#loosing her childhood so she could train to defeat a monster that turns out to be the biggest most anxious sweetheart of a teenager

[petracozbi]

Probably how Hero would react to meeting Dood

[theclockworkmonk]

Halftime

Originally written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt #10: "Smile, we're on Camera."

Read on AO3

Summary: With Ginny telling Harry that he needs to cut loose, Harry fulfills one of his childhood dreams, but gets far more than he bargained for.

*******

Dear Harry,

I take back any and all cheek that I might have given you while you were Captain, because you clearly had the patience of a saint to not be screaming at us the whole time. I swear, it’s like herding hippogriffs. Peakes messed up his bat hand by being careless in Potions, Dean and Demelza are more interested in flirting with each other all practice than running the bloody drills, and the less I say about our sorry excuse for a new Seeker, the better. When you joined the auror program to help the world and find purpose in life, did you not once consider how it would inconvenience ME? Honestly.

And I don’t know how you put up with sharing classes with Hermione for six years. I’ve lost count of the times she’s almost slapped me upside the head from being in such a hurry to raise her hand. It’s also very annoying that I can’t lie to her about not having any homework to get her to stop nagging me, since she now has the same schedule as me.

I miss you so much. Honestly, has the first Hogsmeade weekend ALWAYS taken this long to arrive? What the hell. I’m counting down the days until I can get you pissed in the Three Broomsticks and I can take advantage of you (insert evil laughter here).

Love,

Ginny

****

Dear Ginny,

I’m afraid I can’t join you in bad mouthing Dean for being distracted by a girl during practice, as that would make me a hypocrite. But it’s irrelevant, because you’ll score so many goals on your own that it won’t even matter who catches the Snitch. Let’s be honest, you’re a better Captain than I ever had a chance of being. At least you’ll probably play in more than one game. As much as I miss you, that makes me glad I didn’t go back to school, even if my hand is cramping from paperwork and Robards thinks I don’t deserve to be here.

I’m honestly surprised that homework lie worked on Hermione up until now. I would have guessed that she memorized every year’s schedule just so she could scold students of all years (don’t tell her I said that).

About Hogsmeade….I was actually thinking that maybe we should steer clear of the pubs and shops. Maybe we can have a picnic on the outskirts of the village. Or maybe I can instead meet you on the school grounds. I know non-students normally aren’t allowed that, but I’ve been told the school’s stern headmistress has a soft spot for me. I just think that if we’re in the Broomsticks or Honeydukes together we won’t even get through the day without cameras starting flashing. I just don’t want to add one more thing to stress you out.

Love,

Harry

****

Dear Harry,

Okay Love, this is getting ridiculous. We’ve been together for months but still haven’t gone on a single proper date. I’ve tried to be understanding, I didn’t even argue when you didn’t want to come to see me off on the platform and we had to get all our snogging in at the house, but surely you realize this can’t go on forever. I’m PROUD that I’m your girlfriend, you git. You keep saying that you don’t want to drag me into your public life, but I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I don’t care about that. You really don’t think I can handle the occasional Witch Weekly columnist cornering me and asking me if you’re good in the sack? Don’t worry, I’ll give a glowing review.

We can’t keep hiding from the world forever, nor should we have to. So stop being such a noble prat or I absolutely WILL tell Hermione what you said about her scolding.

Love,

Ginny

****

Ginny,

I know that you could handle anything the world throws at you. I know you can handle anything, but you still shouldn’t have to. It’s more about what I can handle. I know we can’t keep this secret forever, but….I don’t know, our relationship is just OURS right now. Once we’re public, it’s like we’re going to be sharing it with a thousand strangers. Half of bloody Britain had an opinion about Hermione my fourth year, and I wasn’t even ACTUALLY dating her.

This is probably like ripping off a bandage and we should just get it over with, but as long as I still have that card to play and make plans on how I’d reveal it at some point in the future, I can fool myself into thinking I’m actually in control of this part of my life. Once the press gets word about us, it’ll be chaos.

Love,

Harry

P.S. - If you tell Hermione what I said, I’ll tell Ron that you said it’s only a matter of time before he gets too fat to be an auror.

****

I clearly have failed to teach you that control is grossly overrated. If you ask me, some chaos is exactly what you need. Sure, your life might have SEEMED crazy at first, but now you know you were just riding on rails the whole time. You’ve had Dumbledore, the school, the Ministry, the Order, all telling you what you can do and where you can go for your own protection, and of course the whole thing was because a bloody prophecy was running your life. Honestly, if I were you, I’d be going crazy.

And what do you take me for, a coward? I told Ron that to his face this summer, your threats mean nothing to me, peasant.

****

Are you calling me boring? I AM going crazy! I’m actually leaving the house and going to the shop when I want to. 10-year-old me would have his mind blown by having more than five square feet to move around, haha.

****

Nice try Harry, but we’ve both learned that using dark humor as a defense mechanism only goes so far. Your tragic backstory actually further proves my point, this truly is the first time your life has been open-ended and you don’t even know what to do with it.

You know what I think? I think you need to be impulsive. Maybe even a little spiteful. Every day, just do something you couldn’t do growing up or at school, either because it was too dangerous or illegal or because the monsters you lived with didn’t let you, or whatever (by the way, I’m totally going to kill them, it doesn’t matter what you say). Even if you don’t think you need or want to do them, do them just because you CAN now. Don’t wait to start until you can do them with me, in fact it may actually be better if you don’t. Even though we love each other, our relationship is still something you’re bound by and responsible for. You need to learn to live for no one but yourself.

Then maybe you’ll stop being such a chivalrous prat and hiding me away. Love you.

*******************

14 November, 1998

“I think you overdid it on the shrinking charm,” said Hermione, “I’m not that taller than you.”

Ginny adjusted the denim jacket that Hermione had lent her as they walked down from the castle in the crisp autumn air. The boys had written to them and asked them to wear muggle clothes when they went down to Hogsmeade, and Ginny needed to borrow something warm that wasn’t a cloak from Hermione, and had adjusted the size with magic.

“ Hmm, ” Ginny hummed thoughtfully, “Maybe, but I didn’t want it to be baggy. I need it riding high enough so my bum is uncovered, I didn’t squeeze myself into these tight jeans for nothing.”

Hermione grimaced and rolled her eyes. “Well you might have made it so small that it doesn’t even make you warm, defeating the purpose.”

Ginny scoffed. “Hermione, we’re girls, we don’t need to rely just on clothes to keep us warm, that’s what boyfriend arms are for, obviously. ”

They approached the gate of the school, and were surprised to find their boyfriends waiting for them right there instead of in the village. Ginny was about to tell off Harry if he was continuing with his nonsense of just spending the day at the school, but her voice died and her jaw dropped when she saw the state of him.

Harry was, somehow, looking even hotter than he did the last time she saw him. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a messed-up smiley face on it and the word “NIRVANA” splashed across his chest (which looked much more toned than the last time Ginny had seen it, but she would have to run her hands over it to be sure). She was able to see it because his hands were on his hips, pushing back the black leather jacket he was wearing. From now on, he would wear nothing but leather, if Ginny had any say, and it hung beautifully on his broad shoulders (which he had now, apparently, Ginny thanked the gods for the auror training regimen).

But the thing that drew Ginny’s eyes the most was his hair. It was even more wild than usual, messier than any bedhead she had seen him with, to the point that it seemed to defy gravity, and was practically begging for a girlfriend’s fingers to be running through it.

“Oh, brother,” she heard Ron grumble. She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t even attempting to hide how hard she was eye-shagging Harry.

Harry gulped and blushed at the look on his girlfriend’s face, and didn’t even manage to get out a polite greeting before she leapt into his arms and kissed him until he felt dizzy.

“...wow,” he gasped finally as he put her down, needing air.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in muggle clothes that fit you,” said Hermione, after kissing her own boyfriend.

“Yeah, he looks weird in jeans meant for a human instead of a hippopotamus,” laughed Ron.

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the attention. “Yeah, well...that’s sort of the point.”

He turned back to Ginny. “I took your advice. I’ve been doing lots of stuff that I’ve never been allowed to do before. I actually bought a Nintendo, since I was never allowed to touch Dudley’s, or even watch him play.”

“He’s coming to regret that, though,” said Ron smugly, “since I’ve been kicking his arse at it.”

“And I also realized that I can actually buy my own clothes now,” Harry continued. “I started out just wanting to buy some jeans and shirts that fit me, but well….your dad and I finished fixing Sirius’s motorcycle, and in all the photos I’ve found of Sirius with it, he’s wearing a jacket like this. I guess it’s just what you’re supposed to wear when you ride one.”

He looked down and pulled at his t-shirt. “This is a muggle band that I found a tape of once. I managed to play it for a bit on Dudley’s old stereo he kept in his second bedroom, but I got a bit too greedy with the volume and Petunia practically shrieked like a banshee to ‘turn off that noise!’ But now I have all their music and blast it as loud as possible, just because I can, like you said.”

“And in all of this splurging, you couldn’t afford a hair comb?” chuckled Hermione, pointing to Harry’s hair.

“Hey, you shut up!” Ginny told Hermione. “Don’t listen to her, Harry, if you comb this I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, apparently men do this on purpose now?” said Harry. “I went to get a haircut, and basically told the stylist to just do whatever she thought looked good, and she used this paste that made my hair stick out all over the place even more than it usually does, and stay there.”

He shrugged at Ginny. “You said to be spiteful, and it was fun imagining what Petunia would think if I had this growing up, so I kept it.”

“Well Harry, that is downright petty!” Ginny gasped. “I’m so proud of you!” At that, Harry’s face split into an adorably goofy grin.

“Well let’s get going,” said Hermione. “Why did you two ask us to dress muggle?”

Reluctantly, Harry pulled his eyes away from his girlfriend beaming at him. “Oh yeah, that. Well, I was actually hoping we could go to muggle London. There’s another thing I’ve been meaning to do, but I wanted all of us to go together.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she looked at Harry with her hands on her hips. “Are you just trying to get me away from the magical world as part of your daft idea to protect me?”

“What? Nooooo,” said Harry guiltily, “It’s not about that!”

Ginny didn’t move a muscle except to raise one eyebrow.

“....okay it’s not only about that. Come on, muggle public is still public, it’s a step in the right direction, work with me here, Gin.”

“I for one don’t mind staying clear of Harry’s admirers, personally,” said Ron, offering his arm to Hermione to Apparate.

“Alright,” grumbled Ginny, “but you’re not off the hook about this!”

She looped her arm through Harry’s, he turned on the spot, and she winced as she felt the squeeze of Apparition.

When they landed, Ginny was immediately aware of all the sounds and smells that came with the truly absurd number of people that lived together in muggle society. That was the thing about muggles that always blew her mind, just how many there were. She heard the shuffling of thousands of footsteps and a cacophony of car horns, and smelled smog. The first thing she saw, however, was just a brick wall. They had Apparated in an alleyway.

“Come on,” said Harry, and took her by the hand. He led her out onto a bustling pavement, and across the street Ginny saw an enormous stadium. Everywhere, there were billboards and banners in red and white, adorned with the emblem of a red rose. Across the entrance to the stadium, where a huge crowd of people, mostly dressed in white, were passing through turnstiles, were giant letters spelling out “WELCOME TO TWICKENHAM.”

“Oh Harry, this is a great idea!” said Hermione cheerfully as they started crossing the street towards the entrance.

“Wait, what’s going on?” asked Ginny, “What made you want to come here?”

Harry sighed as they continued to walk. “Growing up, Dudley always loved a muggle sport called rugby. Actually...no, I don’t think he loved the actual sport, he just loved watching big ugly blokes hit each other really hard. His favorite part of the matches were the brawls that would occasionally break out. That might be why he eventually lost interest in the sport and took up boxing instead, cutting out the middleman, I guess.

They got in line at the entrance to the stadium and Harry handed out tickets that he had bought to the three of them.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, “Petunia and Vernon would take Dudley to all the England games. They really tried to foster his interest in it, I think maybe so that he might actually want to play.”

He paused for a moment and then chuckled. “But that was never going to happen. Dudley can’t run for eight seconds, much less eighty minutes. The sport also kind of has a stigma for being for stuffy upper-class people—”

“Yeah, that tracks,” grumbled Ron. “Your dad said he played this game, right Hermione?” She swatted his arm.

“So that was the other reason the Dursleys liked the game, it fit nicely into the image they obsessively crafted about themselves,” continued Harry, with an edge in his voice. “But of course, that image had no room for me in it. They couldn’t very well be seen with a boy who looked like a street urchin in raggy hand-me-downs, so every England game I got handed off to Mrs. Figg while little Dudders got to shout obscenities at the opposing players and referee to his heart’s content.”

Ginny gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and his furrowed brow relaxed again. He shook himself out of his mood and cleared his throat.

“Anyway, Ginny’s been telling me to indulge myself more, so I thought I’d finally see what all the fuss is about, just because I can now. I wanted it to be a surprise, but in hindsight I really should have asked you both first, I won’t get my feelings hurt if you want to go back to Hogsmeade.”

“Oh, don’t you start that again!” Ginny scolded him.

“This is an excellent idea, Harry,” said Hermione. “I’m always telling these two they should learn more about muggles.”

Once they were in the stadium, Harry started guiding them towards the section with their seats, but Ron made to go towards one of the many food kiosks.

“Ron, I know there’s no way you didn’t eat lunch before picking us up,” groaned Hermione. “Even you can’t possibly be hungry again already.”

“Hey, you just said I needed to learn more about muggles!” said Ron defensively. “I’m going to get right on that, starting with learning about their selections of beer.”

Hermione crossed her arms. “Oh, really, you got a muggle driver’s license while I’ve been away? How do you plan to prove that you’re over eighteen?”

Ron frowned in confusion. “Why the bloody hell would it matter if I’m over eighteen?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, Ginny, go find our seats. Ron, go buy the food, I’ll get us some drinks.”

Eventually, they were all seated, in a great spot that Harry knew with satisfaction even the Dursleys had never sprung for, with Harry sitting between Ginny and Hermione, with Ron on Hermione’s other side. Ron was balancing a sample of nearly every concession in the stadium, Ginny was bouncing excitedly on the edge of her seat, and Harry wore a contented smile as the England team marched out onto the field alongside the Netherlands, greeted by the roar of the crowd.

“Brr, it’s a little cold,” said Ginny, exaggerating her shiver a bit and looking sideways.

“Oh, come here,” said Harry, with genuine concern, and wrapped his arm around her.

She sighed as she melted into him. “Much better.”

“You cold too, love?” Ron asked Hermione. “These muggle clothes aren’t as warm as a cloak.”

“No, I cast a warming charm on myself before we left,” Hermione said casually.

“Oh…” said Ron, his face falling. Hermione rolled her eyes, took his hand, and wrapped her boyfriend’s arm around her.

As the anthems started playing, the four of them enthusiastically attempted to sing along, despite the fact that Hermione was the only one of them who knew the words to “God Save the Queen,” and blushed with embarrassment at the offended looks they earned from the fans around them.

Right from kickoff, Ginny was surprised by how much she enjoyed a game where all of the players were stuck on the ground. It was true that there was a great deal of ugly blokes hitting each other, but there was also a good bit of far prettier blokes pulling off long, elaborate passing plays that honestly made Ginny feel jealous and start taking mental notes, and whenever the players started launching kicks into the sky and leaping to catch them, she almost felt like she were at a Quidditch match. With each England score, she cheered as if she had been watching the team all her life.

And she had plenty of chances, because barely a few minutes would go by before England would score again. The roar of the crowd quickly became less and less intense, as many of the muggle fans started clapping politely or even looking outright bored, and looked sideways at Harry and Ginny continuing to leap to their feet every time England ran the ball into the end of the field, like they suspected the young couple were being sarcastic.

“Oh come on, that was thrown forward!” Ron cried out in frustration as England scored their fifth try. “And there’s no way that was a legal tackle!” he pointed to a Dutch player still on the ground, clutching his ribcage.

“How would you know?” Harry laughed. “And whose side are you on anyway, traitor?”

“He can’t help it, this is just like watching the Harpies play the Canons,” teased Ginny. “He has a soft spot for hopeless teams.”

“Oi, shut it!” snapped Ron, “Besides, it’s our year this year, our new Keeper is unbeatable, except from the left side.”

By the time halftime was called, England was up forty-seven to zero, Harry and Ginny were feeling exhausted from cheering, Hermione’s right ear was hurting from Ginny’s shouting, and Ron was about to burst from all the beer he had drunk, so he got up and made like a bat out of hell towards the toilets.

As the fans settled down, the stadium was trying to keep them entertained until the game resumed, playing music and showing shots of the crowd on the jumbotron, with the caption “Dance Cam!” in the corner. Harry and Ginny were having fun judging the performances.

“Hmmm, commendable effort, but lacking creative vision,” said Ginny in a snooty voice.

“You just can’t appreciate the artform,” said Harry. “If they pointed the camera at us, I would wipe the floor with you.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t need to see you attempt to dance,” said Ron, returning holding his stomach and looking green. “I already hurled in the loo, don’t make me do it again.”

“Well that tends to happen when you eat five hot dogs in forty minutes,” said Hermione primly.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been living off of Harry’s cooking for the past two months, I was desperate for something edible.”

“Only you could complain about free food, Ron,” said Harry.

“It’s not free! I’m paying for it more than you!” Ron shot back. “Don’t act like you’re cooking to be nice, you’re just using me as your Weasley guinea pig so you can get good at it to impress my sister!”

Harry blushed, and was about to retort, when Ginny pulled on Harry’s arm from his other side.

“Harry,” she said in a sultry voice that sent a shiver down his spine, “Smile, we’re on camera.”

Harry looked up to the jumbotron, and felt himself blush harder and gulped loudly. He saw Ginny and himself, up on the screen, magnified for thousands of people to see, but that wasn’t the most embarrassing part. While he had been arguing with Ron, the game had apparently changed. Instead of the Dance Cam, the screen was now captioned with “Kiss Cam!”

He turned towards his girlfriend, who had a dangerous glint in her eye, and cleared his throat. “Er...do you think we should—”

He was cut off by Ginny throwing her arms around his neck and sticking her tongue down his throat. She leaned back in her seat, pulling him with her until he was almost lying on top of her. Through the fog of blissful oblivion that turned his brain to mush, Harry was distantly aware of the roar of laughter and wolf whistles as a few thousand of his closest friends reacted to him snogging his girlfriend.

“...Welp. I’m gonna go puke again,” Ron said in a deadpan voice, and got up to leave.

“You know, when you told me to go crazy, I didn’t think you meant shameless, ” Harry told Ginny.

“Oh, ex- cuse me!” laughed Ginny. “Have you already forgotten how our first kiss went?”

“I think this is on a bit bigger scale!” said Harry, gesturing around them to the huge stadium, many hundreds of times larger than the Gryffindor common room.

“Yes, that means that I win,” said Ginny smugly.

Harry laughed and reached an arm around her, pulling her close.

“I didn’t know it was possible to feel this....”

“Happy?” Ginny finished for him hopefully.

“No,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Well, yes, I mean, I am happy, but you make me this happy all the time. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this normal. ”

Ginny smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “For the record, Harry, you’re not normal. You’re brilliant, and a hero, that’s never going to go away forever. But I’m glad you got to pretend otherwise today. Now, can we get the game started again? I’m on the edge of my seat to find out who wins.”

Despite being so cheesy, Harry couldn’t help himself. “Well, I’m feeling like I’m the real winner here.”

Ginny threw her head back and groaned.

******************

“I am starving! ” Ron announced as he and Harry stepped through the Burrow’s fireplace. They had just floo’ed over for Sunday dinner, which had quickly become a tradition after they had moved out. For both of them, the Burrow still felt like home.

When they entered the kitchen, they found most of the family already there, and Harry was surprised and confused by the range of reactions he received. Fleur’s face was flushed as if she had been laughing, and upon seeing Harry she collapsed into more giggles. Bill, however, narrowed his eyes at Harry and pressed his mouth into a thin line, which didn’t scare him nearly as much as George grinning at him and rubbing his hands together gleefully. Mrs. Weasley had her back turned to them at the kitchen sink, and Mr. Weasley was hidden behind a newspaper.

Harry and Ron paused for a moment and looked at each other.

“Er...what’s so funny?” asked Harry.

“It’s not funny,” said Bill curtly, looking between his wife and George.

“Did you two enjoy your outing with the girls yesterday?” Mrs. Weasley asked without turning around.

“It was brilliant,” said Ron. “Harry had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.”

“Well I should think so,” sighed Mrs. Weasley, with annoyance in her voice. She turned around and placed a magazine on the kitchen table, sliding it towards Ron and Harry. “You certainly seem to have enjoyed yourself.”

Harry looked at the cover of the magazine, and felt all of his insides turn to ice.

It was the latest issue of Witch Weekly, and on the cover was an identical image to the one that had appeared on the stadium’s screen the previous day, except this one was magically moving: Harry and Ginny in the stands, sharing a searing kiss in front of everyone. The headline read “ WHO IS GINNY WEASLEY? THE INSIDE SCOOP ABOUT THE CHOSEN ONE’S CHOSEN ONE! Read on page 23.”

“This issue actually went out late,” said George over his drink, “I guess that happens when the biggest story of the week happens last-minute.”

Harry couldn’t respond. He felt his throat closing up. The exact thing that he had been terrified would happen had happened.

“Okay, just for the record,” said Ron uneasily, “She was the one snogging him.”

“How dare you, Ronald!” said George dramatically. “What are you implying about our sweet, innocent baby sister? We all know she’s been badly influenced by Harry’s wanton ways. After all, he’s always been such a womanizer.”

“We can see that she instigated it in the picture, Ron,” said Bill shortly, “But one wouldn’t think that Harry would be powerless against being manhandled by a ninety pound girl with no wand if he didn’t concur with the idea. Where’s all those auror reflexes?”

Harry was barely listening to them. He opened the magazine so fast he ripped the cover and flipped to page 23:

Sorry to all of our younger readers, but Harry Potter appears to be off the market! While WITCH WEEKLY reporter Joan Bigby was watching a muggle game called “rug bee” (as research for our Top 10 Hottest Muggle Celebrities, pg 36), imagine her shock when she spotted the Chosen One himself in the crowd. After months of being elusive, with not a single public sighting outside of the Ministry of Magic since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, with all eyes on him, shared an intense kiss with a red-headed girl that we have since discovered is Ginny Weasley, current seventh year Hogwarts student, in a public display of affection that very few would expect of the famously mysterious and dignified hero.

However, the muggle footage (that we’ve magically recreated here) clearly shows Ginny initiating the kiss. Did she do it to get some fame for herself? Many people are saying it’s possible.

“WHO is saying it’s possible!?” Harry growled as he white-knuckle gripped the glossy pages. “You just broke the story, who’s talking about it already!?”

“Oh, ‘many people are saying,’” Mrs. Weasley huffed. “That’s what they say when they want to disguise that they’re just making things up.”

Harry continued to read, even though every line horrified him more than the last.

Naturally, the magical community of Britain will be wondering if this girl is good enough for their savior. Well, we regret to inform everyone that Ginny Weasley appears to have a reputation of having many boyfriends and going through them rather quickly.

“But she doesn’t!” Harry cried. “She had just two previous boyfriends and dated them for a year, how is that quickly?”

“Well I mean,” mumbled Ron, “She does have more experience then either of us.”

“But that’s only because we’re both idiots,” said Harry.

“Fair point,” said Ron.

After leaving the muggle event, Miss Bigby Apparated to Hogsmeade, where the Hogswarts student population were spending the day. She had a very enlightening conversation with a Miss Romilda Vane, current sixth year.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry groaned.

“I strongly suspect she’s been slipping him love potions,” Miss Vane commented. “Everyone knew that she was fawning over him for years, then out of nowhere he’s snogging her in the Gryffindor Common Room after a Quidditch match. She’s been climbing the ranks by dating boys who will give her clout by association. First there was Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw with the highest marks in his year, then there was Dean Thomas, Harry’s dorm mate and one of Gryffindor’s Quidditch stars.”

WITCH WEEKLY also tried to reach out to Corner and Thomas, who were also present in Hogsmeade, but they both adamantly declined to comment. However, this may have been due to having no bad things to say, but rather a fear of reprisal from the fiery redhead. According to Miss Vane, Ginny Weasley also has a reputation for being violently unstable, with a penchant for the Bat Bogey Hex. As if we weren’t already worried that this girl would break Harry’s heart, she might also hurt him physically….

Harry let the magazine fall from his hands and he collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs.

“It’s over,” he said in disbelief. It wasn’t emotional panicking, it was just a reasonable statement of fact. “There’s no way she doesn’t chuck me after this.”

Harry hopelessly collapsed forward until his forehead loudly made contact with the wooden table.

All the expressions from the Weasleys softened in sympathy, from Bill’s and Mrs. Weasley’s stern looks to Fleur’s and George’s teasing smiles.

“Oh Harry dear, I’m sure she’ll understand,” said Mrs. Weasley softly, coming around the table and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“If I know my daughter at all,” said Mr. Weasley, finally emerging from behind his paper, “then she couldn’t care less what some strangers reading a magazine think of her. She understands that as long as the people who love you know the truth, that’s all that matters.

“Oh, I zink she cares,” chuckled Fleur, “She will love being known as ze diabolical villain zis rag is writing about. She will be proud, it will make ozzers zink twice before messing wiz ‘er. No one will try to steal ‘Arry from her if zey zink she will hex zem.”

“No, I know Ginny is strong,” said Harry despondently, “but everyone has a limit. She has to be wondering if being with me is worth—”

Tap tap tap

Harry’s sulking was interrupted by the noise at the window. He looked up and saw the screech owl that he had gotten Ginny for her birthday.

Harry’s heart sank even further. This was it. The break-up letter.

He mentally protested against his feet as they carried him to the window. All of his Gryffindor courage was failing him and he wanted to run in the opposite direction of that letter and never read it.

He numbly opened the window and took the letter from the owl. He opened it with shaking hands and began reading. As he read, he felt his tense stomach muscles finally relax, and eventually he started chuckling and a small smile appeared on his lips.

“Eh-hem.”

Harry looked up and saw all of the Weasleys looking at him very expectantly.

“Well?” said Ron.

Harry shrugged and began reading:

“Okay Harry,

I figure that this letter should reach you right as you’re starting to panic at Sunday dinner and starting to think a bunch of daft things like I’m going to ditch you.

Dean told me about being ambushed by some tart from WITCH WEEKLY in Hogsmeade. I got a copy this morning and it’s honestly the most brilliant thing I’ve ever read. I’ve framed it and put it up in my dorm, I’m going to re-read it whenever I need inspiration.”

“See? What did I tell you,” said Fleur proudly.

“I’m thinking about putting ‘Ginny Weasley, named Gold Digger of the Week by WITCH WEEKLY’ on business cards, but that might be overkill. So nip all of those noble, guilty thoughts I know you’re having in the bud, Potter. My only regret is that I don’t get to snog you like that every day. So you better be prepared to make up for lost time—”

“Feel free to skip this part,” said Bill flatly.

“We get the gist of it,” said Ron.

“The point is, Harry, that it will take a lot more than some tripe in a magazine for lonely witches with nothing better to do with their time for you to get rid of me. You better not try to hide me away again the next time we’re together. You’re going to snog me in public, whether it’s muggle or magical public is up to you.

Love (no matter what),

Ginny

P.S. - If you truly want to make it up to me, you can use your Ministry connections to get me out of Azkaban after what I do to Romilda Vane.

“Wow,” said Ron, “Don’t let her go, mate, that’s not the kind of letter you’d get from most girls right now.”

“I think I’ll have to lend our sister some Weasley Wizard Wheezes prototypes,” said George thoughtfully, “It seems she’s found the perfect test subject in Miss Vane.”

“Oh, don’t you encourage her!” scolded Mrs. Weasley, “I’ll write and tell her it’s best to just ignore this sort of thing and not retaliate. I told you she would be understanding, Harry dear.”

Harry’s head was swimming and his heart was pounding from his realization.

As happy as he had always been with Ginny, there had always been something holding him back from picturing a future with her. He now realized he had been assuming that she would get scared of everything that came with dating him and let him go. But she had taken the worst of it in stride, and that made it obvious: she was with him for keeps. She was the One. He could now see his whole life stretched out in front of him. A life shared with Ginny.

Harry made to leave the kitchen in the direction of the fireplace.

“Wait, Harry, where are you going?” asked Mrs. Weasley.

Harry didn’t see a reason to hide it. “I’m going back to my flat to write the cheesiest, most nauseating love letter in history.”

Ron shooed him away. “Don’t give us any more details, then, I don’t want to lose my appetite.”

[death2thevirgin]

Survivor part 3

Characters: Me (sorta), Castiel, Bobby, Dean and Sam

Word Count: ~4,600

Warnings: Reference to past child abuse, Sexual abuse and physical assault. (Not much though) Violence, anger, language, Cannon divergence

A/N:  So I know I totally “skipped” the whole Lilith breaking seals season and jumped straight to the apocalypse thing, but it works better for the story to play out this way in my opinion. This is the final chapter, the way it ended leaves it open to do a sequel. This fic was one of the most challenging thing I have ever written. I want to say thank you to @iwantthedean for having this challenge that provided the perfect setting to get some of my story out there.  I have never met a group of people as amazing as the SPN family! You are all so special to me and remind me everyday to always keep fighting. Thank you all so much! I wrote this for @iwantthedean ‘s mini milestone challenge. The challenge was to write yourself into a fic and to clarify the only things that are based on my real struggles was the childhood abuse.  Everything else is fiction built around it or in a way what I wish really happened. This is part (3/3) I would appreciate if feedback was kept to the positive kind on this one. PLEASE READ WARNINGS! Thank you all for reading!

Catch up: Part 1, Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie’s POV 

When I left Bobby’s house I didn’t look back, I never stopped moving.  I knew as soon as Lucifer found out about me he would do whatever he could to get me to be his vessel.  Not only could I not allow that to protect the people I love but I had to protect all the innocent people of the world. I’m not too sure how much time had passed since I left, it could have been weeks or months. I knew I made the right choice, I could find a way to beat Lucifer but not if I was worried about protecting my loved ones.  A lot changed since that day, not only did I feel different but I was different.  

The first time I realized these changes I was in a diner and I thought I was just over hearing normal chatter but as I focused it became apparent that it wasn’t just normal conversation, I could hear thoughts.  At first it was a bit overwhelming but I calmed my breathing and when I focused, I realized I could control it.  That wasn’t the only change though, I didn’t get tired and was never really hungry.  I could feel pain but only in extreme amounts, I would cut myself and I wouldn’t bleed much.  All I could think was why didn’t this happen to me sooner? Why couldn’t I have these abilities when I really needed them?

I did my best not to use my abilities, afraid that maybe it would be a beacon that would bring all of Heaven and Hell down on me.  That was until tonight while traveling down interstate 70 when a truck pulled over.  Inside the truck two men peered down at me, giving me an all too familiar feeling. “What’s a pretty thang like you doing out here all alone?” The man in the passenger seat spoke in a southern drawl as he spat out his chew.

I try to just continue walking but I am frozen in place. I don’t think it is fear of the men that froze me, no, I took down monsters double their size.  It wasn’t necessarily the men themselves, more like what they wanted to do to me. I couldn’t move because I was assaulted with the memories of all those other men.  Their unwanted hands covering my body, the names they would call me and the hits I would receive if I didn’t listen.  The passenger takes my fear as his opportunity, he jumps out of the truck and make his advance against me.  As if my hunter instinct finally kicked in I start walking backwards attempting to increase the distance between us. “Keep going and just leave me alone!”  my words come out louder and stronger than I expected.

“We don’t want to hurt you doll, we just want to have a little fun.” He coos as if to reassure me. By now the driver is out of the truck and coming at me from the other side. “Get her” with that they both charge towards me.

I can’t really explain the feeling that came next.  It was a mix of terror, anger and frustration. I was terrified that I would belong to them and they would use me up just like every other man before them. I was frustrated because I seemed to attract these type of men, it was like they knew I was damaged goods and it didn’t matter if they used me a little more. Most of all I was pissed, I refuse to let this be my life.  I refuse to be used and discarded at the whim of a man.  That feeling settles in my stomach and sends a warm sensation over my body.  I feel like I am vibrating from within and it washes over me.  As the men get closer I reach my arms out, each palm facing a man “I said leave me ALONEE!!!”  On the last word the heat that built up through my body feels like it is leaving through my hands.  I drop to my knees, head down… I feel like every molecule in my body was drained.  I look up still expecting to see the men coming towards me, but not only are they nowhere to be found every thing that surrounded me looks like it was blasted away. I quickly look around, maybe I wasn’t alone. Maybe Castiel found me and this was his doing, but there is no one else there. 

Once I regain enough energy I stand, pain making its was to my head.  I hear a high pitched noise that only causes the pain to worsen.  I start walking again, stumbling a little as I regain my footing. I only make it a way down the road, then I decide to turn around and look back.  Where I was standing appears as if a bomb was detonated, the radius of the blast was so large I couldn’t really tell where it ended.

~~~

Castiel’s POV

She has been gone for two weeks, four days and thirteen hours.  I reread her note often, not that I believe it will lead me to her but it brings me comfort.  After I filled the Winchesters in on Cassie’s situation Sam offered to agree to Lucifer just to protect her but Dean wouldn’t allow it. He said he loved Cassie but he couldn’t let Sam sacrifice himself for her.  Not that it would work, once Lucifer possessed Sam he would know everything Sam knew about her.  Zachariah insists I forget about her and focus on stopping Lucifer and getting Dean to say yes to Michael.  I refuse to abandon her again, I will not leave her to be destroyed.

Dean and Sam continue on there own meeting a prophet named Chuck and learning about the four horsemen. Not sure what I can do, I get the idea to use Deans amulet to find Father.  If I find him, he will have to stop all this or at least explain why he is allowing it to continue.

I search for father refusing to believe he is dead, when I am not searching for him I’m looking for her. After searching with no results, I decide the best way I can protect her is stopping Lucifer before he even finds out. I go back to the Winchesters and help them, even if that means going against my brothers.  We finally track Lucifer down to Carthage, we get a chance and Dean shoots him with the colt but it didn’t work and we nearly escape.  Every step we take forward we get knocked back ten.  Trying to defeat Lucifer was difficult enough but with every Angel interfering nearly made it impossible.  Having to take time from the important matter to stop Angels from trying to kill Sam when we should be finding a way to end Lucifer.  Having to get the Winchester out of Heaven after the are killed and realizing that Father has abandoned us all were major set backs. I could feel myself draining, this fight was getting to me.

Then I used myself as a bomb to clear the way for the brothers to rescue Adam and defeat Zachariah.  I am blasted far away; I have no idea where I am or were I am going. I float in the vast nothingness and think of Cassie.  I have failed her in many ways and I hope by helping the Winchesters I was keeping Lucifer from her.  When I wake I am in a strange hospital and I have no idea where I am and I’m unable to heal my vessel.  Just as I grab my phone to call Dean I hear it.  The noise is soft at first, sounding like a train in the distance but then it is deafening.  It is a high pitched scream and instantly I know it is Cassie’s. Even with my weakened grace I can feel her and know exactly where she is, like a beacon.  

Unable to fly, I make my way to the Winchester gaining Pestilence’s and Death’s rings.  I inform them I know where Cassie is and if I do that means so do my brothers and Lucifer.  I implore to them that she is no longer safe and we must keep Lucifer from her or the world stands no chance.  The things I tell them are all true but they are not my main motivation.  Yes, I want to keep earth safe and stop the fighting from my brothers but I know I can’t loose Cassie.  Maybe it is my weakened grace, maybe its just the things I’ve been through since I first returned to this planet but I never felt this way about another person. If she is harmed or dies, I won’t care about the apocalypse they can end everything because my everything is Cassie.  

~~~

Cassie’s POV

After my run in with those two men I felt an urgency I’ve never felt before, I couldn’t say why but I just knew I had to get away from there and fast.  The open road held a feeling of danger, I was exposed and knew I needed to get hidden.  With a hurried pace I quickly make my way to the next town, Stull Kansas. Walking around I find a motel and set up for the night, I paint sigils on the walls just like Cas showed us. After taking a shower I lie down, though I haven’t really been tired lately after what happened earlier I felt a little drain. I was only planning on grabbing a few hours of rest before I pushed forward tomorrow.

I am lying on the bed when I notice the light begin to flicker.  I am quickly on my feet, grabbing my iron knife with one hand and my gun with the other. The flickering speeds up until all the lights in the room blowout.  Just my luck I would get the haunted room. “You room isn’t haunted Cassandra.” The voice is coming from behind me, I quickly turn on my heels spinning and coming face to face with a man whose skin is a little withered.

“Who or what the hell are you and how the fuck did you get in here?” I pull my gun up aiming between his eyes as I cock it.

He tilts his head sideways “Now Cassandra, that is no way to speak to your father is it?” He is wearing a cocky smile.  

My heart drops, Lucifer. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, well you put on quite a show earlier, smiting those low lives.  You sent a pretty powerful buzz throughout Angel radio, which I happen to have a subscription to.”  He steps closer to you causing you to step back until your back is against a wall. “I think its about time we get to know each other a littler better.” He sniffs the air between us “I can literally smell you power.”

I can feel his grace flowing off him like a tsunami, he is much more powerful than Castiel’s and it terrifies me.  “It’s not Cassandra, its Cassie and I have no desire to know you! You are nothing to me.” My words betray me and come out shaky but I take a deep breath, trying to find my courage.  “I already know what your going to ask me so don’t waste your fucking time. The answer is no… no now, no tomorrow and no forever.”  The more I speak the more empowered I feel, I stand a little straighter and square off my shoulders. It dawns on me he won’t lay a finger on me because he needs me.  

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya.” He hisses, I can tell I am pissing him off a little.  “Just think about it Cassie, between your soul and our combined grace we would be unstoppable.  I know the things you’ve been through. I know you spent most of your life feeling like you had no control over what happened to you. Imagine never feeling powerless again, imagine punishing the ones that ignored your prays and pleas. Imagine getting to know your father, you’ve always wondered about me, haven’t you?”

To say I didn’t consider his offer would be a lie but of course he knew just the right things to say. “You’re right, I am tired of feeling powerless but you’re also wrong, I don’t want to punish anyone.  I just want to move past it with my family... This conversation is over and your answer is still no.” I push by him walking to the other side of the room.

“You’ll change your mind, they always do and when you do Ill be there.”  He adds a clap on the end for drama.

I jolt awake sitting up in bed, maybe it was all a dream. I know it wasn’t, I grab my watch looking at the time I realize how much I actually slept. I needed to get moving, to find a way to hide myself better.  I gather my belongings making my way to the door swinging it open and I am met with a steely gaze.

I don’t know how they found me but I can only guess it was the same way Lucifer did. ��I just stand there unsure of what to do-do I apologize; do I try to run… I feel like I want to cry “I am so sorry guys.” I drop my bags and begin to cry silently, I squat down putting my head between my legs. That’s when I feel his arms around me, at first I thought it was one of the boys.  That is until my eye lock with those blues ones.

“We know you did it to protect us Cassie” Sam looks at me understanding. “But we always work better as a team and that is how we are going to stop this.”

“Cassie, you worried me… I didn’t know if you were safe.” Castiel whispers so only I can hear him and squeezes me a little tighter.  

I let the boys in and they fill me in on everything that happened while I was gone. The four horsemen, the rings and their brother who is the vessel for Michael. “So guys, what’s the plan?” I can see Dean clench up at my question, he turns his head looking out the window.  

Sam clears his throat directing the attention to him. “It’s a long shot but it is all we have at this point. 

Dean continues to stare out the window the whole time Sam goes over their plan.  He says he is going to say yes to Lucifer, he is going to fight him and use the Horsemen’s key to lock Lucifer back in the cage.  This also meant that Sam would be sacrificing himself in the process. “No.”  The room goes quiet and all eyes are on you, confused looks all around. “No Sam, you’re not going to do that. I am going to do it.”

Sam begins to protest. “No, Cassie you’re too powerful, we can’t risk him having access to your grace.”

I reach over grabbing his hand. “That is exactly why I have to do it Sammy, because I am going to be more likely to win against him.”

Dean comes over to were Sam and I are sitting, he takes a seat next to me, grabbing my free hand. “Sweetheart you don’t have to do this, it is our mess and we will clean it up.” His emerald eyes search mine for any hint of hesitation. 

I risk a quick glance at Castiel he is standing in the corner with a look of disapproval on his face. I look back to the first men I ever trusted in my life. “I know I don’t have to do it, but I should.  I am his daughter and a Nephilim, technically I shouldn’t be alive anyway.”  I smile trying to ease their guilt. “Besides you two have done so much for me.  You two have each other and do so much good for the world.  You two would be missed, me not so much.” I let out a soft laugh, I can tell they weren’t amused by the last part.  

I face Sam tucking his hair behind his ear “Sammy, you remind me so much of my younger brother, I can only hope he turned out to be half the man you are. I want you to know you are so much more than your past.  Yea, sure you made some mistakes but who here hasn’t.  You are smart and have such a big heart, please let yourself experience love again.” I lean in a place a soft kiss on his tear stained cheek.

I turned to face Dean giving his hand a tight squeeze. “Dean, if I ever got so lucky as to have an older brother I would wish he was like you.  If you were my older brother I would have grown up happy and safe because I know you would never let anything happen to me.  I need you to promise me you will go easier on Sammy… but also on yourself.  Not everything is your fault.”  Dean was able to keep his composure for the most part but he had a few tear sliding down the cheek I kissed.

Both brothers are unable to speak, I fought off crying but I was starting to loose that battle.  The tears came fast and flowed freely, I wasn’t upset about what I had to do, I just was going to miss these boys, my family. I stand looking a both of them “What is it that Bobby always says? Family don’t end in blood but it doesn’t start there either.” I am just able to get the words out before the sobs really start but in an instant Dean and Sam’s arms are around me. “I’m going to miss you two so much” 

Our hug lasts for a moment before Dean pulls away “Alright no more chick flick moments.” Which get a light laugh from the room. I give the boys both individual hugs and ask them if they mind stepping out and giving Castiel and I a moment alone, which they oblige. “We are going to make sure we got everything we need; we’ll be back.”

Once the boys are gone Castiel just stares a me, his expression unreadable.  He is standing in the corner when I grab his hand and lead him to the foot of the bed where we both take a seat.  Now that its just the two of us I can see that Castiel is different, its his grace it very faint.  With out speaking we communicate, I touch his cheek signaling him to look at me and when he does he doesn’t make direct eye contact.  I know he is upset that I am going through with this but its more than that, I think he is embarrassed about his grace. “I can’t even take you to our place one last time before you go.” His voice is growly and low. 

“Close your eyes Castiel.” I grab his hand and guide him back till we are laying side by side on the bed. Once his eyes are closed I focus on the lake.  The lake Castiel would take me too, I am not sure how I know how to do this but it comes naturally.  It takes a few minutes but when I open my eyes Castiel and I are at our lake. 

“I did it, I wasn’t sure I could.” I am sitting next to Castiel and It takes me a moment to realize he is holding my hand. I look over to him and can see he is adverting his gaze. “Castiel please look at me.” He obliges me. That’s when I see the sorrow in his eyes. “Castiel, what’s wrong?”

 He lets a long breath before answering me. “I failed. I failed Father, I failed my brothers and sisters and worst of all I failed you.” 

His pain breaks my heart. “Castiel no you didn’t.  You told me that God told you that he had a plain, that he trusted you to watch over me.” I tell myself I wont cry. “You kept me alive, I’m sure I wouldn’t make it to fifteen if it wasn’t for you.  You were an excellent Guardian Angel” I nuzzle into his side and rest my head on his shoulder, he is stiff at first but then he relaxes. “When I’m gone please take care of them, all of them. Watch over them like you watched over me.” 

I feel Castiel shift and look up to meet his eyes. I’m sure he is going to say something but instead he takes his hand reaching under my hair to cradle my head.  He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Always.”

We stayed like that for a while not needing to talk.  Eventually I knew we needed to get back to reality and I bring us back.  When we get back the Winchester are there, they ask me one last time if I am sure I want to do this. “You don’t owe anyone; Cassie you don’t have to do this.” Sam gives me one last chance to change my mind. I don’t, I say my final goodbyes and leave.  I know what I have to do and I am resolved in my decision.

~~~

Castiel’s POV

“Hey Assbutt.” I call as Sam throws holy fire at Michael causing him to vanish with shrieks of pain.

“Sam did you just Molotov my brother in holy fire?” Lucifer in Cassie’s body asks rhetorically. “No one dicks with Michael but me!”  She brings her hand up and snaps her fingers causing Sam to burst into a million pieces. “Didn’t need him anymore anyway.” Turning her attention towards Dean, easily snapping his neck with a twist of her wrist. “Castiel what are you doing here?” I have no time to mourn Sam and Dean, they are already gone. I have to help Cassie, even if that’s just to let her know I am here.

“Cassie, listen you are not alone I’m here to help you.” I try to reach her.

“Cassie isn’t here and she will not be sending me into the cage like you planned.” She stands ready to attack again. “I didn’t even know I had a child and I am already a better father then ours.  I will protect her and make sure she is never harmed again. The things he let her suffer through and yet you still fight for him.” A look of sorrow flashes over her face briefly.

“If you knew anything of your daughter’s pain you wouldn’t be boosting.  If you loved her, you wouldn’t have just killed the Winchesters. Cassie I need you to listen to me, you are stronger than him! You have to fight.”  I try to reach her, preparing for failure I ready for Lucifer’s attack.  When he doesn’t I look into her eyes. “Cassie I am here.  You can do this.”

I don’t know if I am getting through to her or not but when I look into her eyes I see a glimmer of hope. Her eyes are dark and she lets out a sigh “Oh Castiel, if you only knew the things she blamed you for, how much she hates you.” She steps closer to me grabbing the lapel of my coat.  “If you could feel the anger she has towards you, you would stop trying to get her to fight.”

I try my best to stay strong, but his words are hitting me in all the places that hurt.  “I know I’ve failed her in the past, that is why I won’t fail her now.  If she wants to go through with this plan, I will help her.”

“I knew you were stupid, but really?” She sneers “I guess I will just have to show you.”  With that she is swinging her punches landing hard on my face.  I know I should fight but I deserve this.  I deserve every blow; I deserve it for abandoning her all those years ago. I deserve it for not fighting harder to protect her.  I deserve it for all the things I should’ve done for her. “She is going to feel your bones snap; she is going to be the one that kills you.”

There is no use fighting, I know what is to come. “Cassie, it’s ok.  I am so sorry for not being there for you.  I am so proud of you, you are strong.” A few more blows land. “OLANI HOATH OL GASSAGEN” I close my eyes welcoming the final blows, welcoming the end.

“It’s ok Castiel, it’s going to be ok. I’ve got him” Her words come out with huffs, she sounds like she is struggling.  I open my eyes and see her grab the rings out of her pocket, tossing them to the ground and saying the incantation.  When she finishes the ground opens up, I pull myself to my feet. Stumbling towards her she puts her hand up as if to stop me.  I still go to her “Castiel I need to do this.”

“I won’t stop you but before you go you need to know.” Its hard for me to breath, she touches my temple and I can feel her grace run through me, I know I am healed. I need her to know before she goes, I need her to know how I feel. 

She places her hand on my cheek, her eyes never leaving mine “I love you too Castiel, I think I always have.”

“I am so sorry; I should have protected you.  I should have stood up for you and never stopped. So much of your pain is my fault.” Her eyes fill with tears.

She smiles softly, leaning forwarded and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.  She pulls away, but before she can speak I take her lips again this time with more passion.  I pull her close to me, not wanting to let her go.  

“Cassie it’s not gonna end this way; I have fight my brother.  It is my destiny.” Adam says as he appears.

She pulls away and takes a few steps back looking me in my eyes, I can see the sorrow written on her face. She closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She spreads her arms out and falls back, Michael reaches for her but he is too late and he goes tumbling in after her.  The hole closes and they are both gone.

I stay knelt there for a while.  That is until I feel a hand on my shoulder I look up and see Sam. “Sam you’re alive?”

“Apparently.” He gives himself a once over inspecting himself.  “How are you?”

“Psychically I feel fine; my grace has been restored.  I don’t know how though. Do you think it was God?” I get to my feet walking over to where Dean laid, I place two fingers on his temple and he springs up gasping for air.

“What the hell happened?” Dean exclaims.  Sam fills Dean in as I walk to where she last stood.  I can hear the brothers when they walk up to me.  “You ok Cas?”

“I just lost the woman I love; I don’t think Ill every be ok.”  I think about all the things I would say to her if she was still here.  I think about her smile and the way she scrunches her nose; I don’t know what father’s plan was but this couldn’t have been it.  

  Tagged people I thought might be interested:

@iwantthedean, @grimesftwinchester, @vougebandit, @anavalentinelove, @teepartyy, @kikiamr, @maileann, @ryansgirl5509 , @spnfeelstrain, @mrstheorossix3 , @ykcim24-7, @rattyretro-blog-blog, @iamnotsaneatall, @dancingalone21 , @jerkbitchidjitassbutt , @notnaturalanahi@simplycheyenneautumn , @devilackles , @boredoutofmymindstuff, @supernatural-fan-123, @16wiishes, @notnaturalanahi, @illbeguiltyifyouwantmetobe, @tom-is-in-my-tardis, @ally-miller16, @impala-dreamer, @tatortot2701, @im-super-potter-locked, @eileenlikesyou-maybe, @jensen-gal,

[argorpg-blog]

CONGRATULATIONS and welcome to the crew of the Argo II, ROSE! The Gods have spoken: welcome aboard AMARUS, known as KIT ALEXANDER, with a faceclaim of AVAN JOGIA. Please take a look at our checklist, and send in your account in the next 24 hours.

ADMIN NOTES: Rose! The amount of detail and thought you put into your app was just astounding. Those little bits of color and extra thought (”plum carpet”!!) managed to make Kit a three dimensional, complex character to fall in love with. We were both absolutely blown away by the way you managed to convey his bitterness and complication with the gods without making it seem too overdone. We love Kit, and we’re excited to see him here!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME/ALIAS: Rose AGE, TIMEZONE, PRONOUNS: 20, GMT, she/her ACTIVITY  & EXTRAS: I’m a university student who also works part-time, so I’m a busy bee lol. But I always find time to write so I should be around lurking pretty much always, and if not here for replies everyday, then every other day or so. Also I’ve kinda fallen in love with this rp, you’ve done a fantastic job.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED SKELETON: Amarus CHARACTER NAME: Kit Alexander AGE & GENDER: 25, cismale, he/him FACECLAIM: Avan Jogia, Matthew Daddario, Ezra Miller

BIOGRAPHY:

Fortune favored the bold. Your father might have been bold once- must have been to have endeared himself to a deathless goddess who walked the world with wind in her hair, dispensing luck with a brush of her fingers and a heady smile. But you knew him in the aftermath of that intoxication. Luck left your father, but he’d already fallen headfirst into her thrall. Your earliest memories are of sitting at your father’s feet, halfway under the table, tiny fists clenched around a toy car as men who seemed larger than life roared at a television across the room, money changing hands. The plum colored carpeting of your living room caught the wheels of your car, but the tile of the place where your father leaned over the counter and wrote checks in his tightly looping script was better, even though you were told off when the toy’s tiny plastic wheels left marks on the walls. Your father would strap you into the car, pressing a kiss on the top of your head and whispering that you were his lucky charm.

School was when you first discovered other children. Before then it had been you and your father, the men who came to the little home you shared to yell as if the horses, or dogs, or baseball players who flickered on the tv could hear, and grumble as bills were passed across the table, the men who looked over their counters to smile down at you, asking you questions as you slipped to safety behind your father’s legs. You didn’t know how other kids worked, didn’t know the right things to say or do. It didn’t help that your father’s luck, a fickle, nebulous thing, swung your lives between poverty and excess with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Children weren’t kind to silent little boys who came to school in threadbare clothes but with the newest gameboy tucked in their bags, more inclined to speak in whispers to adults than learn the latest skipping game than dominated the playground. Teachers were at a loss as to what to do with little boys who seemed to take innately to math- reeling off probability as if was second nature- but hardly spoke to anyone.

In a life dictated by your father’s fortune, the infectious joy of his successes buoyed you between the dark periods when a gamble didn’t go his way. Being someone’s lucky charm only earns you praise until their luck fails. Betting evolved from a hobby, a diversion, to an occupation by the time you were old enough to compare your life to those of your classmates and find it lacking. Maybe that was why your father’s fortune took a sharp turn for the worse when you were eight, and watching mothers pick up their children as you sat in front of school, heart leaping every time you thought you saw your father’s car. A string of losses led to the loss of the house with the plum carpet, the loss of the comforting weight of your father’s hand on your head, the whispered assertion that you were his joy, his happiness, his lucky charm.

But fortune hadn’t forsaken all those around you. A girl who shared her snack with you did a perfect cartwheel at recess. The cat who lived in the apartment next to the one you and you father had eventually left the back of the car for narrowly avoided the wheels of a speeding truck as it sauntered off, leaving you wide-eyed from where you had been crouched in the gutter, petting it. While you sat, swinging your legs, at the kitchen table of the old lady who lived downstairs and tutted until you agreed to come in for a slice of cake, she found her wedding ring down the back of a chair. It had been lost for years. She’d cried, pulled you into a hug, called you lucky. You’d smiled, shoveled the rest of the cake into your mouth, turned tail and ran.

When you were fourteen, limbs made to look even ganglier by clothing that was inevitably too short, you decided that the universe demanded balance and you were its scapegoat. A turn of good luck for those around you was more often than not your misfortune. Even when you saw the first monster, your voice breaking around a scream at the eyes and the teeth and the smile, sprinting down the road, weaving around obstacles, you pushed against a man, who stumbled away and out of the path of a bucket of paint falling from a window a level above the sidewalk. He was saved a nasty concussion, at the very least, but you were slowed by the collision. Within the block the thing had you in it’s claws, fingers boring punctures into your arm, bruises blooming almost immediately. You’d wiggled free, loosing your jacket as you kicked and writhed, and when you fell hard back to the ground it might have been luck that put a brick within arm’s reach. Might have been luck that saw the brick’s arching trajectory straight into the creature’s yellow eye. But it just as easily could’ve been coincidence, and the good aim that had you picked early in P.E. despite your reputation as a pariah. You didn’t put much stock in luck, anyway.

Your father noticed the loss of the jacket more than the blood that stained your sleeve, and the bruises that steadily turned purple, then green, then yellow. You grew even warier than you had been, keeping your back to walls and keeping to yourself. It didn’t help. The next monster chased you for further than you had ever run, pushed you out into the edges of the city where you passed empty storefronts without really seeing them. By the time you stopped running, when you couldn’t have run any more, the monster was gone- where and since when you couldn’t have guessed. It was there, slumped against the wall of an abandoned strip mall full of shattered glass and trash trapped in dying weeds, that your mother came to you for the first time.

Fortuna smiled, and you were caught between laughing and crying, between confusion and anger, dark humor and utter exhaustion.

Going to Lupa was a better alternative than continuing to try your luck with your father, who had increasingly begun to pretend you didn’t exist. Camp Jupiter, where you weren’t chased by monsters and disappointment, was better than peeling linoleum and empty stares. The Romans welcomed you with open arms- a son of Fortuna was a good sign, a good addition to any legion, a source from which to take good favor as if it were nothing. When war came knocking, and the demigods stormed Mount Othrys like so many child soldiers, you were there. You’d thrown yourself into training, trying to dig out a place for yourself by your own merit, but you’d never be as gifted with a sword as a child of Mars, as tactically minded as one of Minerva. When you were there at the defeat of Krios, watching people you’d known for years be wounded, die, you were there as a lucky charm.

Your mother was beloved, feasts were held for her, and yet when you looked at the tattoo that held her symbol it was with a resentment that was unshakable. As the lines under your tattoo signifying your years in the legion multiplied, you surrounded them with art snaking up and down your arms that had nothing to do with your mother or the other gods and goddesses whose children were nothing but pawns in a greater game. You smothered the implication of your loyalty with flowers and vines, animals and symbols. But you didn’t bother to smother your cynicism. And all people saw was the outstretched, kind hand of luck regardless.

FATAL FLAW/DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC:

Amarus- bitter

Kit has never been shy about his distrust of the gods. As far as he’s concerned, the entire pantheon is full of dysfunctional and manipulative egotists, and the Romans are tragically deluded in their devotion. Even before he discovered the truth of his parentage and all that that meant, he was already skeptical of luck- the thing that just so happened to be his birthright, and utterly inescapable. That his childhood was so consumed by the fickleness of fortune made him bitter from the start- when he arrived at Camp Jupiter as a long-legged fourteen year old it was with tired eyes and a prematurely jaded attitude.

His bitterness made him ambivalent for years, but since he’s gotten older it’s morphed into something harder. To let himself be buffeted around by the whims of his mother and the rest of the gods and goddesses is to let them win. Kit is no optimist, but he’s fighting for something better regardless of the fact that losing seems inevitable. He’s driven by resentment, and it could very easily be his downfall.

Entwined as his future is with the gods and goddesses as well as his fellow demigods, it’s only a matter of time that his derision of the divine sparks with someone’s quick temper. His distrust is so invasive that he’s wary of any help the gods try to extend to anyone, regardless of the situation. In terms of character growth and development, this could definitely change, but his reasons for accepting the call to arms in this quest are decidedly not born of any loyalty to his mother.  

EXTRAS:

cultivated contention: I’d like to explore Kit’s interactions with the Greek demigods relating to the feud and separation that the gods created between the two groups. For him, it’s just another in a string of manipulations and lies coming from the careless pantheon, it’ll be interesting to see how he responds to this once his knee-jerk reaction to be friendly with the Greeks just to spite the gods wanes.

fundamental differences: In a world so concentrated in the godly, Kit defines himself through his distrust of the gods. I’d like to see him befriending someone who’s on this quest for all the right reasons despite this completely different worldview.

in the end, all there is is luck: Exploring Kit’s response to any sort of intervention or aid from his mother would be very interesting. Depending on the situation it could be philosophy-shifting.