#last time my mum had to gently elbow me several times because I kept muttering the lyrics and singing along quietly but

[dear-nyu]

I need theatre musicals where it's not rude to loudly sing along and jam out with these funky works of art. I need. NEED. It takes so much self control to not do that,,,

[written-on-the-trees]

Snow Day Plans - Sebastian Danzig Fan Fiction

Prompt: Shovelling Snow

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1750 words

Summary: Merry's neighbour Sebastian is really the best neighbour she could ask for...and maybe more.

   The local news kept going on about the chaos the snow had caused, but Merry had stopped listening in favour of sighing at her daughter: “Looks like it’s me and you today, kid.”

   Her daughter Sariah didn’t respond, too happy sitting at the kitchen table, munching away on her waffles. She was a little too young to really understand snow days yet, anyway, having only started pre-school this year. She wouldn’t mind tagging along with Merry as she ran her errands for the day…but Merry certainly wasn’t really looking forward to braving the results of last night’s snowstorm with a four-year-old in tow.

 Sariah was a great kid…but she was still a kid, and there was only so much Merry could ask of her, especially when it was freezing and everyone was acting like a crazy person because of the snow.

 Merry was already dreading it.

 At least most of the errands she nodded to run could actually be put off until the snow melted, but the trip to Walmart was not one of them. And neither was clearing her driveway.

   “Beautiful, but only until you remember what a pain it is, right?”

 Merry turned towards the sound of the voice calling out to her as soon as she got outside, smiling when she saw her neighbour Sebastian standing there with a shovel, half-way through clearing his own driveway: “Tell me about it.”

 “I’d love to, but my useless brothers - ” he yelled the last three words, looking pointedly at his front door, where his two younger brothers were standing with steaming mugs, were watching on calmly: “ - are leaving me to do this all alone, so I don’t think my lungs could take it.”

 “If you have energy to bitch, you have energy to shovel.” Remington replied casually, before turning to smile brightly at Merry: “Hey Merry - do you want some coffee? We just made some.”

 More than used to the brothers’ unique we-love-each-other-but-will-torture-each-other-at-every-opportunity dynamic, Merry just laughed: “I think I’ll leave it for your brother; he’s going to need it.”

 “At least someone around here thinks about my needs…” Sebastian muttered, making Merry laugh as she ducked into her garage for her own shovel.

   The brothers continued to bicker, although the actual words were lost on Merry, muffled by the walls of the garage.

 Even though she’d had some reservations when she’d learned her new neighbour was in rock and roll band that was growing in popularity by the day, who often had his younger brothers: the other members of said band, round, Merry actually really liked Sebastian and his brothers.

 Sebastian was the textbook definition of a good neighbour: pulling her trash bins back from the curb when he was retrieving his own, always stopping for a chat when they passed each other coming in and out of their homes, didn’t pull faces when Sariah was playing (and wailing excitedly) in the backyard. And his brothers were equally sweet. Emerson had bought her flowers after she’d let him borrow some coffee one morning, and Remington was always so happy to crouch down at talk to Sariah, going along with her babbling and responding as if it was a real two-way conversation, even before Sariah had really been able to speak properly.

 Just remembering all the nice interactions she’d had with the brothers - especially Sebastian - was enough to bring a smile to Merry’s face…right before it fell into a frown.

 Even after searching for almost ten minutes, she hadn’t found her shovel. She was absolutely she’d put it back in here after the last time she’d used it…but that didn’t mean it would still be in here, she realised, when she remembered her ex-husband coming round last week to drop Sariah off, and asking to borrow something out of her toolbox. It wouldn’t be unlike him to take the shovel too and not tell her.

 Sighing, she resolved to asking Sebastian if she could borrow his, heading out and hoping she caught him before he was finished clearing his own driveway…only to find that he had finished, but instead of going inside where it was warm, he was now shoveling the snow away from the path between Merry’s front door and her garage.

   “Oh, Sebastian, you don’t have to do that!”

 Sebastian, being the sweetheart that he was, just looked up at Merry to smile: “It’s okay. No sense in two of us getting sweaty and exhausted.”

 “You shouldn’t have to worry about sorting out my driveway if you’re already exhausted…”

 “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m going to be going to the gym for a while, in this weather, so I’m going to have to get my work-outs in somehow.” he chuckled, before gently shooing her towards her door: “Go get in the warm, I’ll sort all this out.”

   Merry wanted to argue…but it was cold. And she knew Sebastian wasn’t likely to give in, no matter how much she argued: it’d be easier on both of them for her to just go inside.

 So she did, but not before giving Sebastian a grateful look. She also started some fresh coffee for when Sebastian was finished - because she refused to let him help her, without at least offering something in return, even if it was just coffee. Sebastian did so much, considering they were just neighbours, and Merry didn’t want to take advantage of his willingness to be kind.

 By the time she’d checked in on Sariah, who was still happily sat at the kitchen counter, colouring in a new page of her colouring book, and checked on the coffee, Sebastian had not just finished the path, but the driveway too, and she had the chance to wave him into the kitchen before he headed back to his own house:

   “I made you some fresh coffee, in case your brothers finished what was at your place.”

 “It’s not unlikely.” he smiled wryly, before the expression turned more genuine when he looked at Sariah: “Hey, Sariah.”

 “Hi Mister Sebastian.”

 Merry rolled her eyes at Sariah’s vague response, but apparently Emerson was just the same when he was drawing, and Sebastian thought her daughter’s focus on her colouring in was adorable - so Merry let her daughter’s slight rudeness go and handed Sebastian a mug of coffee: “Here you go, splash of creamer and no sugar.”

 “Thank you.” Sebastian responded gratefully: “So, I’m guessing the schools are shut today?”

 “They are indeed,” Merry nodded, reaching over to ruffle her daughter’s hair: “So little miss is going to come to Walmart with me, aren’t you sweetie?”

 “Mo-oom.” Sariah complained, batting at Merry’s hand: “I don’t wanna go out. ‘S cold.”

   Sebastian hid his smile behind his coffee mug, while Merry just rolled her eyes again.

 She couldn’t blame her daughter; it was bitterly cold outside, and Walmart was going to a warzone with it being so close to Christmas and the snow from last night, and the more snow that was predicted to come down tonight and tomorrow. If she could leave Sariah at home, she would, but with no-one to watch her she didn’t really have a choice.

   “Sorry, baby, but you’re a little young to be staying home alone yet.” she leant down to kiss Sariah on the top of her head.

 Her daughter grumbled, but went back to her colouring without complaint…but Sebastian looked thoughtful: “I could always get Emerson and Remington to watch her, if you don’t mind?”

 They’d done it before, in an emergency, but snow was hardly enough to make Merry desperate: “I couldn’t ask them to do that, honestly. You’ve already been so helpful today.”

 “You’d actually be doing me a favour. Otherwise they’ll insist on coming to Walmart with me, and it’ll mean at least another hour and a half in there.” Sebastian shuddered dramatically: “They could watch Sariah, and then we could go and do the shopping without my brothers trying to elbow drop each other off of freezers.”

   It actually sounded pretty good.

 Sariah could be safely watched at home, and Merry wouldn’t have to turn into an aisle to see Sebastian holding his head in his hands while Remington pinned Emerson to the floor and gave him a noogie. It had been funny to her, but Sebastian had looked ready to disown them both. Sariah got on with all three of the brothers, but she got on especially well with Emerson…it really was a good idea.

   “Please mum?” Sariah looked up at her: “I really don’t want to go out in the snow.”

 “Okay,” Merry relented: “Only if Emerson and Remington don’t mind.”

   And that was how she ended up in the passenger seat of Sebastian’s car, being waved off by her daughter, Emerson, and Remington.

 The drive was filled with easy conversation, Merry never finding it awkward to spend time with Sebastian. It felt like no time at all before they were in Walmart, pushing their carts around the aisles, still chatting about the all the same things they had in the car.

 It was one of the main reasons Merry liked Sebastian, really liked him; he was just so easy to be around. Merry never felt uncomfortable with him, or like she had to walk on egg shells to keep him happy. By the end of her marriage to Sariah’s father, Merry had been so used to feeling nervous that it had felt like it was going to be her default setting forever…but with Sebastian it was completely different.

 With Sebastian, Merry felt like she could really just let loose, knowing that he would never hold it against her or judge her. He was always willing to drop an arm over her shoulders as he laughed with her, or wrap his fingers around hers whenever Sariah wasn’t around to see her mum getting so close to a man who wasn’t her father. She was still adjusting to not having her father in the house, and no matter what Merry personally wanted, Sariah had to come first, and Sebastian had been very understanding of that...so, for now, Sebastian was just Merry’s neighbour, but in the future…she was eager for so much more.

 And when she felt Sebastian drop a light kiss on the top of her head, she was filled with hope that she was going to get it.

[gold-from-straw]

Everything That Happens

A tentative peace...

Fair warning, though - while I have ‘fixed’ a lot of the canon deaths from the battle, I won’t be fixing all of them. Harry has to learn that he can’t save everyone, and it’s not his place to do so... please forgive me!!

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you prefer!

When Harry woke up in his bed at Hogwarts, for a moment he was too scared to let the memories loose again. He took a deep breath and let them come.

He remembered everything, layers upon layers of timelines, grief and battle and terror, and finally, settling on top like a tentative veil, the memories of finding Draco, Ron and Hermione huddled together in the alcove, covered in rubble but unharmed. Fred and Percy thumping him on the shoulder and running back into the fray without a backwards glance. Hermione handing a fallen wand to Draco as they ran on.

They were separated in the Great Hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione continuing on to the Shrieking Shack without Draco, and most things from then on blended into that first bedrock memory of horror and fear.

Except in the Great Hall. Just before he slipped away to watch Snape’s last memory, there was Remus’ body. And instead of lying dead beside him, Tonks wept over him, Draco Malfoy standing awkwardly beside her, flinching if anyone got too close.

Harry curled into a ball and cried again. It felt like now he’d started crying, weeping out his problems to his parents on his eighteenth birthday, that he might never stop. He wept for Remus, like he hadn’t done properly yet, but he also cried his gratitude. Tonks was alive. She was grieving her husband and her dad, but Eddie still had one of his parents.

“Harry… Harry, mate, wake up.” The hangings around his bed were pulled back and Ron shook him gently by the shoulder. Just the fact that he was here and alive and able to do that made Harry want to scream and laugh and cheer and cry, all at the same time.

Ron patted him awkwardly, rubbing between his shoulder blades and murmuring platitudes, and Harry rode out the wave, exhausted.

Considering the magnitude of the change, the life-altering vastness of having all the Weasleys alive and well (and somewhat celebrated for that fact - a family of nine surviving the war intact was nothing short of miraculous) seemed to have little obvious effect on the world at large.

But the more Harry watched and remembered, the more he saw the good it had done. There were no longer fifty names on the memorial, but thirty eight. With Fred alive, Percy no longer blinded by grief and rage, Tonks still there, and Draco fighting on their side, the ripples had spread out across names Harry had never recognised, and those people who’d been saved had saved others in turn.

And more than that; Harry hadn’t recognised how much smaller Ron had made himself after Fred died, the weight of the war having pressed so hard on his shoulders. But now that Fred and George were running the shop in Diagon Alley together, sending him test packs to hand out among the students to ‘raise spirits’, he had become almost a figurehead for them all. Ron was loud and cheerful, and he saw. It took Harry a while to really work it out, but Ron would notice when someone was struggling to keep their social mask on, and he’d either cheer them up or he’d grab the world’s attention. Once everyone was looking at Ron, it allowed the struggling person, usually Harry, to slip away.

Hermione may have teased him for having the emotional range of a teaspoon, but Ron’s empathy was instinctive and generous, and Harry had to close his eyes and control his breathing every time he remembered the darkness of that one, awful timeline without him.

And it was all thanks to Draco. Harry watched him, and wished. Because in this timeline, Harry had never held him through the night, fingers stroking through that soft hair. He was glad of that, desperately relieved that it hadn’t been necessary, of course, but it was like he’d taken a step away from Draco. They were back to their last names, at least out loud. Within the privacy of Harry’s own mind he could never go back to calling him Malfoy, always hearing that quiet voice, saying ‘Just Draco… no Malfoy, no past.’ They hardly spoke at all now. He wondered if he’d ever hear that again.

Even so, he sometimes caught Draco staring across the table, eyes narrowed not in anger, but in cautious calculation. It made Harry nervous, stumbling and clumsy with his hands and his words, and though Ron and Hermione made the effort to include Draco (and by extension, Theo Nott), Harry found himself tongue-tied more often than not. Which was frustrating, because he wanted so badly to thank Draco, and now it felt too late, like replying to a letter months after receiving it.

And then Harry dropped his head onto his desk in the middle of Charms and laughed at himself. Because he was a fucking time traveller, and it didn’t have to be too late at all.

He focused on a quiet moment he remembered from summer, when he’d sat and watched Diagon Alley as it repaired itself, eating one of Florean Fortescue’s best sundaes and reliving the summer before third year.

The first time round, he’d spent a wonderful hour of peace and solitude just people-watching. This time he excused himself, leaving his ice cream behind Fortescue’s counter under a stasis charm, and ran down to the post owlery. Standing at the counter there, trying to stop himself from chewing on a borrowed quill, he wrote:

Dear Malfoy, I’m sorry for not doing this in person. I think I’d screw it up and not say everything I mean - it all seems so big. Thank you. I can’t even express how much it means to me, what you did at the battle. You saved my best friends, and Te Eddie still has a mum because of you.

Harry paused. What else could he say? How could he express how dark the world had been, how many times he’d tried and failed to save those people until Draco did it for him? In the end, he signed off with one more thank you, and posted it with a rented owl, a deep pang in his chest to see the bird fly off silently.

He walked back to Fortescue’s and sat back at his table with a peaceful smile before letting go of the past and blinking, disoriented, back in his Charms class.

“Harry,” hissed Hermione, like she’d been saying it for several minutes. “Wake up, for Merlin’s sake, and do your damn questions before Flitwick kicks you out!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, and bent his head over his work.

***

Almost nothing had changed after his little jump back to summer, and it was such a relief. Harry hadn’t realised how tense he’d been, waiting for all the new memories to settle in his mind. The only difference he could see was that Draco now glanced at him with a bit of uncertainty, as if it was now he who wanted to say something and didn’t know how.

He got his chance one night in early November.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever have a healthy sleep pattern, especially not with enough battle memories to fill a lifetime of nightmares and nobody to talk to about a lot of them. Not that anyone ever talked about their battle memories, he thought as he wrapped his warmest cloak tighter around him and stared out over the lake. Hermione tried to get people to talk sometimes. Maybe she and Ginny talked some days. Maybe she and Ron did too, late at night when Ron crept into her dorm like they all pretended he didn’t.

Harry turned when he heard footsteps, and saw a pale shape faltering in the corridor. “Oh! Draco.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up; Harry realised what he’d said, and kicked himself. But Draco didn’t say anything, walking up to join him at the window, staring out into the night instead. He took a deep breath. “I must formally apologise for not replying to your owl over the summer. It was terribly rude, and - what are you laughing about, Potter?!”

Harry shook his head, chuckling at Draco’s bristling, offended glare. “Sorry, nothing. It’s just… nothing.”

Draco blushed, two spots of colour high on his cheeks. Harry found himself staring at them, wanting to touch. “I realise that’s the least of the things I have to apologise for,” Draco began.

Harry shook his head. “No, no, I wasn’t laughing at that, I just…” He chose his words carefully. “I felt like I’d taken a long time to thank you. Like I should have done it earlier. It was… it was just such a huge thing, I didn’t really know how to say it.”

Draco met his eyes, searching. “Yes, that’s exactly it.” He paused and seemed to consider, weighing his options. Harry should, perhaps, have made his escape, but he didn’t want to, preferring to enjoy the sight of that pale face limned in moonlight once more, only this time with less shadow under Draco’s eyes, less of a haunted look.

“Something’s different about you, Potter,” said Draco. “You called me Draco, like you’ve earned that intimacy.”

“Sorry,” said Harry, ducking his head and wondering if he should go back, rewind this conversation.

Draco carried on like he was thinking out loud. “And you look at me like you’ve seen something else, like you remember something other than six years of acrimony.”

Harry struggled to focus on the start of the conversation, but the memory was too recent, too imprecise, too mixed up with the distraction of Draco right there. “Excuse me,” he muttered, pulling away from the window.

Draco’s hand shot out and grabbed his elbow. Grey eyes bored into his, almost angry, almost afraid. “One good thing, Draco. One choice you can be proud of,” he said. “You pulled me out of a cursed fire that one of my friends set, you’d had my own wand pointed at me moments before, and yet you then called me Draco. I’ve been through these memories obsessively, Potter. In a pensieve. I’m not misremembering, so don’t you dare try that.”

“I wouldn’t--”

“How did you know?” Draco hissed, leaning close. “How could you possibly know the words that kept me going each night?” His hand tightened around Harry’s elbow, fingers digging in. “‘Just one good thing;’ that’s what I kept telling myself. If I just made one good decision, it’d be enough. How did you know when the bloody Dark Lord himself didn’t?”

Harry made his decision with one look at Draco’s wild, terrified eyes. “You told me,” he said. “In another timeline. A worse one.”

Draco let go of him, frowning. “You’ve got a time turner?”

Harry shook his head and bit his lip. “I’m not meant to tell anyone. I don’t even know if you’ll believe me but… on my eighteenth birthday, I found out I can travel back in time.”

Draco let out a long breath. “That’s what the Potters have, then.”

“You’ve heard of it?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Lots of Pureblood families have these hereditary extra powers,” he said. “It’s almost always a closely guarded secret, so…” He shook his head and seemed to sag against the wall. “Of course you just went and told me. Of course you did.”

“Well, I didn’t know, did I?” Harry snapped. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit out of the loop on family traditions.”

“Sorry,” said Draco, looking away.

Harry leaned against the wall next to him. “Wow, you’ve changed,” he teased.

“Of course I have,” Draco frowned. “I’d change every aspect of my personality if I could.”

“Don’t,” said Harry softly.

Draco looked at him for a long moment, then pushed off the wall. “Come on then, Potter,” he said. “You’re going to tell me every tiny embarrassing thing I said to you in every timeline so I know exactly how much to Obliviate you.”

Harry smirked and followed.

Tagging anyone who interacted with last chapter! I hope you like the way this new act goes ^_^ @idriltelcontar, @dangerouslyyoungphilosipher, @slytherclaw134689, @sadsoulsadeyes <3