Before vanishing toward the opposite end of the castle, George threw you one last inconspicuous glance and brought a hand gently to his heart.

-- -

“George, it’s not up to me, it’s not up to you,”

Grimmauld Place looked disturbingly non-Christmas like, despite Molly’s best efforts at decorating in her spare time between visits to the hospital to see Arthur. You’d managed, in a strange, winding way, to end up here. It proved to be very difficult though. Umbridge was now monitoring all floo-networks and the skies for flying, and it was becoming increasingly hard to apparate when your heart just wasn’t in it. But you’d made it -- somehow. You worshiped these few days here, unbeknownst to her.

You shifted uncomfortably underneath the blanket, unable to find a position on the couch that made you feel okay. Comfortable. Safe.

You glanced down at your scarred hand and ran your fingers along the words that were reflected on George’s as well.

I must not disobey the law.

The law. That’s what Umbridge thought this was. So when she caught George attempting to sneak down to the dungeons one night to see you, if only for a moment, she threw the both of you in separate four-hour long detentions, these six words now permanently engraved into your skin.

“I don’t care,” George breathed. “I don’t care about Umbridge, or these stupid rules, or the shop, or the fact that I’ve got this ridiculous phrase on my skin. I don’t care about any of it, I care about you.”

You bit your lip as the tears began to flow. You knew he didn’t mean that. Of course he cared. “I care about you too, but what are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s fight this!”

“We’ve tried! We’ve tried, George! Umbridge is so set in her ways, not even Dumbledore can shut this down! D’you think this is easy for me?” you cried. “D’you think it’s easy knowing that there’s a beautiful woman you’ve been paired with, or that there’s a man who I’m expected to spend my life with when all I’ve been doing for the better half of the last two and a half years is planning my life with you? It’s not bloody easy, George, it’s not, tell me how this is fair, tell me!” You weren’t sure when you’d started pounding on his chest, but your rattled cries echoed throughout the empty living room space. George pulled you into his chest, gripping the back of your neck tightly in his hands as he continually pressed kisses into your hair. Your sobs turned hoarse and raspy; you were crying fully now, desperate moans evaporating into the tense air above you.

You hated hearing him cry, so when he opened his mouth to speak and his words were jumbled and emotional, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, hoping that you’d open them to something other than this nightmare. “I don’t -- I don’t want to give up on us, love.”

“And you think I do?”

“No, no, of course not!” he cried, letting his emotions get the better of him. He sucked in a breath as you dabbed gently at your tears, even though fresh ones fell just as quickly as the old ones vanished. How could this be the plan for you two? How could this be your fate, when you were so in love with one another? He shook his head. “No, I’m not done. I’m not done fighting for this. Bloody hell, I don’t even care if I’ve got to use the cruciatus curse on her. I’ll give up the shop, I’ll do anything. I don’t care about anyone else --”

“George, please, you can’t give up the shop, I won’t let you --”

“Come hell or high water, I’m fighting for you,” in a moment of fury, he grabbed and cradled your head in his hands before pressing a forceful kiss to your lips. It didn’t stop you from crying. When you both parted, you peered up at him and noticed tears near the edges of his eyes. “I’m not giving up on us. I love you.”

You gently brought a hand to his cheek and caressed his skin. You choked out, “I love you, too.”

Sometime later on, after you’d both drifted off, you woke to the sound of slight shuffling around the room. Wrapped around you in a tight embrace, George was fast asleep, his breathing now steady and slow. You noticed Molly walk over to you both and cover you with an extra blanket, her wedding ring dazzling brightly in the moonlight flooding the room.

She must’ve noticed your puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks, because she reached out and ran a gentle hand through your hair. Tears had risen in your eyes immediately at her touch, as well as surprise. You’d expected a scolding for falling asleep together, but instead she just whispered, “Fate will win in the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall, but managed to nod at her and squeeze her hand. She gently caressed your cheek and placed a kiss to your head and to George’s before crossing the room and quietly closing the door.

George stirred a bit when you interlaced your fingers with his. You pressed your lips softly to the top of his hand before letting more tears fall and adjusting within his embrace, the one you came to know so well, and found yourself craving more than oxygen itself.

-- -

“They love you. I promise. They always have, haven’t they?” The fire reflecting in his eyes resembled how the fire in your bones felt. Wild. With reckless abandon.

“But this is different!” you squealed, pushing gently away from him so he couldn’t tickle you. “Before I was just good mates with all of you. Now I’m -- your girlfriend.”

George threaded his brows together in confusion. “Wait, you are? Since when?”

He earned himself a playful jab to the ribs for that one. Outside the Burrow, the snow was falling soundlessly. It had been three days since George had kissed you under the mistletoe, two days since you made it official, one day since he re-introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. It was the perfect Christmas.

“I’m just.. worried, is all. They’re getting to know me in a different way, you know?”

“Don’t worry, love,” he reassured you, placing a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Fred’s mad for you, always has been -- waiting ages for us to get together, hasn’t he? Ginny and Ron adore you.. I can’t wait for you to meet Bill and Charlie finally. Er -- can’t make any promises about Percy, though. No matter -- he’s a foul little git, anyway.”

You sniggered a bit and felt your breath catch in your throat when George began to trace small circles on your knee. You swallowed. “And your mum and dad?”

His smile only deepened. “Well they love you, don’t they? Mum’s always called you part of the family already. And my dad, well -- you know about my dad.”

You’d never felt the Muggle part of you was that exciting, but somehow Arthur Weasley’s enthusiasm for it made you feel like it was such a precious part of you, that you were all the better for it.

George continued, “Now that you’ll be spending more time here, I reckon he’ll keep you occupied in conversation for hours. Making you tell him everything about Muggles. Apologies in advance.” George laughed softly for a moment and waved his wand to bring you both cups of tea to settle in for the evening. “Besides, he’ll go absolutely mad when he meets your parents. He’s always hoped one of us would have Muggle in-laws.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise and teased him. “In-laws? Already have us married, do you?”

When you giggled playfully, George didn’t, but instead squeezed your hand a few times and let his sincerity speak for itself through his facial features. His soft eyes, yearning and hungry and wildly in love. His mouth in a lazy grin. His chest rising and falling slowly, as if being able to look at you had finally regulated his breathing. Like you were the oxygen that was finally refilling his lungs.

You stammered, breathless. “Y-you do think about that, don’t you?”

He shrugged, as if to play off the whole thing. “Haven’t scared you off, have I?”

You brought a hand to the back of his neck and laced your fingers through his bright red hair. You smiled. “Of course not.”

“Good,” he replied cheerily, as if the idea of you two getting married was obvious. “Because I’ve known it for years, you and I. Fred reckons I may have willed this into existence,” He chuckled to himself more so than to you. You didn’t think your heart could pound any faster than it had the other day when he’d kissed you for the first time. You were wildly wrong. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “You were the one I was meant to find.”

-- -

December 1997

The cobblestone on Diagon Alley was slick with fresh rain. The lights on either side of the street flickered ominously. But there it was, as bright and brilliant as ever, colours in the dismal gray, light in the impending darkness.

“I’m not leaving! I’m giving up the shop and I’m staying here at school, alright? I’m staying with you.”

“No, George, you can’t! You can’t give that up for me. I won’t let you. You’ve worked far too hard for this.”

“I’m not leaving you here! Not with her! She’s torturing students left and right --”

“And I will be okay,” you replied with tears in your eyes. You squeezed his hands tight and his chest was heavy with sobs. “Your plans are bigger than this, and they’re bigger than me.”

It had been almost two years since he’d left on a broomstick, firework dragons swimming through the castle and the sky as he and his brother left their final mark on the Hogwarts grounds.

Almost two years since Umbridge had been replaced by Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts you knew and loved went back to some type of normal, the entire idea of blood status pairs driven into the ground with a stake.

But it had also been almost two years since Muggle-borns were forced into hiding for fear of the impending war.

Two years since you’d seen him. Heard his voice. Felt his touch.

He was crying fully now. “This -- this can’t be it for us.”

Your lip wobbled hearing those heart wrenching words. He’d always been the stronger of you two, comforting you when you cried -- this felt strangely unfamiliar. You didn’t quite fancy being the strong one, but he needed you. “It’s not. It’s not, okay? This is not the end. I promise. But you deserve this, George. You deserve the world. And one day, when this is all over, if I’m still lucky enough -- I’ll find you again. Come hell or high water. You need to follow your dream, okay?”

It wasn’t a breakup, but it sure felt like one.

He pressed his forehead to yours and an involuntary, hoarse cry escaped his lips. “But you’re my dream.”

“George, please --” you stopped yourself. You didn’t finish the words that were rising to your lips. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You cupped his chin in your hands and peered up at him, your vision blurry. But you could still see his lips were set in a thin, firm line, his jaw was clenched tightly. He was going to leave.

You looked down at the red thread tied loosely around your pinky finger. You followed it with your eyes as it wrapped around street lamps, signs and other shops, before ending up exactly where you’d always known it would when it had first appeared on your finger after you’d graduated school.

93 Diagon Alley.

“My heart will always belong to you, love.”

As you hurried down the street, following your little thread, and the shop came into better view, you could feel the sheer intensity of the anticipation bubbling up inside you.

You pointed your wand ahead, illuminating the dark street and readying yourself for any dementors or Death Eaters that were lurking close by.

But before you reached the doors, someone ran into the middle of the street and stopped short. You lifted your wand higher, ready to hex, until you realized who it was.

George was standing in the middle of the cobblestone, hair in disarray, in his sweater his mum had knitted him every single year. He’d always told you how comforting it felt to wear. You couldn’t help the slight laugh that escaped you, for the first time you’d seen him in two years he so very similarly resembled that young, cheeky boy you’d teased your first Christmas at Hogwarts for the socks he’d knitted on his own to match the gift from his mother.

He said your name in a whisper, but in your ears it sounded like a booming shout -- like all the world could hear it, if they were listening.

And you noticed your little thread, stretching along the street, ending in a tiny knot on his own hand.

You wanted to tell him that you were here to find him, and that you’d been able to escape the hiding you were under, due to being a Muggle-born. You wanted to tell him that you hadn’t once stopped thinking about him since you’d last seen him all those years ago and that when you’d finally seen that thread, you were convinced it led here -- you’d just never been able to act on it. You wanted to tell him that you prayed for him every single night.

But all that escaped your mouth was another nervous laugh before you were running and slipping along the street before winding up in a bone crushing embrace you were bound to feel the effects of tomorrow.

He wanted to tell you that he’d never met anyone as selfless as you, how equally excited and heartbroken he was when you’d told him to leave and charge forward. He wanted to tell you that he’d been spending every single day waiting for news, any news at all that Muggle-borns were no longer in hiding. He wanted to tell you that he’d had enough, and he was coming to find you just as he stumbled before you on this little street. He wanted to tell you that he’d never once stopped loving you.

But instead all he could do was kiss you fiercely and brush the tears away that were escaping your eyes, because that kiss was telling you both everything you needed to know -- all of those unspoken words, all of those bottled up feelings, all of the unwavering love you’d carried in your hearts for one another throughout all of the moments that kept you apart.

And then he was kneeling before you, raindrops dripping down from his hair and onto his face and neck, and he was saying the things you’d always dreamt of him saying, and he was opening a box with a ring inside that took your breath away, just as his first kiss had.

A familiar ring.

Molly’s ring.

Your breath hitched at the sight of it, and her words from that Christmas echoed in your mind.

Fate will win in the end.

When George placed it on your finger, you both noticed through blurry vision that the thread that had been attached to you both had disappeared into thin air.

You’d found one another again, despite it all, despite the tyrants and the war and the rules that were holding both of you hostage.

Because this was the fate you were both destined for. This was the moment. Husband and wife, together or apart.

Fate had won in the end.

Just like Molly had told you.

The fire crackled pleasantly alongside the faint sound of Christmas music. You reached out and traced a finger over his jawline. His words made you feel simultaneously cozy and incredibly nervous. “The one you were meant to find, huh?”

George laughed, probably because of how corny that had sounded. But he didn’t care -- he knew it was true. He’d known it since the day he met you, that fate had brought you together. He breathed in deeply and squeezed your knee. “Yeah, darling, I’ve already planned my whole life with you.”

reblogs, feedback, comments, and shares are all appreciated! thanks for reading :)

[bopbopstyles]

ROSE COLORED GLASSES: PART ONE

SERIES RATING: R (cursing, smoking, alcohol use, violence, PTSD, and sex)

WORD COUNT: 19.5k (long boi)

CATEGORIES: boxer!Harry, gang/mob!Harry, 1920s!Harry, Peaky Blinders!Harry (?)

As the daughter of the most powerful man in Birmingham, there were expectations of Cicely King: an advantageous marriage to save her father’s business, for one. But Cicely had never been one to follow orders. So when she woke up after an accident in the home of Harry Styles, the illusive boxer, she took it as an opportunity to escape her life. What she didn’t intend on was falling in love with him.

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | PART TWO

a/n: IT’S HERE!!!! Cicely and Harry dropped into my head and have lived in there rent free ever since. strap yourselves in for a ride, my friends! this story is hugely inspired by Peaky Blinders, and i willingly admit that characters and elements of the story resemble parts of PB, including Cicely’s appearance (Grace). thank you @hsogolden for making this beautiful banner,  and thank you to @bfharry @harrysclementines​ @stellarboystyles and @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this, ilysm!

historical notes: i’ve got a couple of things to alert the public of for this story. 1. this story is set in Balsall Heath, Birmingham, UK in 1920 or so, and i did as much research as possible on the area, but it is by no means all accurate. imagery and descriptions of the neighborhood are largely my own. 2. Church Hulme was the name of Holmes Chapel until 1974, so it is used in this story. 3. The Magnificent Ambersons is an actual book that was a bestseller in 1918. you can read it here. 

without further adieu, here is part one of ROSE COLORED GLASSES - come talk to me about it in my asks! pls reblog and share with your friends 💕✨

The cool spring air swept around Cicely like a cloud, the hem of her skirt ruffling in the wind. She was miles from home, the landscape around her having turned to just rolling hills of green, just the way she liked it. Here, she could finally breathe. At home, all she could smell was fear and secrets, while here, out in the open, she was anyone and everyone. It was just her and Joseph, her beloved horse, on the empty road.

Father had told her it was going to rain when Cicely pushed her way out of the house, stomping away from him in anger at the news he had given to her, but she hadn’t given it a second thought. She loved rain, loved being caught in it and getting drenched, not minding the weight of the water on her skin. If anything, it made her finally feel something, even if it was cold. In hindsight, she probably should’ve thought twice about going out so far in the rain, Joseph being a bit skittish as he got older, but now here she was, having ridden over halfway between her estate and the city, and she could feel the droplets falling onto her blond coiffed hair that her maid, Polly, had done this morning.

She sighed and looked up at the sky—it was grey and angry, the wind swirling around her. It was going to be a downpour, she suspected. Joseph stopped when she pulled on the reins, and she considered whether she should turn for home or find somewhere to ride out the storm. It seemed to be coming soon, after all. She glanced around and there was just open space of hills and trees, but none large enough to provide any sort of suitable protection. Plus, she was closer to the city than home, anyways, so maybe it was better to just keep on going the direction she was heading. She could stay with friends in town if need be.

So she dug in her heels and Joseph continued, her urging him to go faster as the rain began to come down harder around her. It was like a curtain, the combination of the rain and the dark skies making it hard to see very far in front of her. The water licked down her face, and her chiffon blouse was sticking to her skin, the one her maid had made her promise not to get dirty, as it had just been mended for the second time. But she could make no promises—it was her favorite one, after all. And now, it would most definitely be ruined as dirt road beneath her turned to mud and it splattered Joseph and her clothes. She held fast though, wishing now more than ever that her father let her wear the new fashionable pants to let her ride more easily because side saddle was simply not cutting it at the speeds she was urging Joseph to achieve.

All of a sudden, a crack rang through the clouds, bolts of lightening littering the path far ahead. But the sound was enough for her to tense and Joseph to whinny, his front legs leaving the ground, her hold on the reins slipping as she was thrown from the saddle.

The last thing she remembered was the sight of Joseph taking off into the rain, saddle empty and reins flying around his body.

Harry could barely see in the storm, the downpour causing sheets of rain to fall on the windshield, his vision completely obscured. So he inched along as slowly as he could without endangering his ability to drive—or the car, since it was a gift from Josiah—and kept the headlights on full blast. He was exhausted after a weekend of fights in the town over, ones that left his body aching in ways he preferred to ignore. But he had a pocket full of earnings and he knew Josiah would be happy with that, so he paid it no mind.

He was running through the fights, thinking about the missteps and wrong moves he had made, spots for improvements, when he saw a girl lying down on her back in the mud a few feet in front of the car. He slammed on the brakes immediately. What the fuck was a girl doing out in a storm like this? When she didn’t move as he sat in the car, surveying the scene, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was dead. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been killed on a road, left there to be found by the next car.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of the car, lifting his hand to shield the rain from his face. “Miss?” He called into the storm, eyes drifting over her body. She looked well to-do—her blouse seemed to be some type of lace material that the girls he knew were always fawning over, skirts bright and recently washed. What was she doing out here, alone and in the mud? And how had she gotten there?

He took a few paces closer to her, and she didn’t make a move when he brushed the hair away from her face. Hesitantly, he leaned down, an ear to her mouth to see if she was breathing—which she was, to his relief. She must be unconscious, although he could only begin to imagine how she had gotten that way. But Harry wasn’t the type to leave a young woman in need, alone on a dirt road in the middle of a storm. So he bent down, slid his aching arms under her body, and lifted her from the mud, cradling her against his chest as he walked back to the car.

She fit perfectly on his back seat when he tucked her knees in closer to her chest, blond hair draped over the seat. He grabbed his coat from the passenger side and draped it over her body, her skin cold to the touch from the rain. The thought crossed his mind of where he should take her—the police, perhaps? Or maybe a hospital? But Harry hated both of those establishments after years with Josiah. Plus, if she needed any protection, in town it was best if it came from Josiah anyway. The police were useless, a bunch of pompous assholes too big for their britches, Harry thought. And a hospital, Harry believed, was where people went to die not where they went to be healed. So he decided to take her to his flat, despite the fact that the prospect went against most principles he was raised on.

Although, everything Harry did went against his childhood principles.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was green peeling wallpaper. It wasn’t a wallpaper she recognized, and as she came to, looking around the room, she realized this was definitely not a place she had been before. Her heart seized as she inspected her surroundings. She was in a wire-frame double bed, a red duvet cover pulled around her shoulders, a soft light coming in the heavy curtains against a small window in the middle of the room. Clothes littered the floor—men’s clothes, from what she could tell—and a rug sat in the middle of the room amidst the chaos. An ashtray and the butts of cigarettes laid on the bedside table next to her, as well as a glass of water. Maybe it was a stupid choice, but her throat was raw and so she took the glass, gulping down the water without a second thought.

Faintly, she could hear the sound of a whistle. Tea, she realized. Someone was making tea.

Which meant she was not alone.

Her hands dove under the covers, inspecting the clothes on her body. Everything was still intact, her green skirt and the lace blouse she had put on,  every button done up exactly as she had left it. She didn’t have her shoes on, but on closer inspection, they laid on the ground next to the bed, but her stockings were still clipped to her garter at least. A sigh left her mouth at the prospect of some semblance of safety in this foreign place.

She tried to remember what had happened last—she had been riding through a storm after a fight with her father. Then, there was a bolt of lightning, she thought to herself, piecing together the memories in her fuzzy brain, and then remembered Joseph bucking her from the saddle. She couldn’t keep herself on, so she let go, knowing that was better than being dragged along. The last thing she remembered was Joseph riding away, her lying in what she believed to be mud.

Which would explain the brown marks all over her clothes.

Polly was going to kill her for the stains.

The whistle she had heard earlier suddenly stopped, and she heard the thud of something. Then, a soft hum of a song she recognized from the gramophone her father had in the sitting room. After a few beats, she heard the sound of footsteps on the wood floors, the creak of the footsteps growing closer and closer. Someone was coming. She was going to finally discover who had picked her up off of the road and where she was—hopefully it was some nice old lady and she was in their son’s room.

But instead, a boy about her age stopped in the doorway, a cup of tea in his hand, wide eyes at the sight of her sitting up in bed. His brown hair was tousled in soft curls across his forehead, and just trousers, a shirt, and suspenders adorned his body, his feet bare. His shirt sleeves were pushed up and she could see tattoos on his arms, something she had never seen in person before, just in photographs and magazines.

He was, she thought to herself as he stood there in shock, quite handsome.

“You’re awake,” he finally said, voice croaking in his throat. “I—uh, sorry, would you like a cuppa?”

Cicely considered the question for only a beat before nodding. He seemed nice enough, judging solely from his embarrassed reaction to the croaky sound of his voice. The boy disappeared and she waited patiently in the bed, flexing her toes to bring some feeling back into her limbs. She wondered how much time had passed—it seemed to be daylight out, so maybe not much time at all.

The boy returned, a second tea cup balanced in his other hand, his face more serious and put together than before. “Here you are,” he said, making his way over to her, his presence instantly changing the feeling of the room. Before, it was small, but not too small. Now, with his large frame and dark eyes, it seemed as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the space.

“Thank you,” she replied, accepting the cup with cold hands. It was chilly in the room, probably from the draft coming in from the windows and her skirt which was still a bit damp in spots. The tea, though, was delicious on her tongue, plain, just how she liked it.

The boy grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and pulled it over to the edge of the bed before sitting down, eyes darting between the tea cup and her face. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Cicely.” She took another sip of the tea before resting it on her lap. “Is this your flat?”

“Yes,” Harry said, eyes glancing around the room. “My room too—sorry about that. It’s just me here, so I didn’t have anywhere else to put ya.”

So no wife or family then, Cicely thought, filing the information away for later. It was interesting, a boy of his age living alone. He must have moved away from home and made decent enough wages to get a place of his own, she decided, eyes fluttering around the room to see if she could pick up on any other clues about him. But she couldn’t find anything. “How did I get here?” She asked after leaving them in silence for a few moments, the curiosity getting the better of her.

Harry placed his teacup on the nightstand as he spoke, eyes avoiding hers. “Found ya in the road in the rain. Cold as ice and unconscious, all covered in mud. Didn’t want to leave ya out there, so I brought you here—thought I could take you home once you came to and all that. Call your husband.” He added the last sentence as an afterthought, and Cicely couldn’t help but smile internally at the thought of him thinking she was married.

Which she wasn’t. At least, not yet. And not for a while, if she had any choice in the matter. “No husband,” she informed him, thumbs brushing over the duvet. “How long have I been out for?”

He pulled his lip into his mouth and Cicely didn’t know if she had ever seen something so enticing. “Almost a day.”

A day? God, her father would have her head. He probably thought she was dead after she didn’t come home. Although it wouldn’t be the first time she had let him think that, her flair for escaping after an argument a reoccurring personality trait that her father despised. Which of course, was exactly why she did it. “I hope I wasn’t a bother,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Harry shook his head, and Cicely studied his face, the sharp angle of his jaw, the high rise of his cheekbones. He had a bit of scruff around his lips, which looked soft and pink and she tried not to think about what they would feel like. Cicely didn’t usually pay men all that much mind—sure she noticed them, but did she study every feature on their faces like she did Harry? No. She was intrigued by him, the rings on his fingers and the tattoos on his arms, the way he licked across his bottom lip. And perhaps that was why Cicely made no mention of needing to go, or that she should call her family.

“Are ya hungry?” Harry asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

At the concept of food, suddenly her stomach grumbled and she blushed, embarrassed at the sound, but Harry didn’t even react to it. “Yes, actually.”

He stood immediately, wiping his palms on his trousers as he did so. “I don’t have much here,” he said, taking their empty tea cups with him as she walked towards the door. “But I’ll put something together.” She watched him, unsure if he wanted her to follow. She was a bit curious as to what the rest of the flat looked like, she had to admit. “Ya comin’?”

Cicely scrambled to follow him, her stocking-clad feet nestling into the rug by his bed. Her skirt was crinkled from sleep and she straightened it as much as possible before sighing and exiting the room and into the hall. When he turned down a set of stairs, she realized that what she thought to be a flat was actually a little townhouse. When she reached the base of the stairs, she found that the rest of the home wasn’t much—dimly lit, only one other window in what seemed to be a small sitting room and a kitchen. A table was pushed to the side, two chairs tucked into it, a plate with crumbs on it sat on one side. The green wallpaper from the bedroom covered all of the walls of the home, and when she looked around, she saw a noticeable absence of most personal effects. He had only one photo up on the side table next to the couch, of what Cicely assumed was his family. Next to it laid another ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, an empty whiskey glass.

At the sound of a plate on the counter she turned to see Harry placing a slice of bread on a plate and tenderly spreading jam across it. Cicely tried to imagine her father even entering a kitchen and she had trouble with the idea, while here was Harry making her a slice of toast. The thought was actually quite endearing, despite the fact that Harry had not once smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she said when he set the plate down on the table, grabbing the dirty one and taking it to the washbasin in the corner. Harry didn’t reply, so she took a bite. The jam wasn’t quite as good as what she was used to and the bread was a tad bit stale, but it was food all the same, and she didn’t mind all that much. As she ate, she watched Harry wash the plate, dry it with a dishrag, and place it back in a cabinet that held a few dishes.

He turned around when he was done, eyes trained on her with an intensity she was beginning to grow accustomed to from him. “I have work in a bit. Can I drop you someplace before that?”

Should he? Yes. Did she want him to? Not in the slightest. She pushed away the plate, and tried to figure out how to say this. “Would it be a bother if I stayed?”

Harry blinked at her a few times, his face finally changing from the usual intense stare that he gave her to one that was more curious in nature. “Is home not safe for ya?”

Cicely tried to decide whether or not she should lie to him. He seemed kind, generous, probably understanding, despite his inability to speak to her for very long periods of time without stretches of silence. Maybe he would understand that her desire not to go home wasn’t because home wasn’t safe, but because the life that was waiting for her was one she despised. So, she decided not to lie, but not to tell all of the truth. “No, it is. I’m just not eager to go back right now.”

“Oh.” Harry twisted a large gold H ring around one of his fingers, contemplating her words, before looking back up at her. “If ya want to stay, ya can. Know what it’s like to wanna hide for a bit.” Before she could request more information, he came towards her, snatching the plate and taking it back to the sink. He seemed to be awfully set on a clean kitchen, despite the messy state of his room. “You’ll have to come with me tonight, then.” He still had his back to her, so she couldn’t study his face as he said the words that piqued her interest.

Most girls would have probably requested to stay home, but Cicely wasn’t most girls. “Ok,” she replied, pushing back the chair. “Could I—uh—wash up somewhere?” The prospect of a bath sounded utterly delectable, although on second thought, she didn’t expect him to have a bath quite like the one she had at home.

Harry whirled around, eyes looking everywhere but her. “Yes. Um, there’s a basin in the washroom. Don’t have the water for a full bath right now, but…”

Cicely realized what he was so flustered about—he was embarrassed. Perhaps he had realized that her social station was a bit higher than his, that in her home they didn’t have to go fetch water somewhere, that she could have a bath relatively whenever she liked. And when she did it, someone else filled it for her. “That’s fine. I’ll manage.” She stood and made her way towards the washroom, following his directions, and shut herself inside. It was dark in there too—far less than she was used to. A silver bathtub was on one wall, and a smaller basin on a pedestal, a toilet in the corner. It was simple, bare bones, but she didn’t mind too much. Her father had put in running water when she was an infant, so she had never washed without it, but she decided it wasn’t too much of a change.

Quickly, she undressed, making sure the door was locked, and hung her clothing over the lip of the bath so it didn’t touch the floor. She took a rag and dipped it into the water, exhaling softly at the feeling of the cool water on her skin. There was some mud on her skin from when she had fallen, although she thought that perhaps Harry had washed some of it off—there wasn’t quite as much as she thought. A small mirror allowed her to wash the crust of mud from her forehead, and by the end of her washing she felt rejuvenated, even if it wasn’t a proper bath. Slowly, she slipped back on her clothes and considered for a moment the idea that she might need to purchase some more. Her clothes were stained from the mud, and she imagined she wouldn’t quite be able to get it out.

Although it would’ve been convenient, she didn’t imagine Harry had extra ladies clothes lying around for just this purpose.

She ruffled her hair slightly, the curls unfortunately having dropped for the most part, and sighed before letting herself out of the washroom. “Harry?” Cicely asked, turning the corner into the kitchen, where he stood, holding a glass of what she thought was a whiskey, a cigarette between his lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have a set of ladies’ clothes lying about, would you?”

Harry furrowed his brow before taking the cigarette from between his lips. “No—why?”

Cicely gestured at her stained clothes. “Mine are a bit dirty, and I wouldn’t want to wear them to your place of work like this.”

The chuckle that left Harry’s lips surprised Cicely in more ways than one. One, that he was laughing at all, for she didn’t find it to be a laughing matter. She didn’t want to make a bad impression to whoever his employer was, especially if she was going to have to be there. Second, his laugh was sweet, syrupy, one that rocked his shoulders, and made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t used to. “You wouldn’t want to wear your Sunday best to my place of work, love,” he told her, tapping his cigarette in an ashtray on the table. “You’re fine the way ya are, but we can track down some clothes for ya tomorrow.”

Where would he work where her appearance would be adequate? But rather than question him, she just nodded. “Well, I’m ready,” she told him.

“Gimme a mo’,” he told her, tucking his cigarette back between his lips before heading out of the room. Cicely decided to check out the sitting room a bit more, investigate the people in the sole photograph in the whole home. She picked up the photograph and studied it, a man, woman, and young woman, probably a few years older than Harry, stood outside of a family home, a younger Harry nestled between them. It was curious to see him younger, his face less defined, an obvious softness to his facial features. But what stuck out to her the most was the uniform he wore.

He had been in the war. Of course. Her father had avoided it because of a years old injury to his leg, although she had secretly always throught he had gotten his doctor to make it seem more severe than it actually was. Many of the men her parents had set her up with, including the horrid one they were currently trying to force her to marry, were in the war, but when she asked them about it, they only talked about their medals, heroism, the beauty of France’s countryside. But she also knew most of them had been officers, their social ranks earning them a certain level of protection, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like for Harry who had none of those privileges.

Footsteps came from behind her and she turned, dropping the photograph back to the table when she saw Harry in the hall watching her. He had changed while she was looking at the photo, a charcoal jacket over his shirt, a pin with a J on it buttoned to the lapel that she thought was a bit curious. He had a bag over his shoulder, and she wondered what was inside. “You were in the war,” she said, not acknowledging his appearance.

“Just like everyone else,” he replied, his response a stark departure from how the men she knew would’ve replied. “Come on, we’re goin’ to be late.” She followed him out, wishing she had a hat or a small purse with her at the very least, but she had nothing but her dirty clothes and scuffed boots.

When they stepped onto the street, the sight of a wide and long street, row houses lining each side met her gaze. They were in working class Birmingham, she thought to herself as Harry locked the door behind him. Most men would’ve made to put their arm through hers, but not Harry—he just began walking, letting her catch up to him, struggling to keep pace with his longer legs. His bag swung at his side as they walked, and Cicely took in their surroundings, the silence stretching between them. It was dusk and women were calling their children inside, the games of football on the street breaking up. Two young children squabbled until their mothers separated them, tugging their little hands inside. Doors shut behind them and Cicely snuck a glance at Harry. His eyes were trained on the ground in front of him, most likely adjusted to their surroundings.

He didn’t want to talk, she understood from his body language, and she decided in a choice completely against her normal mannerisms, not to push him.

Cicely didn’t know what she expected from Harry’s place of work, but it was definitely not a boxing ring in an empty warehouse. She could hear the shouts and laughter of men from outside, and she had looked at Harry with confusion written all over her face when they approached the warehouse, but she followed him inside anyways. The smell of stale beer and sweat overwhelmed her immediately, and she had to squint in the darkness of the entryway. The ring had some lights rigged up around it, some chairs around it, but it was by no means someplace fancy.

So this was what Harry had meant by her not wanting to wear her Sunday best.

“You work…here?” She asked, turning to Harry, who stood beside her, watching her take in the surroundings. He nodded, offering no additional information. “And you box?” Another nod. “Is this legal?”

That’s when he gave another one of his chuckles, and then under his breath he said, “Doesn’t need to be, love. Josiah McClemmons runs it.”

Cicely may not live in Birmingham proper, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know who Josiah McClemmons was. Everyone did. He basically ruled Birmingham, especially the working class neighborhoods, having built up his stronghold there. Her father complained about him at least once a week, about the violence and bloodshed in the city where his garment factories were. Although, Cicely had always thought to herself, her father probably shouldn’t complain too much because a dead husband meant a wife who had to work to feed her children, which meant a larger workforce for her father.

From the way Harry was greeted, Cicely assumed he was the reigning champion, the usual fighter here. Which meant that he was probably McClemmons’s payroll, if she had to extrapolate. “Do you work for McClemmons?” She asked when the few men who had come up to them walked away.

Harry adjusted the bag over his shoulder, and then nodded. “Could say that.” His eyes darted around the establishment, taking in the sight, before resting back on her. “C’mon, I’ve got to get changed and don’t want ya waitin’ out here.” He ushered her over to a man standing against a wall who wore a J pin on his lapel like Harry, which she now realized stood for Josiah’s name, a brand of who they worked for. “Tommy,” he said, the man’s gaze turning and settling on them. “This is Cicely. Keep an eye on her while I change?”

Tommy stood up straight immediately and when he took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it, Cicely couldn’t help but smile. “Pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady,” Tommy said to her, a wink gracing across his face.

When she turned to speak to Harry, he was already gone, a few paces away towards a door. “Is he good?” She asked Tommy, turning back to her new acquaintance.

Tommy’s eyes widened. “The best,” he informed her before taking a sip from a mug of what she assumed was beer. “You’re in for a treat if you’ve never seen ‘im fight ‘fore.”

Cicely agreed, the prospect of a sweaty Harry in the ring a bit more enticing than she perhaps wanted to admit. She was able to get some information on Harry out of Tommy, the combination of a pretty girl and a mug of beer not a combination meant for secrecy. He fought with Josiah McClemmons’s youngest brother in the war, the experience making them nearly brothers, and came back to Birmingham with them. No one knew where Harry was from, but people had a number of guesses, everything from London to Liverpool. Apparently before the war he had been learning to fight, and the war sharpened his skills, so when they came back it seemed natural that Josiah would use the rings as a way to make money, using Harry as his prized fighter.

She couldn’t help but think it made Harry sound a bit like the Spanish bulls she had learned about in a magazine, a caged animal. But Tommy assured her Harry loved it when she asked, so she tried to put her mind at ease.

“Who is he fighting?” She asked Tommy after refusing his offer for a beer of her own.

“Peters—a local bloke,” Tommy replied. “Harry’s expected to win.”

Cicely gathered as much from the grumblings of his name that she could hear when the betting started, money flying in the air. It was fascinating to her, and she thought that she also fascinated the men—she was the only woman in the room and she tried not to squirm against the wall she leaned against.

But then, she heard a cry go up, and Harry’s opponent came out of a door, trailed by two men. “He’s massive,” she told Tommy as she watched the man walk to the ring.

Tommy grunted in response. “Harry’s fast, though.”

She hoped he was fast enough. Peters crested the ring, pushing himself between the ropes. One of his men handed him some gloves and Cicely watched as he pulled them on, his massive chest glistening under the gas lighting.

All of a sudden, a louder cry sounded, whoops and hollers of Harry’s name, and her gaze flickered to the door she had last seen him go into. There he was, walking towards the ring, a determined look set on his face. Tattoos littered his body and Cicely realized the few she had seen were a mere teasing of the real deal. And seeing Harry without a shirt on, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, tanned skin in the light, she couldn’t help but think he was even more attractive than she had thought.

A man helped Harry into the ring, and when he stood up, she caught sight of tape covering where his nipples should be. What in the world? She turned to Tommy and pointed at Harry. “What is the tape for?”

Tommy guffawed immediately, beer sloshing in his mug. “He’s got ‘em pierced.”

“What?”

She expected Tommy to tell her he was joking, but instead he nodded. “Got ‘em done durin’ the war, apparently. Some dare from his mates. Now he’s gotta have ‘em taped up or they’ll get ripped out.”

Cicely truly didn’t have the words for a response to that. She turned back to the ring, eyes set on the two pieces of tape over each of his nipples, entranced by the idea of them being pierced. She had heard rumors from her friends of ladies getting them done, but men? Why on earth would they want them done? She had never understood it on women, but the prospect of them on men completely confounded her imagination. Although, her best friend had told her it made them more sensitive, so perhaps that worked on men as well.

The thought was tantalizing at the very least.

“Sure ya don’t want a beer, love?” Tommy asked.

She had grown to quite like his company. He was a bit crude, but for some reason she liked that he didn’t treat her like she was made of glass like most of the men she knew. Her gaze darted between Harry, standing in the ring, and Tommy’s mug. “You know what? Sure.”

Tommy beamed. He was overjoyed at the idea, and Cicely was as well. She had never actually had beer before, just sips of champagne and wine here and there when she snuck it from her parents or during parties. But nothing as normal as beer—she didn’t even think her father drank it, to be honest. Perhaps that was why the idea was so exciting to her. Tommy left her on her own for a few minutes and she tried not to let the stares that still lingered on her bother her. Instead, she watched Harry, listened to the announcer, some chap in a jacket and askew flat cap, read out their names and weights. The part about Harry being the reigning champion stuck with her.

Cicely had never seen a boxing match before. Sure, she had heard of them, but actually been to one in person? Never. And much less one that was definitely illegal and held in a warehouse, a bunch of drunk men betting and still in their work uniforms. It made her heart race and she liked the feeling—usually she just got it when she rode Joseph, who she hoped had gone home to her estate.

“Here ya are.” Tommy had reappeared, a full mug of beer in his other hand for her. “Got ya somethin’ my sister likes.”

Cicely took the mug. It was heavy, heavier than she was expecting. Would she even be able to drink it all? She stared at the murky brown liquid, the foam on top, and then up at Tommy who she could tell was stifling a laugh. Fuck it, she thought. And took a long sip. It wasn’t as bad as she expected. Sour, sure, but it was also refreshing. A bit heavy, and considering she had only eaten some toast today, that wasn’t a negative thing. “It’s not bad,” she told Tommy, who gave her a grin in response.

She was about to say something else when she heard a bell sound—she had been so focused she had missed the start of the match. Whirling around, the first thing she saw was Peters’ arm fly through the air. The breath knocked from her chest at the possibility of Harry getting hit, but to her pleasant surprise he ducked it completely, feet helping him to move away from his attacker. The crowd cheered and Cicely took another sip, the action of having the drink in her hand helping calm her nerves as she watched Harry dance around Peters, ducking at every punch. She could see the frustration in Peters’ eyes, and the focus in Harry’s eyes making her scream out his name along with the men in the room.

She could feel Tommy’s eyes on her as she did it. She didn’t even need to look at him to know that surprise was written all over his face. If Cicely was going to be at a boxing match for the first time in her life, drinking her first beer, she was going to enjoy it. And watching Harry take a swing—and make contact—at Peters was exactly the excuse she needed to scream his name again.

The match passed quickly, and by the end of it Cicely had reached the end of her beer and her and Tommy were laughing at the fear in Peters’ eyes as Harry’s punches landed. He was winning by a long shot, and she had to admit, she was proud. During the whole match she had barely been able to take her eyes off of him, gaze trained on the sweat dripping down his cut body, his broad shoulders and tattooed skin glistening. His hair was stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat, and for some reason she had the innate desire to twirl it off of his forehead and see what he did.

She also desperately wanted to see his nipples without the tape.

Desperately.

He was beautiful in the ring, his steps almost like choreography she had learned as a child to all of the dances she had to know for parties. Except Harry looked like a natural up there, his body moving before Peters made the move, as if he could read his opponent’s mind, his reflexes faster than anything she had ever seen before. She had a million questions for him the minute he stepped out of the ring, but the first thing she wanted to was clean the blood off of his body—blood which was a mixture of Harry’s and Peters’.

The end of the match happened so quickly that Cicely barely caught it. One minute, Harry was boxed into a corner, his arms up to protect his face, and the next, he was throwing a powerful punch to Peters’ face, the sound of bone crunching at Peters hit the ground so loud she could hear it over the men yelling in the ring. The announcer counted and she watched Harry’s chest rise and fall, his breathing ragged. Everyone else was staring at Peters, but her eyes were glued on Harry. And then, his lifted to her, their sight lines catching from across the room, and she could’ve sworn she saw him smile at her.

As much as she wanted to rush to the side of the ring as many people did, she waited where she was. She knew Harry would come find her eventually, since she was sleeping in his home, as weird as that sounded in her brain. So she turned to Tommy while she waited, her bones feeling light in her body. “He’s good,” she said, her words slightly slurring. Huh. That was weird.

“Told ya!” Tommy replied, taking her mug from her. “Forgot to ask you, love, how do you know our fighter?”

Her eyes trailed across the room to Harry, who she noticed was making his way towards them, a towel draped around his neck. “He saved me,” she said, watching his body flex as he moved. And her words were true, but in that moment she didn’t know quite how true they were. Only later, would she look back on the moment she met Harry and consider how he had changed her life by picking her lifeless body up on that dirt road in the middle of a storm.

Harry had fought the desire to look at Cecily throughout the match, and now that he was done he couldn’t stop. She looked so relaxed, leaned against the wall with Tommy laughing, her blond hair messy and her eyes bright. It was if his feet were carrying him towards her without a second thought, weaving through the crowd of sweaty drunk men in pursuit of the girl made of light. The closer he got, though, the more he noticed how she stumbled on her feet, how rosy her cheeks were, how loud she laughed.

Fuck.

Tommy had gone and gotten her drunk. Tommy might have been Harry’s friend, but that didn’t make him the smartest bloke in a room.

As he reached them, she took an uneasy step and Harry was there immediately. His hands fit around Cicely’s waist like it was the place he belonged, the lingering smell of perfume in his nostrils before he could clear the fog of his mind. “Ya okay, love?” The words slipped from his mouth, the pet name he had never called a single woman before just finding his way into his speech, as if his brain knew that she was special. He sure thought so.

Cicely turned her head, her gaze catching his and a smile broke across her face. “Harry! You were incredible!”

“Thank you,” he replied, gingerly removing his hands despite the fact that all he wanted was to hold onto her hips for the rest of time. “Tommy, did you give her beer?”

“He did,” Cicely answered instead, a hiccup escaping her mouth. She rushed to cover her lips, a blush creeping across her cheeks at the sound. “It was quite tasty.”

“I’ll bet,” Harry said, giving Tommy a hard look that Tommy only shrugged at. “I’ve got to change and get you home,” he told her, processing the situation here. Although he trusted Tommy with his life, in this moment he didn’t trust him not to give Cicely more beer.

Before he could say anything though, Cicely was speaking, her fingers brushing across his arm. The feeling sent sparks up his spine, delicate compared the touches he was used to, the ones he had just experienced. Her fingers weren’t callused, but soft, as if she hadn’t seen a day of work in her life. Which she probably hadn’t. “Can I come with you?” She asked, eyes on his, a slight pout on her lips that drew his gaze in no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

“While I change?”

She nodded. “I’ve got some questions about the match that I want to ask you.”

Harry glanced at Tommy who he could tell was barely holding back a laugh, a grin on his face that told Harry he would never hear the end of this exchange. “Fine,” Harry told her, the word coming out gruff. “Tommy, I’ll see you later.”

Cicely slipped her fingers around Harry’s wrist as he stepped away, and he tried to resist the immediate urge that came over him to rip them off, the touch something he hadn’t experienced in ages. The feeling of a woman’s hands on him was one of the things he had not indulged in when he came back from France, preferring drink and alcohol to drown the memories in. The prospect of one of them experiencing him at night, while he slept, was enough to make him frightened enough to avoid the concept.

So when Cicely touched Harry, even in the simplest of ways, it stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Something that he hadn’t experienced since before his life changed, since before he saw men die in front of him, his friends lose limbs and call out for their mothers in their final moments. He had always thought that his ability to feel had died on the battlefields of France, but with Cicely’s fingers on his skin, perhaps he was wrong.

She didn’t remove them, either, as they moved through the throngs of men. When they reached the hallway that led to the room where he got dressed, though, he had no reason to let her continue touching his skin. So he wrenched his hand from her grip, as much as he wanted to let her touch every inch of his skin if she could continue to make him feel something again.

“I need to wash off,” he said when he shut the door behind them. “Wait over there.” He pointed to a couch in the corner of the room. Usually it was an office of some kind, but for Harry it was his dressing room. A basin of water sat on a table, cold and full, and he was itching to wash his sweat-coated skin. Surprisingly, Cicely followed his directions, and so he turned to the basin, using a rag to rinse off his skin, the feeling of the cold water like heaven on his pores.

“When did you learn to box?”

His head perked up at her voice. He could barely see her in the dimly lit room, but the outline of her was enough, her legs thrown over the arm of the couch in a complete unladylike way. “I was sixteen.” He surprised himself with his honesty, but in the room with just Cicely, for some reason he let a piece of his past slip through.

“Do you like it?”

The question had Harry pause. Did he like it? He cupped some water and ran it through his hair, the sound of the water dripping into the basin filling the silence between them. “It’s a job,” he told her simply. It was the best answer he had. He didn’t really have the luxury of considering whether or not he liked his job. It paid the bills and earned him a reputation that meant no one tried to talk to him, which was all he wanted. After France, all he wanted was to be left alone, save for a select few.

He was focused on his thoughts and the murky water in front of him that he didn’t see Cicely move from her position on the couch. Suddenly, she was there, her fingers dancing across his back that faced her. “Hand me the basin,” she said, voice firm in his ears.

Harry considered fighting her, but his body exposed him. His body craved her touch on his skin, and so he slid the basin to the side so she could reach it. The rag was wrung, and then she was brushing it over his back, reaching the places he couldn’t reach. He could smell her perfume, the faintest taste of beer on her tongue as she breathed lightly in his ear, the traces of jam on her breath from the food he had given her hours before. It made his fists clench against the table and he hoped she didn’t notice.

They stayed that way, Cicely brushing the rag across his skin, wiping away his sins from the night. Her fingers brushed a cut once or twice and he hissed, stopping her in her tracks. She halted her motions each time and wrung out the cloth with fresh water, cleaning the wound with a delicate touch he had never felt. She murmured how they needed alcohol when they got home, how she needed to properly clean the wound. It was something his mother would’ve told him, he thought to himself, a thought he quickly pushed aside as he clenched his jaw.

“Turn around,” she said, voice so quiet he barely heard it above their breathing.

And Harry did as she said. She had made him pliant under her touch, his desperation not to let her stop clouding his ability to speak. His bum pressed against the table and his eyes caught hers in the dim lighting, the gaze that passed between them making Harry stop breathing for a second. But when she brushed the cloth over a bruise, the wince that fell from his lips drew him from his fog.

The rag criss-crossed his body, covering the area he had already cleaned, but he didn’t stop her. It was only when her fingers brushed over the tape across his nipples that his hand shot up, grabbing her wrist and halting her movement. But her eyes zeroed in on him, a determined look in her eyes that made him pause. “Let me see them.” Her words were gentle, but firm.

That made him release her hand, and he sucked in a breath and she pulled the tape from his nipples, the air on his sensitive skin making his stomach clench. He stood there under her gaze as she looked at him, the bars through each nipple that he had gotten on a dare. At first, he had been embarrassed of them, regretted them because they hurt like hell and scratched against his uniform. He considered getting them removed, or just ripping them out, but each time he paused. Paused just enough to let the thought pass, and his best friend’s voice entered his mind. “Who gives a fuck, anyways?” And that was the voice that made him keep them.

Now, it was too late to turn back. He was a boxer and the moment he stepped into the ring with taped nipples, it became something he was known for. The stories circled, tall tales that made Harry chuckle to himself, but he never told the truth. He liked the mystery around them. They became a sort of badge of honor, something that set him apart.

But he had never experienced a woman’s gaze on them, and he couldn’t help but fear her reaction. Would she be disgusted? Ridicule him?

Cicely, though, just looked at them, and then up at his face. “What do they feel like?” She asked tentatively.

It was a question he had never been asked before, actually. And one he didn’t quite know how to answer, because after two years with them they had become normal to him. “They heighten everything,” he replied honestly. It was about the only answer he could give.

This seemed to pique her interest. “Can I touch them?”

Fuck yes, his body screamed, desperate for her fingers on the most sensitive part of his body. His gaze zeroed in on hers, searching her eyes for a hint of a possibility she would ridicule him. But instead he found just genuine curiosity. And perhaps a hint of desire. So, he told her, “Yes.”

When her fingers grazed the bars, her warm touch on the cold metal that ran under his skin, he tried not to flinch, but it was difficult. Her touch was like a lightning bolt through his body, setting every one of his nerves on fire. Holding in the desire to moan was one of the hardest things he had done, and as she touched the other, fingers curiously exploring his skin, it became more difficult. And then she whispered, “I like them.”

Harry’s eyes snapped from where her fingers touched his skin to her eyes, and he found her already looking at him. He watched her lick across her top lip, the flush to her cheeks and wide eyes that stared at him making his body boil. It was too much. He pulled away, desperate for space, for something to allow himself to calm down.

Cicely must have sensed the change in his demeanor, because she immediately stepped back, the rag dropping into the basin of dirty water. Sweat, grime, and blood all mixed together and Harry thought as he looked at his reflection in the water that a mixture had never described him more.

“Let’s go, I need to eat,” Harry said, bending to grab the shirt from his bag on the floor.

Cicely didn’t reply with anything but a nod, and when he had laced his boots she followed him out of the room. The warehouse had emptied out, just some of Josiah’s boys around to help direct the cleanup. Harry knew he’d stop by the office tomorrow to get his cut of the winnings, so he didn’t bother to stick around. Instead, he pushed open the front doors and led Cicely out into the nighttime Birmingham breeze of coal and horse shit.

Cicely awoke to the sound of someone moaning and talking. Her eyes blinked to adjust to the darkness in Harry’s bedroom, her mind taking a second to gather her bearings and remember where she was. Then she heard the sound, something that resembled an injured animal, the edge of fear and pain that made her skin crawl. Last night Harry had given her one of his shirts to sleep in after she said she wanted to wash her clothes and leave them out for the night, and the cotton material bunched under her thighs and she swung them over the edge of the bed. She paused to see if she heard the sound again.

This time, a scream ripped through the house, and Cicely knew something was wrong. She pulled open Harry’s door and moved through the hall, eyes searching to see if she saw anyone, but it was empty. And then she heard it again, and this time without the barrier of a wall, she could tell who it was.

It was Harry.

Her feet didn’t bother to avoid the creaks on the stairs as she moved down the stairs to where he was asleep on the couch. The only light was the faintest bit from the moon, high in the sky, and it was just enough to make out the pained expression on Harry’s face and the thrashing of his body on the couch. He was talking to himself, something about the dark and the word No repeated over and over again, his voice cresting in panic.

It was a nightmare, she realized as she crouched next to him on the floor.

“No, please, it’s too dark, please—“

“Harry,” she said firmly, hands reaching out to grip his wrists to hold his arms to the couch cushions underneath him. “Harry, wake up.”

His eyes didn’t open though, and his body only trashed more under her. She didn’t know what to do, how to wake him up. The only thing she could think of was how when she was scared it helped when she felt safe. She didn’t know what made Harry feel safe, but for her, it was when her mother held her. So carefully, she lifted Harry’s shoulders, trying to avoid his arms trashing as she did so. Once she was seated on the couch she tugged him into her, letting her arms wrap around his chest and pin down his arms.

She murmured his name over and over again, softly in his ear to try and rouse him from the dream. “It’s Cicely,” she told him, “You’re safe, Harry, you can wake up. Wake up, Harry, you’re safe.” With their bodies this close she could feel his heartbeat, the way it raced in his chest. What was he experiencing? Where was he? She wanted to rouse him, pull him out of it and bring him back to her, but she was powerless.

After a few tries, she saw his eyes flutter open, his arms immediately trying to himself free from her grip.

“It’s me,” she said softly. “Hey, hey, it’s me.”

“Cicely?” His voice was rough from the screaming and it broke her. It was raw in a way she hadn’t heard from him, honest and open. Nothing protecting him from her.

She could feel his heartbeat slowing already, and the thought put her at ease. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything for a few beats, and Cicely just ran her hand up and down his back, hoping to calm him as much as she could. His breath was ragged, big inhales of air and deep exhales, but it was becoming more normal as time passed. “I—I’m sorry,” he eventually said, voice small in the room.

But he had nothing to apologize for, Cicely thought to herself. The last thing he should do is apologize—it’s not his fault. “It’s okay,” she told him earnestly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

That made him pull away from her arms, her skin immediately missing his. Her arms fell to her side and Harry sat up, swiveled, and laid his face in his hands. “No,” is all he told her, not even lifting his head.

She didn’t know what he needed from her in that moment, but she knew she would do anything. Somehow she had only known this boy for a day, and yet the sight of his pain made her heart break. “Do—do you want me to stay?” It was the only thing she could think of to help, and if it would work then she would do it.

But he shook his head. He didn’t want her there. And the last thing she would do is push him after what had just transpired, so she stood, the hem of his cotton shirt reaching an unladylike mid-thigh. When he finally looked at her, she saw that he noticed, his eyes falling to the place where the material ended and her skin began. She tugged at it, hoping he didn’t judge her—she didn’t exactly stop and think about getting dressed, she just moved. “I…”

“Looks good on ya,” he said, words reverberating in Cicely’s mind.

She stood there, as still as stone, trying to figure out what to say to him. No man had ever seen her like this, and she had always been taught that they shouldn’t. And yet, the idea of Harry seeing her exposed legs, her hair messy from sleep, her in his shirt, it didn’t bother her in the slightest. So she didn’t disguise the blush that she could feel in her cheeks, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Try and get some sleep,” she told him, and then she turned away, heading up the stairs and back to his room.

When she looked back from the third stair, Harry’s eyes were transfixed on her figure, gaze locked on her. For a moment, she held it, letting him watch her, but then she turned her head and went the rest of the way up the stairs, leaving Harry behind in the darkness.

Harry didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

The prospect of having the dreams again (although he got them most nights) and Cicely waking up again was too frightening a thought for him to allow himself to go to sleep. Instead, he ended up having a glass or two of whiskey in the wee hours of the morning, smoking too many cigarettes on the doorstep, and thinking. His thoughts revolved around Cicely, weaving in and out of the snatches of moments they had spent together—of which there were few—and the bits he knew about her. Which was very little. He didn’t even know her last name, where she was from, or why on Earth she was out in the middle of a rainstorm, lying on her back in the mud. He hadn’t asked, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or push her to talk, because he had this feeling that she was more than some spoiled rich girl.

The fact that she was rich was an assumption on his part, but one he felt was probably right. First, there were her clothes, which were nicer than any he had seen a girl around here wear, boots that looked like they were new, unscuffed.  Then there was the way she looked at his neighborhood—as if she had never seen something like it before. When she had walked out of his room and into the rest of the house, he had had the fleeting thought that perhaps he should be embarrassed, and at moments he was. But as they spent more time together, he began to get the feeling that even though Cicely may not be used to the way he lived, she didn’t seem to care all that much.

It intrigued him, the way she looked at his world. The way she had watched him during the match, the feeling of her eyes on his skin something he couldn’t shake, the way she had adapted to Tommy like a chameleon, blending in with ease. The way she had slid into the booth at the pub last night where they had eaten a late meal, complete disregard for the fight breaking out in the corner, her focus only on him and their meal. He kept expecting her to fit into the mold he had created for her, but she continued to slip away. And he didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Or the fact that she seemed to want to stay. When she had asked him if she could stay, and she said she didn’t want to go home quite yet, he immediately jumped to the worst of conclusions. That her father hurt her, that something had happened, and she was running from a past as dark as his. But then he reminded himself that she had money, wealth, status. Problems like the ones he knew didn’t exist in their world. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to cast her in a mold of wealth and opulence he had read about and encountered on a handful of occasions, people who used people like him and tossed them aside when they had had their fill. But the world wasn’t fair.

He flicked his cigarette butt into the street, the sounds of horses and distant rumble of cars, clap of house doors as men left for work telling him that the day was beginning. It was time for him to see Josiah and pay a visit to Nellie, who he hoped wouldn’t slam a door in his face. Inside, Cicely was still asleep—he couldn’t hear any footsteps from upstairs—so he decided to dart out while she was still sleeping. With any luck, he’d be back before she awoke.

The walk to Josiah’s offices was a well-remembered one, the row houses, shipyards and factories he passed old friends. He waved to the children he passed on their way to work or school, and nodded to the men he knew from matches or Josiah. He lived deep in Josiah’s territory, a requirement for what he did, and as a result every man was on Josiah’s payroll in some way. They all knew when to turn their heads, when to lock their doors, and when to pull out their guns. It used to unnerve Harry, but with time it became as normal as the nightmare that plagued his sleep.

He knocked on the back door as he was trained, a nod to Cyril when the door opened. People congratulated him on the match last night, and he didn’t respond. They all knew he was quiet most of the time, knew not to expect lengthy replies. Before France, he used to not shut up. Now, he preferred to think rather than talk.

Josiah’s door was ajar, his ankles propped up on the desk, the telephone stand in one hand, the handset in the other. His eyes darted up as Harry opened the door wider, shutting it quickly behind him. Josiah never changed much—a mustache on his upper lip, hard brown eyes that only lightened if he had enough drink in him, lips that curved into a smile when someone made a very bad mistake. He wore exclusively charcoal suits, saying black was too common, and he wanted to stand out, and a dark blue tie every day, a silver pocket watch chain tucked into his vest. Josiah had built his operations from the ground up, a man of barely 25 years of age when he came back from France, determined to make a name for himself and protect the community that had been, in his eyes, murdered by the British government for a war they had no business being conscripted for. His hatred for the government ran deep, deep enough to line the pockets of the police across southeast Birmingham, especially in Balsall Heath.

“Alright, but don’t fuck it up, ya hear?” Josiah said, nodding for Harry to sit in the leather chair across from his desk. It was the chair where Harry had sat during many conversations, both good and bad. “Yeah, okay.” Josiah hung up, resting the telephone back on the desk and running a hand through his longer dark brown hair. He picked his cigarette up from where it was burning in the ashtray, and swung his feet off the desk. “Heard ya won,” Josiah said, finally speaking to Harry.

Harry took the offer of a cigarette and nodded. “Peters wasn’t as bad as everyone said.”

“Mhm. I’ll tell Billy that when I see him.”

“He was Billy’s?” That was a surprise. Billy had been on the rise in the neighborhoods bordering Balsall Heath, his power growing to become something threatening to Josiah’s operation. So for Harry to be fighting one of Billy’s boys was unusual to say the least. Josiah didn’t usually like to risk the fights turning into something more—at least, not when they weren’t meant to be.

Josiah nodded, pushing aside a stack of papers and resting his elbows on the oak desk. “Newer kid. I was promised no trouble, thought I’d take the gamble.”

“Warn me next time, eh?” Harry wouldn’t have had Cicely within a mile of the warehouse if he had known his opponent was one of Billy’s. The prospect of guns coming out while she was in the room made his skin crawl.

But Josiah just chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. “Goin’ soft on me, boy.” Harry hated it when Josiah called him that, but he always had. So he wasn’t going to start correcting him now, even though he was anything but a boy. “Heard ya had a girl there.”

Cicely. He knew Josiah would hear, but he had hoped he’d have a bit more time. “Yeah.”

Josiah wrenched open a door, reaching around for what Harry hoped was his pay. He wanted to get out of this damned office. Harry tolerated Josiah for Jack’s sake, but in truth Josiah had always been a bit too much of a wild card and a short fuse for Harry’s liking. But he gave Harry work, so he didn’t let his feelings get in the way. Plus, most men were short fuses after the war. “Where’d she come from?”

Harry chose not to answer, and thankfully Josiah didn’t push. He knew Harry didn’t like to talk, and most times he didn’t push too hard. “D’ya have the money from Manchester?”

Josiah didn’t reply, just pulled out a stack of bills, crisp and ordered, and placed them on the desk. “Manchester and last night,” he said and Harry took it, folding the bills over and shoving them into his pocket. It was more than most should carry, but Harry was anything but most people. “Don’t spend it all in one place, yeah?”

Unable to help it, he rolled his eyes, the tension in the room lifting. Josiah smirked and Harry pushed back the chair, the thought of getting back to Cicely making him eager to leave. “When’s Jack back?”

Josiah pulled a ledger from a drawer before responding. “Sunday.”

Harry nodded. Jack had been in London since last week, working on some deal that Harry didn’t have the status for the details on. “Tell him I’ll come by?”

“Sure.” Josiah didn’t look up as Harry took his leave, shutting the door behind him and giving Josiah’s secretary a nod. Next was Nellie’s, which he hoped would go smoothly, at least.

Unfortunately, he was not so lucky. Nellie stared at him when she opened the door, hair swept up on her head, clothes disheveled as usual. She cocked her hip against the door and rolled her eyes at him before asking, “What d’ya want, Harry?”

It had been over a year since he had rejected her, and yet she still treated him like he had broken it off with her after months. When in actuality, she had been the one to pursue him, and he hadn’t had it in him to tell her he wasn’t interested until she tried to kiss him. To say the least, things had been icy ever since. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Clothes for who?”

“A girl.” To her credit, she didn’t react to that news with anything but a sigh.

“What happened to hers?” She asked, opening the door wider. He stepped inside, the sound of children from upstairs wrapping around him, the sound making his body itch. It was too loud.

“Mud,” he replied simply, looking around for something to keep his hands busy, but he turned up empty. “So?”

Nellie pointed to the couch in the sitting room, a bit sunk in and worn with love. “I’ve got some that no one picked up. What size is she?”

Harry sat down the couch, folding his fingers together. “About yours.”

Nellie gave him another pointed look, but said nothing. She just disappeared to where she kept the clothes she mended for ladies, and he had to sit there and listen to her younger siblings squeal and yell up the stairs. When she reappeared, she had a few things in a stack for him, which she set on the table next to him. “There.”

He looked at the stack, the fabric without anything around it. He would have to walk home with them under his arm. “No wrap?”

“No,” she replied, and he decided that she purposefully didn’t give him any. “3 shillings.”

Harry pulled the coins out and pressed them into her hand, taking the clothes and tucking them under his arm. “Thank you,” he said, and headed for the door, knowing when he wasn’t wanted.

“Bye, Harry,” Nellie said, and proceeded to slam the door in his face. Which he didn’t deserve, but wasn’t the type to protest. He checked his pocket watch—a little over an hour had passed since he left home. He wondered if Cicely would be waiting for him.

Walking into his home to find Cicely in his kitchen in nothing but his shirt made Harry stop in his tracks. While he knew he had seen her like this last night, last night it had been dark. In the dark he couldn’t see the lines golden curl of her hair, the milky white of her skin that seemed to go on for miles. It should be illegal, he thought to himself, to look as beautiful as her.

“You should put some clothes on,” he finally said, words gruff in the distance between them.

Cicely looked down at her legs and then at Harry. “I was waiting for you to come back, hopefully with clothes. Which I see you did.” She nodded at the stack of clothes under his arm and Harry knew he should move to give them to her, but he was frozen in place.

Seeing her in his kitchen, a plate with a piece of bread on it, an open jar of jam on the counter next to it, tea in his cup, it made him wonder for a split second what it would be like if she stayed. Like, really stayed. He knew that what was happening wasn’t permanent, that eventually she would have to go back to wherever home was for her. But having her in his home was making him realize that perhaps he didn’t like being alone as much as he had thought.

“Harry?”

His thoughts cleared and he jolted into action. He set the clothes on the table by the door and walked into the sitting room leaving her make her own decisions. Space, he thought to himself, he needed space from her. It was a push and pull inside of him—a pull that drew him to her and a push when he got too close. He stood by the fireplace, eyes trained on the black metal of it, as he listened to Cicely move through his home. Across the room to get the clothes, feet creaking on the stairs as she went up. When he heard her door shut he let out a breath, his body softening, tension leaving him.

The prospect of breakfast was enticing—he hadn’t eaten this morning. Porridge was what he had every morning, and this wasn’t the time for that to change. He shrugged off the jacket he had on, dropping it onto the couch, and headed for the kitchen.

When Cicely reappeared, the porridge was done and he was pouring it into two bowls, one for each of them. “Did you make me breakfast?” She asked, and his eyes drifted up to her. Nellie’s clothes fit her perfectly—a bit more snug on the curves of her body, but he wasn’t complaining.

“S’just porridge,” he replied and took the two bowls to the small table. He returned to the kitchen to grab his cup of tea, and he immediately felt her presence next to him as she picked up her own cup, left on the counter. Somehow he would have to get over the tension that raked through his body whenever she got near, but he didn’t know how he would manage that.

Cicely turned away from him and he followed her to the table, eyes trying to land anywhere but her body. She pulled out a chair and smiled at him softly. “Thank you. I’m not used to men cooking for me.”

Harry realized that him making breakfast for both of them meant they would have to eat together, that they would be forced to talk. The idea made him falter as he went to sit, but he forced himself to do it anyways, knowing that she would probably make him. “Mum taught me,” he mumbled, chair scraping against the floorboard as he say.

“Is that her in the photo?”

He knew exactly which photo she was talking about—the only one he had up. “Yes.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and dipped her spoon into the porridge, taking a bite. She was probably used to better quality, an actual chef maybe (he had heard rich people had those), but she didn’t give any indication that it was bad. Instead, she just took another bite before opening her mouth again to speak. “Where are you from?”

Harry didn’t tell people where he was from. It was a decision he made when he came to Birmingham, to leave his past behind him. The photo was up in his sitting room because he would’ve felt like shit for not putting it up, not because he particularly wanted it there.

“Harry?” She prompted, gaze fluttering over his face.

His grip tightened on the spoon in his palm, eyes on the food in front of him. “I don’t talk about my past.” Why did he want to tell her? He could feel it on the tip of his tongue and he tightened his jaw, trying to keep it from tumbling out on its own accord.

Cicely considered his statement as she sipped on her tea. “What do you talk about?”

The question made him look at her, her brown eyes already waiting for his. “What d’ya mean?”

“If you don’t talk about your past, then what do you talk to people about?”

He didn’t talk to people, he thought to himself. That was how he dealt with it. He only spoke to people who he felt safe with—Jack mainly, sometimes Tommy, Josiah if forced. They all knew his past, knew not to share it around. “Dunno.”

The sigh that slipped from her lips made Harry grimace. He had disappointed her and he didn’t like the feeling. “How about this? I tell you about myself, and you do the same in return. We each get a question.”

The idea was enticing, mainly because Harry desperately wanted to know more about her. She was like a period to him and he wanted to know everything that came before it in the sentence. Was it worth telling her about his past? Perhaps. “Fine. What’s your last name?”

Her eyes twinkled, a playful grin sliding onto her face. “King,” she said, that one piece of information rocking Harry’s world immediately. The Kings were as notorious as Josiah was, just in a different way. They owned dozens of garment factories in Birmingham, controlled a handful of shipyards, one or two coal factories. Harry estimated probably half of Birmingham’s working class was employed by the King family and he assumed properly, by Cicely’s father.“Where are you from?”

“Church Hulme,” he told her. “Who is your father?”

He searched her expression to see if she recognized it, but she didn’t seem to. And why would she—it was nothing but a small farming town, some local businesses and a forge. “William King. How old are you?”

So she was the daughter of the head of the King family, an heiress to a fortune larger than anything he could imagine, no doubt. He knew the Kings had only daughters, but he didn’t know how many, or if Cicely was the oldest. The importance of staying up to date on the lives of the King family was never something he felt inclined to do, but now it was vital information. “22. How did you end up on that road?”

“I went riding,” she said after taking another bite of porridge. “The lightning scared my horse and he bucked me off. I must have passed out when I hit the ground.” Cicely considered him for a moment before speaking. “Where did you fight?”

Harry’s blood ran cold at her question. It dredged up memories he didn’t want to talk about. “We’re done,” he told her, pushing away his finished porridge and standing abruptly.

“Harry, wait.“ Her hand wrapped around his wrist, catching his arm as he stepped away, and the feeling of her skin on his made him have to close his eyes to get his breathing under control. Did she know what she did to him? “I’m sorry.”

“‘m not talking about that,” he said, not budging from his position.

Cicely’s thumb brushed across his forearm, the thinner skin meaning he could feel the press of her fingers on his body. “That’s okay,” she said, voice soft. “Will you come back?”

Although he probably shouldn’t, he opened his eyes and turned back around. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

Her hand dropped from his wrist immediately at his question. “My father is forcing me to marry Clifford Stevens. Do you know who that is?” Harry shook his head. He didn’t exactly keep up with high society Birmingham circles in his free time. “He’s thirty and disgusting. He never even acknowledges that I might have a brain, much less that I’m a human being. If I marry him I’ll end up shut in his estate to raise his children for the rest of my life and I would rather die than sentence myself to a life like that.”

Clifford Stevens immediately became Harry’s least favorite person in the world, with the second being William King. To sentence a girl as kind, spirited, and open-minded as Cicely to a life as a glorified hostage was deplorable. “Why is your father forcing you to marry him?”

“We’re nearly broke,” Cicely said with a sigh. That was news to Harry. “Father has been losing money for years. He gambles most of what he makes away and because he’s a fucking idiot he never wins, and he hired a series of treasurers who are apparently inept at balancing the budgets. The factories are bleeding money and rather than take any responsibility for it, his solution is to marry me off with the knowledge that Clifford will bankroll my father’s lifestyle.” Perhaps it was the look on Harry’s face that gave him away, but Cicely gave him a weak smile. “Didn’t know the truth of the Kings, did you?”

“No.”

She fiddled with the cuff of her blouse as Harry considered her words. Was there any way to get out of her future? Probably not, unless she left behind everything that came with her name. Although from what she told him, it didn’t sound like there was much left. “Will you tell me about your family secrets in exchange for mine?”

His family secrets? God, where did he start. His gaze drifted across Cicely, her fingers brushing through the ends of her hair. What would she say to his answer? He supposed it didn’t hurt to tell her, since it wasn’t like she would tell anyone in his life about it. They were from different worlds, after all. “I found out when I came back from the war that ‘m not my father’s son.”

Cicely blinked at him, face softening as the words settled in. “What?”

“It’s just what it sounds like,” he said, leaning back in the chair and taking a breath. “Grew up my whole life thinking I had one father, when in reality it’s not him at all. My mum had an affair with some bloke and the man who raised me,” he spit out, hating the word father when he thought of him, “decided to keep me.” The feeling of her hand on his warmed his skin, but didn’t have the calm effect that he expected she intended. “Haven’t been back since.”

“Harry,” she murmured, calling his eyes from where her hand covered his to her face. “I’m sorry.”

It was the first time someone had told him that, now that he thought about it. He had told Jack, who said, Fuck mate, that sucks. Want another pint? And that was that, but he didn’t mind it. Somehow though, Cicely’s compassion made his chest ache, his throat close up. He could feel tears rising inside of him and he panicked—he hadn’t cried since France and he wasn’t bloody going to start now, not in front of her. “I—I need a second,” he said quickly, scooting back in the chair and walking into the hallway, leaving her behind at the table.

He rested his forearms on the wall and let his head fall on his neck. Deep breaths in and out, his eyes shut, struggling to keep his brain together as his ears buzzed. They didn’t deserve his anger, he reminded himself for the millionth time, they didn’t deserve shit after the secrets they had kept from him. That his sister wasn’t his sister. The man who had taught him how to play football, how to tie a tie, wrestled with him as a kid, wasn’t his father. His fists clenched against the wallpaper, knuckles hurting from last night, but the pain almost felt good to Harry—it was a feeling he knew.

All of a sudden he felt a hand on his shoulder and he whipped his head to the side to find Cicely standing there. “What?” He asked, not moving an inch, but just looking at her, trying to understand for the life of him why she was there.

Instead of responding, she ducked her head under his arm and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling his body into hers.

She was hugging him, he realized.

He was frozen, unable to move. He could smell the faint scent of flowers on her skin, somehow still clinging to her despite being in Balsall Heath for almost two days. The darkness of this place seemed to not even touch her, the light from her repelling all of it away. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt loosely, but just enough to where he could feel her through the fabric, her body feeling impossibly close to him.

No one had touched him like this in years. And he didn’t know what to do, how to respond, how to act.

The only thing he could think to do was to lift one of his hands from where it was clenched in a fist against the wallpaper, and brush it down her hair. It was soft against his skin, the strands of it darting between his fingers and petting the rough calluses he had from years of hard work and fighting. They stung against his cuts from the past week’s worth of fights, but he didn’t care. The prospect of touching her was enough to push all of the pain away.

Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes finding his. She was sandwiched between him and the wall and it was way too fucking close, so Harry immediately took a step back, giving her space. “Will you show me your Birmingham?” She asked him softly, voice echoing in the narrow hallway.

“What d’ya mean?”

“The Birmingham that’s your home,” she offered as an explanation. “I want to see it how you do.”

His Birmingham, the one that he had made a home, full of people who knew him as he was now. Respected him, feared him even—because what was the line, really, between fear and respect? The prospect of her wanting to understand his world the way he saw it was one he had never expected, but appreciated more than he could say. “Okay.”

Harry took her on a grand tour of Balsall Heath, them weaving through the streets with children playing, horses and cars  making their way down the thoroughfares. He showed her the factories her father owned, which he assumed she had never seen before, and he studied her as she saw the conditions of the workers her father employed. Cicely seemed to be everything her father wasn’t and he hoped that that continued to her views on labor.

Parts of Balsall Heath were more well-to-do, people who could afford to send their children to the art school opposite the public baths. But Harry showed her the parts he knew, the parts where people scrapped together money to make ends meet, where they relied on wages from people like Cicely’s father. He was thankful he had gotten her clothes from Nellie because at least at this rate she blended in more, although her nice boots still stuck out like a sore thumb. Although, he expected her being with him drew a decent amount of attention. When men stopped him to talk about a match and their children were with them, Cicely would squat and talk to them, not minding that her skirts got muddy from the unpaved roads. Harry had a difficult time understanding her when she did things like that. She was so unlike so many people of her station, and yet here she was crouching to talk with grubby children on unpaved streets with a pile of horse shit just a few feet away with a smile on her face.

For a second, he let himself consider what it would be like if she stayed. But he didn’t let that thought linger for too long.

They visited his favorite pub for a pint and she laughed at the barkeep’s jokes and charmed every man they met. Perhaps Harry should have been hesitant to introduce Cicely to so many people in his world, but at the same time he didn’t care what people thought of him. If Cicely wanted to see his world, then by God was he going to show it to her.

It was getting dark by the time they made their way back to his flat, bellies full from a roast they’d had at the pub. Harry watched her walk beside him, her eyes darting around the homes as they passed. “I like it here,” she told him, not meeting his eye. “Everyone is so nice.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at the thought. “Not everyone is. See all these houses?” She nodded. “In every one of them is a man who works for Josiah in some way. There’s a gun in every one of these houses for when Josiah calls.”

“Does he call?” Cicely asked, eyes finally turning to him as they walked.

He nodded, hoping that was the explanation she sought. From the way her expression changed, he assumed it was. Harry didn’t know what to do with her naivety, because it mystified him that someone could know so little of the world around them. Although, he thought as they rounded the corner to his street, he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“Does he ever…call for you?”

“Yes,” he responded because it was the honest answer. Even though he got to avoid a lot of the action because he specifically had told Josiah when he signed on to box for him that he didn’t want to get his hands dirty, it came with the territory. Sometimes they needed all the people they could, and with someone as skilled at fighting as Harry and the experience from the war that he had, it would be idiotic for them not to call on him.

They reached his house in silence and he unlocked the door before pushing it open. She stepped in, and leaned down to wipe off her boots. He liked how she had already made herself feel at home in his space, knew that he always wipes off his shoes in the entryway on the mat, because otherwise the filth from the streets ends up inside. “Do you have a match tonight?” She asked, moving to the side.

“No.” It was his night off, but he had one tomorrow.

Her fingertips grazed the table and he watched them trail, the thought of her fingers on his skin drifting into his mind. “What do you do in the evenings you have off?”

Harry considered her question. He didn’t know, really. The evenings all passed, though, somehow. Time was irrelevant to him since the nights dragged on, plagued by nightmares most of the time. He spent a lot of time staring at the wall in the dark. Sometimes he took walks. Sometimes he drank enough to where the dreams didn’t come, but that was when it was really bad. “Nothing, really.”

Cicely rotated to see him, the sliver of moonlight those shone through his curtains hitting her blond hair perfectly. “Do you do anything but box?”

“No.”

“Do you read?”

Harry hadn’t read a book since before France. “Not anymore.”

Cicely turned to his bookcase, which had collected dust from disuse. “Then why do you have so many books?”

“They make me think of my sister,” he replied, the truth shocking both of them. Gemma loved books, always had—she would be curled up on a chair all day with a book in her hands if their mother didn’t make her stop. When he was young, she would read to Harry sometimes, his childhood memories a mixture of fantasy and historical tales from his sister’s lips. Perhaps the books were his way of keeping her close.

Her fingers grazed the spines of his collection, dust falling around her. “Do you talk to her?”

“No.” He’d picked up the telephone a handful of times, ready to say the number to the operator. But then he’d think again, and set down the stand.

“I like this one.” Cicely pulled a bound volume off the shelf, her eyes dancing across the cover. “The Magnificent Ambersons.”

The name meant nothing to him. He bought bestsellers because he knew his sister did the same. Sometimes he considered reading one just to see what she would’ve thought about it. One time he almost mailed her one on her birthday. But each time, he did nothing.

“Can I read to you?”

Her voice was hesitant, nervous of what he would say. No one had read to him since the war, when his friends would read aloud their letters if someone didn’t get one. It made them feel like someone was looking out for them, even if they didn’t get a letter themselves. If it had been someone else, he probably would have said no. But it was Cicely and her voice was like his favorite church hymnal, entrancing and meditative. He would have listened to her talk for hours. So he said yes.

She directed him to lay down on the couch and he did, while she sat in the chair to the side. Harry lit a cigarette as she opened the cover, the sound of her tuning the pages the only noise except for the flick of his lighter. And then, she began. “Major Amberson had ‘made a fortune’ in 1873, when other people were losing fortunes, and the magnificence of the Ambersons began then.”

Cicely’s eyes fluttered open and at first she didn’t know why. But then she heard a shout and a long, deep moan from downstairs. It was Harry again. Her hands pushed at the duvet and she flicked on the light by the bed. As she left his room the sound of him moaning in his sleep, words she couldn’t understand reached her ears, but louder without the muffling of the door. She didn’t bother to keep her footsteps quiet as she made her way to the stairs and down to the first floor, her eyes adjusting to the dark.

A scream, blood curdling and filled with anguish, ripped through the house, and Cicely flew the remaining few feet to the couch. The sound of Harry’s scream, sharp and frightened, shook her to her core. She just wanted him out of there, free from the clutches of whatever demon robbed him of his sleep.

“Harry!” She said, loudly, jostling his shoulder to try and rouse him. Unlike last night when she had knelt by the couch, Harry wasn’t flailing around. He was stick-straight, as if held in a straight jacket, but she could feel his pulse racing when she pressed her fingers to his sweaty skin. It was almost more frightening—seeing him unmoving but mumbling nonsense in his sleep. The only part of him that moved was his head, ever so slightly shaking back and forth, a stream of Nos leaving his lips.

“No,” he mumbled, “please, it’s too dark, please.” His words from last night were back again, and she wanted to know where he was. What endless circle of hell he had found himself in and how to dig him out of it.

She decided to do what she had done before, and tried to lift his shoulders from the couch. But this time, Harry’s body was so tense that she couldn’t lift him, as if he had made himself a thousand pounds. As he let out another loud groan, she grimaced—she had to wake him, she just didn’t know how. “Harry,” she said again, “wake up, please. Please, Harry.”

But her words didn’t seem to do anything, because the next thing she knew his scream was filling her ears, the sound ripping at her heart. Her body seemed to move without her knowledge as she threw herself on top of him, her knees falling to either side of his hips, her palms cupping his face. “Harry,” she said softly, brushing her thumbs across his cheekbones. “Wake up for me, please. It’s Cicely. It’s safe, I’m here.”

Somehow, that seemed to rouse him, because his eyes fluttered open, his hazel eyes meeting hers in the dark. She was inches from his face, and she wondered if his sight was filled with her face just as hers was. “Cicely?”

“It’s me,” she said, brushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead. “You’re safe now.” She could feel the sigh that left his body intimately, her skin touching his in parts. That was when she realized how close they were, how completely improper her position was. She was on top of him for Pete’s sake. Her knees were on either side of him, their most intimate parts just inches from one another. If her elbows weren’t propped up on his shoulders, her chest would be touching his.

She scrambled to move, but Harry’s hands moved to her hips, halting her in place. Her eyes flickered to his, trying to read him, decipher what he was doing. Usually she had a hard time reading Harry, understanding what he wanted and needed. But now she had no problem. She watched him lick his lips, his pupils still blown out from the dream trained directly on her. When his grip didn’t shift from her body, but his thumbs brushed across the shirt she wore—it was his—and she knew.

He wanted to kiss her.

Cicely had never been kissed. Boys had tried, but they’d been disgusting, as had every other man she had ever known, and she had no interest in them. Until Harry, she hadn’t ever understood romance novels, the attraction people described in them. Every man who had ever showed interest in her had been boring, unattractive, and more than anything, just made her want to run in the opposite direction. But Harry made her want to race towards him at full speed, the darkness in his gaze and warmth in his heart made her want to know his stories, the way he looked at her made a part of her heart race that she had never felt before. He made her feel alive, as if she had been sleeping for nineteen years, just waiting for him to arrive.

One of his hands moved from his hip, inching through the air until his knuckles softly brushed across her jaw. Her heart was beating in her chest so fast she wondered if she was going to pass out again. It couldn’t be possible to go this long without breathing, right? Because Cicely didn’t know the last time she had taken a breath, all of them swallowed up in the look on Harry’s face.

She wanted him to kiss her.

Desperately. With every bone in her body. Cicely wanted to know what he tasted like, what it felt like when he kissed her. She wanted to know everything about him, to uncover every piece of him like gifts on her birthday, ripping back the pieces of wrapping paper walls that kept him from her.

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice one she had never heard before. It was soft, yearning, the encapsulation of everything she wanted in that moment.

He seemed to understand, because his fist uncurled, his palm moving to cup the side of her face. Slowly, his hand moved around her head, his fingers threading through her hair, the feeling of his callused hands on her skin alighting every inch in her body. Then, he pulled her head into him, his fingers on the back of her neck, delicately pressing at her skin. His eyes fluttered shut and perhaps hers were supposed to, but she wanted to see every moment of this—she wanted to know what he looked like when he kissed her.

When he did, his wet lips meeting hers, it was like returning home after a long trip, a homecoming she had been waiting for her whole life. Her eyelids shut, lost in the feeling of him, of the faint taste of cigarettes and whiskey on his lips, the smell of him that she had grown to look forward to when she walked into the room he was in. Fingers drifted from her neck to her hairline, and he lifted his chin, changing the angle, and Cicely fell into the kiss. Her arms gave out, elbows falling from his shoulders to the cushions of the couch, her body suddenly flush with his.

Harry’s hand moved from her hip to curl around her lower back, tugging her impossibly close to him as their lips parted and met again. It felt like there wasn’t a centimeter of space between them and Cicely didn’t want any. Their noses were pushed against each other, foreheads touching, lips moving in a dance they somehow both knew by heart. She pushed her fingers into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp lightly. A sound left his throat, and Cicely went to move her fingers, thinking she had hurt him.

“Do it again,” he mumbled.

Cicely’s eyes flickered open, studying him with her lips just a centimeter from his. He looked at her as if the rest of the world didn’t exist—it was a look she had never seen but one she wanted to see for the rest of time. So she brushed her nails across his scalp and slotted their lips back together, squeezing his hips with her knees. Under his shirt she could feel his heart racing, and she wondered if he was as affected by what was between them as she was. Because for her, it felt like her world had become Harry, even though she had known him for only two days. Somehow, he was her every thought and she didn’t want another thought to grace her mind ever again.

Harry shifted his head, nudging at her jaw and pushing it up so that her neck was stretched out. In rapid succession, he pressed soft kisses to her jaw and Cicely’s head lolled back to make room for him because it felt so good to have his lips on her skin. Then, his tongue flitted out and licked over her pulse point, making her squirm against him. His hands gripped her tightly in response, before ducking his head down, pulling the collar of her shirt to the side, and nipped at the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

A breathy moan left Cicely’s mouth, mixed in with the undertones of Harry’s name. It seemed to spur him on, because he opened his lips and sucked on her skin softly. It was a sensation Cicely didn’t even know what to do with, how to process, but she knew it felt good, so she held his head to her skin, urging him to continue. Which he did—laving his tongue against her tender skin in between nips and harsh sucks, and when she looked down and saw the mark he had formed, it didn’t bother her in the slightest. She just pulled his head up to meet hers, desperate to have his lips back on hers again.

His hands fell to her waist, clutching at his shirt that hung there. When he pulled at it, the hem crawled up, leaving her thighs mostly exposed to the cool air inside the room. But to Cicely, her flesh was burning from Harry’s touch and the cold air was welcome, and she didn’t mind that more skin than was appropriate was on show. She had a desire within her for Harry to see all of her, every inch of her skin if he would keep making her feel like this.

Harry seemed to not notice her exposed skin until his palms drifted downwards and gripped her skin, his eyes fluttering open and his lips pulling away from hers. “Cic—“

“It’s okay,” she whispered, brushing at the hair on his forehead. “I trust you.” And she did. She trusted him more than she did anyone else in her life, who had just let her down in a series of lies and cheats. He was the first person to take her for as she was, not demand her to be some prim and proper version, to show her the truth of their life, even if it was in pieces. It didn’t matter to her that she didn’t know it all, she knew enough. Enough to know Harry could never hurt her, at least, not in the ways that mattered.

His head bent, and he rested his forehead against hers, sucking in air and quick puffs. “We—we should stop.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, barely trusting her own voice in the moment. She didn’t even know what it was that she wanted, but it was everything, anything he would give her. She would take scraps at his table, if it meant one more moment in his arms.

Harry pushed her hair behind her ear, and then let his fingers fall to the mark he had left on her skin. She thought she could see a blush rising to his skin and it made her smile. “I want you to be sure,” he told her earnestly. “And I—I haven’t done this in a long time. I need��I want it to be perfect. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” It did, and the fact that he wanted her to be sure made her trust him even more. Because even though she wanted it, she had barely thought about it. Cicely was impulsive, and her impulses had a tendency to get her into situations she regretted, and she didn’t want to regret a moment with Harry. “Will you come back to bed with me at least?”

His breath shuddered, eyes closing. She could see the wheels of his mind turning, and she thought she had an inkling as to why.

“Harry,” she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his brow bone. “Your nightmares don’t scare me. I want to know every part of you, even the dark bits.” That made his eyes open, his pupils found her in the moonlit room. “Will you come to bed and tell me about them? It doesn’t have to be everything, I just want to know how to help you.”

Slowly, he nodded. She scooted back, letting him sit up on the couch. Tentatively she pulled her knees up from the couch and dropped back to the floor, coming to a standing and taking Harry’s hand in hers to help him up. He was a disheveled mess, his hair standing in all directions, and she realized it was from her. She liked it, seeing the results of something she had done on him.

With his hand in hers, they walked up the stairs to his bedroom, to the unmade bed she had been sleeping in before. Knowing he would be hesitant, she got into bed first, scooting against the wall and turning, so she could watch him get in behind her. The moment his head hit the pillow, the duvet cover around his waist, Cicely leaned into him, wanting to be close. She rested her head on his shoulder and his arm cautiously wrapped around her, holding her to him. One of her hands rested on his chest, just inches from the nipples with barbells through them, the ones that she wanted to see again but didn’t know how to ask about. The bed suddenly smelled like a mixture of them, a new scent that she already adored. She hoped she didn’t have to go to bed again for a long time.

She brushed up and down his chest over his shirt, drawing light lines across his skin. After a few minutes of just lying there, Harry cleared his throat and began to tell her the horrors he saw when he closed his eyes. “I’d barely been there a few weeks,” he said softly. “It was still all new to me, the landscape of France, the sound of bullets in the distance, the smell of smoke and dead bodies in the air. We were in this open field, the only protection was an occasional tree, but we spent all of it in trenches.”

His voice was like gravel, rough in the silence of the room, and Cicely kept rubbing at his chest, hoping it would keep him calm enough to keep going. She didn’t want him to stop, no matter how bad it got. “There was this massive offensive in motion from the French, and we were a piece of it. We were supposed to take Arras, to gain a strategic advantage against the Germans, break the deadlock we were in. All of us were itching for action, something just to keep our minds from spiraling in those fucking trenches. I’d never really been in battle before, so I didn’t know what it was like. But god, the minute we started moving, when we came up out of the trenches and the firing started, it was like the world was ending.

“Everyone around me was dropping, partly from the German fire, but more so from the shells from the air. It was so loud—they don’t tell you that, how loud war is. Your ears never stop ringing, and you’re almost able to like, drown it out for a second? But then something goes off near you and your whole body is jolted and it draws you back to the Earth. And I was just trying to like, reload my gun, right? And keep my body from shaking. Jack was there, and he was telling me to keep it together—that’s how we met actually. He found me on the field, my hands shaking so bad I couldn’t reload.

“It went on like that for days. Weeks, even. We made it three or so miles on the first day, but we also lost so many fucking men. We had to figure out who was gone, and it was easier to figure out who was still there. We made it into the town and there were all these houses with no roofs, tanks covering every inch of the road. It was like walking through the end of the world. And you can’t sleep, but you also can’t do anything but sleep because it’s this bone exhaustion you’ve never felt before in your whole life.”

Cicely could feel the fast beat of his heart and his voice was speeding up, the anxiety settling into his bones. “I’m here,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder where her head laid. “I’m still here.”

His head shifted, tilting to his chin rested on the top of her head. “I thought I was going to die. Sometimes I feel like I did, on that battlefield. Everything I knew before that moment was gone. It was just echoes of the dark trenches at night, the feeling of rats crawling across your boots and the niggling feeling that you can’t go to sleep because something might happen. And the death...I think I stopped believing in God on that battlefield, because how could any God ever want that many men to die? And for what, a few measly miles that didn’t even fucking matter in the end?”

“How many did you lose?”

He paused before answering, but when he did his voice cracked as he said the number. “158,000. There were conflicting numbers, but that’s the one I heard the most.”

Cicely couldn’t even wrap her head around that number. What did 158,000 people look like? Who were all of those 158,000 people? Who were their families, their children, their loved ones? How many lives were changed forever by those days? “I’m glad you survived,” was all she could think to say. She didn’t want to say she was sorry because that didn’t really mean anything, did it? Not in comparison to everything that had happened.

“For a long time I wasn’t,” he said.

“What changed?”

His fingers brushed through her hair, tender, soft caresses that made her eyes flutter shut. “A girl who showed me there was still someone left inside of me.”

Cicely looked up at him, at the exhaustion in his eyes, the light bruise on his cheekbone from the fight the other night, the curls of his hair. “You know what I see when I look at you?” He shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “Someone who has experienced more pain, hurt, and loss than any one person should be allowed to. But who still manages to be kind, to be generous, to care. Someone with a life worth living, someone who is worth loving.” She reached up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back slightly. “Someone who is worthy of everything in the world.”

She felt the tears on his cheeks when he kissed her, their lips molding together just like before. His hands gripped her face, as if he couldn’t have her close enough, and she didn’t blame him. She wished with every kiss she could drink away the pain inside of him, pull it from him piece by piece until none remained. But she couldn’t. She could only hold him and tell him who he was to her, that he was everything to her, someone she didn’t know was waiting for her out there in the world. But who now she couldn’t imagine a life without.

The days melded together in beautiful technicolor. Seven days had passed since Cicely had woken up in Harry’s bed, and each one made her more thankful it was him who had picked her up on the road. She stood in the crowds during his matches, cheering his name with Tommy and becoming less floaty every time she had a pint. At the end of each night, Cicely cleaned the blood and sweat from his skin with a tenderness he had never experienced, pressed kisses to his forehead and told him how good he did. Each night in the pitch dark, she chased away his nightmares with reminders that she was there, she was real, this was real and the battle wasn’t. He clutched the shirts of his she continued to sleep in and held her close, letting the beat of her heart and the exhales from her chest lull him back to sleep.

He hadn’t slept this well since before the war.

Cicely had discovered a new routine. While Harry was meeting with Josiah and Jack, training, or just generally out of the house, she went next door and helped teach the Rollings children to read. She had stumbled on Pippa and Clarence the morning after she had kissed Harry, almost stumbling over them in the daze she carried. They were playing outside and she had a book under her arm, a plan of finding the nearby park and reading for a few hours. But when she stopped and apologized, Pippa asked what she had, and at the sight of the words and Cicely’s description of what a book was, she was intrigued. After asking their mother, Cicely began to spend her mornings with the children curled up on their couch or at their small table, or even on their front steps, teaching them their alphabet and how to sound out words, how to form sentences and read them on the page. They were ravenous for learning and their mother was happy to see her children entertained by someone who wasn’t her for a change, so Cicely quickly became a fixture in the house.

When she had told Harry, he gave her a small smile, the first one she had seen, and a quick peck to her forehead. It was exactly what she needed from him, a vote of support and nothing more. In the afternoons she washed the blood stains from Harry’s clothes and towels, or carried water into the house and ran herself a bath, a task well worth it. One time Harry almost walked in on her and the flush on his cheeks made her almost let him in. But that wasn’t how she wanted him to see her naked body for the first time, so she squealed for him to shut the door and he did, none the wiser.

After he had told her about France, about the demons that followed him into the night, the secrets between them fell away. It was if a damper had been lifted, and at night when they laid in bed, he shared more about his past and she told him of her family, the life she was supposed to live. She tried to avoid the topic of the future, because it made them both anxious. It felt a bit like they were living in a bubble, as if the outside world and its pressures were nonexistent. One morning Harry brought up how they hadn’t heard anything from her family, and Cicely nodded in reply. She had thought about it many times, and she didn’t quite have an answer for it. Although maybe Harry was just so far from the expected answer that she would never be found.

Just as she was starting to settle into the prospect of her life becoming this permanently, her past came knocking. She was with Pippa and Clarence on Harry’s front steps, their own ones being swept by their mother. A book was spread open on her lap, one she had found at a bookstore for children, and she was helping them decipher the sentence. She could feel eyes on her, which at face value wasn’t something to worry about—people were always looking at her, at the new person in the neighborhood, although once they found out she was Harry’s, they stopped. But this time, the feeling of someone watching her didn’t let up.

So when they reached the end of the page, she looked up in search of whomever was so interested in her. And what she found were the eyes of a policeman, the black uniform and intent stare raising the hair on the back of her neck. She knew immediately what it meant, that this wasn’t some normal policeman, because the ones in this area normally didn’t pay her any mind. Josiah had made clear she was not to be trifled with the minute Harry had told him that Cicely was with him, for all intents and purposes.

This policeman, though, wasn’t from around here. He stuck out, the shine of his shoes a bit too bright, the cocky attitude obvious from a mile away. He didn’t know the people or the area.

Which could only mean one thing.

Her father had found her.

TAGLIST: @autumn-sunflowers @afire-hes @harrydobedirectioning​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas @vapingisntmything @frindgeyy @froggystyles @magical-mischief-makers @heslilac @ursogoldenshan​

PART TWO

[halothenthehorns]

PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY'S PREDICTION

Harry was in such a giddy mood after the last chapter that it took him a little longer than usual to settle down and try to read, putting all of his delays on this one feeling, and refusing to admit that now that school was coming to an end, he knew he should remember something that he'd been ignoring all year.

Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week.

"Can't believe it didn't last for months," James beamed, still unable to knock the pride out of his voice, not that he was trying.

The rest of the school was in exactly the same mood, the beautiful weather out every window leaving all the students with fantasies of lounging around.

"But of course that's the time exams are set," Sirius muttered in disgust.

They couldn't though, as student exams began, and they were forced to make their brains concentrate,

"You're starting to give me flashbacks," Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead in that remembered pain.

despite the summer fast approaching. Even the Weasley twins had been caught studying,

James spazzed and then pretended to faint in shock, while Sirius 'broke down' crying about how he was so disappointed in them.

Lily and Harry couldn't help giggling along at the pair of them, while Remus looked about ready to join in except he couldn't do anything to theatrical with the baby in his lap.

which was fair considering they were about to take their O. W. L. s.

"Alright, I'll give them a pass for that," James nodded, coming out of it.

"Yes fine, just this once," Sirius nodded in agreement as he wiped his eyes.

Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests),

"Really wish that was a joking title," Lily muttered in remembered disdain of how accurate it was.

and was now prone to telling off anyone and everyone who so much as made a peep disturbing him.

"Whelp, there goes that good mood of his, that he had for five seconds," Remus rolled his eyes.

He still wasn't as bad as Hermione.

"Oh bloody hell," James winced, remembering all over again the amount of tests that girl had to cope with.

Harry and Ron had long since given up asking how she was going to all of her classes,

"Still don't comprehend how you could give up on that," Sirius asked, knowing he'd pester the girl to no end until he got his answer.

"Don't I know it," Remus sighed, Sirius having pestered him to no end when he realized he'd been hiding something, and not having let up until he figured it out.

but they couldn't help but ask when they saw her schedule, which had two exams being taken place at once.

Lily went cross-eyed at the thought of one exam in the morning and one that evening, let alone double it!

Ron began the conversation very carefully, since she was known to explode when anyone spoke to her.

"Well can you blame her?" Harry asked with a bit of an edge, remembering those moments a little too well.

He asked if she was sure of these times, and Hermione had a mini freak out as she double checked them and said yes of course they were right.

"Right," Sirius said with a frown, drawing out the word past its normal syllable count. He wasn't questioning that part any more than before, just how she was bleeding doing it.

Harry asked if there was a point in asking how she was going to pull that off, and she told them no.

"That's when you ask again," James pointed out.

"And again," Sirius seconded.

"Until she's told you after the millionth time you ask," James concluded.

"Trust them on this," Remus said with a suffering sigh, "they have way too much experience on that front."

Then she asked if they'd seen her Arithmancy book, and Ron admitted he'd borrowed it for some fun,

"It's good he's branching out into subjects he isn't taking," Lily muttered, thinking he was quite brave to poke fun at her at a time like this.

though quietly enough she couldn't have heard. Harry got distracted by a note arriving via Hedwig from Hagrid.

They all perked up again, though without much hope. They all knew what was coming, as nothing had changed.

He read out that Buckbeak's appeal had been set for the last day of their exams.

"Guess that's kind of a good thing, you might could sneak out and see him," James muttered without any enthusiasm, knowing if they could they would have done it already.

Harry was still reading though, as the note said the Ministry was coming up here to do it,

"Ugh," Lily muttered in disdain, thinking that wasn't any kind of professional at all.

and they were bringing an executioner.

"Why, would Hagrid know that?" Remus asked, going just that little bit paler from shock at this blatant disregard of Hagrid's rights for his appeal.

"Maybe he does have a friend at the Ministry that warned him," Sirius said listlessly, the reason didn't matter, it still made him see red with anger.

"But, but that means," Lily tried to splutter, but she was so angry she couldn't get the words out. None of them needed her to, they all knew what this meant. The Ministry had set its mind, and that appeal had just turned into a literal execution, making it all the more ghastly that this was being done in Hagrid's house!

Ron was furious as he snapped they couldn't do that, just ignore all that reading he'd done for this appeal!

"You tell them that when they arrive," James nodded seriously, knowing this wouldn't be the only things he'd like to say to every one of those pompous, arrogant, gah he was so angry he was running out of insults in his own head!

Harry though had the strong feeling that they could, and would, as the Committee had already proven they'd do exactly as Lucius wanted.

"Sounds about right yeah," Sirius hissed, his hand starting to twitch like he wanted to curse Malfoy into oblivion right then. If Malfoy could get away with doing these types of things, what else did he have running for him at that Ministry!?

The younger Malfoy, who hadn't been nearly as public since that last game,

"Wish he'd stay that way forever," Remus snarled.

gained back some of his old attitude for this news.

"How, could, he, be, pleased, with, this!" Lily said slowly and carefully to stop herself from screaming at the top of her lungs, not with her infant still in the room anyways. It just blew her mind that he hadn't learned a damned thing, even after his cruel acts to Harry all year and her son had still won fairly, even after Hermione had taught him right how words could hurt and he'd gone right back to it! What would it take to make this boy see this wasn't okay?

He made it plenty obvious from his comments that he felt personally responsible for what was going to happen to the hippogriff, and couldn't be more pleased about it.

"I cannot begin to say just how wrong that is." James scowled, hoping against hope something could still be done, anything that would get this animal out of this putrid situation he didn't belong in. All this for a couple of scratches on his arm, when Malfoy had deserved that in the first place!

It was all Harry could do to stop himself imitating Hermione and hitting Malfoy in the face on these occasions.

"You have much more restraint than any of us," Remus nodded seriously.

"It vaguely helped he would most often do this with Snape around," Harry said morosely, his face making it clear that probably might not stop him again the next time he saw him.

The worst part of all was that because of the strict security still around, they had no chance to go see Hagrid, and couldn't sneak out because his cloak was still in the secret passage.

"You just going to leave that down there forever then?" James sighed, randomly wondering if the twins had come across it and perhaps taken it or anyone really, they couldn't be the only kids to know about it.

Harry did look like he was regretting this decision as well, he'd just been so upset and paranoid about being caught around that statue so many times that if anyone, Snape or at the time Lupin, caught him there again, he might lose something far more valuable to him then that Map, he couldn't have stood it if someone took his cloak away next. He still might have risked it though just to see Hagrid, but there was also the matter that he had no way of getting out of the castle with all of those securities, so it was a moot point in the end. Once he explained this to the others, they looked like they understood more, though as unhappy about it as Harry. Remus especially, though Harry had left his name out, Remus guessed it all the same.

Exams began and Harry's first was Transfiguration,

James couldn't help but perk up just a bit, wanting to know how his son had done in his old favorite class.

which didn't seem to go that well as the students came shuffling out comparing progress, asking if points were taken away for this or that.

"It didn't say what you did," James said swiftly.

Harry grimaced as he muttered, "mine had been the one to blow steam."

"Well that's not so bad," Sirius said bracingly, "if it had just waited another few seconds, no one would have even known and you'd have gotten full marks."

Harry gave him a friendly smile for the attempt, but his thoughts had been much like his fathers, and he'd been hoping that by now with his magic he may have gotten some sort of hint at what he might be best in. It certainly wasn't his father's old branch, which wasn't improving his mood.

Then there was Charms, where Harry put a bit too much oomph into his magic and accidentally used his Cheering Charm too strong on Ron, who had to be escorted out while he laughed himself silly and had to be calmed down to try his own.

Lily couldn't help a giggle herself, saying, "honestly I can't see you getting too bad off for that, at least you've shown you can do it."

Harry gave the expected laugh back, though still right on being annoyed that it clearly wasn't his mother's either. Despite how often they kept saying how much he was like them, he was still looking for some sort of connection to them back then even through these feeble means rather than possessions they'd once owned or even people. He had vividly remembered Ollivanders words about their strengths in magic, and the longer he didn't excel in one of these two the more it annoyed him.

Then it was off to study for Care of Magical Creatures,

"Well that one should be easy enough," Remus said lightly, noting like the others Harry's bad mood, but unclear why it was there. Since he wasn't saying it they assumed it had something to do with his memories, so he was still trying to keep things light as he finished, "all you did was study flobberworms all year, plus that one class where the fire salamanders came."

Harry nodded in agreement, forcing himself to shake away his problem which was probably just a stupid want, and focus on the here and now, where he could make plenty of connections to his parents.

which Hagrid made an ease of during the exam, since he was clearly preoccupied.

"Guess you can't rightly blame him," Sirius said in honest sympathy.

Their goal was to make sure their flobberworm was alive after an hour.

"Easiest exam ever!" Remus said with just a touch of envy, they'd never gotten off so easy in that class with Kettleburn, though upon reflection that may have been a good thing.

Since this creature survived fine when left alone,

"See, you did learn something in that class," James pointed out with chipper.

they had no problems with this and instead tried to comfort Hagrid. He was barely keeping himself together as he admitted that Buckbeak was starting to get restless from being tied down too long.

"That'll happen with any animal," Remus nodded sadly.

They didn't get long to think on it though as they had Potions next, which was a disaster.

"Can't even rightly blame you," Lily sighed. Harry couldn't help feeling disappointed in himself all over again, knowing that was his Mum's favorite subject now and wishing he could be better in it, not much he could do though with the teacher he had.

Harry's Confusing Concoction was far too runny,

"Does Snape make all of his exams an unintended joke?" Sirius couldn't help but demand, slightly amused as he remembered Harry's first year and his Forgetfulness Potion qualification.

and when Snape inspected it he wrote down what looked to be a zero.

"It's a bleeding miracle Harry hasn't failed every year with that kind of biased," James growled.

Then they had History of Magic, where Harry wrote as much as he could on all the information Florean Fortescue had given him on those witch-hunts,

"Always a good strategy," Lily nodded, "do the most with what you can, bullshit your way through what you don't."

Harry couldn't help a startled laugh, finding it more amusing as time went on his Mum was clearly relaxing and not being so uptight.

all the while wishing he could have some ice cream now in the boiling room.

"I wish they'd serve ice-cream with every exam," Sirius sighed, "it would certainly make me more willing to show up."

Their second to last exam was DADA.

That caused mixed emotions in all of them. They all still couldn't help but perk up whenever Remus was mentioned, he was clearly doing such a good job with the class and he had gone out of his way to take an interest in Harry's dementor problem. Then of course that lead to his more odd behaviors, and it left them confused all over again what on earth had happened to him this whole time. Had growing up alone and away from his friends really changed him that much? Twelve years was a long time, and none of them really felt like they had a right to judge if he had.

Remus was the only one who didn't agree with that last assessment, thinking that all the time in the world shouldn't have changed how he felt about Harry, wouldn't have done anything for his conviction of protecting and helping Sirius, but as they still had no new information on it, no one really said anything.

Lupin set up an interesting test for them, an obstacle course outside,

"You always did come up with the best ways to make that class fun," Harry told him fondly, his conviction that Professor Lupin was his favorite DADA teacher he ever had still holding true no matter what he learned of his personality on the side.

Remus offered him a wane smile for the compliment, before morosely turning back to the baby and half hoping he'd fade back out again soon, while still somehow trying to hold onto the flicker of hope that his future actions would properly be explained.

which Harry breezed through as he properly remembered every way to deal with every creature they'd learned about.

"Least I aced that one," Harry beamed, remembering his annoyance at his Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration grades again. So he hadn't blossomed in his parents best subjects, but he had in another. Their obvious praise at him now, as he'd clearly done that without Remus having given him any extra help, made them as proud as anything.

Ron had a little less luck, getting sidetracked by the hinkypunk,

"He got out alright though," he said unnecessarily, since Remus had still been around and had to get him out before he finished, "and he fought off the boggart just fine, so he still got really good marks."

and Hermione nearly got a perfect score as well, if it wasn't for her boggart.

Lily remembered back to when the boggart had first come up, and the girl's ire that she hadn't had a go. Lily had laughed then because this student didn't seem to need such practice.

She ran out screaming,

Then she blanched in shock along with everyone else at that reaction.

as she sobbed that McGonagall had been in there telling her that she'd failed every class.

They couldn't help it, all of the boys cracked up laughing. Lily tried to scowl at them, but then she remembered Ron's joke that this would actually be her boggart, and she couldn't help a light giggle of her own at how right he'd been. It still wasn't right to tease her, since she was stressed beyond all reason this year, but the fact that she really thought this still was laughable. Even with the extra workload, they'd still been under the impression she was top of her class in now literally every class.

Ron clearly wanted to laugh,

"Don't blame him," Sirius couldn't help but snicker one last time.

but he never got the chance as they left and went back around to the front of the school to find Cornelius Fudge.

"What's he doing there?" James grumbled, his despise of the Ministry nearly having reached the same level as Sirius'. First what had been done to his best mate, his brother, and now everything with Hagrid had put the justice system he'd been hoping to join at an all-time low.

He caught sight of Harry and greeted him, who responded back in kind while Hermione and Ron stayed hovering back, never having been on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic.

"Guess I can't blame them," Remus said with a wince, his own thoughts at the Minister being on the school grounds giving him his own spike of fear. He remembered back chapters ago about his worry of what he was getting let out, and possible retribution for his being around children. Would it reach all the way to the Minister of Magic, and Harry just hadn't heard about it because it had been handled quietly? He tried to keep himself calm by making a face at the baby, which worked effectively in making them both laugh, the others wondering why Remus' sounded so strained all of a sudden.

Fudge then explained to Harry that he was here as a witness for the Committee since apparently they were set to kill some hippogriff,

They may have already worked this out, but it didn't lessen their hatred of the situation any.

Sirius looked disgusted as he leaned back into the seat, grumbling, "I'm not even surprised at this point, bet they were all paid off to just skip that appeal."

Harry didn't want to believe it, but couldn't think of anything to argue the point either. No one even wanted to ask what the Minister was supposedly doing dealing with this low level type thing, the answer wouldn't make the act any better.

and since he'd had to come to Hogwarts anyways to check in on the Black situation, he offered.

And that didn't make anyone feel any better either.

Ron jumped in to ask if the appeal had happened, and Fudge looked confused as he told Ron it wasn't until later.

"Confused as to why anyone would question him," James said through clenched teeth, "or confused at how his own system is working!"

Ron pointed out that the hippogriff might not need a witness for an execution then, he could go free.

"I honestly want to cry at how sincere he's being," Lily ground out, looking the opposite of tears she was so frustrated by this wrongdoing.

Fudge didn't have a chance to respond as he was joined on the steps by an old wizard and a man fingering an axe.

"Merlin could they be any crueler about this!" Lily howled in outrage. Showing up to Hagrid's front door with that! At this point she wouldn't even be surprised if they didn't do this the humane way, and just simply lopped off the creature's head while Hagrid was watching and then walk away like that was okay!

"Can't believe the Minister himself is there, they're so blatantly-" James had to click his jaw shut to stop his own voice from rising in pure frustration of this continued mess.

Ron tried to say something, but Hermione cut him off by giving him a subtle kick.

"Please tell me Hermione isn't really going to stick up for this," Sirius asked with something remarkably close to hatred.

"No," Harry snapped back at once, "she'll tell in a second, but she'd never after all she did to try and stop it."

Sirius backed down at once, he'd still been unable to stop himself from drawing a lot of parallels to that hippogriffs situation and what he was envisioning as his own, but now when he replayed that, it had been crueler than he meant.

What really bothered him was that Harry kept watching him with a frown in place, and Sirius wasn't really sure why. Harry had been looking at him a lot like that through the whole book, it was that same plagued face that meant he really wanted to remember something. The fact that Sirius still feared for his own futures sanity and Harry couldn't answer that wasn't helping anything.

When the three had left, Ron demanded to know why she'd stopped him, and Hermione explained that as his Dad worked for Fudge, it wasn't a good idea for him to go yelling at his boss.

"Well, damn," Lily finally got out after chewing on that for a moment, "guess she's got a point."

"Guess it wouldn't have been worth it," James agreed with a suffering sigh.

Hermione tried to say that so long as Hagrid kept his cool, there wouldn't be a need for an execution.

Harry's tone as he read that made it clear that Hermione hadn't meant that any more than they did.

She didn't sound any more sure of it then they felt.

"Why does this crap keep happening to you at the worst of times?" Remus grumbled to no one.

Harry's and Ron's last exam was Divination,

"Least this should be another cakewalk," Sirius offered, anything to keep Harry from shooting him looks. Was it just him, or were those going up in frequency every time Buckbeak was mentioned?

and they made their way unhappily to her tower to find the other students trying to do some last minute reviewing.

"What are they even studying?" Lily asked in wonder. "All we've heard in that class is make it up as you go along."

Harry just shrugged, he'd tried his hardest not to take that class seriously after his first lesson, it hadn't always worked, but he didn't think that was going to change.

They found Neville looking down in confusion at his own book at the section for crystal balls and asked them if they'd ever seen anything in that class?

"Think I found a fly trapped in there once," Harry muttered without any enthusiasm, his skin starting to itch all over. Something, it was definitely that feeling rising up in him again. Something was about to happen...

Ron said no while constantly glancing at his watch, counting down the time to Buckbeak's appeal.

"If she's going in alphabetic order, the boys might not even make it down there in time even if they were going to sneak," James moaned, thinking Trelawney was probably going to take forever.

She was calling the students up one by one, and when Neville came back down from his turn and Harry asked what had happened, Neville refused to tell as Trelawney had told him if he did he'd have an accident.

"Oh for the love of," Lily huffed, more than at her wits end between the fate of Buckbeak and now this teacher on top of it was putting her in quite the foul mood. Now she was still picking on Neville on top of everything!

Ron scoffed that was convenient, and admitted that he was starting to think Hermione was probably right about their teacher,

"Starting to?" Remus rolled his eyes, even with the proof that he did know she was a Seer, she still annoyed him to no end, and didn't really think she should be indulged.

she was a fake. Harry agreed without any real care, still watching his own watch, now set at two.

"Least it's going faster than I thought," James muttered, Harry and Ron's actions clearly meant that this time they may really go for it and be with Hagrid right then, which was surely needed.

Parvati came down next, telling the boys that her's had gone wonderfully as Trelawney had told her she could be a real Seer,

"Don't," Sirius told Lily, taking great pleasure in cutting her off for once. "Leave the kid be."

She huffed but held her tongue, to his surprise.

then waltzed off to join her friend. Ron was called next,

They noticed that obviously this wasn't in any order, so they kind of wondered how she was picking, but it didn't really matter, she could have just been doing it randomly to keep them on their toes.

and Ron made a face as he left, leaving Harry alone.

"Why do I get a bad feeling about leaving him for last?" Lily sighed, thinking Harry may well spend an entire hour now trying to be convinced there was some death dog after him.

When he did come back down, Ron finally told Harry that all he'd had to do was look in a crystal ball, but he hadn't seen a thing so he'd just made something up on the spot, though he didn't know if she'd believed it.

"Well clearly you need some help from Lavender," Sirius smirked, now he clearly wasn't the only one watching Harry, whom the longer he read the more strained his voice was getting.

Harry couldn't help it though, he just knew something was about to happen, and it was making his headache like no other.

Harry said he'd meet him back in their dorm as he went up for his turn, going upstairs to find Ron's described setup.

"Well Ron had the right idea," James sighed, "I'm pretty sure all you've got to do is make something up on the spot and you might get away with it."

"Still can't believe you didn't drop when you had the chance," Lily muttered.

She greeted Harry and had him take a seat, telling him to take his time for something to come to him. Harry watched the white swirls within the glass, but nothing was happening.

"I think I'd be a little more worried if it did," Remus said honestly with a twitch of his lips, then frowned when Harry hardly reacted. He hadn't been this stressed in a while now, so for him to be acting like this meant something really big was about to happen...in Trelawney's room...

When the silence continued, she prompted him,

"Thought she said he could take his time," Lily rolled her eyes.

and Harry began describing the first thing that came to mind, Buckbeak. Trelawney was very interested, asking if this hippogriff still had its head?

Sirius couldn't help a little gag, what a horrid thing to ask him! They'd all said all they could on this matter though, so it really wouldn't do any good to keep at it now.

Harry said yes at once, and Trelawney tried to coax a different answer out of him, asking if perhaps an axe was hovering above him?

"Bloody hell I think she's enjoying herself." James groaned, starting to look a little green from that description, coupled with how much the teacher seemed to be enjoying herself trying to get Harry to picture this gruesome sight.

Harry snapped no, and instead wistfully said it was flying away.

Harry dearly wished this had been what was bothering him, it certainly gave him a seconds moment of relief which could possibly mean that he was right, but he got about as long to think on it before his headache returned with such a force he could hardly read the words, meaning he hadn't yet gotten to the part that needed saying to make this go away.

Trelawney was disappointed as she told him that would have to be all and excused him. Harry got up and turned to leave, when he heard from behind him a deep rasping voice say 'it will happen tonight.' Harry spun back on the spot to find his teacher sagged over in her chair, her eyes open but gazing on nothing, her mouth half hinged open.

"Is, she having a fit or something?" Lily couldn't help but ask with genuine worry, but Harry paid her no mind as the moment had come, and he read in a hurried breath.

Harry wondered if she was having a fit, she was twitching all over and growing color in her cheeks, but before he could think to do anything she said again in the same heavy voice she'd never used before:

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OUT... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER..."

The instant relief of pressure Harry finally got as he sighed at that memory being restored to him was ruined the second he heard the noise.

Sirius felt himself blackout for the span of a few seconds before he lunged off of the couch and looked like he was going to sprint out the door. James wasn't giving him a chance, lashing hold of his arm so tight Sirius yelped in pain, but it clearly didn't register as he sobbed, "oh god, oh bloody hell, oh Merlin, what did I do-"

Remus smacked him then, hard. It didn't seem to do anything though, Sirius was shaking so hard he was likely to bite his tongue off, and it wasn't too hard to picture what his eyes might look like in twelve years, they were just slightly tinged with madness now as he stuttered out, "twelve years! Who, who else could that mean, oh please just kill me now, I don't want to know what I did!"

He made such a horrid noise, like an animal slowly dying, as he tried to wrench his arm free and cover his ears, starting to curl in on himself. The one thing he'd ever cared about most in his life, and he had done something to get his family killed! He'd gotten James and Lily killed, he'd caused Peter to die, he'd been the cause of Harry's whole life turning into a raging shit storm every other month, all because he'd done something that he didn't think he could bear finding out about anymore. Whatever it was would never justify what that Seer had just called him. A servant, someone who had clearly made all of this possible!

How long he stayed out of it as his life literally felt like it was crashing in around him he didn't know. So many things he'd been trying to repress since he'd heard his bleeding name in that paper were drowning him all over again, and he didn't even care about how he'd been framed for murdering those people because he clearly deserved that sentence in Azkaban, it didn't matter why he left because he shouldn't have, he deserved every last second of it.

He'd thought it had been himself crying at first, but then something inside of him twitched as a new noise entered. Harry was wailing at the top of his lungs, and that same instinct that had driven him to comfort James and Remus through all of these horrid things they kept hearing about reawoke, drowning out whatever he was feeling and helping him to bottle it up and shove it far away as he looked around in confusion to the howling child who was being uneasily held in the arms of his future self.

That thought would give anyone's head a whirl, but that's what was happening. Harry stood tall and proud as his father, cradling his own infant self with clear unease, but that may have been because he kept throwing fearful looks over in his direction. Harry kept walking towards the stairs and back, like he wanted to leave and get the baby out of the room, but couldn't bring himself to do it because he kept circling back and watching Sirius with wide and fear filled eyes.

It took several thick swallows before the rest of the room came back into focus. James nearly had him smothered into his chest he was hugging him so hard, muttering over and over again that he could never blame him, while clearly trying to talk Remus and Lily out of putting some sort of spell on him that would force him to relax.

Both were shaking so hard it was a miracle they were on their feet, but they were watching him with such wide eyed concern it nearly shamed him as much as the aching hatred for himself had.

Here he was, making this all about him, when clearly there were more important things to worry about.

He tried to pull away, but James's arms only tightened all the more, so Sirius tried to muffle out, "I can't breathe," whereas in reality he was only really sucking in air because of the reassurance that through all of this, James still couldn't find it in himself to hate him. James had gotten everything he wanted out of life through the girl of his dreams and his baby, and still when it was shoved in his face that Sirius had been the cause of taking it all away his brother had refused to show him anything but insistence that he'd never believe it for a second.

It nearly reduced him to tears all over again, but he was being persistent now as he tried to wiggle free, now more determined than ever to save these lives no matter the cost to him. He'd find out what he'd done and take his punishment happily if it meant saving their lives. He finally got himself free only to meet the darkest of hazel eyes, making it clear Sirius had nearly scared the living daylights out of him, literally, but the moment he was out of those arms Lily had marched over and sat down beside him.

She grabbed his face and made sure he was looking into those ever green eyes as she told him with the utmost conviction, "it's going to be alright. We'll never let that happen to you." Personally she was still a little stunned herself, as she'd never seen him break down before. Sirius had always held himself as a proud man who only let the world see just how good he knew he was. While in the years that she'd fallen for James and gotten to know Sirius more properly as the brother he'd become, she still couldn't ever have believed he was capable of this severe a reaction to something he must know just wasn't possible.

He gave a sullen nod as she released him, gave him a quick kiss on the brow, then scampered over to her son/ sons and did her best to soothe both of them who were equally freaking out, one just more vocally than the other.

Remus flopped down in her empty seat and looked torn between wanting to kill Sirius for giving him a heart attack or hugging him and never letting him go like James had been trying. He settled on all of their fallback, making a joke. "Please give us a warning next time before you go into shock."

Sirius desperately tried for a smile he just didn't feel, because on the inside he was still a shriveled up mess. He may have gotten his emotions under control enough to save face, but he now knew without a shadow of a doubt that dead little part of him wouldn't come back. This was more proof than any he'd ever had before, and still he couldn't do anything about it. Feeling like a lost child, he unfurled himself but couldn't bring himself to lean away from James who still had his shoulder pressed into his. Remus copied that a moment later by leaning into him as well, and though feeling squished, it was pretty much all that was keeping him in place.

Lily and Harry walked properly back in then, Lily cradling her now much more complacent charge. She looked for a moment like she was going to hand him over to his Godfather, but Sirius couldn't help but turn his face away, feeling like he should never have the right to hold that baby again.

Lily would have vehemently disagreed and told him in alphabetical order how stupid that was, but while being squashed like he was he couldn't have carried on the act if he wanted to, so she relented, for now.

Harry looked the most sheepish of all, like he wanted to apologize for this whole mess and go give Sirius a hug himself to reassure him all would be okay, but the words failed him even before he could put them together. The more this carried on, the more he knew this day was the most important of his young life. Something happened on the day of Buckbeak's supposed execution, it involved Trelawney's prediction, and it involved Sirius Black. Whatever it was though would not sit in his mind for any length of time for him to understand how it all fit together, so he was sure if he began to start and try to do anything about it he'd pay dearly and the last thing his family needed was another episode.

Still he hesitated before picking up the book, like he was waiting for permission from someone to say it really was all going to be okay which came from Sirius himself, without any of his usual warmth. "Go on, get it over with."

Harry couldn't help a frown, he still sounded so desolate like at any moment an executioner was going to show up for him, but his friends on either side of him looked so fierce like they'd murder Voldemort himself before they let that happen, Harry didn't argue the point.

Before Harry could even think on that, Trelawney came back to herself with a start, muttering about how she must have dozed off for a moment.

Harry really didn't think at this point he could be any more surprised, the harsh reaction from his Godfather because of that mess left him with only an inkling of shock that she clearly had no idea what she'd just done, unless she was faking it, which Harry really doubted.

When Harry remained frozen in shock, and Trelawney asked what was wrong, Harry tried to tell her what she'd just told him about the servant of the Dark Lord.

Lily grimaced, to be perfectly honest when Harry had read out the return of the Dark Lord bit, that had been what she'd been caught on, until her brother began having a panic attack. Now no one even dared to venture what that could mean for their Harry. None of them knew how Seers actually worked, was it possible this was all wrong, or could somehow be stopped?

With Sirius' eyes closed and his head flopped back against the couch like he was still wishing he could start his gravestone, no one was going to linger on it.

Trelawney told Harry he was being ridiculous, she would never begin to try and predict such a thing.

Remus felt something twitch in his mouth, like he wanted to make a joke at her expense that she held that kind of restraint, but considering he was far more worried on making sure Sirius kept breathing it just wasn't coming out.

Harry stumbled away, his mind winding like the staircase, trying to figure out if his teacher had just made a real prediction.

'Oh, of that we've no doubts' James sighed, his mind still flying in every direction possible, and he wasn't going to stop until he landed on the proper meaning for that prediction which did not involve his best friend.

He tried to think of something else, like she'd been faking it for an end of year trick.

'Could explain why the other students were so freaked out and wouldn't talk' Harry couldn't help but think, trying desperately to put his mind on any more pleasant topic, but the horrible silence that still lingered wasn't leaving a lot of room, and Harry couldn't bring himself to be the one to break it. Plus he knew deep down that wasn't true, or he was sure he wouldn't have reacted so strongly to it.

When he did get back to the main castle he hardly noticed the people walking past him for the outside, laughing and joking about school finally being over.

'Once, just once, can't Harry have some peace in that place' was Sirius' first real coherent thought as he zoned in and out of the story lifelessly, still considering it a viable option to slink out of the house when no one was watching, which didn't seem to be happening any time soon.

He found his two friends in their normal place in Gryffindor tower, but before he could tell them what Trelawney had said, the words died at the look on their faces.

'How can something else have happened in the fifteen minutes since the last bomb?' Lily wanted to snap, feeling like her nerves were about to be frayed right out of her body as she cradled her son all the closer.

Ron explained that Buckbeak had lost.

"Oh," was softly echoed through the room with one glaring left out. It's not like they'd forgotten per say, but Sirius' plight had sort of made it fade back into their mind. Now that it was back in the foreground, they just didn't know what to say. What could they say? What had been done was wrong, and the government doing this wasn't encouraging. It started with the unfair trial of the hippogriff, but the corruption could possibly keep going up until someday someone else got an unfair trial and a beheading because the right bribe was paid off to get rid of a person. Harry hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse, and realized he was wrong as he forced himself to keep going.

Hagrid had sent another letter, explaining that the execution would take place at sunset, but he didn't want them coming down to see it happen.

"I don't want Hagrid to see it," Lily grumbled softly under her breath, the first real time someone had spoken up making them all give a little start, but the baby seemed to enjoy the voice again as he made a gurgling noise watching his mother's face.

Harry said he still wanted to go, he wouldn't just let his friend sit around on his own waiting for this to happen.

James made sure Harry could see his pride filled smile, knowing he'd do and say the same thing in a heartbeat. Screw the rules, his friend needed support. Since his own friend was acting vaguely comatose, James leaned into his shoulder with a little more pressure.

Ron pointed out they had no way to get there, and Hermione asked where he'd hidden away his cloak. Harry told her, then said he didn't dare go and get it because if Snape caught him there he'd be in serious trouble.

Harry paused expectantly, never having been more grateful for his choice of words, but there was no comeback. They were all growing more worried the longer this carried on, Remus even reaching over and pressing his hand into Sirius' nose just to make sure air was still coming out.

Sirius did respond by pushing the hand away, but he still wouldn't meet anyone's eyes.

Hermione asked for the spell that would activate the witch hump, and Harry told her but then tried to protest, which she ignored by walking out.

"What were you even going to say?" Lily asked, starting to feel a little jittery. She'd grown so used to the boys interrupting near constantly that the prolonged silence was starting to give her the creeps.

"But you shouldn't be caught there either," Harry responded, his own worry at the situation still at hand. Of course they both knew Remus and James were just at a loss for words, in no mood to be playful, teasing, or anything when their friend was acting the way he was, so until Sirius snapped out of it this could last for a bit.

Ron asked if she'd really gone to get it?

'Be a little worried if she went to the kitchens' James wanted to mock, though kept his mouth shut and still half hoping Sirius would say that instead.

Indeed she had, returning some time later with the cloak tucked down her front. Ron was in awe, saying first with Malfoy then Trelawney, now this, what had gotten into her?

'She's making sure no one messes with her friends without her doing something about it' Sirius realized, wanting to smile and praise the girl aloud, but the words got lost somewhere on the way out. He was torn between wanting to get the attention off of him, a foreign concept itself, and the beginnings of bubbling warmth that his family really was standing by him even through this foulest of revelations. If the way he could return the favor was getting the mood back to where it should be, then so be it. He now determined he'd have to work this out of himself at the next chance. He tried to sit up more properly but still being sandwiched all he really accomplished was giving the two half cautious looks as they eyed him hopefully for finally giving a real sign of life, but Harry may not have noticed as he'd kept going.

Hermione looked pleased at the praise as they went downstairs, hid themselves away in a room and waited for the last set of footsteps to scurry away and a door slammed before they were all clear.

Harry couldn't help a startled little blink, the smallest of feelings inside his gut telling him to pay attention to that, but he was far more focused on ignoring another mounting feeling. It wasn't fair it was happening so soon after the last one, but he never did get to decide when this happened, and as the sun continued sinking down, he was absolutely positive this night was an important one in his life.

They all tucked up under the cloak and made their way unseen down to Hagrid's, who let them in despite saying they shouldn't have come.

"I'll weep the day he does close the door in your face."

Maybe Sirius said that a little too loudly, maybe his voice cracked and he still looked more wretched than he had in his life, but the attempt finally gave all of them the release they'd so sorely needed that the vile escaping the room was nearly visible.

Hagrid was somehow acting even worse than before, though this time he wasn't crying, he looked so lost the tears had been easier.

Lily couldn't help her lip trembling a bit like she was fixing to cry for him. It just wasn't right, no matter how many times she said it or thought it she could never say it enough that what was happening to him shouldn't be. Between Hagrid and Sirius her maternal instincts were going haywire in wanting to comfort her friends, but unable to do anything she instead settled on smoothing out her sons hair and never growing tired of the way it stuck right back up.

He tried to offer to make them some tea while explaining that Buckbeak was getting in his last sunlight out in his pumpkin patch, then he dropped the milk jug which broke on the floor.

The others all thought that the strain coloring Harry's voice was because of his stress for Hagrid, which was a part, but they didn't know Harry was forcefully fighting back another memory blast already. How was this possible, happening twice in the span of a few minutes, but he had no control as a tempo began at his temple from the pain of a sharp memory fixing to be returned.

Hermione instead began to clean it up and replace it, while Harry asked if Dumbledore could do anything to fix this? Hagrid explained that Malfoy had set it up despite the headmasters try, and as Macnair was an old friend of Malfoy's no one could do anything.

'Macnair was a Death Eater,' that thought trickled through all of the Order members, as they tried their best to keep a roster and suspicions had been going on for ages about him implicated in several deaths. Well that didn't improve anyone's mood, as it only confirmed yet another Death Eater was still out and about in those times, working for the Ministry.

Dumbledore was coming down to be with Hagrid though when it happened.

"Aww," Lily coed, she was willing to put her suspicions and annoyances at the headmaster's actions aside momentarily when it came to her son and Sirius just for that moment that Dumbledore truly was trying to be there for his friend like Harry.

Harry promised they'd stay to, but Hagrid wouldn't allow it, saying Harry didn't need to be in anymore trouble.

Sirius was so sick of hearing that he was yet another cause of problem in his Godson's life, he considered trying to get up and leave again, but since he was basically a sandwich between his two friends who didn't look like they were moving any time soon, he just tallied that up to another thing he could use as his excuse later when he really did leave for good. He was already planning it out in his mind, the moment he got the chance he'd make a break for the door and he'd disappear before he caused this blight of events for his family. They may try to stop him, why he wasn't sure at this point, but he could throw these types of things at them and make a break for it while he was sure they'd be hesitating.

Hermione was crying over in the kitchen as she found another jug of milk, but then she screeched in shock and nearly dropped that one to as she exclaimed she'd found Scabbers.

"What?"

That was the most random thing that could have been said right then, that it actually distracted everyone in that moment from anything else. Harry forced himself to keep reading, to confirm Hermione was right, though everything in him told him she was.

They all stopped to stare at her, and she came over to the table and had to fight for a moment before the rodent came sliding out.

Harry made a funny rasping noise of disgust as James lit up with equal amounts of confusion and laughter as he praised, "oh that's great. Can't imagine what on earth happened-"

"Don't," Harry moaned, cutting him off and shocking as he clutched at his head, tears nearly streaming down his eyes as he pleaded, "don't say that, it's not right."

Lily turned concerned at once, wrapping an arm around him protectively as she asked, "Harry what's the matter?"

Remus couldn't help giving him an odd look mixed with the beginnings of fear for Harry, worried he was dealing with too much having such another painful memory returning so soon, as he asked, "yeah, you should be happy Ron's rat-" but then his own voice failed him, and he started blinking when something clicked. Since the very first time Scabbers had been mentioned, Harry got this odd little act around him about his best friends pet, frowning or something similar though he'd never been properly able to explain why. The description of that particular rat, bloody hell it did match the same one he looked at more than any other rat in his life, and Scabbers had a missing finger, just like...

"Oi, Moony," James was waving his hand in front of his friends face, saying, "yoo-hoo, blanked out on us mate. You figured out Harry's problem. Quite the show that Crookshanks never did, eh?"

Remus had to clear his throat hard for a moment before forcing a goofy smile onto his face, he was being ridiculous of course, it was a coincidence. Which, which he didn't believe in... shaking his head hard he said, "err, right, no sorry, ah, let's keep going."

Lily looked utterly annoyed at that, as she felt they were brushing this pain off a little too lightly, but then she took a good look at Remus' lined features, and how the momentary news had already worn off and Sirius was right back to being lackluster, and she also knew better that Harry couldn't have explained what was really bothering him anyways without suffering for it, so she didn't argue the matter, only increased her hold on her son as he flickered through a few pages as he'd lost his place. He seemed less eager than anyone to go on though, because while that had been the memory return his brain had been warning him about, the pressure still hadn't fully left! What about this day could be causing him more pain from this one afternoon then he'd felt any times previously? Now he knew it had something to do with Scabbers...and Buckbeak, and Trelawney's prediction, and Sirius, but the puzzle pieces refused to fit together, and he had no more of an idea for the ending then anyone.

Ron was just as shocked as anyone as he asked his rat what he was doing here?

"That's a very good question," Lily grumbled, finding this more unbelievable the longer she heard about it. Scabbers was alive this whole time! That fight between Ron and Hermione should never have even happened! It was odd though, that the little pet had pulled something like this off, since he was sick and usually was never mentioned anywhere but in Ron's pockets. How had he wound up in Hagrid's of all places?

He snatched up the squirming rodent, who looked terrible. He was thin as could go, with very large bald spots,

Remus couldn't help but wince, having heard a few tales about animals looking for somewhere to burrow up to die, had Scabbers just been doing that? His physical description clearly meant he was living towards the end of his life, obviously he was just being paranoid, it was just fate being all the cruller to him that he had tried to see his absent friend in a common garden rat.

and still he was trying to fight away from Ron, who held tight trying to convince his pet there were no cats around.

They all frowned at that, finding Scabbers bound of energy kind of sad, like maybe he was trying to put up one last fight before his old body gave out. It was rather odd he seemed so insistent in being away from Ron of all people, shouldn't he recognize his owner's voice?

They didn't get any time to think on it when Hagrid glanced out the window and saw the others approaching, and he told them they had to leave now. He opened up the back door and led them out to where Buckbeak was clearly on edge as he watched them all and flapped his wings in agitation.

That caused a shiver in all corners of the room, it wasn't too hard to imagine that the poor beast did get a feeling for what was coming for him, as intelligent as he was.

The three tried to give one last protest, saying they'd tell what had really happened, but Hagrid wouldn't have it and told them to go.

The combination of Hagrid doing his damndest to keep them out of trouble even while his beloved pet was about to be murdered in front of his eyes gave all of them a ball sitting tight in their throat, wanting to argue on the side of the kids and say this couldn't be true, more grateful than ever Harry at least had someone like Hagrid who wouldn't let them stick around to see it.

There was nothing more they could do, and despite it being the last thing they wanted, they all tucked back under the cloak and began to leave, Ron slowing them down slightly. Hermione begged him to hurry, she couldn't stand to watch this.

"You and me both," Lily nodded, bringing her son up to lay up on her shoulder like she was going to burp him, but really just keeping him as close to her as possible. He soon began amusing himself by grabbing hold of her thick red hair instead, and Lily almost enjoyed the momentary distraction of untangling his good grip while forcing herself to keep listening.

Ron though was having some issues, they were only halfway back to the castle but his rat was still forcing its way with all of its might out of his pocket, now trying to bite the hand Ron was using to keep him in place.

This was so random that no one could really think what could be going on anymore. The emotional turmoil of the group felt like they'd been going chapter after chapter about Harry nearly dying all day again, when really they were all just exhausted mentally from hearing about all of these bad things happening around Harry.

Below them they heard the sound of men talking, and despite Scabbers loud squeaking protest, they heard quite clearly the thud of an axe.

Harry didn't really get that out without nearly stuttering himself into silence, closing his eyes hard for a moment and trying to process what he'd just read, while something else in him told him to keep going. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked around to find the others looked just as shocked as he did, the build up to that unfair act having finally been carried through not making it any easier to hear. Unwilling to let himself freeze up now though, Harry finished.

Hermione's knees began shaking as she whispered she just couldn't believe they'd done it.

Then he closed the book and put it aside, indicating the chapter was done, but needing a moment before he could keep hearing anything. He wasn't the only one.

[marvelousell]

The Agreement (Part 6.)

Pairing(s): frat boy!fwb!Tom x reader, frat boy!Harrison x reader

Summary: Tom is a typical frat boy, his love for partying, drinks and girls are bigger than his ego. Y/N is a whole different dimension, she keeps her circle small, and even though she knows her best friend Tom is a total douche, she can’t say no to the little deal that was sealed between the two of them.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: My heart is beating for Haz rn but Tom is my fave so I’m confused af ok😫. Also who tf is Emily🤡? I hope you like this chapter and I would appreciate it if you leave a comment, reblog or send a feedback!❤️

My tag list is open for this series!

Warnings: flufff, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Masterlist

“Ready?”

Monday came quickly honestly. Probably the constant overthinking during the whole Sunday and Monday morning distracted you pretty well.

And here you are now.

Fresh out of the shower, with your robe around your body staring at Anna in front of your door who was ready to ‘glam you up’.

“I don’t know, I think I’m gonna puke if we’re being honest.” You spoke, exhaling the air from your lungs.

“It’s totally normal to feel like that! That means you like him.” She winked, marching to your bedroom.

“Well I do like him and that’s why I’m worried. What if I mess everything up? I’m so awkward you know that.” You began to panic, chewing on your bottom lip nervously.

“Just be yourself, he is already smitten. Believe me, what could go wrong?”

Maybe the truth about Tom, I don’t know.

“You’re right, but I’m still sweating and I feel sick.”

“Can’t wait for you to return from the date and say to me ‘oh I was so stupid for worrying it was amazing Ann I love him!’” She mocked you, laughing along with you.

“I really hope that will be the end product after tonight’s date.”

“Harrison is a really great guy, you will have the best night with him I’m sure.”

Your mouth curved into a smile at the thought of him.

At the thought of his blue eyes and his contagious laugh that was ringing in your ears since Saturday.

Maybe he really is the one for you?

If only Tom didn’t come that night at your apartment, everything would be fine.

The thoughts were eating you up, but you tried to remain calm.

“Just remember Tom’s words. Maybe this deal won’t last that long.” You said to yourself.

“So what are we doing for tonight?” Anna spoke resting her arms on the chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“Nothing extra, keep it casual.” You replied, not wanting to look like you’re going to a red carpet.

“Keep it casual got it.”

“Did you spoke with Tom yesterday?” She asked curiously, making your heart skip a beat when she mentioned his name.

You were trying your best not to react.

“No, he didn’t call me. Why, did something happen?” You asked, trying to look worried.

“No, no. Just asking I thought that he maybe apologized or something, but it seems he is still acting like a total douche.”

You kind of forgot the scene from the party, Harrison being on your mind practically every second.

But now that she reminded you, you were pissed. He could at least call and say a stupid ‘sorry’, however he was too proud. Tom would never admit he was wrong even when it was a small, unimportant thing.

“You know he is like that when he is around a girl that he wants to shag, but still I don’t approve that, I mean we’re his friends.” You responded.

“That’s absolutely right. Gosh I don’t know how could someone sleep with him? I know he is hot and all that but c’mon Tom just thinks with his thing down there and that’s disgusting.” She spoke bitterly while your face turned red.

You don’t know a thing Anna, but you’re definitely right about that.

He just knows how to make a girl say yes straight away, that’s the problem.

“U-uh yes, I agree.” Your voice coming out as a whisper.

“Let’s not ruin our night with him, we love him although he is like that so it’s not important. Did our prince charming say where you two are going?” She changed the subject, focusing on your hair that was the last thing that needed to be done.

“Didn’t drop a single clue, he just said he will pick me up at seven.” You chuckled, glancing at the clock.

Thirty minutes and he will be here.

-

“Oh shit he is outside.” You whisper yelled, heart almost jumping out of your chest.

“Listen. Don’t worry, just relax and be yourself. Harrison is fantastic and not a pompous dick like others.” She put her palms on your shoulders giving them an encouraging squeeze.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply to calm your nerves.

“Thank you so much Ann, I owe you big times. I will call you when I come home or you can stay here and make yourself comfortable whatever you want.” You said, hugging her tightly.

“Thanks for the offer but I will go home, and I will be waiting for your call. And you miss have fun.” She smiled like a proud mother, hugging you back.

Your hands were shaking, and your stomach lurched when you saw him leaned on his black car waiting for you.

You both immediately smiled at each other.

Harrison was as nervous as you were. He spent his whole day rambling to Harry that tried his best not to laugh at his friend who was totally excited to see the girl that couldn’t leave his head the whole weekend.

He was finally ready to find a girl. Someone who will be here even when things went downhill.

“Good evening gorgeous.” Harrison greeted, flashing you a broad smile.

“Well good evening to you too handsome.” You greeted him back, standing now in front of him with a shy smile plastered on your face.

“You look stunning tonight love.” He half whispered, with his eyes still on yours.

“Thank you, so do you.”

“Ready to hop in?” He asked, opening the door for you.

“Of course, how could I not be with a gentleman like you by my side?” You flirted shamelessly, making him laugh.

“Eager to know where I’m taking you?” He asked, starting a conversation.

Your eyes were glued on the road and everything around trying to guess where you were heading to.

“Definitely, hope you’re not gonna kill me or something already.”

“Too much criminal series love.” He chuckled at your response.

“And I would still want the place to remain a surprise, but don’t worry nothing will happen.” He added.

“It better not Harrison I trust you.” You continued to joke, enjoying the rest of the drive.

-

“And we’re here beautiful.” He parked his car, opening the door for you again.

Holy fuck.

The view was mesmerizing. It was like a hill, with a view on the whole city that was glowing now.

Your whole face lit up, not only because he was creative and didn’t take you to a classic restaurant on the first date but because you had such a great person next to you to enjoy the breathtaking view with.

“This is truly stupendous Harrison..Gosh.” You were so dumbfounded at the sight that you didn’t feel the warmth of his body behind you.

“I’m so glad you like it, I wanted to take you somewhere special the first time.” He spoke into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I appreciate that a lot, and you really left me speechless here.” You giggled, turning your face to his.

Harrison put a lot of effort in this, wanting to show you how much he fancied you.

This wasn’t just an ordinary place that he googled up or something.

This was Harrison’s special place ever since he was twelve. He would often come here when he needed some time for himself or when he wanted to sit and relax looking at the whole town that was in a rush as always.

The place was unique in Harrison’s life. His gut told him he could trust you and that this was a brilliant timing to share it with you.

He hoped maybe it will be your special place by the end of the night, because he was sure you were the girl that will change his life.

“It’s actually my secret place or whatever they call it nowadays.” His eyes lit up looking at the two most beautiful sights in front of him.

“Oh no sorry, now I ruined the whole secret place thing for you.” You grabbed his hand, feeling bad in some kind of way.

“Don’t be silly love, if I thought you weren’t noteworthy I wouldn’t share it with you.” His fingers stroked your skin carefully, making your heartbeat go wild at the feeling of his gentle touch.

“Happy to hear that you think I’m that special.” You whispered, noticing the small blanket positioned on the grass behind him.

“C’mon let’s sit and enjoy the real magic from here.” His hand took yours, rubbing his thumb against your palm.

-

“So you study English Literature?” He asked, pouring the sparkling wine in your glass.

He sure planned this all well, and you weren’t complaining. In fact you loved it so much that you could sit like this forever. Just you and him.

“That’s right. Does it sound that boring?” You asked, the nervousness now long gone.

“Absolutely not! Mr. Phillips must be your favourite professor I assume?” He rose his eyebrow asking sarcastically.

“Are you like in my class or something because that would be awkward as hell. And no c’mon he is a total ass.”

“If I was with you in the same class I would definitely ask a beauty like you out a long time ago, don’t worry. My sister is taking his classes, she started her first year so you know heard some stuff.” He chuckled, sipping his wine.

“I’m sorry for her, he can be an idiot towards students but that shouldn’t discourage her at all.”

“Totally, every college has someone like that.” He added, receiving a nod from you.

You two were talking like you knew each other your whole life and that was something you craved for a long time.

Harrison couldn’t keep his eyes the whole night away from you.

It was something about your irresistible smile and how your head would fall back when you laughed that got him love-struck.

He really liked you and your sweet soul that was full of tenderness.

That was something he could never find in someone ever since Emily.

“Tired?” He gave you a half-smile when he felt your head resting on his shoulder.

“No, just loving this atmosphere and your presence. I could do this every day for the rest of my life if you ask me.” You said softly.

Harrison thought that this was the perfect timing to wrap his arm around your waist, caressing it carefully.

He was sure he wanted to kiss in you that exact moment. Even though he was distracted by his heart that was a beating mess and by his sweaty palms, he couldn’t wait more. He reminded himself if he waited and didn’t speak to you that night nothing of this would happen, so what could go wrong now?

He didn’t want it to be forced, it should be memorable for the both of you.

What’s the point if he doesn’t show you how much he liked you through the kiss?

So his hands leisurely traveled to your arm and shoulder. Your skin was landscaped with goosebumps, and you were sure he could see how your cheeks turned red although it was dark.

You relaxed in his hands, leaning your face into his neck inhaling his scent.

The grin on his face was growing bigger when he felt your body on his, he would trade anything just to be always like this with you from now on.

His fingertips brushed the skin of your hot cheek while his eyes were admiring your body that was illuminated by the moonlight.

Eventually his large palm cupped your cheek, bringing you close to his face.

His nose bumped into yours, his eyes now focused on your sparkling ones.

“Is this okay?” He asked for consent.

“Yes.” You whispered back, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“God you’re so beautiful.” His lips were ghosting over yours, still testing the waters.

Harrison was exhilarated at that moment, closing the small space between your lips. They were moving against yours delicately. He could taste the sweet wine from your lips mixing with the taste of your cherry chapstick and it was a combination that he will always associate with you.

Your heart fluttered, and the only thing you could think is how his lips were soft against yours.

Harrison would break the kiss, opening his eyes to ensure himself that you were real and that this wasn’t a figment of his imagination before pulling you in for another short innocent kiss.

You both stayed close to each other after the intimate moment, with Harrison’s thumb still on your cheek.

“I really like you Y/N, I want to be around you more.” He spoke in your ear, nothing but the truth.

“And I like you more, hopefully this will be something more.” You responded truthfully as well.

“Thanks for the wonderful evening love, and thank you for giving me a chance to finally find and enjoy the time with someone as pretty as you, inside and out.”

“No, thank you for everything. You were the first who showed some love and interest for who I really am, not just for some fun.” Your voice getting smaller when you said the last part.

“Love, if someone doesn’t see your true beauty behind that graceful face, he doesn’t deserve a single look from you, let alone something more.”

Oh how right you were Harrison, you don’t even know.

You were a grinning mess after his statement, the only thanks you could give him was a small peck.

-

The car stopped in front of your apartment, silence now filling the space in his car.

His hand rested on top of yours through the whole ride back to the apartment.

Harrison was beaming, glancing every now and then at you, memorising every feature of yours.

“Here we are.”

There was just a little bit of sadness that could be heard in his voice, because the night was over and he was already missing you in his embrace.

“Thank you for this beautiful night. You really made it special.” You spoke once again, caressing his hand that you refused to let go.

“Please love, I already said what I really mean. You are a wonderful person and no one could prove me wrong.”

“You Y/N made this night one of my favourites and thank you for that.” He admitted, kissing you passionately.

This one was a much longer and caring. The kiss was like a perfect match and it made you smile during it.

“Thank you.” You murmured as he pulled away.

“I’m going to call you love, I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Not if I call you first.” You answered.

“I won’t complain.”

“Have a good night beautiful.” He added, pecking your lips.

“And you as well handsome.”

It was like you forgot how to walk when you stepped out of his car. Harrison’s vehicle not leaving the driveway until he was sure you entered the house safely.

The smile on your face was genuine and the whole night was repeating in your head non-stop.

It occupied your mind so much that you didn’t even notice the light being turned on in the living room.

Until a loud groan finally caught your attention.

“Who’s there?” Your voice trembling.

“Fuck, just me.” A male voice responded, mumbling the words.

Just me?

“Are you normal? How did you even enter the apartment?” You relaxed immediately when your eyes landed on a half drunk Tom.

“Key behind the flowerpot, not a brilliant hiding place if you ask me.” He laughed while his eyes remained closed.

“Yeah..right, forgot about that. What do you want?” You spitted, clearly annoyed at the realisation that you will probably not spend the night alone.

“Gotta see my favourite girl, but looks like she was busy.” Tom slurred, resting his hands on the back of his head.

“Tom if you’re drunk you can crash on the couch.” You stated, making your way to your bedroom.

“C’mon babe, wanted to spend the night with you.” He rushed next to you, grabbing your waist.

“Thought you didn’t do that.”

“I meant as friends love, but I can always make an exception for you.” Tom whispered as the smell of the strong alcohol hit your nostrils.

“Are you going to talk to me and say why are you here or?” You tried again.

“I was with Sophie today ya know. It kinda went well I guess? Or not? Because she said I’m gonna regret that decision and that tone but hey I don’t care at least her annoying ass is out of my face.” He smiled, receiving an eye roll from you.

“I told you to talk politely, now she is going to get all crazy.”

“I was polite! But she just doesn’t understand what it means I don’t want anything with you. That’s the problem.”

“Okay, you have a point here, she can get pretty hard to handle.” You believed his words knowing she was a special case.

“Thank you. Also I came to apologize for my behaviour.” Tom added, mumbling the last words.

“Oh really? Why?” You crossed your arms, waiting for him to speak.

“Because I was tipsy, and that was a shit move, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“It was.” Your mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m sorry love okay?”

“You’re forgiven, apologize to Ann as well.” You weren’t in a mood for a fight, and he at least said sorry so all good.

“Not happy to see me love?” He turned his attention to you, squeezing your hips.

“I’m tired Tom, but I appreciate your apology and everything, feel free to take the couch.”

“Where were you that late on a weeknight anyways?” Tom asked curiously, eyeing your body and how pretty you looked tonight.

“On a date.”

Date?

Oh yes Harrison.

That dolled up for him?

Why does he even care about that, you two were nothing?

“Looks like you had fun. Tell me more.”

“You really won’t let me sleep tonight am I right?” You asked, trying your best not to smile but he was making it so hard already.

“Nah, let’s make ourselves comfortable on the couch and spend the night like that hm?” He smirked, pulling you back into the living room.

“Why can’t I say no to you? You need to stop that.”

It was so hard, switching thoughts about two boys every minute. One second it was Harrison only and then Tom just shows up out of nowhere and makes everything go wild inside of you.

You didn’t want to lose Tom nor Harrison.

However you were aware that someone in the end will get heartbroken no matter what, and that was your main concern.

-

Tag List

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[aquamotto]

On Designing Harry Potter Characters: Snape

I want to share some of my character design revelations with you, specifically about Snape.

I think all of us are used to this image of Snape that is common in fandom: that of a bitter, never smiling person who is always sad or desperate. Curiously enough, this image turned out to be something akin to a collective hallucination after I reread the books. Something like Mandela effect of sorts. I mean, are we talking about the same person here? 

"Snape smirked", "Snape's lip curled..."... Snape grinning maliciously is one of the most common images of him in the book, if not THE MOST COMMON. Book Snape is arrogant, triumphant, rude. Absolutely unapologetic. He likes vile things and he even smirked at Filch's petrified cat. That's exactly where the beauty of his character lies: he is genuinely annoying and he indeed likes being a pain in the ass for people. And that's what makes his trauma and his absolute (I repeat, absolute!) kindness all the more heartbreaking and surprising. 

Also, Snape is immature in his childish pride and pettiness. Undoubtedly, he is a young man who even acts slightly YOUNGER than his age. Honestly, I don't know where these slow talking, pompous daddy Snapes come from. Snape is a teenager in the body of a grown (?) man. One person said that Snape desiring praise for catching Sirius in PoA is out of character. But it's exactly in character! 

And now for the most horrifying revelation: in my opinion, Snape is...extroverted. Yes, you heard me right. He is just a professional and a misanthrope who doesn't like wasting time. Not every extrovert is a party machine and  I believe that Snape is indeed too loud, eccentric, arrogant, pushy, stubborn and petty to be an introvert. Introverts are essentially low energy people and Snape is brimming with life! I am not even joking! 

And that lead me to draw Severus the way I do it now. Once I discovered that I cam draw him with a weak chin in particular, I never looked back. It just fit his immaturity so well.

So, essential parts of Snape according to Aquamotto are:

-Weak chin, symbolizes immaturity but egotism in the same time!

-Acne and beauty marks galore! His face is still far from that of an adult man. He looks like his face still bears some traces of some potion side effect.

-Obviously greasy hair. Not some fluffy mane like some of you draw, oh no. A head full of tightly pressed greasy locks. (I know how they look like too well because my own hair is greasy).

-Very pale due to working underground but still hellishly energetic.

-Always grinning sarcastically. Always!

-Always full of witty ways to humiliate you, always.

-Classy but garish clothes because he hates his muggle ancestry and he tries to be as over the top as possible when it comes to wizard fashion. Likes second hand robes and wears them with pride, even if they are disgusting. (Maybe even likes disgusting but romantic, frilly fashion!)

-Proud of himself but with a complex inside. Overcompensates complexes with overconfidence.

-Poor personal hygiene because he is obsessed with work and also because his working class past shows itself that way.

-Not very tall, 175 centimeters at max. Body is that of a teenager with a poor posture. Despite being thin, there are some rolls on the stomach. His age can be guessed by this fact and also by the fact he is fairly hairy.

-Beautiful dark eyes, not scary or menacing but rather full of irony, sharpness and even certain mocking cruelty but not evil!

-Openly eccentric behaviour.

[bunny-bopper]

Demonstrating One’s Talent

My first contribution to Snapetober is Snockhart! Thanks to @sxvxrxssnape for organising this event. I’m not sure I did whump right though...

Prompt 10: ‘you’re bleeding’ and 22: collapsed 

Warnings: body horror, body horror elements, blood and injury 

(but it is really just fun crack treated seriously I swear!) 

AO3 link

Defence Against the Dark Arts should have been Harry's favourite class. It was certainly the one he got the best marks in, and no one could deny that he, of all people, needed to know how to defend himself. Considering that he'd had a close encounter with the world's most powerful dark wizard, who just happened to be very keen on murdering him, in his first year alone.  

And it would have been his favourite class if not for the simpering, stuck-up, pompous twat of a teacher they had. For all his self-proclaimed skill and expertise in battling Dark Forces, Harry couldn't think of one useful thing Lockhart had taught them this year. And with a monster running loose about the castle no less!  

It was unusual for Harry to arrive at the egotistical dolt's class on time, let alone early, but with Hermione still petrified in the Hospital Wing and Ron sleeping the day away after their terrifying introduction to Aragog last night, that is exactly where he found himself. He'd planned to spend the extra few minutes quietly pondering what it all meant – the mirror, the writing on the wall, the spiders – but, once he arrived on the third-floor corridor, he saw that something else unusual was going on.  

Lockhart was slumped against the wall outside his classroom talking miserably away to himself. "I just...I simply cannot begin to fathom why he isn't interested!"  

Interest piqued and having been provided cover by a handy suit of armour, Harry stopped to listen as a female voice came out of nowhere.  

"Well perhaps if you were a little more...modest?"  

It was then Harry realised Lockhart was not, in fact, talking to himself, but to a painting. One of a very pretty – and very naked – water nymph. Harry hadn't noticed it last year and rather suspected Lockhart of placing it there himself. She had large, ocean eyes alluringly framed with dark lashes and long brown hair that was perpetually wet from the fact that she spent all her time lazing in a lily pond, the flowers of which only just protected her modesty.  

"One tries to be, my dear lady, truly. It's just rather difficult when one's talents are so..." Lockhart looked off into the distance, as though trying to come up with a word that properly conveyed such talents was a challenge in and of itself, "...abundant."  

"Quite." The nymph scrunched up her delicate features as though she'd swallowed something foul, but Lockhart didn't seem to notice.  

"Honestly, I mean, I'm not one to boast but I've never had this sort of trouble before – romantic trouble I mean – I'm used to having a line of ladies and gentlemen, all vying for my affections, long enough to stretch out the door! And now I'm reduced to lamenting my sorrows to a painting!"  

"Excuse me!" said the nymph, thumping the water with her fist to create an angry splash. "I do have other things to do besides sit here and listen to you moaning about your love life!" Harry wasn't quite sure what  

Lockhart shrank further down the wall. "My apologies," he mumbled. "I simply meant-"  

"Look," the nymph began, with more pity in her voice this time. More than Harry could dream of showing someone so arrogant, at any rate. "Perhaps if you demonstrated your talents in front of him, rather than just...discussing them at great length...he'd take more of an interest."  

"Alas!" Lockhart moaned. "I've been trying! Starting small, you know, so as not to overwhelm him. Just the other night I tried showing him the best way to skin a flobberworm but he chased me out of his office before I could even get the jar off his shelf!"  

Flobberworms? Harry only knew of one teacher disgusting enough to keep jars of those in his office...but...it couldn't be!  

"I thought demonstrating my prowess at our duelling club would have been enough!" Lockhart rambled on. "But the poor darling must have been too intimidated by me..."  

No, Harry thought. No, no, no, no-  

"Have you tried getting a little more...physical?" the nymph asked, rolling onto her side in the murky pool and running a hand over her ample hip to help get her point across.  

"I must confess that I'm not above using my...sexuality...in these situations, but even that has failed me! I tried to take advantage of the summer heat, asked him if he wouldn't mind my taking off my shirt when we found ourselves alone in the staff room one stifling evening..."  

The nymph's eyes lit up. "And? what happened?"  

"He blast me with a cooling charm! He didn't stop until icicles were dangling from my nose!"  

"Hmmm..." The nymph sighed. "I never thought I'd say this, but perhaps you should just give up."  

"I fear you may be right, dear lady," said Lockhart sadly. "But I must be going – my students shall be here shortly. I have so much to fill their bright, young minds with!" With an elaborate wave towards the painting, he strutted off into the classroom.  

Harry stayed where he was, letting the other students push past him to get to their seats. The girls giggled excitedly as they always did. He wondered what they would say if Harry told them Lockhart had a crush on Professor Snape.  

***  

Harry had been itching to tell Ron about what he'd overheard all day, but when he got back to Gryffindor Tower, he found his friend still sleeping. Getting a little concerned now, Harry pulled the sweat-soaked covers back from his face and gently shook him awake.  

"Urrrggghhh," Ron moaned, "times' it?"  

"Everyone's down at dinner," said Harry, by way of answer. "How are you feeling?"  

"Not so good, mate."  

He didn't look it either. Ron's face was ghastly pale behind his freckles and he was talking through his teeth as if trying to bite back waves of nauseating pain.  

"I think we need to get you to the hospital wing."  

Ron, as though talking required far too much effort, simply nodded.  

Getting there wasn't going to be that easy though. It took three tries before Ron was able to stand and the only way he was going to remain upright was by Harry slinging his friend's arm over his own shoulder and taking most of his weight. They were both panting before they'd even got down the stairs.  

Harry looked around the common room desperately in the hope that someone's appetite had forgone them that night and would still be around to help, but it was deserted. Heaving Ron over his shoulder again, he surrendered himself to the fact they had to make their way to the Hospital Wing alone.  

***  

This was bad. Harry was starting to think he should have left Ron in the common room and gone to fetch help rather than trying to lug him all the way down to the first floor by himself. Ron was still managing, somehow, to shuffle one foot weakly in front of the other, but he wasn't speaking at all, and his eyes kept fluttering closed so Harry had to steer them both through the endless hallways. But they were already on the third floor and Harry really didn't want to leave Ron alone. Better they just push on. With any luck, someone might-  

"Potter!"  

Someone else. Please.  

But, of course, it was Snape who was striding towards them, a storming mess of menace and black robes. "And Weasley! Why are you not at dinner? There is no excuse to be wandering about the castle during these times-" Harry wanted to ask Snape why he was wandering the castle instead of sitting with the other teachers in the Great Hall, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. "-or perhaps, as always, you feel the rules don't apply to you?"  

"Sir - you don't understand – Ron's-" As if to illustrate his point, Ron fell from Harry's arms and collapsed onto the floor. Harry immediately crouched down and began to shake him, repeatedly calling his name, but Ron didn't stir. Harry turned desperately to Snape who had stiffened with shock. "Sir! We need to-"  

"Get out of the way, Potter!" he snapped, pushing Harry to the floor in his haste to get to Ron. He jumped straight into action right away, digging his fingers hard into Ron's neck, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. The thought of being touched by those hands made Harry's skin crawl, but neither he nor Ron were in the position to be choosy right now.  

"What happened?" Snape asked, loosening the buttons of Ron's striped pyjamas to better see the shallow rise and fall of his breathing.  

"I-I don't know!" Harry stammered.  

"Did he ingest something?"  

"I don't think so!"

"Think, Potter!" said Snape, voice echoing down the corridor as he turned his full attention to Harry. "The two of you must have been meddling in something you shouldn't!"  

Harry was spared from answering as a sing-song voice drifted up the corridor. "Oh Severuuuus?" Both he and Snape turned to look simultaneously.  

"There you are!" Lockhart beamed as he rounded the corner and caught sight of the three of them. He didn't seem to question why they were on the floor. "You left before they served dessert! And before I could finish telling you about my latest line of haircare potions – I really think the tea tree and dandelion root shampoo would do wonders for your-"  

"Not now you buffoon!" Snape hissed.  

"I say," said Lockhart, noticing that one of their party was unconscious for the first time, "what's wrong with this poor fellow?"  

"That's what I'm trying to determine!" Snape turned his furious face back to Harry. "But Potter here cares more about saving his own hide than the life of his friend, it seems."  

"We were in the forest!" Harry blurted out. "There were these...these spider things."  

"Weasley was bitten?" asked Snape.  

"No!" There's no way Ron could have kept that to himself. "He was fine! He was just tired today. I thought it was just because we were out so late! All he said last night was that his back was weirdly itchy!"  

Lockhart, who had been babbling away to himself about the time he had once bested an army of giant arachnids single-handedly, and how it was such a shame he had not been there to help, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He was staring at Ron, eyes fixed on his torso. Then, in a voice Harry had never heard him use before, he said, "Open his shirt."  

Both Harry and Snape just stared at him.  

"Do it!" he commanded, kneeling down on the floor next to them. Snape hastily obeyed, deftly unbuttoning Ron's shirt and revealing his freckled chest. Harry watched as Lockhart, with none of his usual flair or pretence to be seen, began examining Ron's torso, kneading and prodding at his friend's flesh as if he actually knew what to look for. When he got to the lower left side of Ron's stomach, he froze.  

"Oh dear," he whispered to himself. "Nothing to do but cut it out I'm afraid."  

"Cut it-?" Snape spluttered. "Just what in Salazar's name are you going on about, man?!"  

"Oh no!" Harry interrupted finally. "I'm not letting you do anything to him! Remember what you did to my arm?! We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey!"  

"There's no time, dear boy!" Lockhart exclaimed, pulling out his wand from somewhere deep amongst his periwinkle robes. "And I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey, wonderful as she is, would be in over her head with this. I, however, know what I'm doing."  Lockhart looked at Snape over Ron's body. "I really do this time," he added.  

Snape, his expression unfathomable, opened his mouth to say something. Harry hoped he was finally going to insist on taking Ron as far away from Lockhart as possible and get him the appropriate help. But all that came out was a strangled gasp, that Harry closely followed with one of his own when something in Ron's chest...moved.  

"Immobulus!" said Lockhart, pointing his wand at the protruding mass under Ron's skin before anyone could stop him. The...thing...slowed in its progress but continued travelling upwards. "Blast, it's a strong one," he muttered. "Severus. I need you to keep the curse going – don't overdo it though. It'll affect Weasley, too, but there's really no other way..."  

Snape looked as though he was about to object, but something – the authoritative tone to Lockhart's voice perhaps -  made him whip out his own wand, aim it at Ron's chest, and begin chanting some unknown curse in a low, melodic hum.  

"Now, Harry?" said Lockhart, kindly but firmly. "I'm going to need you to support Weasley's head, he may start jerking around a bit, do you think you can do that?"  

Harry just nodded, unable to speak. He shifted his position so as he was crouched at the top of Ron's head and slid his hands underneath to cushion the bony part of his skull. He looked anxiously between Snape, still focused intently on the thing now inching up Ron's ribcage, and Lockhart who, with a flick of his wrist, transfigured his raised wand into a shining, wicked scalpel. Harry swallowed. Ron, please survive so you can forgive me for letting this happen! Or punch me in the face – either way just please be okay!  

"Severus?" Lockhart positioned his blade horrifyingly close to Ron's skin. "I know you're concentrating but listen to me. Once it's out it will try to burrow into the nearest living thing and that will, most likely, be me. You must kill it as quickly as possible. Understand?"  

Snape, looking several shades paler than usual, jerked his head by way of acknowledgement, never once breaking his curse.  

"Ready, then? One."  

Harry found himself wishing Hermione was there.  

"Two."  

Merlin, he wished Colin Creevey was there! Anyone other than these two!  

"Three."  

Thick, dark blood poured from Ron's skin as the blade pierced him. So much blood! Lockhart must have done something wrong! But he kept slicing downward, slow and steady. Snape hovering over the whole time, humming his strange words.  

A sickening screech, not unlike that of a mandrake, filled the air. The sound was garbled and bubbling through the blood which pooled endlessly within Ron's chest. Harry, wanting desperately to look away from the scene but finding himself unable to, thought he could make out something white wriggling angrily within Ron's wound. He watched with horror as a sharp, insect-like leg jutted out, then another, and another, flailing in the air in a frantic attempt to defend itself.  

Then it burst out of Ron's chest.  

Harry's vision was suddenly obscured as a splattering of red coated his glasses. He quickly shook them off, figuring his own limited vision was preferable to seeing nothing at all. He began to feel Ron's body jerk underneath him and tried to put all his focus into supporting his friend's head, but it was rather difficult with the strange creature rearing before him.  

Harry couldn't see it clearly, but he could see enough. It was like a spider and not like a spider at the same time. About half the size of Harry's fist, its body was long, pale and slightly bulbous at the end. Six bony-looking legs that ended in razor-sharp points wriggled helplessly, trying to grasp on to whatever has disturbed it. It must have had a mouth (otherwise how else could it make that awful, ear-piercing sound?) but, for the life of him, Harry couldn't work out where it was.  

Snape had gotten the worst of Ron's blood. It had splashed across his face and was dripping into his eyes and mouth. Momentarily blinded, he swore and tried to wipe the worst of it from his face but only succeeded in smearing it further around. Curse broken, and perhaps sensing an easy target, the creature rounded on him.  

But Lockhart was too quick for it. Harry watched, amazed, as his normally useless Defence teacher thrust out his arm and batted at the creature. He uttered a pointless 'Shoo!' at it while attempting to push it away. Instead of obliging, it lunged.  

Each horrible leg wrapped around Lockhart's forearm, tearing through his fine silk robes with ease. "Now, Severus!" he shouted before his voice dissolved into an agonised scream when the legs pierced his skin and began to disappear underneath.  

Snape didn't need to be told twice. A stream of white-hot flames burst out of his wand aimed directly in line with the not-spider that had now fully latched onto Lockhart's arm. It let out a shriek more awful than ever before shrivelling in on itself and falling to the ground with a hollow thud.  

Lockhart breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Severus. That was good thinking using a fire-based charm, but if I were you, I would have-"  

But Snape wasn't listening. He was crouched over Ron, who thankfully had stopped jerking but was now lying much too still and covered in far too much blood. Snape began muttering yet another spell and trailing his wand over the large gash that was Ron's stomach. Harry marvelled as the blood began to flow back into his friend's body and the wound started to knit itself back together almost instantly.  

Harry turned to Lockhart and tried to ask several questions at once. What was that thing? How did it get inside Ron? Is he going to be okay? But it ended up coming out something like, "Wha...howdit...kay?"  

"A Scuttler," said Lockhart, apparently getting the gist. He nudged the shrivelled, burnt thing lying on the floor with his foot warily. "They aren't usually found in this country, but then again neither are Acromantula. Your friend here must have disturbed some of their larvae while you were off gallivanting about the forest. So lucky I-" Lockhart coughed when Snape shot him a glare, "-I mean, we were here! A moment longer and it would have reached his heart, and then...well...let's not dwell on that too much now, shall we?"  

Harry felt like he was going to be sick.  

***

It wasn't long before more help arrived in the form of Professor McGonagall. Who, in turn, arranged for more help to arrive in the form of Madam Pomfrey. By the time the medi-witch arrived Ron, miraculously, was sitting up, groggy and groaning but very much still alive. She still insisted on sending him to St. Mungos for a proper check-up, but that didn't stop Harry grinning from ear to ear.

"Urgh, Harry?" said Ron once he had been bundled onto a gurney.  

"Yeah, mate? I'm here."  

"Harry. There you are! I had this awful dream...'bout a spider..."  

"It wasn't a dream, Ron! Lockhart saved you! And Snape, too!"  

Ron laughed, clutched his stomach again the pain of it, then laughed again. "Good one!" he said, trying and failing not to giggle. "Snape and Lockhart! Snockhart!" He kept alternating between laughing and wincing in pain while they wheeled him away.  

"Well...that's gratitude for you," said Lockhart.  

Snape, who had stood back looking rather shell-shocked the whole time Ron was being checked over, finally spoke. "How did you know what to do?" he asked, touching Lockhart's arm.  

Lockhart flushed. "I, uh, came across it once or twice. Did you know I trained as a Healer for a time? You don't forget when one of those comes rushing through the door! I was rather good at it if I do say so myself. No money to be made, sadly. Had to give it up. Now haircare – that's where the money is! As I was telling you-"  

"You're bleeding," Snape interrupted.  

Lockhart was still covered in so much blood it was difficult to tell which was his, but sure enough when he raised his trembling arm, dark red trickled steadily from his many wounds. "Aaha!" Lockhart exclaimed, slightly manically. "I'd clean forgot! Must be all the adrenaline, you know? Perfectly natural response. Oh dear, I'm starting to feel rather faint..."  

Lockhart wobbled unsteadily but Snape caught him just in time.  

"We'll go to my office," said Snape. "I have blood replenishing potions. Then we'll see to your arm." Then he added in a slightly lower tone. "And after that...my quarters are close by...you look like you could use a stiff one."  

Still with a supporting arm around Lockhart, Snape spun him around and began carefully guiding him in the direction of the dungeons. Lockhart craned his neck to look at something just behind Harry, who turned to see the nymph from earlier had bustled her way into the nearest painting. She stood between a pair of armoured knights who were looking away awkwardly, probably because she was still naked, although somehow still strategically covered with waterlilies. She grinned at Lockhart from behind her sopping wet hair and gave him a thumbs up. One that Harry saw him briefly return.

[elysia20]

UNFORGETTABLE - PART 3

CHAPTER 2

Platform Nine and Three Quarters - 10:38 AM

Opening her eyes, Elle was no longer engulfed by vivacious green flames.

Instead she was stood in one of the old, dusty fireplaces within Kings-cross station.

Wiping the soot from her clothes she stepped out of the coal and was met with the hustle and bustle of Platform Nine and Three quarters.

A young boy whizzed past her excitedly with his trolley, eager to embark on his journey to Hogwarts.

Elle found herself smiling, reminiscing when she felt exactly the same, four years ago.

As Elle began to gather her possessions, Theodore appeared next to her.

With both hands, he firmly grasped her shoulders when her back was turned, causing her to let out a shriek.

Embarrassed, Elle grabbed her copy of the Daily Prophet, that she had strapped to the top of her trunk, and began to smack Theo’s upper arm. Causing him to let out a yell of pain - even though he didn’t feel anything.

And according to Theo, Elle was one for the dramatics.

A trait that clearly runs in the family.

Families that surrounded them, turned around to see what had caused the small commotion.

The families looked towards the twins with sorrow In their eyes.

Everyone knew that their father wasn’t a loving man. Everyone also knew that their mother died when they were infants.

It was all over the Daily Prophet - courtesy of Rita Skeeter.

Oh how the twins despised that woman.

Groups of people continued to stare at the twins, noticing that they were alone.

The fact that they were alone, wasn’t a surprise.

As Elle could feel the stares of her peers around her, her cheeks began to flush red. Signalling the fact that she was embarrassed.

Theodore started to laugh, causing Elle to hit him again.

“Will you quit doing that’ he shouted at her.

Elle laughed and continued to hit him.

When Elle eventually stopped abusing her brother, she gathered her belongings and started to make her way towards the train.

While loading her trunk on to the train, two strong hands grabbed her waist.

Reaching for her copy of the Daily Prophet, she turned around and smacked, what she thought was Theo. Only to come face to face with Harry. Harry Potter.

As she thought she had whacked Theo, she really had used her full strength with the rolled up newspaper.

Upon realising she had properly just hit Harry. She immediately began to apologise profusely.

“Oh merlin’s beard Harry, I am so sorry. Theo has been antagonising me since we got here and you see, I hit him with this newspaper, but then he kept doing it, and when you grabbed me I thought it was him and….” She went on. And On and on.

She only stopped apologising when she realised that Harry was smiling at her.

“Elle, you don’t need to apologise” he laughed.

She gave him a sympathetic smile.

He continued “ I came over here to ask about your summer break, but now I think I’m going to ask you to join this years quidditch team’

Elle looked at him with a sudden confusion.

“If you hit a Bludger, just as hard as you’ve just hit me, I’m pretty sure we’d win this year’ he smirked at her.

Elle started to laugh. She had never imagined herself as a quidditch player. It was quite hysterical to even think about. Being 5ft tall and non-athletic, Elle would never even dream of being a Quidditch player, never mind a beater.

It seemed as though Harry had caught on to what she was thinking, as he looked down at her and whispered “ Hey, you never know, you could be the best quidditch player Hogwarts has seen. I mean look at me, I grew up in the muggle world. I hadn’t even ridden a broom and now I’m the schools youngest seeker. Promise me you’ll at least try out’ looking at her with gentle eyes.

‘I’m not promising you anything Potter, but I’ll think about it’. She muttered.

As they continued to chat, Harry helped Elle with her belongings.

While telling her about his summer at the burrow, Elle happened to glance up, towards the crowd of families. Amongst the loud noises and children running frantically. Elle spotted a glimpse of crisp white hair through the crowd, making its way towards the two of them.

‘Here we go’ she thought.

She unloaded the last of her luggage and turned around to come face to face with the person she least wanted to see.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

The pompous arsehole himself.

Self-acclaimed Slytherin prince. More like Slytherin princess, if you asked Elle.

She glared menacingly at him.

“Can I help you Malfoy’ she uttered, with a less than cheerful tone.

“Are you actually speaking to me?” he sneered.

“Well I mean that is how a conversation usually works, or has daddy not taught you that one yet’ Elle said with a smirk. Harry stifled a small laugh.

“How dare you speak to me, Blood traitor’ he glanced down Elle with an evil look in his eye 'and as for you Potter’ he continued ‘ you better watch your back, I heard that you were almost killed at the Quidditch world Cup’ he laughed and turned his back.

As he began to turn away Elle shouted “ and who told you that one? Your daddy? I wonder how he knew so much. It’s almost as if he was part of it”. Elle smirked knowingly, whispering the last part slowly.

She hadn’t been at the world cup but she read the news.

She knew about the death-eater attack.

She knew that Draco’s father was a ‘rehabilitated’ member, claiming to be under the imperious curse the whole time.

Elle called Bullshit.

Draco turned back around, face red with anger, seething.

‘You think you’re so smart Nott, you think you know everything? Huh? You think you know everything about that night? You don’t, but then I again I’m sure you could ask your father, he would certainly know a thing or two about that night”. He stated.

Elle gave him a confused look.

Was he trying to insinuate that her father was a death eater?

He wasn’t the nicest man. But a death eater. Surely not.

He narrowed his eyes at Elle in return.

As he began to walk away, he turned and whispered.

“Oh wait, I remember now, your father is embarrassed of you. No wonder you know nothing. I’m sure Theo knows everything. But not you. Your family hates you” He laughed cruelly.

“I mean If I had you for a daughter,I would hate you too.”. He smirked and walked away.

Leaving Elle to question everything including her own twin.

Harry raised his arm to catch Malfoy but Elle grabbed it in her own.

“Let him go, I have had enough of him already and we’re not even at school yet’ she smiled at Harry.

He looked at her with a sympathetic look on his face “If he ever says anything like that to you again, let me know. Not that you can’t handle it yourself, but he’s a right foul git’

‘You’re right about that one’ Elle giggled. “…and I’ll tell you harry, then we can hex him together”

“Sounds like a plan’ he laughed.

As Elle and Harry were talking of the ways they would like to get back at Malfoy, a high pitch shriek took them both by surprise.

“WHERE HAVE YOU TWO BEEN? YOU’RE GOING TO MISS THE TRAIN” the voice screeched.

Upon turning around, they recognised the voice as Hermione. Dragging behind her, eating a chocolate frog, was Ron.

“ I mean she’s not wrong” she said between mouthfuls of chocolate.

“Bloody hell, Dumbledore again. Do they ever change these bloody things” he shouted as he pulled out the wizard card from the packaging.

Elle laughed to herself finally happy to be re-united, with her best friends.

“COME ON, WERE GOING TO MISS THE TRAIN” Hermione shouted again.

“We’re coming Mione” Elle giggled.

Letting out a sigh, Hermione boarded the train by herself.

Ron, Harry and Elle soon followed.

As Elle was about to board, a hand grasped her arm.

It was Theo.

She didn’t know what to feel about him after her confrontation with Malfoy.

She hadn’t really has time to think.

Did he really know something and just wasn’t telling her.

It was an unwritten rule that they told each other everything, they were twins, for Merlins sake.

She would ask him, but not right now.

She gave him a quick smile.

“I’ll see you at school, okay?” He whispered.

In a silent agreement between the two, they nodded their heads and went their separate ways. Elle moving towards the Gryffindor carriages, whereas Theodore went to the Slytherin carriages.

As Elle reached her carriage, she placed her bag into the storage above her and took her seat.

Ron was already eating another chocolate frog, while Harry was telling him of the letters that Sirius wrote him over the summer.  Hermione’s nose was buried in a textbook already, while also simultaneously rolling her eyes at everything ‘Ronald’ said.

Everything was right.

Elle was back where she belonged.

She was almost home.

[marvel-ousnesss]

The Pirate and the Witch (part five)

(via giphy)

Word Count: 3425

Pairing:  Harry Hook x daughter of narissa!reader

Summary: Y/N, an orphan vk who was taken to auradon at a young age, returns to her old home by request of the crown prince. However, things tend to go south at the Isle of the Lost.

Warning: Mild cursing, mentions of hangover

 Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE DISNEY DESCENDANTS CHARACTERS NOR THE SANDERSON SISTERS. All credit goes to the creators, writers, and producers. 

 A/N: No Harry in this part, just moving the plot forward; TBH I'm just trying to get through the first movie so I can just focus a bit more on the pairing. So, let me know what you think and don't hesitate to ask if you wanna be tagged in upcoming parts. 

Part one 

Part two

Part Three

Part Four

masterlist

I sprint to my place, going as fast as my feet allow it, and like I feared but expected, find a limousine waiting for me right outside. 

“Give me 10 minutes,” I instruct over my shoulder, not giving the guards any time to protest. 

I throw the door and go straight to the closet. Instead of neatly packing, I roll everything up and force it into my backpack. Next, I move to my desk to grab the tablet and folder I brought with me. As I rush downstairs, I mentally do a checklist of my belongings and, panting, I sit on the back of the car. 

“Nailed it,” my voice is quiet but full of pride. 

A headache hits me as soon as we begin moving; nausea and dizziness follow closely so I shut my eyes and try to drift off. 

“Prince Ben is expecting you at the castle,” I groan at the driver’s announcement 

“Please tell him I can’t go, I’m feeling a bit under the weather.” 

“I apologize, lady Y/N, but I cannot do that. His highness said it was a matter of immediate importance.” 

I breathe, “fine then.” 

….. 

After the familiar but pompous welcome at the entrance of the castle, without even greeting my parents, I’m escorted to Ben’s quarters; more specifically, his ‘office’. 

I sit down in front of his workspace to wait for him; a few minutes later, he goest through the double doors, sporting the grin of the Cheshire Cat. 

“Tell me everything.” 

He walks to his desk and sits down expectantly. 

I, however, don’t share his joyful mood. My arms fall to rest on his desk and my head follows, now resting on my elbows and facing down. 

Completely disregarding the groan emitted by me, he whines, “Y/NNN.”

Another groan.

“You can’t leave me like this, you know?  How was it? Did you meet Maleficent? Jafar?” He gasps, “did you see the Huns’ Troops?”

“No, yes, and no;” I lift my head, so it remains over my elbows, but facing him. “I met the crew of the Black Pearl.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome, I mean scary, I mean… tell me everyth..  are you okay?” His eyes flicker from thrill to worry, and his left hand reaches out to my right arm. 

“Just hungover, and really tired, I guess.” 

The prince opens his mouth but decides against voicing his thoughts. I bet he was gonna say something about underage drinking, but reminded himself where I was. I chuckle, almost inaudibly. 

“Do you wanna lay down for a bit? We still have a few hours before Snow White’s birthday,” he offers. 

I nod, “yes please.”

He leads me to his room and helps me make the bed; then, he digs through the first drawer of his nightstand and takes out a small white pill. 

“There’s a glass of water on the bathroom sink. I don’t really know how to get rid of a hangover, but I think this and a nap will do the trick.” 

“Thanks Ben.” 

It didn’t completely do the trick. After what I assume were a few hours of tossing and turning, I’m woken up by my alarm and find myself walking to the bathroom. The headache has lessened, but the sensation of discomfort is still lingering through my body. 

I take a cold shower and get dressed. After achieving a simple, yet classy look with the makeup Audrey kept at Ben’s, I go out of his room and head downstairs. 

….

So far, everything’s going great. Most people have been dancing all night and all the guests seem to be enjoying the music, the food, and everything else that the party offers. I, for one, danced with Herkie for a bit, and then grabbed a snack with Jane and Lonnie. Right now, I’m making my way back to our family table when I cross paths with my dad. 

With the most kind and charming smile, and a stiff voice dripping with formality, he asks “May I have this dance, my lady?” 

With a smile matching his, I bow and reply, “sure, dad.” 

“Killjoy,” he frowns.

The music grows louder and faster; and before I know it, I’m being twirled around the dance floor guided by my dad’s expert moves. 

“You know, the king was worried sick about you,” he says once we return to our original position. 

I quirk a brow, “about me, or about me going all rogue and Vk?” 

“What are you talking about?” he asks with a small laugh. “You’ve been going rogue ever since you met that kid Ben, totally a bad influence.” 

“Yeah, right… Ben’s fault,” I smirk. “Ignoring the fact that I’m your daughter.” 

Pretending to be offended, he gasps and snickers, “What are you suggesting young lady?”

“Oh, nothing, dad, nothing at all,” I play coy.

After laughing again, with a motion of his right hand, my dad spins me toward the center of the dance floor and I end up in the arms of none other than Chad Charming.

He tries to speak seductively, apparently forgetting that it’s me who he’s dancing with. 

“Y/N,” he greets, making his voice come out an octave deeper.

“Chad,” I giggle, unable to help myself. Does that voice even work on anyone? 

“You look great tonight.”

“You too,” I return the compliment. “ But you’d look even better if you didn’t use your macho voice with me.” 

His chest vibrates with his chuckle; but, as we dance, his eyes fly across the room. 

Already knowing that face, I inquire, “who’s your victim for tonight?” 

“Victim? How low do you think of me?”

“I mean, with all due respect-,” this time, it is me who guides his hand, inviting him to spin me. “Who’s the unlucky lady who’s caught your eye?” 

“Melody over there, she’s been totally flirting with me lately.” 

My nose scrunches, then I point out, “hate to break it to you, but she’s dating the blond guy.” 

His right hand abandons my back and he exaggeratedly points at his head, making a face that seems to taunt saying, “duh”. 

I roll my eyes at him, “the other blond. The one she’s talking to.”

He shrugs, and voices in a sing-song manner, “don’t know, don’t care.”

“Chad, we don’t flirt with people with boyfriends.”

He pouts, “You’re no fun.”

The song finishes, so I decide to look for Ben; he’s with his dad, sitting at their table and talking. 

I take a deep breath before I approach them, and walk to them with a smile.

“Your Majesty, Ben,” I greet. 

“Y/N, we were just talking about you. Take a seat.” Ben sends me an apologetic look, after hearing his father’s words. 

I thank him and sit down on the empty chair that he pointed to. After offering me some food and a glass of lemonade, the king begins, “I gather that your experience at the Isle was, well, invigorating; I’d love to hear every detail.” 

My eyes drift over to the prince, silently asking him for help, but his only response is an encouraging smile. 

…… 

“To be honest,” I take a sip of my tea, “my conversation with the king didn’t go half as bad as I thought it would. I spared the Harry part, and he actually seemed to be kind of proud of my “data compilation,” as he called it”. 

The three fairies hum as they listen to my words. I came for routine lessons today, but they managed to get me spilling all the gossip.

“He said the only thing left to do was putting the plan into action, which took me out of guard, really.” 

“We’re really proud of you, dear,” says Merrywether. 

Flora stirs her tea, “but you need to know that the union of both lands won’t come with an exchange program for students.” 

I shrug, smiling at her, “you’ve gotta begin somewhere. And I believe that, the way my trip to the Isle went will make everything else just flow into place.”

Merrywether makes a move to grab a biscuit, but decides against it and takes a handful instead. Settling them on her lap to eat them one by one, she presses, “Tell us everything, how’s the place? Is it true that they eat kittens for breakfast?” She gasps, “or, or that the pirates feed the intruders to their man-eating kraken?”

I chuckle at her fearful antics and explain. “I did find the place frightening, but the people are not as mean as they paint them to be. Well, of the ones I met, only Jafar…” 

Flora seems taken aback, “you met… them? How many of them? Did they do something to you? Are you sure you’re not spelled or anything? I think we should scan you for dark magic.” 

“Flora, I’m fine. Really.” 

“But—” 

“As I said, they’re not that bad. I actually got along well with the ones I met.” I claim, “Jack and Gil were really kind to me, just like Maestre Gibbs. I also spent some time with Jay, Jafar’s son, and Carlos de Vil. Oh, and there’s also Harry; when Fairygodmother told me about him, she warned me how vicious and dangerous he was but he was just a bit cocky."

Fauna sighs, grinning at me expectantly, but the joy of her expression falls when I continue; ”A pretty cool guy, actually."

At that moment, the three faes exchange a worried look. 

"What is it?"

"It's just," Flora sighs, "we think he may be a bad influence on you, dear."

"Yeah, we've made such huge advances with your progress," agrees Fauna, "and it'd be a shame for--"

"For me to go evil?"

"No, honey, we didn't mean it like that," Merywether tries to mend it, but I know how they mean it; just like the king and queen do. 

"Then, how did you mean it? Do you seriously trust me so little? And, and do you seriously think so low of the VKs?" I place my cup on the table, looking at them with disbelief. 

“We’re glad that they were kind to you, but you can’t forget what they’re capable of, darling. They’re there for a reason.” 

“Them, or their parents?” 

With a wave of her wand, Merywether refills the teapot and tray. As she does so, Flora stands up and looks out the window; “Well you know, how’s the saying?, why cure it when you can prevent it.” 

“Unbelievable,” I scoff at her words.

Fauna’s voice is soft, and her look is full of pity, “Darling, we just think there are better crowds for you to hang with.” 

Unbelievable. However, I manage to smile at her and say, “you have nothing to worry about, I promise.” 

They don’t seem to believe me, but refuse to press on the topic; so the three of them exchange looks and flora speaks up; “okay, dear, let’s get started, then.” 

Not to be dramatic, but I would’ve preferred a sleeping curse over today's lesson. The first three hours are full of misguided spells, so I ask for a break. 

”This isn't working, ” I groan; ”can we please practice something else?” 

Merrywether sighs, “let’s work on some transfiguration spells, honey.”

I agree, hoping that it'll clear my mind. Without a word, I then summon a table with three vases, and concentrate to turn them into whatever the fairies instruct me to. 

…………. 

The next day, the sound of my phone wakes me up early; Ben's ready to reveal who he has chosen for the exchange program that we planned, and he asked me to be there when he tells his parents. So, right after breakfast with Aunt Charlotte, I drive to the castle, practically jump out of my car, and sprint to the Prince's Chambers. 

Without announcements, I dive through the door; he smiles, "okay, now that we're all here, I'd like to make my first royal proclamation."

Oh don there'll be time for royal decrees, i cant believe you'll be king next month. Sixteen's to young to be king. 

You'll do great, Im sure belle 

I just smile at him, anf take a seat on the edge of his bed, giving him a nod

He chuckles, but as the words leave his mouth, all the smiles in the room are replaced by serious looks; except for mine. "As you know, I've decided that the kids of The Isle of the Lost are to be given a chance to leave here in Auradon."

Beast's comprehensive and caring facade quivers, as he points out the window, "I know we've spoken about this, but you are talking about the children of our sworn enemies living among us. Such risk cannot be taken."

"Every time I look out to the isle I, I feel like they've been abandoned. They're out there paying for something their parents did and it's time to do something about it." His words are full of confidence and compassion, he's gonna make the best king this people have ever seen. "They deserve a second chance, and I've already chosen the ones who'll inaugurate the program."

"Have you?" the king's voice is challenging, but he calms down when his wife speaks up; "I gave you a second chance," she reminds. 

"Children of Jafar," Belle gasps, "Evil Queen, Cruella de Vil, and Maleficent." He doesn't hesitate. 

 I'm proud of him, but my smile becomes a bit forced when I hear his chosen VKs; it wouldn't be frank to say that I wouldn't've prefered for the pirates to come.  

"Maleficent!?," roars Beast, "she is the most feared and vicious villain of the land. Her and those people are guilty of atrocities."

Suddenly, Ben's voice becomes pleading "But their children are innocent, don't you think they deserve another shot?"

The king hesitates,

"You gave me a second chance," I say. His eyes soften as he looks at me. Even if they can be too proud to admit it, the king and queen of Auradon have shown me such affections dignified for a daughter; it would be a lie to say that they didn't care for me. 

He tries to toughen up again, but our imploring looks convince him otherwise. 

"I guess their children are innocent. " 

Ben smiled once again, "thanks dad, you won't regret it."

The day of the VK's arrival comes, and everything was perfectly organized; the band was playing and students and teachers were waving with excitement. You'd say that they all supported the young prince's decision; at least they pretend well (speaking of hypocrite). I chuckle as I look through the school window; even from here, I can see Ben's expression of excitement and Audrey's almost permanent plastic grin. The limo hasn't arrived yet, so I decide to grab a bite before the newcomers arrive. 

After finishing my sandwich, I rush down the stairs to meet Ben, and bump into him as soon as I start descending. 

"Oh, there you are, guys; come down," he smiles. I look behind me and find Doug strolling down the stairs. 

 "These are Doug and-"

"Y/N?" Carlos chirps, to which I respond with a smile and a wave. 

"You know them?" Audrey questions, "Ben, she-"

"Relax, I'll explain later," he places a hand on her arm lovingly, "As you guys already know each other, Y/N and Doug will show you the rest of the school and will help you with your class schedules."

"Hey, guys, I'm Doupy's son; and this is Y/N, but you already know her, I guess, so," his voice is shaky and his eyes are changing constantly between me and them. 

They look at me quizzically, "I'll explain later. Doug, these are Carlos, son of Cruella de Vil, Jay, son of Jafar; Mal, daughter of Maleficent; and Evie, daughter of the Evil Queen." 

Doug takes a deep breath, "Great that we know each other; now, I already signed you up for all of your classes so feel free to ask any questions that you have."

"I have one," Mal smirks at me. "Does your pirate boyfriend know you're a pretty princess or did you,"she gasps mockingly," lie to him?"

In that moment, a glare replaces my comfortable smile and electric green sparks slither through my fingers; "I'll be happy to answer all of your school-related questions."

We walk down the hall in a tense silence, until we arrive at the last door of the building; "So, this is it," Doug smiles at Mal and Evie. 

They wave and get inside, then I turn around and begin to walk away. 

'' Aren't we getting the room next-door?" asks Carlos. 

"Nope, now, c'mon," I grin, can't wait to show them their room; they're gonna love it. 

I practically jump through the hall and into their room; also the last one down the hall but in the boys' side. 

I open the wooden door and get inside, everything is neatly organized but the color pallette is a bit darker than it is for the rest of the rooms. Aside from that, it has the same things as the rest, including the console connected to the flatscreen tv on the wall. 

They look at everything in awe, and take no time to throw themselves on the beds. "This is, wow," breathes Carlos; Jay agrees, bouncing on the mattress. 

"This," I grab the console controls, "is the best part of all. It comes with 600 games and I'm sure that, if you play the proxy right, you'll have like 400ish more."

The boys come closer to the tv and look at it curiously, "it's like the one you showed me back home, the tablet?"

"Yup, just like that," I throw the control at Jay; "try it."

 "Thanks Y/N, I mean, uh, bye."

Jay begins playing, and Carlos sits on a couch besides him; "no, really, thanks Y/N.''

"Bye, guys."

……..

I toss Chad his jacket without looking up from the book I'm reading. He and Ben have a tourney game against the falcons in a few hours and, given that Audrey and I have to cheer through it as well, the four of us decided to gather and work on some homework. Nevermind; Ben, Audrey and I are working on homework while Chad scrolls through the phone his dad just got him. 

After Chad breathes out a 'thanks', the room falls silent, but Audrey complains, "I just don't think they belong here."

"Who?," Asks Chad.

"The teaching staff," I mock, "the VKs, you moron."

Ben sighs, putting his shoes back on; "oh, come on, they haven't done anything to us. They're not that bad."

"Ben, their parents are villains; that makes them evil too."

This time, I do place my book down to look at her, "You don't even have a point there; have you forgotten who my mom was?"

"It's different Y/N, you were raised here; and you're not evil, you're our friend;" she smiles at me. 

Chad takes a drink of water from his bottle, "well, evil or not, Evie's kinda hot; and she's a nerd too. Got her to do all my chemistry homework."

I scoff, "such a gentleman."

"Seriously, guys, have any of you had a decent conversation with them? They're just like us," Ben insists. 

"Y/N has," Audrey points out, placing her pink notebook inside her bag. "In fact, she knows the two boys. You never told us, Y/N/N, why were they so friendly with you when they got here."

Hearing Audrey's question, the three of us share a dissimulated look, and I explain. "Before school started, I went to check The Isle, spent a few days there, no big deal."

"It was all a plan so I could prepare my proclamation, Y/N went there and, based on what she saw, I chose the four VKs that joined the program."

Audrey's mouth is agape, but Chad keeps no mind of our conversation.

"You don't look surprised, Chad," she digresses. "Why don't you look surprised?"

"Only the three of us knew about it, we kept it secret so his dad wouldn't stop us."

"And you didn't tell me? Your girlfriend?"

"I-"

Placing my hair into a ponytail, I question, "Would've you let us go through with it?"

She glares at the three of us, but sighs "no."

She giggles, but we all know to look past that, "Well, your choice couldn't have been worse, Bennyboo."

We get out of the boys' dorm and begin to make our way to our lockers; "what matters is that the choice is made," I shrug. 

Tags: @criticizing-blogger​

@aspitefullittlebeing​ @treestarrrrrrrr

[weasleydream]

The life and grief of Percy and Y/N Weasley -Part 5

Okay guys, here is the part 5 with one of the most important scenes in the twins’ life... honestly I don’t know what to think about this one, I guess it’s alright but I couldn’t do better... 

Also, I know in the book Ron said Percy was the one who decided to leave but I can’t help but think maybe Arthur told him something, so don’t be surprised by how things turn.

Anyway, as usual, don’t hesitate to tell me about your thoughts and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist 

(gif not mine) 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Their first fight with their family 

The storm provoked by Barty Crouch’s case didn’t last long. Apparently, the Ministry wanted nothing more than cover it up, and with good reason: according to Harry, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the responsible, he was back and had killed Cedric Diggory at the end of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.

I didn’t really know what to think about it. I couldn’t find reasons that justified why Harry would have lied, but the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had affirmed it was false. Besides, Dumbledore was known for his ideas sometimes a bit crazy. This new had installed tensions in our family: our parents supported Dumbledore without even thinking about it along with everyone in the house, except Percy. My twin trusted entirely the Ministry, he couldn’t even imagine that our government would lie to us. As I said, my opinion wasn’t really decided yet.  

After the end of the Tournament, my work in the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau hadn’t changed at all, it was still boring and full of reports. But Percy had spent a week without having anything to do, his superior not being here anymore. He had been completely lost and devastated, convinced his career at the Ministry was over before it could even properly start. I had done my best to reassure him, but he wouldn’t even listen to me. However, after a week, he was offered a new job. He had stayed very secret about it, not bothering to tell anyone what he was doing. Merlin, if the situation could have stayed like this… Because as soon as Percy had revealed us what his new job was, all hell had broken loose. 

I was helping Mum in the kitchen, listening to her constant interrogations about what was going on between Bill and Fleur Delacour.

“I mean, she’s French.” muttered Mum. “I don’t even think she sees who Bill really is. She’s just interested because -”

“Mum, we don’t even know if something is happening between the two of them.” I laughed. 

Mum shrugged, claiming she just wanted what was best for her son. I rolled my eyes, perfectly aware of the fact that she would kill the girl herself if she thought it was best. I heard Mum calling for everyone and put the kettle on the table. Fred, George, Ron and Ginny arrived, followed by Mum who was glancing worriedly at her magical clock. Dad’s and Percy’s hands were still pointed on “At work”. Bill’s one was on “Travelling”. A few seconds later, Bill entered the house and joined us. 

“I’m starving!” He took a bit of stew. “Dad and Perce are not here?”

His question seemed to summon them, because Percy arrived soon in the kitchen, followed by Dad. His eyes were shining and he couldn’t repress his grin. I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, silently asking him what had happened, and he raised a finger, as to say “wait a minute”. He waited a few minutes for everyone to be quiet and cleared his throat. 

“Yes my dear?” Mum looked toward him.

“I’ve had a promotion. I’m now Cornelius Fudge’s personal assistant!”

I was pretty sure he expects shouts of joy from our family, and I was on the verge of congratulating him when I saw Dad’s look. A deafening silence took place, only disturbed by Mum’s gasp. 

“How is it possible?” asked Fred in disbelief. “After Crouch?”

Percy frowned, clearly disappointed by the lack of support he was receiving. 

“Does it really matter?” I intervened, glaring at Fred. “Whatever happened, Perce is promoted. That’s great!” I caught a glimpse of Percy’s weak smile.

“Yes, that matters, Y/N.” said Dad. His voice was calm and strangely formal. “That matters because Fudge has recently ordered to search a few offices in the Ministry and mine was one of them.”

“And?” I didn’t understand what this had to do with Percy’s promotion. 

“And they probably want to spy on us - they want informations about Dumbledore.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Percy’s voice was quiet, and when I looked at him, I saw a fire in his eyes I had never seen before. His cheeks were slowly becoming red, and a vein started to palpitate in his neck. He was getting angry. “That’s bloody ridiculous. You’re being bloody ridiculous, father.”

“Percy!” Mum exclaimed.

“Why can’t you support me?” continued Percy.

“Do you want me to congratulate you because you’re being used by Fudge?” Dad’s voice was slowly filling with anger too, and I knew this wouldn’t end well. 

Percy got up so quickly that his chair fell backward. Dad did the same, and the two men were facing each other, fists trembling and faces twisted by a barely contained rage. 

“Percy, dear,” started Mum. “You know Fudge doesn’t trust Arthur because of our proximity with Dumbledore. Now that You-know-who is back, he -”

“That’s the point.” Percy hissed. “Don’t you think the Ministry would warn us officially if he was really back? Let me tell you how you’re blinded by your stupid trust in Dumbledore.”

“Harry said it!” intervened Ginny. “He saw him!”

“And it’s stupid to trust him!” screamed Percy. 

Ginny got up too. She was next to me, and I vainly put an hand on her arm to calm her, not being able to do anything else. I was taken aback by Dad’s insinuations and Percy’s behaviour. Ginny pushed my hand and glared at me, hissing I should calm Percy. However, I didn’t say anything, for the simple reason that I agreed with him. Partially, anyway. 

“And let me tell you how blinded you are by your ambition!” Dad was exploding. “Are you really choosing the Ministry over you own family? Are you betraying us like that?”

“Can we say it’s a betrayal when the trust wasn’t really here?” Percy scoffed. 

Dad seemed shocked, and the first tears fell from Mum’s eyes. None of them knew what to say, and George spoke for them.

“What the hell does that mean? You never trusted us? Are you gonna make yourself the victim of the story?” 

A short silence followed, during which I looked at everyone. Bill and Ron were the only ones who didn’t show a pure anger, they were more shocked by the turn of events, along with Mum who was desperate.

“You’re a true git.” spat Ginny.

“I forbid you to talk to me like this.” he groaned.

“And I forbid you to talk to your sister on this tone!” yelled Dad. “I don’t know what we’ve done for you to become that pompous prat I have in front of me right now but I’m telling you -”

“Come on, think about it a minute!” replicated Percy. “I have to fight these prejudices and mockeries about our family! Things I endure because of you and your passion for muggles! And you wonder why I’ve had to act the way I did? I have dreams and an ambition!” 

“My passion for muggles is what offered my this job.” hissed Dad. “It’s what provides us the money for you to eat each day!”

“And it’s also what prevents you from having any ambition!”

I knew what would follow. I grabbed Percy’s arm, begging him to shut up, but he just nudged my hand, looked at Dad in the eyes, sending lightnings, and said it.

“That’s because of this stupid passion that we’re poor!”

That was it, it was too late to calm things. Dad jumped forward, as if he wanted to punch Percy. The latter also stepped up in front of Dad, ready to fight with his hands if needed. Bill got up at the speed of light and placed himself between the two enraged men. They were both trembling, their muscles tensed, and I felt like they wouldn’t need a lot to pass the point of no return. 

“If what I have to offer you isn’t enough, you know where the door is.” spat Dad. 

“No!” screamed Mum. “No Arthur! You can’t do that! Percy! Percy come here!”

Percy was heading to the stairs. He stopped and muttered:

“Your loyal to Dumbledore, I’m loyal to the Ministry. If you betray the Ministry, then I’m not on your side. I’m not a Weasley anymore. Not that I ever really was.” he added with a lower voice.

And he left. Mum let out a heartbreaking sob and fell on her knees. Ginny and Bill rushed to her side. I was still sitting on my chair, my stew now cold, and trying to process what just happened. Percy was furious, because Dad didn’t support him. I understood him perfectly, because all he had ever wanted was to impress him. But he had said terrible things...

I suddenly felt four pairs of eyes on me. Dad, Fred, George and Ron were glaring at me, waiting for my reaction. 

“Well Y/N, I guess you have a choice to do.” said Fred with a cold voice. 

“What?” was all I managed to say. 

“I guess you will follow Percy once more, that’s what you always do, don’t you? At least do you understand how stupid he is?”

“He’s not stupid.” My voice was quiet. I was afraid Dad would scream at me too if I spoke louder.

“Not stupid, huh? Then you agree with him?” George’s eyes were shining with an unusual anger. 

I didn’t know what to answer. Did I agree with him? No, of course not. 

“If you agree you get out of here too.” said Dad with a calmer voice than before. He looked coldly at me. “If you choose Percy over us, you don’t live in this house anymore.”

“Why do I have to choose?” I was on the verge of crying. “You can’t do that Dad, you -”

“I can do whatever I want!” He yelled. “And I don’t want traitors in my house or in my family!”

His fist abruptly hit the table, making everything tremble, me include. I had never seen him like this, never. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I almost didn’t hear Ginny’s voice because of the sound of my own heart. 

“Because none of you understands.You don’t understand how we’ve never felt like we were family.”

“That’s bullshit.” hissed Fred. 

“A stupid excuse.” added George.

Ginny just looked at me with a contemptuous look. I noticed Ron was gone, probably with Bill and Mum.

“I thought you were smarter than that, Y/N.” Dad’s voice was bitter, and he looked at me like he would look at a stranger. A particularly repulsive one. “I thought you were better than that. You disappoint me. Not even defending your own family.”

“My family? I’ve had hard times feeling like I was part of it.” The anger was boiling inside me, and all of sudden I felt the urge to grab my wand. “Percy and I have always been the strange kids! Always the ones everyone made fun of, at school and at home! Mum and I are the only one who have always supported Perce when none of you did! If this happened tonight, it’s because of you!” I yelled, looking alternatively at Dad, Fred, George and Ginny. 

My heart sank when I saw only looks full of hatred. None of them regretted. They had abandoned Percy, and they didn’t care. 

“I won’t give up on Percy.” I murmured. “I will support him, in the very same way you should have supported him. You should be ashamed. Don’t even dare to say you’ve been a perfect father to him” I added toward Dad. 

I had stepped in front of him, my back straight and my head high. I didn’t even flinch when he raised an hand as if he wanted to slap me.

“Arthur!”

Mum’s horrified scream seemed to make him come to his senses, and his eyes showed the first hint of regret of the day. But it was too late. I turned the heels and left the kitchen, nudgering Fred with my shoulder in passing. I joined an infuriated Percy in our room, and I let out a painful sob. He immediately took me in his arms.

“I’m sorry Y/N, it’s my fault, I’m sorry…” 

“No, it’s not your fault.” I muttered. “They are wrong. Not about everything, but still.”

“Why did you defend me? You knew how it would end.” 

“Yes, I knew, but I’ll always be on your side, Perce.”

We quickly gathered our most needed stuff and I followed Percy in the stairs. He was holding my bags too and passed in front of all our family except Dad. They were gathered in the living-room and no one made a move to prevent us from leaving. Well, Mum would probably have done something if she wasn’t crying so hard. I followed Percy in the cool air of the night and without consulting each other, we apparated in the Diagon Alley. 

The rest of the night had been a blur. I only remembered Percy reserving two rooms at the Leaky Cauldron and leading me in mine. I didn’t really sleep, my head was full of regrets. I had said awful things to Dad, things I obviously didn’t think. Or was I honest? But the look of hatred on his face, on Fred’s one, George’s one, Ginny’s one… Seeing how much my only little sister hated me was particularly painful. I had tried everything to develop a strong bond with her, but she had always kind of rejected me, claiming Fred and George were her favourite siblings. It was the same thing with Ron… He had to hate me too. 

I stayed curled up in my bed most of the next day. Percy had brought me my breakfast but he didn’t show up for the lunch, and I suspected him to be as lethargic as I was right now. I wanted to go and check on him, I wanted it badly, but I felt like I was covered with a blanket knitted with all my mistakes that prevented me from moving. Instead, I stayed where I was, selfishly hoping Percy would be the first one to move.

And he did. The sun was disappearing, leaving the sky coloured in bright red - what an irony, even the sky taunted us, remembering us the family we had just lost. He knocked softly at the door and didn’t wait for my response. He had a plate with sandwiches in the hand and an awful guilty look on the face. He handed me the plate and we ate in silence. 

“I’ve found a flat.” he finally mumbled. “We can’t stay here forever.”

An insidious fear crept in me. I tried to fight it with all my strength, persuaded that no, Percy wouldn’t leave me alone. But that opened the door for all my other worries and insecurities and soon, I found myself panting, sobbing and panicking all at once. Now used to my panic attacks - I had had a few ones since the first, before passing my OWLs - Percy immediately grabbed my hands, tightening them as if he wanted to break my bones, and keeping his voice rather calm. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here…” 

I finally regained a normal breathing and put my head on Percy’s shoulder, not daring to look him in the eyes. However, he knew better than that, and he knew perfectly how I acted when something was bothering me. 

“Tell me what happens, Y/N.” His voice was sweet, filled with worry.

“Can we stay together?” I choked out.

“Of course we’ll stay together Y/N. Of course. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, right?”

I only nodded before closing my eyes. I didn’t have the courage to deal with the subject we had avoided since the precedent day, nor did Percy because he hold me without saying anything. 

In fact, we didn’t talk about our family until the following week. We had moved in the little flat Percy had found, in a muggle street in the heart of London, and we had spent our days at the Ministry. I didn’t leave my office, absorbed more than ever by the reports I had to read and classify. Ironically, I found three reports written by Charlie. During this week, I barely saw Percy. He was busy running behind Fudge and had rough days. It occupied his mind, so it was for the best.

Indeed, it was painful for the both of us to think about what had happened. Percy often saw Dad in the corridors, but they always ignored each others, acting like strangers. I couldn’t stay as stoïc as my twin, though, because the two times I had run into Dad, I had turned immediately the heels and left while fighting my tears. 

Useless to precise that the following weeks had been the hardest of my life, and probably of Percy’s too. He had told me about Mum’s visit while I was to the store, and he had broke down for the first time in front of me while confessing he had just slammed the door in front of her. He also had a hard time telling me how went Harry’s audience with the Wizengamot and I caught the bitterness in his voice when he mumbled he had seen Dad holding Harry’s shoulders. 

For my part, I was beginning to doubt the Ministry’s great intentions. I couldn’t help but remark some strange cases or events, and I thought their obsession with Harry and Dumbledore was exaggerated. I suspected Percy to think the same even if he hadn’t told me so, but he would never admit it, considering it was the reason we had fought with Dad. 

We had been informed by the Ministry when Dad was attacked before Christmas. No one in the family had found it useful to warn us, and we headed to St-Mungo’s one day, at the very beginning of the morning so that we wouldn’t see anyone else. Percy was quite reluctant, not because he didn’t want to see Dad, but because he was terrified we would come face to face with Mum, or Fred, George, Bill or Ginny. I didn’t blame him; I was too. What if he wasn’t alone? When someone led us to his shared room, he was still sleeping and no one was here. 

“Put the card on the bedside table and let’s go.” he mumbled once a healer had assured us he would be okay.

“We can’t go see them, Y/N.” said Percy with a sigh.

I did so, delicately shifting a vase in passing. I put the card in evidence, hoping Dad would see it and read it, and I followed Percy out of the room. 

_ _ _

The world Percy and I had built around us to protect us of the pain crashed when he saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the very heart of the Ministry of Magic. It was undeniable now. We had been wrong since the beginning. Our family had been right and soon, a war would explode without a doubt. It was something hard to process, and it was harder considering the guilt and the fear that were almost suffocating us. We were beyond terrified to go back at the Burrow, but I wanted nothing more than to make sure everyone was alright.

“Why? Why can’t we?” I was getting angry.

“Because we would put them in danger. You-know-who was in the Ministry. His Death Eaters too. How can we be sure the Ministry isn’t infiltrated? They could watch us to get informations about our family.”

I stayed silent. He was right, of course. 

“Do you think they will forgive us?” I murmured. 

He didn’t answer.

The following weeks, we did as Percy said: low-profile. We kept our habits, doing nothing more than our work, being extremely careful of what we said. I started to wander innocently at Dad’s level, trying to figure out if everything was alright without him even seeing me. During the following year, a constant horror took place in our world. Breakouts from Azkaban, disasters after disasters in the muggle and the magical worlds… Ron and Bill had been attacked, both nearly died, but the fear for our family (along with the shame) prevented us from seeing them. Ironic, wasn’t it? 

We knew the moment of truth was approaching. Soon, we would have to choose between us and our family, and we already knew what were our priorities.

To be continued 

Part 6

[hilllsnholland]

Tutor Girl

Pairing: Basketball Star!Tom x Tutor!Reader 

Wc: 6.2k (YiKES) 

Warnings: swearing, mentions of learning disability, depression, little angst but mostly fluff 

Summary: You didn’t plan on tutoring your best friend’s brother, Tom. He was an ass, cocky and a player. The worst. Yet, you also didn’t plan on falling in love with him either.

A/N: This took longer than expected...oops but whatever. If you can’t tell this is very One Tree Hill inspired, but I take some creative liberties so I hope you enjoy this because this was my favorite thing to write e.v.e.r.

The sharp skirting around the gym floors was amplified by the thudding of feet. Bright and orange, the basketball was passed between players of Tree Hill high school. Their rival school, Northridge High, were ahead by two points. Harrison Osterfield, the forward, spun around trying to find his best friend in the crowd of people.

Tom Holland shined, quite literally and figuratively, as he dashed between players. He was covered in sweat, bright red as he tried to make eye contact with his teammate. The crowd was at the end of their seats. Only twenty-seconds on the clock, someone needed to make a basket to win the game. This was the final game of the season to see who would make it to state. Tom’s heartbeat against his chest so loud he could hear it in his ears. He pushed out the glaring look of disapproval from his father, the roaring sounds of the home fans screaming his name. Harrison dribbled the ball, throwing over to Tom who caught it between swiping hands.

“Holland has the ball!’ The announcer screams. “Ten seconds on the clock!”

Tom pivoted, the ball raised in the air and away from his opponents. What Tom lacked in height he gained in speed and agility. Tom took one step forward, throwing the ball from the three-point line, and listening to the silence fell over the crowd. His eyes should be on the ball and the basket, but he’s gone blank. The ball has left his hands, it’s not in his control anymore. His heartbeats as the timer hits down to the final seconds.

“Holland shoots and he-“

*

Tom opens the paper in his hands once again hoping it would say a different name. Praying that his dyslexia had somehow mixed the name up with hers. Tom looks into the tutoring center and sees her. Tutor Girl. He hated himself for even being in the room, but this was his future on the line. This was his dream. His father’s dream. All on the lines of a trigonometry midterm. Tom walks over to her, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Hi, how can- oh it’s you,” Y/N somewhat chuckles but squints at him. “Did you get lost on your way to the gym?”

“No, I need a tutor,” Tom says sheepishly.

“Well, I guess you had enough brains to find the tutoring center then,”

Y/N laughs and gathers her books that were stacked on the table. Tom shakes his head asking God what he had done to put himself in this situation. It was his brother’s best friend, the girl who hated him.

“Y/N, you were assigned to be my tutor,” Tom says lowly like he’s holding back vomit.

Y/N drops her books. She spins around and rips the piece of paper out of his hands and scans it. Her mouth drops open and she can not believe it. Y/N’s first thought was to tell him to go request another tutor. Complain and say it’s a conflict of interest due to their past history. Yet, something urged her.

“I know it’s not the best situation but-“

“No, this is…fine,” Y/N bites her thumbnail while scanning her mental calendar. “Can we meet up…in the morning? Before school, because you have basketball practice and I have work so it would just work out better. Right? Tomorrow we can start.”

Tom blinks. Is this real life? Did Y/N really agree to tutor him? Tom knew she was the smartest girl in this school, maybe even state, and she was giving up her precious time to help him? It was a bloody miracle.

“That’s perfect. Meet you at the Waterfront Cafe?” Tom cracks that signature smile.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says but instantly regrets it. “Study…date…but not a date,”

Y/N grimaces, picking up her things and trying to shuffle out of the room as fast as possible. Tom watches her, smiling to himself as she hurries out. For the first time, Y/N doesn’t seem like his brother’s best friend. She’s…different. Although they were the same age, he’d always seen her as a child. Innocent and a little quirky. But the way she said the word ‘date’, it made his heart skip. Tom shakes his head at himself, gotta keep his head in the game of course. No time for tutor girl romance.

“Not a date, got it,” Tom says to himself, still smiling.

__

Y/N’s head was buried into the lesson plan she had set out for Tom. Her eyes focused so hard over the review sheets, notes, and his past tests that she didn’t notice him sit down. Tom sat back, snacking on a protein bar, watching her. Her hair swooped over her eyes, curling around the frame of her face which made it harder to not whisk away and caress her cheek. Tom instantly felt nauseous though, he was not a mushy kind of guy and this newfound feeling for Y/N was not sitting well with him. Y/N inhaled sharply, the hair blowing up and hitting her in the face again.

“You know you could always get a headband,”

Y/N jumps, startled by his sudden appearance. Tom holds back a cocky laugh, taking the final bite of his bar and leaning back in his chair coolly.

“You scared the crap out of me,” Y/N holds her chest. “Who knew spending all your time in the gym made you some sort of ninja,”

Tom didn’t want to laugh but he did.

“If you say ninja one more time I’ll leave, Tutor girl”

“It’s a deal,”

Y/N extended her hand to him but instead of a handshake, she dropped a pencil down in front of him. Tom rolled his eyes, accepting the pencil and the practice book she had laid out for him. Y/N goes straight to work, naming off different equations and mapping out how to do each problem. Tom followed her as much as possible, his mind wandering off from time to time though. Mainly about basketball, sometimes about food, but then it also landed on her lips.

It was crazy, fucking mad that he was staring at her lips. How full, pink, and kissable they looked. She didn’t even wear makeup, probably not even chapstick, but they looked like perfection. Tom felt his heart pump harder, stupid fucking hormones, he thought. But he was entranced by her.

“So then you carry that over…Tom carry the…carry…what are you doing?” Her voice breaks the glass of his concentration and he snaps to look her in the eyes.

“I’m just trying to understand your nerd jargon.” Tom shrugs it off and continues the problem. “No wonder you’re friends with Sam,”

He heard the snap of a pencil and looked to see Y/N was about to burst. Tom didn’t know she was so sensitive about her brother. They had only been friends, but now her reaction was making him wonder. Were they…a thing? Was Tom so blind he didn’t know? This caused…jealousy? No, never, Tom could never be jealous of Sam.

“Maybe I’m friends with Sam because he actually has a brain between his ears,” She snarled. “You really don’t see it huh? See how you treat Sam and how it affects him? You don’t know how many nights…”

Y/N bites her lip as if she’s said too much. Sam was a sensitive topic for her, as she protected him as if he was her brother. Listening to all his griefs and problems, she had become his ultimate confidant. But, she was not supposed to tell Sam’s secrets, especially to his pompous brother. The brother that tormented him blindly. Tom probably wouldn’t understand the kind of pressure Sam was under, the only thing he understood was basketball and cheerleaders.

“I’m affecting Sam?” Tom laughs and shakes his head. “By what? Trying to get him to join the basketball team? Trying to take him out to parties so he’s not cooped up in his room with…you of all people,”

It was Y/N’s turn to laugh. She slammed her book shut, shaking her head while curses spill out of her mouth. She should have known this would have been a bad idea. It was the worst idea ever. Y/N shuffled her things into her bag, upset that she wasted her time on him. Tom was fuming though, torn between needing to pass his midterm and not wanting his pride to wash away.

“You’re really this stupid huh?” Y/N snaps. “Sam is fucking depressed Tom. The pressure you and your dad put on him, it’s insane. He doesn’t want to be popular. He doesn’t want to be on the basketball team. He just….he just wants to be accepted.”

Tom freezes at the sight of tears falling from her eyes. This was not what he planned to happen. Guilt ate away at him. Fuck, maybe he was an idiot.

“We accept him,” Tom says in a hushed tone.

“He’s in your shadow, Tom. He hides behind you and Harry, wishing he could be like you guys. He’s the outcast while his ‘perfect’ brother takes the stage-“

“I’m not perfect!”

Tom yells and the whole Waterfront Cafe is staring at them. Usually, Y/N would be petrified to have so many eyes on her, but her emotions were overworking her and she was stunned by his outburst.

“If I was perfect I wouldn’t be failing Trig and English! If I was perfect I wouldn’t be struggling so hard. If I was perfect I wouldn’t have…”

Dyslexia was what he wanted to say. He mouthed the words, acknowledging how many people were staring at them. Tom slouched in his seat, embarrassed by the scene. His father would hear about this, lecturing him about his image in town. Gossip spreads fast and if he wanted to be accepted into Kansas State and be on the Wildcats, he couldn’t let anything smear his reputation.

Y/N watched him huddle into a ball like a child. He was ashamed, embarrassed, but most of all vulnerable. She had never seen him like this, frightened of the truth being yelled out. Y/N should have known, all the signs were there. With an audible sigh, Y/N drops her things back on the table and takes her seat again.

“Y/N, what are-“

“Carry the fucking five or I’ll leave again,” She looks up and smiles.

It was that genuine smile, the one you couldn’t resist because it’s perfect and everything you could want. Tom felt his insides turn, fuck that smile made him feel so weird. He didn’t fall so hard for girls, but Y/N was something special. Tom sat up and grabbed his pencil again.

“It’s a deal,”

-

Y/N sat idly, watching her student fix his mistakes on his recent English report. It was boring work, but she was proud of him. It was the kind of pride you get when your child gets a good grade on a test. It was encouraging to know she gave someone the fundamentals to gain success. Unless it was Tom, which was a bittersweet victory.

Her eyes went to the clock for what was the thousandth time that free period. Tom would be coming by after his midterm to show her his score. Y/N was a mess. She always was on big test days for her students, but this was eating at her. Tom’s ability to play in the last game this Friday depended on her. After weeks of studying, she had hoped it paid off.

Well, it wasn’t all studying. Sometimes they got food or talked about life a little. It was strange, but not bad. Tom had more depth than she first thought. He wasn’t all about basketball. He loved old movies and comic books. Things Y/N wouldn’t suspect at first.

“Hey,” A voice says behind her.

Y/N turns, expecting Tom to be standing there, either in glee or disarray, but it’s not. It’s Sam, smiling and taking a chair right next to her. Usually, the sight of Sam would make her so happy, but she felt…let down? Was she really that excited to see Tom? It could possibly be the nerves of wanting to know what he got wrong and right. But Sam sitting next to her, going on about getting tickets to a concert this weekend, it didn’t give her the same joy as usual.

“Do you want to go? I know you’re super busy ...Earth to Y/N? Did my brother really suck out all your brainpower?”

“Huh?”

Sam laughed, pulling out concert tickets from his pocket and showing it off to her.

“Oh, yes I would love too!” Y/N looked over to her student who was paying no mind to them. “Uh, so you sure you’re okay with me spending so much time with your brother?”

Sam looks to her as if she was speaking a different language. Y/N wanted to make sure though, since they had some deep-rooted rivalry and all. Maybe it was also a way of subliminally telling Sam that she was having confusing feelings about Tom. But Sam shrugged.

“I don’t care,” He snorts. “I feel sorry for you though. I bet all he talks about is-“

“Basketball? Not really.” Sam squints at Y/N. “He talks about his favorite movies and books. We talk about social issues. He even talks about you, saying that he wished you’d make dinner more often because your cooking beats Nikki’s,”

Sam doesn’t respond. He looks to Y/N and then looks down at the table. She can’t read his emotions either, his eyes are glued to his phone as he searches something on Instagram. Usual Sam, pushing all feelings aside. Locking himself inside of his head and refusing to let anyone in. Y/N sighs, wanting to comfort him but then a shadow flashed by her. Suddenly she’s picked out of the chair and lifted into a bone-crushing hug.

“We did it!” Tom exclaims, his test paper falls to the table with a bright red ‘A’ on it. “Tutor Girl, we fucking did it!”

“What?” Y/N scrapes up the paper and is stunned.

He fucking did it. What Y/N thought was a lost cause was actually her greatest victory.

“Did you cheat?” Tom looked at her, bewildered.

“No!”

Y/N almost burst into tears, jumping into Tom’s arms and hugging him. Sam was put off to the side, again. It was a common theme, but now Sam was being outcasted by his own best friend. Y/N and Tom didn’t seem to notice, basking in each other’s happiness.

“We need to celebrate,” Y/N cheered.

“Yeah, want to go do something tonight? Practice ends at six,” Tom sees his brother slouching in the chair, eyes glued to his phone. “Sam, you want to come?”

Both Sam and Y/N were taken aback by Tom’s offer. It was exactly what Y/N wanted though. She wanted Tom to finally accept Sam, insert him into his life more and stop taking the piss out of him. It might be a fever dream, but there Tom was, acting like a better brother.

“I’m good,” Sam stands up and shrugs.

“Sam, please-“

“No, you guys have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Sam looked at Y/N coldly as he walked away. Guilt overcame her, she didn’t think Sam would react so poorly to his brother’s encouragement. Tom, however, didn’t seem to mind his brother’s behavior. Shrugging it off and looking over to Y/N with that boyish grin.

“So, celebration? Ice cream and a movie?”  

Y/N felt excited. She felt the most amount of joy in her life as Tom was talking, but at what cost? The way Sam looked at her, betrayed and isolated. That’s the last thing she wants to do. Yet, looking at Tom, it didn’t seem as bad. It was one of those lose-lose situations, no matter what Y/N did, someone was going to get hurt.

“Tom, I…”

They met each other’s stare, and god how could you say no to that face? He was beaming, eyes glittery from excitement that made her heart skip a beat.

“I can’t wait,”

The words came out awkwardly, there was true happiness behind them but guilt poisoned her tongue. Tom didn’t seem to notice, giving her one last hug and walking towards the door, saying a thousand ‘thank you’s’ as he left.

“I’ll pick you up after practice!” He walked halfway out the door but peaked back in. “Hope you don’t mind if I’m a little sweaty,”

He winked. Tom Holland winked at her and she nearly lost her mind. If Tom had done that weeks prior, she would’ve thrown up in her mouth. Maybe the floor, maybe on his shoes. But today? She was filled with unusual bubbles that made her turn pink and smile. Tom left, leaving Y/N with her student, who was still oblivious to everything that was happening. Leaving Y/N to think what Tom would look like after practice

___

Godly. That is how Tom looked after practice. Y/N had imagined what he would be coming to her house looking like, but she never expected him to look so…so…so hot? It was sickening, but she couldn’t help it. Tom arrived at her house, knocking on the door instead of texting her, in basketball shorts and a cut off shirt. His hair was damp from taking a shower after practice, but his skin glowed. His muscles flexing every time he turned the wheel of the car. It was one of those moments where Y/N didn’t know how she ended up here, but she thanked God for it.

“So, hit up ice cream and then go see a movie?” Tom looked to her for a brief second then back at the road.

“Ice cream sounds amazing but,”

Y/N panicked at the thought of sitting in a dark room, so close to Tom. Hands maybe touching to grab the popcorn, or getting lost in the moment and he may put his arm around her. ‘Shit, thinking too far ahead,’ Y/N thought. Under no circumstances could she sit in a romantic atmosphere with him. Not today.

“How about you take me to your favorite spot?” Y/N tilts her head slightly to give off an innocent look. “Somewhere, hopefully not private,”

The last part was mumbled under her breath but Tom somewhat caught it. He dryly laughed, pulling into the parking lot of Coldstone, and shifted himself to her.

“I have a place, but I’m not sure you can handle it,”

“Bring it baby,” Y/N turned red while Tom laughed. “Not baby…I mean…bud…buddy.”

Tom hid his smirk as he got out of the car. Y/N glowed red, walking behind him, almost hiding behind his tall frame. Tom watched her as she scanned the glass, just so in control. It was hard to put words to it, but she was so natural. Walking so easily, finger a centimeter from the glass as she looked for the one she wanted. It was such a domestic moment, Y/N picked out two scoops of her favorite flavor while Tom got chocolate ice cream and paid. But, Tom was smitten. It was sickening how much he had grown to like her. It was so out of character, Tom was drawn away from most girls. Only going out for once if the girl had interested him. But what Y/N did for him was crazy. He even opened the door for her as they entered the car.

Y/N was on the verge of exploding. She stuffed her mouth with ice cream to make sure nothing stupid spilled from her mouth. If she was in the classroom, or tutor room, she would excel. Y/N could do math in her sleep. Write essays in an hour. Memorize the periodic table or physics equations with ease. Yet, sitting in the car with Tom Holland was the biggest challenge she’s faced yet.

“So, where are you taking me?” She looked to him nervously. “You’re not going to murder me right,”

Tom laughed.

“No, not today,”

He turns right into the lonely parking lot and Y/N can finally see where they were. It was the River Court, the basketball court right by the river, the one Sam always brought her to when they were kids. The only reason why they stopped going was because Tom had taken it over with their father, using it as Tom’s ‘special training court’. Y/N remembered that day clearly, Sam was almost in tears as their father sent them somewhere else. ‘If you’re gonna sit around and color, go home’. Dom had said. He wasn’t a monster. But there was a clear line of how he treated his sons versus Sam.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Y/N exhaled sharply as she walked slowly through the wet grass.

Tom walked next to her, holding a basketball in his hands. How typical.

“Do you ever get a break?” She mused and Tom shrugged.

“It keeps my mind busy,”

They took a seat on the rusty half-bleachers while finishing their ice cream in silence. Y/N had zoned her attention on the water, how it glistened against the setting sun and the boats going by. Tom, however, was focused on Y/N. It was the same sense of natural, how she looked so perfect without trying.

“I’m really proud of you,” She says absent-mindedly. “You were able to conquer your dyslexia, and you did it. It’s amazing,”

Tom felt giddy, like a child waking up to go to Disneyland. He had heard praise all his life, but hearing them slip from her lips was the greatest accomplishment of all.

“Couldn’t do it without you, Tutor Girl,” His hand touches the small of her back lightly. “You didn’t make fun of me when I spelled things wrong or got confused. You are really…amazing,”

For a quick moment he saw her get a twinkle in her eyes. She tried to not show the overflowing glee that came over her with that compliment. He was too good at winning hearts, just that boyish grin was enough to make her turn into mush. Tom felt the same though, he little glances at him made everything stop. How could this girl make him go insane but just being herself? It was insane.

“Will you go to my game on Friday?”

“Huh?”

“The big game. I want you to be there,” Tom watches Y/N snapped her attention away and quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I…well why? I’m just…Tutor Girl?”

Tom crumpled up the tissues in his hand while trying to find the words to say. He wanted to say, ‘please, I think I’m in love with you and if you don’t come I will die a slow, pitiful death’. But he didn’t. He faked a confident smirk.

“Exactly, you’re my good luck charm,”

Y/N cheeks become pink as she dives her head lower into the collar of her sweatshirt. ‘Fuck that smirk’ she thought. His words were so tactile, she could tell he was thinking through every word. Was he trying to play her like that? Or did he really mean it?

“Maybe,”

“I’d love it if you brought Sam too,” Tom looked from the River Court back to Y/N. “He’s been pushing me away more. I tried today, you saw that. He’s my brother but I feel like we’re…strangers, you know?”

That was the perfect word. Over the years, Sam and Tom had become nothing but roommates in the same house. Neither could tell you a single fact about the other. Besides, Tom liked basketball and Sam liked cooking and art. It was complicated at best.

“Trust me, I know. Sam will come around though.” She meets his soft eyes in a dreamy trance. “He loves you, promise. I know him better than he knows himself.”

There was no doubt in Tom’s mind that she was telling the truth. She was honest, true natured and he knew she was trying to help. It would be naive to think she didn’t agree to tutor him without ulterior motives. Y/N always brought Sam up, encouraging Tom to get closer with him. He didn’t mind it though, it was about time things changed.

“Are you and Sam…like a thing?”

Y/N knees faced towards him as she shifted her body. It was out of surprise, did she give off that vibe that she liked Sam? It was actually revolting though. More so than the thought of being with Tom a few weeks ago. It was like dating her brother.

“No, never,” She laughed while Tom sighed in relief. “We would never. He’s like a brother to me,”

“Same,”

Y/N laughed at Tom’s word vomit. He was breaking apart from nerves, her leg slightly touching his and how close she was. Tom had been with plenty of girls, either at parties or after games, but he had never been nervous. Especially with something so innocent as sitting on a bench with his brother’s best friend.

“I mean,” Tom panicked, dropping the basketball to the ground.

“What do you mean?” Y/N leaned forward a little further, placing her ice cream cup out of the way. “Why do you care if I’m dating Sam?”

It was a challenge, for both Tom and herself. She wanted to see how far this would go. The playful banter and longing touches were not enough. Y/N may be Tutor Girl, but she had to take her chance. Leaning further, her hand rested on his and he jumped slightly. Tom reanalyzed her body language over and over again, making sure this wasn’t some amazing dream. Nope, Y/N was surely flirting with him, biting her lip at him and blinking slowly. So, so irresistible. Tom placed a hand on her face and took a leap.

“So I can do this,”

His lips melted into hers into the most perfect, imperfect first kiss either of them had ever experienced. Their noses knocked into each other and their hands awkwardly tried to find a comfortable place to land. Even with that though, it was like magic. It was the best rush of euphoria Tom had ever had. Better than winning any game or party. For Y/N, better than any academic award or scholarship. It was a mess of teenage awkwardness, but beautiful all the same.

Y/N pulled away first, hands locked on Tom’s shoulders as she held him still. Her mind raced with words, thoughts that she could not fathom. Mainly fear. It all clicked too fast, the River Court, kissing Tom, and how Sam would react. It didn’t feel wrong, but guilt consumed her. This was exactly why she didn’t want the romantic atmosphere, to be alone with him. She knew she would do this, kiss him, fall harder for him, and then break down.

“That…that…I…but,” Tutor Girl was a lost for words. “Tom, I don’t know what to do,”

Tom had never heard her voice so small. She was confident, always, no matter what. Even if she was considered ‘nerdy’, she was a bombshell of beauty and brains. Right now, she was puddy.

“I like you a lot,” He stuttered on his words. “I don’t know why I haven’t seen it before, but you are perfect. I can’t stop myself from falling for you. I’m going off, but fuck I really like you Y/N,”

It was as if the whole world stopped. Birds stopped chirping, the basketball stopped rolling, and for a second it was just them. Y/N tightened her hands into balls as her whole body tensed. She felt dirty, as if she was hiding behind her best friend’s back. She kissed the enemy. But she liked Tom. Oh Lord, she loved every part of him now. What she thought was annoying about him was now her favorite things. His stupid luscious curls, devious smile, and even the way he said her name drove her wild. This was her hardest test yet, wanting to run away but also be with him.

“I...can’t,” Her words came out in choked segments as she looked to the ground. “No, Tom this is...bad. I’m Y/N, Tutor Girl, your brother’s best friend. I am nothing. We are not even on the same planet Tom. This can’t...we can’t…”

She didn’t believe the words she was saying. Every forced ‘no’ cut her up inside. The way Tom winced every time she spoke killed her. It felt like both of them had ripped out their hearts on stomped on them. Tom stood up and paced.

“Why? This isn’t some status quo bullshit Y/N!” His hands moved erratically as he got angrier. “If you don’t like me, say it. Don’t give me an excuse,”

“Tom, I do like you-”

“So, the only thing stopping you is what? I play basketball and you’re friends with my brother? Doesn’t make sense?”

It didn’t make sense. Of course it didn’t but Y/N couldn’t give a straight answer. Everything was telling her yes, go be with Tom. Yet, Sam kept crossing her mind. How disappointed and hurt he would be. Y/N couldn't do that, she had to put her best friend over Tom.

“That’s exactly it. It’s Sam okay? I wouldn’t have a good conscience if we dated. You hurt him, Tom. I need to stick by my best friend.”

Tom stood straight up, his shoulders falling back and his eyes locked on hers. His eyes were dark, misted in hurt. He didn’t bat an eye, grabbing his keys from his pocket and throwing them into her lap.

“Take my car and go home,”

“But what about-”

“I’m going to clear my head. Just...go,”

Tom’s voice was weirdly calm. Although he looked broken, eyes watering and his body starting to shake from keeping his emotions pent up, he was standing stoically. Y/N did not fight it, she took his keys and left. As she pulled out of the empty parking lot, watching Tom start to dribble and shoot around the River Court, she cried. Tears burned and her throat closed, it was too painful.

He didn’t dare look back at his car driving away. Streams of tears painted his face as he concentrated on shooting free throws. It was one of the few times he left his guard down, never again though. Tom had never experienced real heartbreak like this. He had never felt anything that was a fraction of this pain. Tom watched the ball hit the backboard and spring away. The noise drowned out a choked sob as he slunk to the floor and pitied himself for a while.

_

A pillow was knocked into Y/N’s face as she laid on her best friend’s bed. Sam slapped her again with it, jumping up and shaking her around. Friday night, the night she always hung out with Sam had turned into a shitshow. Y/N was too sad to care about anything so she sat in silence for almost two hours.

“Y/N, what the hell is your problem?”

Her heart was shattered, that was the problem, and it was all her fault. She could have had a happy ending, with the beautiful boy who was a star athlete and all the other girls were jealous. But no, here she was laying in Sam’s bed trying not to cry at the family pictures on the bedside table.

“Nothing-”

“Y/N, I know something happened,” Sam crossed his arms and sighed. “That day after Tom passed his test, you two were supposed to hang out. Tom came home at two in the morning. He looked like shit, and not the sexy disheveled bullshit he goes for.”

Y/N sucks her lips in and tries to not picture it. Tries to not picture Tom, red-eyed and exhausted from playing himself to death and sobbing. Tries to not picture Tom falling into his mattress, crying some more and wondering if he should call her. Because that’s what she did. Played music to the highest volume while staring at her phone. It killed it, even days later it killed her.

“Tom hasn’t been himself. Won’t talk to anyone, not even Dad. And you? You brought Tom’s car to the house and just...left? Without a word.  You’ve been ignoring my calls and the tutoring center. What the hell happened?”

It snapped. The final rope holding her together broke as Y/N fell into a mess of sobbing, clinging to Sam’s shirt as wails left her shaking body. She thought she had gotten them out the first night, but it was consuming her. The disgusting girlish sadness she couldn’t escape. She vowed to never cry over a boy, but she did.

“We...kissed…” She cried. “He said he liked me ...and I like him too…”

Sam deciphered her cries into fragmented statements and stared at her wide-eyed. For a second, she thought he had short-circuited. He squinted at her, eyebrows furrowed together, lips flattened, and his hands are thrown up in the air.

“And?” Sam waved her on to continue.

“And...what?” She sniffled. “I couldn’t go through with it. It would be wrong-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sam stood up and marched into his closet, pulling out a sweatshirt and mumbling something to himself.

“Sam-”

“Listen Y/N,” He points a finger at her and exhales loudly. “You are my best friend who I confided everything in. You know how I feel about Tom, so I appreciate you caring, but fuck it was obvious that you two were into each other-”

“Wait-”

“Sh!” Sam waved his hands again. “You never stopped talking about Tom, and he was always asking about you. And he was asking me about cooking and art and...life? I was just surprised, waiting for it to blow over once he passed his test. But, he likes you Y/N. A lot. Don’t fuck this up for my sake, because I want you two to be together.”

Y/N was in awe, frozen on the bed as Sam grabbed keys from the dresser and stopped down the hall. It wasn’t until he returned, Tom’s varsity jacket in hand, that she knew what he was planning to do. A large ball stuck in her throat as Sam grabbed her arm and hoisted her to her feet.

“Sam-”

“Not now Y/N, we got a game to get to,”

*

“Holland shoots...and he”

Tom’s eyes weren’t even on the ball. It wasn’t on the court, his teammates, or even Coach Whitey. It was on Y/N. She was standing behind the bleachers with Sam, wearing his varsity jacket, cheering and in awe of him. How long had she been there? It didn’t matter. The screech of the buzzer went off and it all went into a haze of screams.

“Scores! Holland for the win! Tree Hill Ravens are going to State!”

The basketball team rushed Tom, jumping on him and hugging him, but he pushed them all away. The crowd was cheering, confetti and ear-bleeding music played from the speakers, but he couldn’t even feel it. Tom only had eyes on Y/N as rushed to the bleachers. His father stepped in front of him to give him a hug, but even he dodged that, rushing to the girl of his dreams and picking her up.

“T-Tom, I-”

Y/N was whisked away in a circle, cut off by a kiss that could only be matched by movies. It was a blur of adrenaline and passion, his arms situated tightly on her waist as he kept her balanced while her hands tousled his sweaty curls. Although he smelled like sweat and gym floor, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sam looked away from the two, somewhat sickened by the affection, and caught his father’s eye. They looked at each other for a moment, Dom smiling and waving his son over to the door. Sam rushed over, his father throwing his arm over his shoulder as they walked out and talked about the game together.

“Y/N, I can’t-” Tom said against her lips.

“Tom,” She pushed back like she did at the River Court, this time lovingly looking into his eyes. “I like you too. No ‘ifs, ands, or buts’, I like you so much it hurts. I’m sorry for freaking at the River Court. I’m smart with math, stupid at love-”

“Nice Mean Girls reference,”

“Asshole, you’re ruining my proclamation of love,”

Y/N hits him playfully and he kisses her again. Quickly, more flirtatious as he pulls her against him tightly. As if to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Like I was saying, I’m not good at this whole relationship thing, but I like you a lot and I want to be with you. If that’s still on the table.”

Tom rolls his eyes, gently placing her back on the ground but keeping his hands placed on her hips. Damn, she looked so good in his varsity jacket, a sight he’d get to see more of.

“Always, Tutor Girl.”

“That’s Tutor Girlfriend to you, buddy,”

Y/N smirked, taking one of his hands and pulling him to follow her out of the gym. It was completely empty now, except for a few janitors, and his family was probably waiting for them. Tom watched her lead him to the outside, smiling like the biggest fool in love. It was again, the natural way she was that made him feel like this. Everything was perfect about her, the confidence, brain, and the way she found herself into his life. It was like one of those fairytales, the one where the basketball star falls in love with the tutor girl, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

///

///

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[somenewsarah]

Betrothed pt 2

Part 1 here

Genre: little bit of angst, little bit of fluff

Word Count: 2.5k+

AN: Let me know if you guys want a part 3!

The whiskey falls from his lips and dribbles down his chin as he reclines himself in the living room. Your father hadn’t been the same since your mother died- so much that he joined the Death Eaters to repay the muggles for taking your mother from you.

You stare at him as you make your way through the hallway until he’s out of sight. He’s always drunk now. Always laying in that brown leather recliner, spilling whiskey and bourbon down the front of his once-nice button down work shirt. You aren’t even sure he goes to work anymore. He just drinks. He doesn’t even know you exist.

 Draco stands in your room, waiting patiently for you.

 “Everything alright, love?”

 “Yeah, fine,” you say softly. You grab your trunk from under the bed and place it softly atop your sheets.

 “Come on, we don’t have much time. Father’s waiting for us at the Manor,” Draco says. He carefully opens your wardrobe and helps you place your clothes inside. “I know things are tough right now, Y/N, but I promise you that you’ll get through it, and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

~

Malfoy Manor is just as grand as you’d always imagined it would be. Tall ceilings, pillars, marble floors and countertops- everything is sparkling clean and white and crisp.

 “Wow,” the word escapes your lips before you can stop it. Draco smirks down at you.

 “Like it? It’ll be ours someday, if you want it,” he says proudly. “Come, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying and take you on a house tour.”

 Draco extends his hand and you take it at once, falling in line to his own expectations. He leads you up a marble staircase and to the right, then down a long hallway that you could easily get lost in. He stops right outside of a white door and opens it slowly, ushering you inside.

 A king-sized mahogany bed sits in the middle of the room. The sheets are a deep charcoal and look silky to the touch. An empty wardrobe sits across the room, next to a marble fireplace.

 “This is beautiful, Draco,” you smile. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

 “Christmas wouldn’t have been the same without you, anyways,” he smiles, gazing down at you. He motions to two doors on the far-left side of the room. “The bathroom is right through there. It’s shared with my own, and this door leads to my bedroom. It’s always unlocked should you need me.”

 His hand is at the small of your back, and his lips sweep across your hair as he makes his leave, closing the door behind him. Sighing softly, you sit down on the bed, rubbing your fingers across the satin sheets.

~

Christmas morning is awkward, to say the least. Narcissa Malfoy is as nice as can be expected, but Lucius doesn’t say one word throughout the day. Well, not until you prepare to take your leave for the evening portion of the Christmas holidays.

 “My apologies, I must’ve heard you wrong,” he drawls. You look to Draco nervously, who doesn’t meet your gaze. “Surely you aren’t planning on spending the evening with the Weasleys, of all people.”

“Actually,” you start politely. “I am. The twins are good friends of mine, and I’m going for a visit for the holidays.”

 “How are you to marry my son when you are too busy hanging around with riff-raff like the Weasleys,” he spits down at you.

 “Lucius,” Narcissa starts. “The girl had a life before you went off making deals with people.”

 “Indeed, but the deal has been made and that life is no more,” he sneers. “If you leave you will not be welcomed back.”

 “Enough, Father,” Draco says. “I will accompany her, and we will be back before midnight.”

 ~

 Christmas dinner is tense, to say the least. Harry and Hermione were also joining the family for dinner, and they sit across from you and Draco, picking at their food, staring at their plates. George sits to your left, chomping away at his steak and potatoes like nothing were wrong.

 “You gonna eat that?” He asks, stabbing his fork through one of your potatoes.

 “George Weasley, put that down! There’s plenty on this table, you don’t have to eat the poor girl’s food,” Mrs. Weasley screeches. “Sorry, dear. Please help yourself to more, there’s enough to go around.”

 “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Draco and I appreciate you having us,” you smile. George smiles over at you, and you up at him.

 “Happy Christmas, Y/N,” he says quietly, so only the two of you can hear.

 “Happy Christmas, George.”

 ~

 Standing in the hallway of the Burrow, you lean against the wall, laughing up at Fred and George as they show you their newest creation.

 “How you two manage to bring such light in such difficult times, I may never know,” you giggle.

 “Life is too short to not laugh all the time,” Fred bellows, throwing another Weasley Whacker into the air. You watch in astonishment as the little firework explodes in midair, throwing around red and blue sparks, illuminating your faces.

 George watches your smile as you watch Weasley Whacker after Weasley Whacker, your eyes lighting up with the fireworks. “Fred, mate, could you give us a minute? I need to speak to Y/N.”

 “Sure,” Fred grins. He wiggles his eyebrows at you before he disappears into his and Fred’s shared bedroom.

 George leads you to the top row of the stairs and motions for you to sit next to him.

 “Is everything alright?”

 “Yes, don’t worry,” George smiles reassuringly. “I just wanted to know what was up with you and Malfoy. Doesn’t seem your type.”

 “Oh, that,” your heart skips in your chest and you quickly hug your knees. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

 George knocks his knee into yours. He leans forward, wrapping his own arms around his knees. “Give me the short version, then?”

 “Short version,” you say, testing out the phrase. “Alright, well… After my mum was killed, Father made a deal with Lucius Malfoy. I’m to marry Draco after Hogwarts. Father thinks the Malfoys can give me a ‘prosperous life,’ to quote him.”

 “That’s outrageous,” George murmurs, shaking his head. “You don’t have to go through with this.”

 “I wish I could believe you, George.”

 “Give me one good reason why you should,” he demands, now turning to face you completely.

 “It’s not that simple,” you argue.

 “But it is!”

 “Because George,” you start, your hands shaking. “Because my mother’s last words to me were to take care of my father. And he thinks by setting this up for me, it’s him taking care of me. The least I can do is be cooperative.”

 “I can understand being cooperative, but letting him ruin your life like this? It seems mental,” he says, shaking his head.

 “I know how it seems,” you whisper, your eyes cast down. “But you don’t have to see him sitting in that chair every day, drinking himself to death.”

 George takes your hands in his own, his gaze focused and intense.

 “What if we show him that there’s another option?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “I can give you more than a prosperous life, Y/N, I can give you happiness, joy, a fulfilled life that you can look back on and be proud of,” he insists, his eyes searching your own.

 Your heart pounds as you look up at him, searching his eyes for some kind of joke or prank but he’s serious. Your head swims as you consider your time with Draco over the past five months. Sure, sometimes he could be pompous and rude, but other times he could be incredibly sweet, charming, funny, and everything you could ever ask for in a man. There were also the nights that he’d sweep you up to his dorm and worship you for hours on end. He takes care of you in a way you didn’t know that you needed. Imagining life without him seems almost unbearable. Draco is it for you.

 “George,” you start, pulling your hands away. You knew who you would choose if it came down to it, but you’re sure he wouldn’t like the answer. “Draco can give me those same things, and maybe even more. But it’s not about what either of you can give me, I do hope you know that. I love you, George, you’re like my best friend. I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin our friendship with something as fickle as empty promises and feelings.”

 George pulls away from you, his lips parting, but before he can say anything, Draco appears at the bottom of the stairs, what feels like miles away from you and George.

 “Darling, we must be getting back,” he says, holding his hand out to you. Sure, playing the part of the rich girl was something you never expected for yourself, but Draco made you whole when you didn’t even know you had pieces missing.

 You lean over and kiss George on the cheek softly, then stand and meet Draco at the bottom of the stairs. He tucks you under his arm.

 “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Weasley,” you say politely, giving her a brief hug. “It was so wonderful. I think I’ll be full for all the days that come.”

 “You’re more than welcome, sweetheart. You’re always invited to a Weasley family dinner,” she strokes your hair, and it makes you miss your own mother. Before your eyes can well with tears, Draco thanks her and Arthur, and bids everyone a goodnight.

 ~

 Despite the blazing fire, your room is cold. There is an unmistakable chill that seeps down to your core and for some reason, no matter how wrapped up in your blankets you are, you cannot escape it.

 You creep into Draco’s room from the attaching door in your own.

 “Draco?” You whisper.

 “Beds aren’t the same without you, either,” he whispers back.

 A smile spreads across your face as you climb into bed with him, cuddling up to his chest. His fingers find your hair in the routine way that they do, and he strokes softly, kissing your forehead every now and then.

 “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” you say after a stretch of silence.

 “Of course, darling. I know how much the Weasleys mean to you,” he says, a hint of malice in his voice. “Thought I cannot fathom why.”

 “Draco,” you warn.

 “I know, I know,” he sighs, and you can’t help the giggle that penetrates the stillness of the room. He was trying and that was enough for you. “I thought I was quite pleasant tonight.”

 “I thought you were, too.”

 “I heard what George said to you,” he whispers so softly you questioned whether you heard him correctly.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah,” he nods.

 “Any thoughts?”

 Draco shrugs. “Maybe he’s right. You light up when you’re around him. Maybe you’d be better off, happier even, with him.”

 “I think you’re wrong,” you whisper, pulling away from him. You sit up on your elbow to gaze down at him, your fingers wringing through the spattering of white blond hair on his chest.

 “Why would you think that? We didn’t even know each other until after the funeral,” he says, avoiding your gaze.

 “Because I’m at my happiest when I’m with you,” you whisper. It’s a simple sentence, but for Draco, it holds so much weight. He wraps his arm tighter around you and pulls you down to his chest once more, kissing your hair repeatedly.

 ~

 The holidays go just as quickly as they came, and soon, you’re back at Hogwarts, avoiding most everyone but Luna and using all your free time to occupy Draco and help him with his task.

 “I should’ve studied more over the holiday,” he snarls, wiping a hand down his face. It’d only been three days since you’d returned to school, and already his eyes were sunken in and dull. He’d grown more and more impatient as he tried and failed continuously to fix the vanishing cabinet.

 “Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask, sitting next to him in the common room. He’d surrounded himself with so many book you had to scoot piles over just to accompany him.

 “No, it’s alright,” he mumbles, resting his forehead in his hand. “I’m gonna head up, it’s way too late for either of us to be awake. Besides, you don’t want to get caught sneaking about this time of night.”

 “Don’t worry about me, Draco,” you laugh, tucking a stray hair away from his eyes. “Let me come up for a minute? Just to say goodnight?”

 “I suppose I can accept that,” he teases, the color slowly coming back to his cheeks. He stands and holds out his hand, as he always does.

 You walk behind him to his shared dormitory with Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise who were already asleep. You make yourself comfortable on Draco’s bed, watching him as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.

 “Like what you see?” He grins as he loosens his tie. He tosses it at you and motions for you to be quiet.

 “Careful there,” you grin.

 He finishes removing his shirt and pants, and you thought you’d never grow tired of seeing his bare chest. He’s lean but strong, and his long arms are the perfect length to wrap fully around you. Draco crawls to you on the bed and collapses on your chest, sighing softly.

 “This task is absolutely mental,” he whispers. “I don’t understand it or why it was assigned to me.”

 “I know,” you hum, stroking his hair and holding him to you. “I think you’re so incredibly brave.”

 “It’s either kill Dumbledore or He kills my parents,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s fair. I’m being asked to choose between the two people who raised me and one of the only people who has ever believed in me.”

 “It isn’t fair. That’s what makes it so awful.”

 Draco is silent for a while; you even your breathing, finding a rhythm with your fingers in his hair. Soon, he’s snoring as softly as Blaise, and you scoot out from beneath him, trying your best to not wake him from his slumber.

 Finally free, you cover his body with the comforter and tuck him in. You kiss his forehead softly and run your fingers through his hair one last time before retiring to your own room.

 “Goodnight, Draco,” you whisper.

 Despite his coming wrongdoings and the treacherous views of his family, you truly believe in your heart that Draco will be an amazing husband and will take care of you the same way you want to take care of him. After all, Draco is it for you.

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The game is on (and you won't see it coming)

Writen for Drarropoly 2.0

Prompt: A prank a day keeps Potter at bay. Until one morning, the tables have turned. Choose either 1) Hogwarts -OR- 2) Roommates -OR- 3) at the Ministry. Minimum: 348 words - Maximum: 834 words.

House level: Make this an ensemble story by using the book friends of both Harry and Draco in the story. Minimum: 1348 words - Maximum: 1834 words.

Word count: 1833 😅

Rated: T

Summary: Enough was enough. Actually, Harry was surprised he had waited so long to react.

Tags: Hogwarts eighth year, prank wars

Read on AO3

Enough was enough. Actually, Harry was surprised he had waited so long to react.

He has been saying to himself that he shouldn't answer to Malfoy's provocations for the sake of reconciliation. But the git has been a prat since they started their so called eighth year and Harry was fed up beyond reason.

The first day, Harry thought it wasn't intentional. During Potions, he approached the table where Parkinson and Malfoy were working, to ask for a pair of snake fangs. He should have suspected when Parkinson sniggered and Malfoy, very politely, said: "Help yourself."

Harry stared at him a little longer and convinced himself that he was beyond the phase of suspecting Malfoy's every intention. Then he reached for the jar and the moment he touched it, a stuffed snake pounced at his face, making him nearly jump out of his skin. He feared his heart would bounce out of his mouth.

Parkinson burst out laughing and Malfoy, the git, busied himself with their cauldron while failing to suppress a smirk. Harry glared daggers at them but bit his tongue and left, ignoring Ron's and Hermione's questions when he sat at their bench.

The second time was a silly thing, actually. They both were arguing about who had which responsibilities in a group assignment, while Zabini and Seamus stared at them over the breakfast table, looking from one to another like in a tennis match. Not that they know what tennis is, but not the point.

"That's not fair and you know it," Malfoy had said.

"We agreed before sorting the parts," Harry had answered, vehement, while serving himself some toast. He was fucking right.

"If you consider the amount of…"

"You agreed," Harry insisted, looking the prat in the eye. He grabbed a mug of coffee, an eighth year's privilege, and looked around for the sugar bowl. Malfoy pushed it forward and Harry reached for it to put two spoonfuls in his mug. "If you don't like it you can change it with anyone but me."

"Oh, how gracious of you," Malfoy deadpanned.

Harry flashed him a tight smile and took a mouthful of his coffee. Merlin he needed it if he had to put up with the insufferable git.

It was ghastly.

Harry couldn't help but splutter the disgusting liquid.

"What the hell!" he croaked between coughs. He eyed the coffee, then the sugar bowl. He glared at Malfoy. “Did you transfigured the sugar into salt?”

“Did I?” the idiot asked fooling no one.

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to get his anger under control. He turned to talk to their other partners and ignored Malfoy for the rest of the morning. Well, he tried to, but the prat was nearly impossible to ignore.

The third day in a row that the sodding moron tried to prank him - and succeeded - Harry thought that, really, after their argument the day before he should have seen it coming. It was Saturday and they had agreed on meeting to work on the group project after breakfast, in the eighth year’s common room.

Harry had lingered at the table, not wanting to go back with the others. Well, not with Malfoy specifically, but still.

Even Ron finished his breakfast before he felt he was ready to leave.

When he rose from the table, a paper crane landed on his plate. He picked it up, knowing full well who it was from. He read the note inside with a bit of annoyance.

Idiot, change of plans. There’s too much noise in the common room. We are moving to the empty classroom on the second floor, third corridor to the left. Don’t be late.

~ Draco M.

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

He went to the classroom, mentally preparing himself to endure the company of the pointy git. What he didn't expect when he opened the door was a bunch of screaming teenagers, well… kids - really, was he so small at their ages? - that lost their shit when they saw him.

After a bit of fuss and manhandling, Harry found himself seated in the middle of the gathering of Harry Potter's Best and Merriest Fanclub, mortified and silently fuming and plotting how to kill a certain blond.

On Sunday he went to the quidditch pitch to fly before the sun rose. That wasn't an extraordinary event, he did it as often as he could; it was just the hour what was exceptional. He'd been awake for most of the night, at times trying to convince himself that he wouldn't rise to the bait and hit Malfoy with a bat bogey hex; at times he pondered just smothering the idiot; he even considered asking George for ideas for his long due revenge. So he reached a point when it was evident that sleep wouldn't come and he thought he better be doing something productive. Or at least enjoyable. Hence the flying.

It was as exhilarating as the first time. It was perfect.

Until the bane of his existence appeared in one of the Slytherin stands, that is. He ignored him for a good half an hour until his fingers were cold and his ass numb. And after that, he went directly to floor level; if Malfoy wanted to apologize, Harry wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"Potter!" Malfoy yelled behind him a moment later.

Harry turned and waited until he stood in front of him. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to… Merlin, you're sweaty."

"Ever so charming," Harry muttered. If Malfoy heard him he surely chose to ignore him. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I came to tell you we have a group meeting in fifteen minutes. We need to discuss what are we going to tell McGonagall tomorrow. She wants to discuss our progress, apparently."

"What? That's…!"

"It would have been in about 50 minutes if some idiot wouldn't have ignored me."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"You didn't show up yesterday."

"And whose fault is that?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. The prick.

"Why didn't Seamus tell me?" Harry asked, more to himself than anything, but the insufferable git answered all the same.

"Apparently you were in a bad mood and ignored everyone and no one could see you this morning."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And you knew where to find me?"

The moron averted his eyes and turned his mouth down in distaste, an incongruous pink coloured his cheeks. "I drew the shortest straw. This seemed the most likely place for you to mope."

Harry snorted. "I'm not moping."

"Whatever. Ten minutes, Potter," the idiot said. And with that, he left.

Harry glared at his back for a good couple of minutes before rushing to the showers. Totally worth it.

He didn't bother with regulating the taps and the water was scalding; when he faced the mirror he was red all over. He tried to domesticate his hair for nearly 30 seconds, but even if he had the time he wouldn't achieved more than a "recently shagged" look (Ron's words, not his) so why bother, really. He had 4 minutes to get dressed and meet the others. He'll be on time just to piss the prat off.

He struggled with his underwear, struggled with his shirt and when he struggled with his trousers he paused and narrowed his eyes. Did he grabbed the wrong set of clothing? He shook his head. Who's else's clothes would be?

He put his trousers on and wondered if he had put on some weight as he slid the button on place with difficulty. They were his trousers, the telltale marks here and there said so, but… they were like… two sizes too small.

Then it dawned on him: Malfoy! The stupid git, the pompous coward… He tried with finitem incantatem , with engorgio , with every other spell he could think of… His clothes didn't return to their normal size.

"What the fucking fuck?" Harry muttered. He wondered what the moron had done to his clothes. "Stupid prick and his stupid, arrogant… face." Harry forced himself into the rest of his clothes, determined to be on time.

At least his boots were their normal size. Thank Merlin for small mercies.

He walked all the way back to the castle cursing under his breath and pausing every other step to accommodate himself in his too tight trousers.

He would retaliate. He would think of a way to pay the idiot back. Enough was enough.

He arrived at the common room just in time, a bit breathless, but in time. He spotted Seamus and Zabini already hunched over a couple of books. The supreme idiot was preparing himself a cup of coffee on the kitchenette - another privilege of the eighth year's students -, with his back to the door.

Harry reached their table in few strides.

"Harry, what happened to…?" He raised his finger to his mouth to silence Hermione, who was seated in an armchair by the fire, a book on her lap, just next to their table; but Malfoy heard her anyway, and turned to face Harry with a smirk, spoon clinking delicately in his cup.

"How generous of you…" Malfoy raised one eyebrow, probably noticing his hair's state of disarray, "...to grace us…" The other eyebrow joined the first as Malfoy's eyes traveled down from Harry's flushed cheeks to the strained buttons of his shirt, "...with your presence…" Harry shifted on the spot as he watched Malfoy's eyes roam all over his tight trousers, "...Potter." That one last word was a whisper.

Harry blinked, did Malfoy...? Did he just…?

Malfoy turned towards the kitchenette and left his mug on the counter, then he picked it up again and left the spoon on its place. He looked a bit lost before moving to seat beside Zabini, not looking to Harry again.

If Harry didn't know better he would think that Malfoy was flustered… By him. He turned his head, looking for confirmation, and made eye contact with Hermione, who had raised her eyes from her book again and looked from him to Malfoy with narrowed eyes.

It seemed unlikely, but… Harry smiled slowly. This could be interesting.

He made himself sure that the next two hours were torture for the pointy git. He sat next to him and leaned close until he could count the freckles on his nose.

He saw him squirm, shift in his seat and sweat. He even saw him blush.

He only stopped his teasing when Parkinson entered the common room and shouted: "Sweet Salazar, Potter! Where did you hide those muscles?"

It was then his turn to blush.

He thought that now he’d had his little revenge, Malfoy would leave him alone from now on, which strangely saddened him. But when he stared at the mirror the next morning, he gaped at his Gryffindor red hair.

"Sneaky bastard…" Harry couldn't help but smile.