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yunkiwii · 4 years ago

Text

—potions gone wrong—

☆ hogwarts au ☆

pairing: bsf!hyunjin x gn!reader | ft. jeongin and mentions of minho

supportive oc: angela, female

genre: sfw. comedic and chaotic, may be considered fluff by some people

wc: 2.4k

warnings: hints of jealousy, mentions of illegal (magical world wise) actions, potion-induced obsession

a/n: i'm pretty sure that in the harry potter series amortentia doesn't work the way i described here, but let's just ignore that shall we? ♡

summary: two boys decide to make a love potion to conquer the crush of one of them. unfortunately, something seems to have gone wrong and y/n needs to step in..

shout out to: ficscafe prompt dialogue event ♡

↳ "I'll give you 20 bucks if you kiss me."

↳ "I don't think that's legal, but we can work around it."

↳ "Shut up, this isn't a wattpad fanfic"

Completely imersed in the pile of books you gathered in the library in order to try and understand more about potions, you get startled when a boy throws himself into the chair next to you, a yellow stripped tie hitting your head in the process.

"I'll give you 20 bucks if you kiss me."

"What? No!", you give him a disgusted and confused look before digging your head into the old dusty pages again.

"Come on!! Angela keeps coming to me trying to snuggle and kiss me and-", as dramatic as he is, Hyunjin pretends he is going to be sick, exaggerating on the nasty sounds way too close to your ear.

"What? Why?", your bestfriend finally caught your full attention as you turn to face him, "Wait, Angela as in like, Angela your major crush perfect-Angela? Weren't you supposed to like, I don't know, enjoy the attention?" But then the face he makes, his cheeks turning shades of pink as his gaze drifts away from you and he sinks down in his chair in embarrassment, realization hits you, "No! No you did not! Are you like what, dumb?", you flick is head inducing a loud squeal to come out his mouth.

"It was Jeongin's idea!", his voice three pitches higher than before, "And I can't be that dumb if I managed to make that stupid love potion work. But that's beside the point, will you do it or not?"

"Do what? Kiss you? And how will that help you dimwit?", you went to flick his head again because, to be fair, he deserved it, but Hyunjin knew you too well and held your hand in time to stop you from hurting his pretty face, as he likes to state.

"To break the curse! Make her give up on me by making her think we're together or something!"

"What curse? There is no curse! And she isn't even thinking right now, she might just kill me out of jealousy!", at this point you're pratically yelling at each other and are forced to leave the library, resuming this odd conversation on your way to Ravenclaw's common room.

"I still can't believe you let yourself go with what Jeongin tells you. He's evil you know?"

"Should've guessed by the green scarf huh?", you slap his arm lightly, not very fond of the jokes made regarding the fact your other best friend is a Slytherin.

"So, how do I solve this?", he basically pleas at you as you sit down on the desk next to the fireplace, as far away as possible from your housemates. Every two in three students has made, or attempted to make, some sort of potion or spell to have something in their advantage. However, amortentia wasn't just "some potion", and if some were to find out that Hwang - head in space - Hyunjin succeded at his attempt they would never leave his poor ass alone, so for now your plan was to keep this subject as low-key as possible.

"Marry her." you say nonchalantly while, without his knowledge, already looking up all about amortentia, its possible side effects and how long it would take to wear off - if ever-, receiving a whine in return.

"It was really fun at first, you know? The flirting was cute, the smooches were great," and boy he put some emphasis on that adjective,"but now it's like she's obsessed with me! She's clingy and talks with that annoying voice and I can't seem to get rid of her!" Hyunjin throws himself face down into the old couch and whines again, words muffled by the pillow where he burried his face. "She's probably standing right outside the door just now!"

"Wait, what do you mean it was fun at first? How long has this been going on Hwang Hyunjin? And why am I only knowing of this now?", you turn around in your chair way too fast, hitting with your knee on the other chair next to you before facing the mop of brown hair all spread around the blue pillow.

"Well, I barely ever saw you all week!", the boy turns his head just the minimum amount to look at you, "You're either with your nose buried in those old books, or with your hands all over Lee Minho! Not my fault you no longer have time for your friends..."

"First of all," you pull out the pillow he's laying on, his face falling on the black cushion as a few curses leave his lips, "lower your tone! I did not spend the week with my hands all over Minho, I am tutoring him in potions!"

"Which you're not that good at, that's why you walk everywhere with those fat books..." Hyunjin rolls his eyes at you as he recovers the pillow from your hands again, "Don't deny it (y/n), you've got the hots for him!"

"Oh sweetie, I sense jealousy in your tone... is that why you gave Angela a poorly made potion?", you show him the page you've been reading between the backs and forths of your not so relevent argument, only for him to realize the potion should've worn off two days ago. Instead, it only got worse. "Perhaps you could use some reading too huh?"

The boy rips the book from your hands, grunting between his teeth sounds you doubted to be words as he makes his way out, only to shut the door as soon as he opens it, squealing loudly when his eyes meet the ones from the Gryffindor's brunette standing right in the middle of the hallway.

"I'm telling you (y/n), she won't leave me alone! It's like she's obsessed!", Hyunjin keeps his back against the door, afraid the girl could open it by some miracle driven by her potion induced feelings, hence she doesn't have the password.

"Well, you see Hyunjin... that's because she is! And it's your fault, you should simply face it..."

"Oh I'm going the kill Jeongin...", the boy grunts ignoring your words completely as the whines coming from the other side of the door overlapped them, "Can you go get him? Or get rid of her?"

You make your way to the door Hyunjin refuses to unblock and, when words and pushes didn't make the tall boy move, you had to resort to your wand, although the simple threat was more than enough for him to make way for you. He stayed hidden in the corner as you parted the door slightly to tell the girl her beloved had disapparated from there, and she should probably look at the quidditch court. The fact she believed you only proved how strongly she was affected by the potion, since everyone knew Hyunjin would never go to a sports court by his free will and disapparating into and out Hogwarts wasn't possible at all.

As soon as the path got clear you both made your way to the shrieking shack through the whomping willow everyone was so afraid of, but that was exactly why the three of you claimed it as your secret meeting place.

Jeongin was already waiting as you sent him a message through your magic notepad when you got rid of Angela, and you had to secure Hyunjin to not throw the book at the Slytherin boy who only laughed in return. The laughter didn't last long though, because you only stopped Hyunjin so you would be the one scolding the younger one, flicking his head the same way you did to the lover boy earlier.

"Hey! What did you do that for?", the boy frowned at you rubbing his forehead.

"To bring you back to reality, so you can both fix the mess you made!"

"But what's the problem?" Jeongin looked at you with honest confusion on his face, "Is this about the potion? You know that thing wears off in like a week or so right?"

"Exactly... do the math now genius..." Hyunjin rolls his eyes before leaning his back against the spiderweb covered walls.

The three of you spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out what went wrong in the first place, you analyzing every single detail of the procedure, and the boys trying to recreate every step they took to reach the final product. But, after hours of research and theories nothing seemed to have gone wrong, well except for the exaggerated and long-lasting effect of the potion.

"We should just obliviate the poor girl..." suggested Jeongin at one point, head in his hands as a sing of withdrawal.

“I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it...” You agree with him closing the book you were now reading for the fifth time.

"Are you guys serious? Because that sounds great! Can we get away with it?" Hyunjin's eyes were sparkling in hope as he shifted in his seat to a more straight up position, ready to do whatever it took to get to walk in peace around the school, without being unexpectedly smooched in the cheek and squezeed into a hug every time the girl spotted him.

"No, it's a joke!" You both sigh at your friend's desperation before calling it a day, deciding to resume your research first thing in the morning.

As per usual, you met with the boys for breakfast at the dining hall, though this time they weren't alone and you couldn't help out a giggle when Angela, as glued to Hyunjin as possible while feeding him something funny looking with a spoon, winked at you as soon as you sat in front of her and next to Jeongin. The latter looked almost as horrified as the pampered boy, and you had to focus to try and keep yourself from bursting into laughter before the scene that was unfolding in front of you.

Hyunjin looked like an annoyed pouty baby slumped in his chair - as an attempt to go unnoticed -, while the smiley girl, - one that seemed to have way too much energy in the morning -, pulled some strands of the boy's hair behind his ear before kissing his cheek, "You're so pretty Hyunnie-jin, and I hate to leave you," the girl pouts as she pinches his cheeks rather aggressively, "but don't worry sugarplum, I'll be waiting for you in the astronomy tower when you leave class." This time the kiss is aimed at his lips, but Hyunjin antecipates her intentions and dodges his head with a slick move, just not fast enough to be fully free of her, ending up with her lips awkwardly attached half to his jaw, half to the corner of his lip.

"So you decided to give in?" You couldn't help the grin that was forming on your face, finding it hilarious how the universe always had a way to keep things balanced.

"Shut up. I had to if I didn't want to starve myself, it was one sacrafice I was willing to take." Hyunjin furiously rubs his face with a napkin, as if it would erase the memory of the previous demonstration of affection.

"I say it's the karma, you were basically playing and manipulating her the moment you gave her the potion, now you face the consequences."

"It's like she's taking revenge..." Jeongin mumbles more to himself than to his friends, but he was still heard, and had now two pairs of eyes locked on him waiting for a further explanation to what seemed to be a pretty plausable theory. "We already concluded we didn't do anything wrong, right?"

"Yes, it's still hard to believe though..." you take a sip of your pumpking juice with a raise eybrow, honestly still impressed at how they pulled that off.

"So what if she got aware that Hyunjin gave-"

"We, Jeongin, we!! This wasn't just me okay? I just got the, uh, benefits?"

"Ok, sure, whatever... What if she became aware that we," emphasis on the pronoun as he glanced at Hyunjin, "gave her a potion and now that it wore off she is pulling this act as a pay back? Because, according to our lover boy, if it was nice at first then why would she suddenly start acting all obsessively?"

Both you and Hyunjin took a moment to reflect on this new theory, one Jeongin was really proud of as showed by his smug grin when he crossed his arms and relaxed back in his chair.

"I hate to admit it, but that makes a lot of sense... and explains why she winked at me when I got here..."

"Okay yes, she is faking it... why else would she wink at (y/n) when I'm the one she's supposed to be focused on?", the boy threw his arms up with a questionting - and slightly offended - look.

"Time for confrontation!" you were already standing up with Hyunjin following the lead, but you held yourselves back when you realized Jeongin wasn't moving, looking between the both of you still grinning.

"I've got a better idea..."

It was a terrible idea, you thought, and wanted no part in it at all so you let the boys discuss the details while you just sat there judging their poor life decisions.

The plan was for Hyunjin, instead of confronting her and get it over with as you suggested, to play along as if he too was deeply in love with her, and see who would break out of character first. As much as you tried to explain how childish and stupid the plan was, the boys simply wouldn't listen to you, convinced this was the best idea they've ever had.

Hyunjin got oddly excited about this and ran to astronomy class, already antecipating the act he would pull off when he'd see the girl waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs when he'd get out, leaving you and Jeongin alone in the dining all. The contrast of your opinions on this was pretty clear in your faces, Jeongin laughing loudly, you furrowing your brows and shaking your head in disapproval.

Then, all of a sudden, the boy stops laughing and looks at you, "What if they actually end up falling in love after all this?"

He sounded seriously concerned yet amused at the same time, while you only rolled your eyes at him before collecting your books and leaving for class as well.

"Shut up, this isn't a wattpad fanfic."

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#ficscafe dpe #klibrary #kdiner #districtninewriters #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #stray kids scenarios #lovestaynet #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin sfw #hyunjin crack #hyunjin hogwarts au #stray kids hogwarts au

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ronsonlywhore · 4 years ago

Note

Draco Malfoy and Exist For Love by Aurora

❛ 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲. ❜ draco malfoy x reader

summary: you lay your head on his shoulder, and in that exact moment draco feels like he lives for nothing else except you. like he exists for nothing else except love.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder and poisoning, drinking

a/n: oh to slow dance to this song with a lover at 3 am...any volunteers? / this songfic was written for my mini 200 follower celebration!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

in draco’s eyes, you were heavenly; the true definition of an angel gifted to earth from the gods above and, like all gifts, he cherished and treasured you like his life depended on it.

loving you was like flying: exhilarating and always leaving him breathless. draco had never felt like this before; his heart knew that he couldn’t. to him, love was something he could admire, something he could long for, but never something he could have for himself. it just wasn’t in a malfoy’s nature to openly devote yourself to someone the way he wanted to devote himself to you.

and he loathed his own name for it.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

your touch was electrifying.

your hands had only grazed his for a moment while passing him an empty cauldron, your fingers there then gone, but those few seconds were enough to have draco floating on a cloud for the rest of the day.

he would never be able to explain the way you made him feel.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco felt like he was going to be sick.

“are you okay, malfoy? you look a little pale,” you ask worriedly as draco considers making a run for it. next to you, your friend giggles and murmurs, “malfoy’s always pale, (y/n).”

draco hears a yelp of pain from your friend, you having elbowed her harshly in the ribs. he finally gets the courage to look you directly in the eyes, the same eyes he dreams about, the same eyes that put the entire galaxy to shame.

you’re looking expectantly at him, your friend poorly trying to hold in her laughter. the fact that she’s probably silently judging him sparked something in draco. what was he cowering from? he was a malfoy, and besides, the worst thing you could do was say no.

“iwaswonderingifyoueverwantedtostudyinthelibrarywithmesometime?” draco mumbles. his throat feels dry and he can feel his heart beating in the pits of his stomach; he’s having a hard time swallowing. tongue-tied...that’s another thing he can add to the list of things you cause him to be. not that he keeps one, or anything.

you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to the red-orange glow of the sun. draco can’t help but let his eyes trail down your throat and over your collarbone, desperately trying to imagine what it would feel like to ghost his lips over your smooth skin, or breath in your sweet scent, the scent he’s smelled so many times before in his amortentia potion…

“malfoy? malfoy?”

draco breaks out of his trance, cheeks blazing as you say, “i’m sorry, er, i didn’t catch what you said about the library.”

“oh,” draco falters out. if he wanted to chicken out and never attempt to speak to you again, now would be the time to do it. no, he thinks. he promised himself he would go through with this.

he takes a deep breath and tries again, slower this time, “i just...i was wondering if you ever wanted to study with me in the library?”

“oh, are you looking for a tutor?”

your friend finally bursts out laughing, holding her charms book close to her chest in doing so. you ask her what she finds so funny, and she answers, “don’t you see, (y/n)? he’s asking you out.”

you look back to draco, eyebrows raised. “asking me on a date? to the library?”

draco quickly backs away, thinking about how horrible this idea was. why did he ever believe he had a chance with you, the living embodiment of pure bliss?

“never mind. it’s stupid, i know,” he mutters dejectedly as he walks off, planning to find a deep hole he can crawl into and never emerge from again.

he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around, his eyes meeting yours once more; the same eyes that carry the universe all at once, the same eyes that the sun envies with all her might.

draco can hardly believe the words that come out of your mouth next.

“no! no, i think that sounds quite nice, actually,” you say as you pull back your hand. his skin burns at your touch, and aches when it’s gone.

“you do?” draco asks, surprised and not taking notice of your friend rolling her eyes behind you.

you nod and smile, continuing, “how about this thursday after lessons?

all draco does is nod, not finding the right words to say.

“great! it’s a date, then.” you walk back towards your friend, saying cheerfully, “see you around, draco.”

draco. you had said his name.

mesmerized: another thing he can add to the list. but he definitely doesn’t keep one, or anything.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“remember when you asked me out?”

draco groans and throws a balled-up piece of parchment towards you. “please, don’t remind me.”

you laugh and try to dodge the flying paper as draco goes back to his essay, his quill scratching against the sheet. you sigh, resting your chin on your hand; draco fights the urge to look up and get hopelessly lost in the mere presence of you.

“you came up to me and said...what was it again?” you say as you scoot closer to him. he feels your lips brush over his cheek, your warm breath fanning his face.

draco turns to face you just as you lean in, but before you can give him a proper kiss, he playfully pushes your face away gently.

“i will never forgive you for assuming that i needed a tutor,” he sniffs dramatically.

you pounce on him, right there in the middle of the library, and draco doesn’t care if everyone is staring or whispering; he lets you pepper kisses all over his neck, anyways.

“i thought i would be forgiven by now,” you whisper into his ear as you prop your chin on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his jaw.

“your apology is still being considered,” draco breathes out before catching your mouth in an amorous kiss.

your kisses always took the air out of his lungs. or maybe that was his body telling him he needed to breathe, and stat.

you and draco eventually go back to your studying, but draco’s far from focused now. you have invaded his mind, taken over his thoughts, so that now all he can see and feel is you: a peaceful oblivion he wants to emerge himself in for eternity.

draco thinks back to a year ago, when he was just contented with your eyes lingering a second too long on him, pleased at just being able to sit next to you in potions. now, he has you; not just your persistent stares or your polite smile. you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco swallows back a bit of bile as he loosens his tie harshly, his fingers getting caught in the intricate knot doing so. his footsteps echo in the empty corridor, and he wipes beads of sweat from his forehead, cursing himself for forgetting to meet you at the lake. now you’ll definitely know something’s up.

he walks through the great hall doors, the soft breeze doing nothing to calm his tension. he had only passed by the hospital wing, had only gotten a glimpse of weasley lying on the bed, unconscious and senseless, but that was enough to set his nerves on a frenzy. he did that. he poisoned weasley, even if it wasn’t directly, even if he didn’t mean to.

he had also cursed katie bell with that wretched necklace. a vexed pendant that wasn’t even meant for her, a bottle of venomous bottle of mead that wasn’t meant to be drank by anyone except him: professor dumbledore.

as draco trudges down to the lake, he finally comprehends how real all of this suddenly feels. he can’t kill dumbledore; he can’t kill anyone. he could barely bring himself to imperio bell, could barely handle gifting that bottle to slughorn. how could he ever be capable of murdering someone and watching them fall dead in front of him?

he tries to compose himself as he nears your silhouette sitting at the edge of the lake, your knees brought up to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. draco comes to a stop behind you, berating you in his head for being this careless.

“what have i told you about sitting around like this, (y/n)?” draco asks as he plops down next to you, hoping you didn’t hear that small tremble in his voice. you jump as you turn to him, glaring as you say, “you’re late. and it’s not like death eaters are just going to sneak into hogwarts in the middle of the night and take over. hogwarts is the safest place on earth.”

draco’s stomach churns when he realizes that’s exactly what will happen in approximately a week from now, thanks to him fixing that bloody cabinet. remember, you’re doing this for your parents, draco thinks. for her.

“the stars are shining brightly tonight, are they not?” draco hears you whisper as you take his hand and start tracing patterns on his palm.

“i suppose,” he answers, his mind still on his impossible task.

“my mother used to say the stars shone for me,” you say, choosing to outline different constellations on his hand.

draco smiles slightly and turns to look at you. “that’s because they do.”

you lay your head on his shoulder, and in that exact moment draco feels like he exists for nothing else except you. nothing else except love.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“father used to say love was nothing but an illusion, something that could fill your heart up but leave it miserably empty.”

“love is anything but, draco...it can be so many things and nothing all at once.”

draco’s back itches from the tree bark scratching at his back, but he stays in the same position and sips from the bottle of firewhiskey, anyways. it was his idea, after all.

he stares at you watching the whomping willow sway in the distance, your hand loosely grasping your own bottle. you had only taken a few gulps of the alcohol, but you looked drowsy and dazed already, the liquor quickly taking effect.

draco doesn’t know if it’s the quiet buzz resonating through his body that makes him do it, but he still asks, “please do tell of all the things love can be, (y/n).”

“long answer or short one?”

“both.”

you sigh contentedly as he watches you bring the bottle to your lips, observing the way your throat moves while swallowing the whiskey. you breathe in deep, then start, “love is like stumbling through life all alone, just passing through the motions, and then that one person walks into your life and suddenly you feel like you’re living, you’re alive…and i’ve heard it’s a very wonderful feeling.”

you pause, take another swig, and continue, “love is like being torn apart the minute you were only born, but that one person is the only one that makes you feel whole and complete...your other half, you could say.”

it finally clicks in draco’s head that you are his ‘one person.’

“love is selflessness, and loyalty, and euphoria. love is fearlessness, and spirit, and earnestness. love is the center of everything but also the center of nothing; we revolve around it but it also revolves around us.” you sigh, this time catching your breath.

draco can’t keep it from you anymore, not after what you told him everything that love could be, what love should be, what love will be.

“is love not keeping secrets?” he murmurs.

“yes, i suppose love is honesty, as well,” you answer back.

he responds to that by pulling back his sleeve and revealing his dark mark in its full, horrid glory. your eyes widen as you scramble back from him, your grasp on the bottle slipping and rolling away in the grass; draco’s heart drops as he realizes you’re scared of not only the mark embellished into his skin, but of him as well by default.

“what did you do?” you whisper, horrified.

“the dark lord was threatening my family...he was threatening to kill you, i had to!” draco’s voice breaks just a little bit; he prays to the gods that you’ll believe him, hopes you’ll see his reasons.

you don’t.

draco’s father was right; love can fill your heart, but only for a little while before leaving it miserably empty..

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco’s mother is calling him over, and everyone turns to look at him with judging stares or pitiful expressions. even the dark lord is looking expectantly at him.

harry potter is dead. now everyone will have to choose their sides.

across the destroyed courtyard he can see his father glaring at him. he really doesn’t want to walk over there, doesn’t want to declare his loyalty to them, but what can he do? he has no one to live for on this side, no one to live for him.

he takes a deep breath and starts maneuvering the crowd, walking towards his parents. it feels more like walking into death’s open arms.

“draco.”

he stops, coming to a complete halt. he hasn’t heard his name being spoken in that soft tone in a while. he turns around and you’re there, reaching for him, and he can’t focus on anything except you. you say his name again, and it feels like white horses gliding over the waves or a rushing ocean in his veins.

“love is sacrifice, too,” you whisper.

draco doesn’t walk to his parents. he chooses to stay with you instead.

you, the one person who makes him feel alive and whole. you, the one person he exists for.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

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deepperplexity · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt: 22. Trembling

A/N: So I'm not much for writing young Snape romantically - I much prefer the older one - but I got a little idea for a story and I wanted to try it out. I hope I managed to do the idea in my head some sort of justice and that you all enjoy it <3

Setting: Hogwarts, the day before leaving for the holidays

Pairing: Snape x Reader (both in their seventh year at Hogwarts)

ABBR.: │ (y/n) - Your Name │ (y/l/n) - Your Last Name │

Word count: 3248

Warnings: Harsh Language, Angst, Fluff, Bullying

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

Prologue: You have been in love with Severus for nearly two years now, but he had seemed oblivious to you and each time you had tried to befriend him, or even talk to him, he had been nearly cruel in his words as he pushed you away in all manners possible. But you were resilient and would not quit bugging him in your efforts to catch his attention. But, even you had a limit to what you could take and you were balancing on it after such a long time of giving it your best effort to get him to allow you into his life; and hopefully heart.

He was soaked. You heard the laughter and the snickering as he stood absolutely still in pure shock while water drenched him, soaked his clothes and flattened his long black hair. Your heart skipped a beat as tears sprung to your eyes as you stood halfway up the stairs watching him below you. Those fucking Marauders! They're so damn cruel! As that thought ran through your head you heard the howling laughter of those exact people.

Your head whipped around, your eyes instantly locked on James, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Lily. They stood on the staircase just above Severus; Sirius and James each held a bucket each that had obviously been filled with the water that had been dumped over Severus. You were fuming, your fists clenched at your sides as you watched them laugh. Except for Lily, she just sneered at Severus with a tired look. How can she just fucking stand there? How cold can a person be? At least the other idiots claim their actions and their ugly sides... But she, you were fuming as your eyes shoot figurative bolts of lightning at the girl who was one of the reasons Severus had not accepted your requests at being friends - or even on speaking terms. You knew that. You knew how he looked at her, and damn it hurt.

"Oy, Snivellus, feeling a bit cleaner?" James laughed out with a high five from Sirius who howled with laughter. Remus chuckled, Peter looked happy and Lily seemed to care more about her nails than the scene that was unfurling in front of her. You clenched your jaw as your eyes switched view and landed on Severus who was still standing absolutely still as water pooled around his feet. Your heart clenched at the sight of him, your stomach twisted and you started to tremble with fuming, glowing, boiling rage. It coursed through your every fibre as your hand unclenched and reached for your wand.

It all happened so fast. Your actions fuelled by the dooming rage that pulsed through you as you directed the tip of your wand towards the idiots one floor up and in the next instant they were soaking wet as a fountain of water spewed from your wand. Fuelled by your raging emotions. Silence fell as the sound of water took over. It only took a single moment to drench them all - and a few bystanders. But they had laughed too so why the heck not?

"(y/l/n)! NO-!" Severus screamed and it pulled you out of the pounding emotions that that locked you in your stance as water finally stopped spewing from your wand. You were panting, your hand and wand trembled as you shook from your own shocking action. You had never done anything like that before. Seven years at Hogwarts and I, I lose control now-?! You thought as your hand lowered while the Marauders were still coughing and trying to get up of the floor as the water had truly flown out of your wand like a wave and crashed into them with force.

You turned your head towards Severus who gawked at you. Except for the sloshing of wet clothes and some coughing, the silence was as thick as morning fog. He looked at you, shocked and perhaps taken aback from your actions. For a moment you were just frozen in place as the realisation hit you. You had stooped to their level. You had retaliated - rather splendidly as well might you add.

But the look Severus gave you wasn't a happy one, it wasn't thankful or grateful. He looked horrified and it broke your heart. Tears sprung to your eyes and in an instant, your legs began moving. You hurled yourself down the stairs as students started to whisper and point. You passed Severus in a rush, unable to look at anyone as you tried to keep the tears from falling freely. As you tried to keep your heart in one piece in your chest.

You barrelled your way through corridor after corridor until you got to the courtyard at the back. You flung yourself through the doors as the faint echo of your name being called reached you. But you ran. Ran and cried. Stumbled and sobbed. Somehow, you ended up at the Whomping Willow at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest. You stopped outside of its reach as you heaved for air. Your lungs burned as your cheeks turned wet from tears.

You tried to force air into your lungs, tried to confine the emotions that raged through you like the crashing of waves on a stormy sea seeking to devour all ships. To sink all things and snatch them from the light, clutch them in the deep dark of eternal night. Just, breath, breath, maybe he-, maybe he doesn't hate- no, that look... A sharp pain shot through you, it echoed through your soul as the look on Severus's face flashed before your inner eye.

You sobbed and snivelled as you tried to wipe away the salty tears. Your legs were shaking and your hands still trembled. Your chest felt too tight, yet it could have caved in on itself at the same time from the hollow feeling. How was that even possible? Could you break so badly you turned hollow?

A twig snapped, your head whipped around as Severus called out your name with a hoars voice. as if he had been screaming for a long time. Your eyes widened as he appeared at the top of the hill a little ways away from you. "Leave me alone!" you screamed at him with a broken voice as you were still crying. He started to run towards you on those long slender legs. "(y/n), you-" "Leave me alone!" you screamed again as you started to step backwards. As you tried to increase the distance he so hastily shortened.

"(Y/N), DON'T-" he screamed and you saw that horrible expression of horror again in his eyes and it hit you with such force you stumbled from the recent memory in the Entrance Hall. You were just about to fall when your breath was knocked out of you as something hard hit your back so harshly you landed face forward in the cold snow with a thud. You lost your bearing as your head had taken quite a hit against the ground. The tiny layer of snow did nothing to dampen the blow.

"(Y/N)! RUN!" Severus screamed as you tried to lift yourself up of the ground. What the- but you had no more time to think as a large tree branch slammed itself down right next to you. Missing you by merely the width of a wand. You tried to force air into your lungs after the previous harsh blow as your head spun and your back protested against any movement you tried to force your body to do. Severus shouted at you to move, run, get away - but you couldn't get up.

"MOVE!" he screamed and you rolled away just in time before another branch slammed down where you had laid a mere second earlier. You managed to get up in a crawling position and threw yourself forward with all your strength. You were nearly, nearly out of reach for the damn tree as it slammed its branches down again. The tip of one struck your foot and the force of the blow made you scream out in pain as Severus grabbed your hands and pulled you away from the tree with such force you landed on top of him.

You both laid panting on the wet, cold ground as the tree straightened and stopped flinging its branches around. You tried to catch your breath as Severus held onto you. You barely realized it at first but once your mind became aware of him beneath you, his arms around your waist, his face so close to your own... Your breath hitched, you tensed and you flung yourself off him so fast you had to scramble to find your own limbs in the flailing mess you were.

You managed to get up, somehow, as he rose elegantly despite his long limbs. Your heart hammered as he looked at you. Your mouth went dry as the memory of his horror-filled eyes from earlier flashed by as he still had a slight look of horror etched in those onyx galaxies that were his eyes. You couldn't bear to look at him when he wore that expression you knew came from anger at you, or perhaps even hatred at what you had done. It made no sense that he would be angry with you for defending him but you still saw it, felt it. It couldn't be anything else when his eyes wore such an expression.

You turned around as you hugged yourself. Your back ached, your body shook and you felt fresh tears as they leaked from your eyes. You sobbed as some form of reality hit you that you had fucked up and now, he would never allow you to be close to him. Perhaps now he wouldn't just dismiss you but effectively shut you out... You shivered as the thoughts of his hatred and rejection ran through you.

"Are you cold?" Severus asked and his voice frightened you so you jumped slightly as it came from such close proximity. You twisted your head at the same time only to find him mere inches from you. You froze. Never had he been so close before as he had been that day. Before it was unintentional but now, he had stood himself right by you.

"(y/n), are you cold?" he asked again as you couldn't make a sound. All you could think of, all you could feel, was your pounding heart and his beautiful eyes paired with the long black hair that screamed for you to reach out and run your fingers through it. But you didn't, of course, you didn't do that. But you wanted to, oh by Merlin how you wanted to touch those silky strands. but you merely looked at him as your body vibrated from the shivers as you were without any proper attire to be outside in such cold temperatures.

In the next moment, it was like you realised he spoke to you, realised he was so close, realised he had followed you - called for you and basically saved you from the deadly tree. You took a step back from him as uncertainty crawled through you. How angry was he with you? Did he hate you now? Was that what his eyes were screaming at you? You hadn't a clue and it freaked you out immensely. You felt your face turn pale - from the thoughts, the worry, but also the physical pain you were in as the tree had landed two harsh blows on you.

"Why did you do that?" he asked and his words surprised you, he sounded angry, or perhaps exasperated - you couldn't quite tell as his voice was so damn deep it thundered out of his mouth no matter what he said. "I-, I-" But you found no words. You had never confessed your feelings to him, you had only ever dared hope to perhaps befriend him. Why would he, excellent as he was, be interested in you? You weren't anything special or fancy, nor were you excellent as he was. You were, quite frankly, just you.

He raised a brow slightly at you and a blush crept in as you folded your eyes towards the ground. His was just too deep, too wide, to hexing to look into any longer. You feared you would drown if you kept staring into them as they swirled with black stardust. "You shouldn't have done that," he murmured on a small sigh and you lowered your head as your shoulders shot up towards your ears. "I'm sorry, I, I just wanted to- I couldn't just stand by and watch. They're, they're horrendous..." Your voice was low yet you managed to squeeze out the words through the lump that had formed in your throat.

"They are, you shouldn't have butted in (y/n), you should have just let it-" You whipped up your head with a glare towards him. Suddenly quite angry with him instead. "You shouldn't be treated like that! You shouldn't have to deal with shit like that!" you shouted as he stared at you, "It's not fair! They treat you worse than garbage! I can't- I can't stand it! I can't just look, I can't just stand by and let them torment the one I love-" Your hand covered your mouth instantly without even finishing your sentence.

You stared at him with wide eyes as he did the same at you. Your words felt heavy in the air as your body stiffened, prepared to run for the hills if need be. "You- you what?" Severus stuttered out and your face turned scarlet as he gawked at you. His eyes impossibly large and the usual pale skin a tad flushed. You couldn't help how your heart pounded, how your body trembled and shook - how your entire being screamed at you to run as if your life depended on it. But you were utterly frozen. Your boots stuck to the ground. Your shoulders stiff while your legs felt like jelly.

Well, that's one way to fucking do it, you thought as reality started to entwine with that fantasy world of yours. Just, perhaps not in the way you had wanted it to as Severus yet again looked horrified, or maybe disgusted, you couldn't quite be sure. It was difficult to tell what went on inside of him but it appeared to be negative, whatever it was.

You let your hand fall away from your mouth, it limply landed beside your body as if something just left you, some will or power perhaps. Something, hope or perhaps a dream. "I love you," you whispered as tears once again welled in your eyes, "I love you and I'm sorry to disgust you like that." You exhaled as the tears started to fall. It was over. Your fantasy world where you were by his side, loved by him, came crashing down as if it were an avalanche set on tumbling down a mountainside. You crumbled along with it. As good as buried beneath its weight, as good as dead as your hollow chest felt as if it had truly caved in on itself.

You turned from him, your body felt as if it were not your own. You felt naked in reality; stripped of that one piece of a dream you had held on to for dear life for such a long time. You started to walk away from him only to be held back by slim fingers wrapped around your wrist. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes landed right at his swirling galaxies of onyx and black stardust that looked intently yet harshly on you.

"I told you to stay away," he growled, you nodded, "I told you to ignore me," he continued and you nodded once more. He sighed, deeply. "I told you, over and over, not to butt in." You nodded once more as you wiped away tears from your cheeks with your free hand. The wind swiped over you and tossed about his black hair as you shivered from its frozen fangs that nibbled at you through the thin clothes you wore.

He tugged on your arm, you stumbled a step towards him. When you looked up he glared down at you. "I told you," he hissed, "to stay, away." In the next instant, his lips smashed against yours. Harshly. It took you a moment to realise what happened and then his lips were gone as you gawked at him. "I told you, to stay, away. I told you so many damn times (y/n). So, many, times," he hissed as his arms snaked around you. You looked at him, confused. Yet your body, it seemed to know what to do. As if it were second nature to be close to him. As if the stars had aligned and the world was righted when he was in your embrace and you in his.

His lips pressed against yours again and this time your fingers snared themselves in his hair as you kissed him back. It felt as if life were breathed into you. As if some of the endless universe that swirled inside of him filled the hollow in your chest and leaked out to fill your entire being. "I told you," he grumbled against your lips, "because I knew you couldn't stay out of it if you knew..." He left your lips at the last word as you were both panting. You just stared at him, all your thoughts were trying to make sense of what was happening. Have I been killed by that damn tree and gone to heaven?

His cold fingers stroked away some hairs from your forehead before his lips landed softly where his fingers had just touched you gently. "I knew you couldn't stay out of it, so I needed you to stay away from me. Then, you'd be safe," he whispered as his voice vibrated over you. A darkness curled around the sound, claws stroked your soul as gently as any feather could have.

"What, do you mean?" you breathed out as it was hard to get air down in your lungs when you were so close to him. He looked down at you. The onyx eyes, the hooked nose, the thin lips and the defined jaw. The black curtains of hair that framed his thin face - it was all pure perfection for you. "I mean, you would be in the line of fire if you were with me. And that," he said with a kiss between your eyebrows, "is unacceptable. As, I love you."

Your heart nearly stopped. Your knees nearly gave out beneath you. Your lungs barely remembered how to function. But your lips, they functioned properly as they were slammed on top of his as you pressed yourself into the caring young man who enveloped you in the warmest of embraces. Your fingers snaked between the strands of his hair as his hands held your hips gently yet firmly. I must have died and gone to heaven, you thought as the taste and smell of him overtook you. As you both trembled from cold and heat, from fear and passion - from joy.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction @morphineisouthoney @setsuna-meiou31 @snapefiction @monstreviolet @meteoritewolf69

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2020]

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princess-of-whump · 4 years ago

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Effects of Isolation

I’ve been researching whump stuff for my fanfic and since I didn’t find that much on tumblr about it, I thought I’d share what I found with you guys!

This list deals with the effects of isolation, solitary confinement, trauma bonding and sensory deprivation (as result of isolation).

Of course, which of these symptoms are happening depends to the person and the circumstances. Not everyone will experience all of these. This is merely to help you write more realistically. For certain symptoms you might need to research before using them, but there's plenty of information on the internet!

If you want you can also send me an ask to request more research about a certain topic.

Psychological Effects of Isolation:

Extreme emotions

Anxiety

Panic attacks

Depression

Anger

Obsessive thoughts

Paranoia

Psychosis

PTSD

Self harm

Biting, cutting, hitting, banging head against walls

Losing track of time

Especially if no natural light source is available

Time seems to move slower

Claustrophobia

Hallucinations

Starts of with seeing shapes or points of light, can later become complex scenes

Happen because of a lack of stimuli

Also sounds (footsteps, music, voices) and touch (electricity, crawling insects, someone touching them)

Sometimes the room or furniture seems to move

Feel a “ghostly/evil” presence or someone watching them

Insomnia or irregular sleeping pattern

Loss of identity/individuality

Especially if no light available or only irregularly

Problems with processing information

Difficulties with decision making

Memory loss

Unable to think clearly/logically

Extreme feelings of dependency towards abuser

Unable to tell right from wrong since abuser is the only source of information

Headaches, Migraines

Physical effects of isolation:

Sweating

Dizziness

Heart palpitations

Heart races faster, harder and/or irregularly

Weight loss

Loss of appetite

Back and neck pain, muscle stiffness

Because of lack of physical activity

Immune system is more vulnerable

More likely to develop illness

Higher risk of death

Intense Daydreaming

Coping mechanisms used during isolation:

Making up/ solving mathematical problems

Measuring the room with hands

Constructing things out of food

Antropomorphising of objects (creating imaginary companions)

Walking/moving around, doing exercises

Trouble to resocialize

Aftermaths:

Get startled easily

Avoid crowds and public places

It can take months until the sleep schedule returns to normal

Prefer confined small spaces with less stimulation than the outside world

Self isolation

Got so used to the forced routine that they feel lost without it

Trouble to form relationships

Is an emotional, traumatic bond between a victim and a perpetrator that is formed through reoccurring abuse. The main factors to establish this are a power imbalance (dominated-dominator dynamic) and intermittent reinforcement of reward and punishment. Victims are unable to leave and if they somehow do, they often come back.

Trauma bonding

How it happens:

First incident (if the victim is not forced) of abuse is often not severe and followed by affection

Victim believes it won’t happen again

Power imbalance – victim is below abuser

Abuse starts to get worse

Victim starts to believe it’s their fault

Victim realizes the abuse but the bond is too strong to break free

Low self-esteem, Negative self image

Effects:

Take on the same opinion the abuser has of them

Self blame

Increased risk for mental health issues

Emotional dependency on abuser

Trusting them because the victim believes the abuser is right

Fixation on the 'good' side of abuser

Trying to please the abuser

e.g. By following rules, behaving, submitting

affection by the abuser makes their brain release dopamine - victim becomes 'addicted' to abuser

Keeping the abuse secret

Either out of shame or to protect abuser

If the victim is isolated, they become even more dependent on their abuser. They are the only source of stimulation, distraction or information.

The victim starts linking them to good things, like getting food or water and social contact. This makes them want to be around the abuser. Even torture could be seen as a distraction.

I hope you find this helpful and interesting! As I already said, I definitely encourage you to do more research so your story can be more accurate! I do not guarantee that all the information is correct but this is everything I gathered.

If you want to read more of these, send me an ask or message with a certain topic and I'll do some research on it.

#whump #isolation #trauma #prompts #writing #whumper #whumpee #writing advice #writing help #fanfiction #ao3 #trauma bonding #Abuse #Solitary confinement #Sensory deprivation #Torture #writing prompt

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

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Merry Christmas, bloodspeckledraphael!

For @bloodspeckledraphael, who asked for, among others, Hogwarts!AU. I hope you like it!

Summary: Gryffindors are thoughtless and dumb but have the best parties. Ravenclaws know their shit but they are boring. Slytherins are either ruthless snobs or overly protective. And Hufflepuffs? Hufflepuffs are all just dull.

You don't need to know the Harry Potter series to read this but there are some references for fans.

Vaguely inspired by 'Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day' by faithwood: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359705

There is this challenge for authors to summarize their stories but in a bad way. Here, it would be this: What would a group of teenagers do if trapped in the middle of a dangerous, magical forest? Discuss ethics.

Warnings for: AU, as this Hogwarts isn't exactly like the one from the Harry Potter series. There is swearing, light angst, a bit of violence, and one blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to suicide. Not betaed.

*****

How to Add Ethics to the School Curriculum

“Who?” repeats Lydia.

Stiles knew it would be difficult but this is getting ridiculous. “Derek Hale.”

“And where is he now?”

Stiles grimaces and flicks his hand in his direction without looking.

“That's a Hufflepuff table,” says Lydia haltingly.

“Because he's a Hufflepuff,” explains Stiles. “Captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team?” he tries, looking at Jackson.

Jackson stares back, his face grave. “I hoped it was just a matching name,” he says to Lydia.

“Stiles... Are you sure you like him?”

Stiles frowns at them. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“No,” says Jackson. “No, you don't. Just — look.” He pauses, searching for arguments. “What about Scott?”

“What about Scott,” echoes Stiles.

“I thought you two were dating?”

Stiles makes a face. “I keep telling you we're friends.”

“Slytherin and Gryffindor, friends,” mutters Jackson. “Just saying, dating makes more sense. Hatred turned to passion and all that.”

Stiles stares at him. “Scott is dating Allison.”

Jackson shrugs. “You'd hardly be the first one in a polyamorous relationship.”

Stiles tries to wrap his mind around the cultural differences. Gay relationships, sure. Polyamorous relationships, go ahead. Slytherin and Hufflepuff, no fucking way.

“Well,” he starts, “it's not. And Derek likes me back, okay.”

“Saving grace,” mutters Lydia. “He'd have to be blind as well as stupid not to.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “You won't detour me with a backhanded compliment. Derek's not stupid.”

“Stiles,” Lydia sighs. “He's a Hufflepuff.”

Stiles turns to Jackson.

“They are all stupid,” says Jackson. “Gryffindors are thoughtless and dumb but have the best parties. Ravenclaws know their stuff though by Merlin's beard, they're boring. But Hufflepuffs are all just dull.”

Stiles tries to process this. “What about Slytherins?”

“Clearly, we're the only ones worth anything here.”

“Fine. We'll just spy on this Derek,” decides Lydia. “We need more data.”

“You’re making it sound like I asked you to spy on Derek even though I'm against that.” Stiles frowns. “I won't pay you for that.” He considers. “Well, that depends on the information but... I mean, ethically...”

Lydia raises her eyebrows. “We care about you, Stiles,” she says, “not about ethics.”

* * *

“Playing quidditch instead of preparing for tomorrow's Potions, Captain Hale?” asks Stiles, smirking.

Derek smiles at him. “Stiles. I hoped you'd come.”

Derek's honesty is incredibly effective. Stiles feels his cheeks grow hot and clears his throat. “Hoped? You want me to beat you at quidditch again?”

“You didn't beat me at quidditch, Stiles,” replies Derek. “You've abused all the rules.”

“I won, though. And I've never said I was going to obey the rules.”

“You agreed to play quidditch but whatever you did... That wasn't quidditch.”

“Yeah, well, all rules are negotiable.”

“Including potion rules?” asks Derek, looking at Stiles from under his lashes.

“Obviously not,” says Stiles, half offended at the mere idea, half distracted.

“Speaking about Potions — I saw Leaping Toadstool growing nearby Whomping Willow.”

“We should get it for Baruffio's Brain Elixir,” says Stiles, excited.

Derek beams. “Right? I don't think the team understood my excitement, though.”

“Clearly, they don't deserve you.”

Derek drops his eyes, smiling.

“And imagine Slughorn's face when he hears that we found Leaping Toadstool just laying around. He always complains about the lack of funds for the ingredients.”

“I thought we could tell him about it, yeah...”

“To cherish the glee? You’re evil, Captain Hale.” Not the most suitable place for the title in the context but Stiles can't help it. He loves seeing Derek blush at the words and always looks for a way to add them in.

“No, he may want to know the place to search for that himself. I mean, Leaping Toadstool often grows in groups, right?”

“Well, we can have different motives,” says Stiles and imagines Slughorn's shock and misery. “The result will be the same.”

Derek looks up at him as if about to ask something, but then there's a whizz and Stiles barely moves in time to avoid it. “Jesus, what was that?”

Derek keeps his eyes on him longer than normally. Stiles knows it's his choice of words, always a bit strange for those born in wizards' world but he won't change it. It's one of his quirks that Derek seems to like.

“Boyd has found a spell to make the Snitch more erratic. We use it sometimes during practice.”

Stiles shakes his head. “How does he find those spells?”

“He reads odd books at the library.”

Stiles laughs. “You mean those from the Restricted Section?”

Derek doesn't reply.

Stiles' eyes widen. “Seriously? I have to go sometime with him.”

“First, you can't prove anything. Second, it's not that exciting. He just reads.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Of course not,” Derek lies.

Stiles licks his lips, fully aware of Derek's attention. “Friday at midnight next to the library?”

Derek regards him for a second. “It's a date.”

Stiles grins.

They hear some voices and turn.

“Why is Jackson flying to the Forbidden Forest?”

“I think he's chasing the Snitch,” says Derek. “Erica and Boyd are with him, I need to-”

“I'm going with you,” decides Stiles at once. He takes the broom and searches for Lydia. “Lyds!” he shouts. “Need you!”

After a while, Lydia catches up to them, taking a broom someone left behind after the practice.

“What's going on?”

“Jackson is going to the Forbidden Forest,” explains Stiles. “I don't think I could get him to turn back by myself.”

Lydia nods. “Good call.”

“Does this happen often?” asks Stiles, turning to Derek.

“We usually stop the Snitch before it goes too far,” replies Derek. “Arresto Momentum is powerful enough for that.”

“Right,” says Stiles. He's still getting used to the way everything is solved with magic, and if that doesn't work, more magic.

“Jackson!” cries Lydia suddenly and speeds up, flying past them.

They both turn to see Jackson falling from his broom to the ground, Boyd and Erica flying down after him.

They lean forward, focused only on getting to the rest of the group as soon as possible, and duck to the ground. Stiles feels something odd for a second, his skin turning cold, but he dismisses the sensation, resolved to manage the crisis at hand.

“What happened?” asks Derek, landing next to him.

Erica is kneeling next to Jackson and mutters a spell, putting her wand to his head.

Jackson looks up with a frown. “Bloody hell,” he mutters. “I could've sworn there was a wall or something — I just couldn't go through,” he says.

“Are you okay?” asks Lydia.

“I'm fine.”

“He will be fine,” confirms Erica. “He just needs to rest a little. I saw a lot of guys falling like that during quidditch.”

“Is that what you Hufflepuffs do?” smirks Jackson. “Practice falling down?”

“It comes in handy,” replies Erica, ignoring his sarcasm.

Stiles hears a swish right next to him and moves away from the ball. “Oh, for the love of-” he starts, incredulous, “what's this thing still doing here?”

Derek takes out his wand to stop the Snitch but it changes the course suddenly and the spell falls flat. He tries again and it drops to the ground, now still.

Boyd puts it in his pocket and raises his hand, suddenly freezing it in the air. He takes out his other hand and they move as if against a wall.

“What the-”

Erica frowns and takes a broom to fly off to the side just to suddenly stop. She moves in a different direction to be stopped again, and again. They seem to be surrounded by invisible walls.

Stiles sees a movement from the corner of his eye and looks up.

“Hey, guys!” says Scott, suddenly flying in and landing next to Stiles. Allison appears next to him, not quite as excited as beaming Scott. “So what are we doing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest?”

“We're trapped,” replies Lydia.

* * *

“Can't we just cast these red flares, Periculum?” suggests Scott.

“We can't be sure someone at Hogwarts will notice us,” says Erica.

“But we can be sure we'll be noticed by everything in here,” says Allison. “It's not a good idea, Scott.”

“Maybe simply — Evanesco,” tries Boyd. The barrier doesn't vanish.

“Actually,” says Lydia slowly, “I've been preparing a spell just for times like this.” She closes her eyes, focusing, and after a beat, a small smile appears on her face. She raises her wand and says, “Expecto Patronum!”

Something similar to a cat — a kneazle, remember Stiles — appears, sitting tall and dignified, waiting for Lydia's orders.

“So that's what you've been doing,” realizes Stiles. “I thought you were preparing a horrible attack on me.”

Lydia smiles proudly and says to the kneazle, “Go find the closest professor and tell him we're trapped here and need help. Be quick!”

The kneazle goes off to the side just to stop suddenly. It tries to go through again but visibly can't.

“It works on the spells, too,” says Derek quietly. “So we're in what seems to be a cube as there's a sort of ceiling. It's rectangular in shape, ten steps on the short side, about twenty steps on the long side. None of us seems to leave, even though we all entered without a problem. There are no holes or breaks.”

Silence settles between them.

“Exactly,” says Jackson suddenly. “A hole. A break. There must be something,” he adds, walking to the far side and starts checking it inch by inch.

“I wonder how big is the range of the Accio spell,” wonders Boyd. “We'll need something to drink and some food.”

“I tried summoning my cookies from my hometown back in California but they never reached Hogwarts,” supplies Stiles.

“That may have something to do with Hogwarts' wards,” replies Lydia.

Stiles stares at her. “You mean, they did fly all this way just to be stopped before reaching me?” He looks to the ground, crestfallen.

“Boyd left his stuff on the quidditch grounds,” says Erica. “I'll try getting it. I mean... if this barrier doesn't actually stop all the spells.”

She casts a spell and they all look up, waiting.

Nothing happens.

“Well. We have an answer, this barrier does stop all the spells.” Erica sighs and reaches for her bag. “Do you still remember this spell stealing the drink from the closest person you don't like?”

Boyd nods and casts it, touching the bottle Erica supplies, with his wand. More water appears inside.

“What a dumb spell,” comments Lydia, shaking her head. “We can just use Aguamenti, you know.”

“Now we can survive at least 3 days,” says Allison. “That's how long people survive solely on the water with no major damage,” she adds when everyone looks at her.

“What about — Finite Incantatem,” says Erica, touching the barrier with her wand. “Nothing. Figures this shit would be advanced.”

Derek frowns. “Wait. We all entered here together with the brooms. Boyd's ball came in, too. But none of us or the things that entered can leave.”

Lydia looks at him sharply. “Anything can come in, but nothing can leave.” She pauses. “And we're in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.”

A horrible realization dawns on them.

“I need something to note,” says Stiles. “I know some spells to protect us but we need to keep check of them.”

Boyd mutters something and says, “Tell me the spells. I'll take note of them.”

“I'll help you,” says Allison. “I know some spells against magical creatures.”

“Well,” starts Scott. “That's not what I expected coming here.”

“How did you know where we are?” asks Derek.

“I saw you flying through when I was going to the quidditch field to train with Allison.”

“I heard that,” says Stiles. “Train with Allison, huh? How ambitious.”

“Have you cast Impervius already?” asks Lydia. “Then do it now. Also, you weren't much better.”

“Well, you weren't either!” calls Stiles. “You only came because you like to ogle sweating Jackson!”

Jackson smirks but keeps checking the invisible walls. “At least there's something to ogle.”

“Lydia totally implied I was good looking!”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Oh, she implied it?”

“You were there when it happened!”

“Protego,” says Lydia. “Remember to cast this one, too.”

Stiles huffs out but starts working with Boyd and Allison while Jackson goes on checking the invisible wards, keeping them inside.

“You know, for a Hufflepuff you're surprisingly good at hiding your feelings,” says Lydia, turning to Derek.

Derek grimaces. “So you noticed I'm jealous of your relationship with Stiles,” he says quietly. “What do you want?”

“To assess whether you're good enough for him.”

“Go ahead, then, assess,” shrugs Derek. “By the way... You said that Boyd's spell was stupid,” he says. “Well, look at this one. It's stupidly fancy.”

Boyd is taking notes of the spells cast by writing them in the air in different colours and moving at his will.

“I like this one,” says Lydia. “The notes will be visible even in the darkness but the sun is setting now and we'll want more light. But we shouldn't advertise our presence here... Does anyone know any invisibility spells?”

No one replies.

“I tried learning some but they're all too difficult,” says Derek. “There's one — it's not invisibility but rather escaping attention. Not hiding your presence but diminishing it.”

Lydia narrows her eyes at him. “Why would you learn a spell like that?”

“To escape talking to people,” says Derek bluntly. “But I don't know if it will work on magical creatures and animals.”

“Won't hurt to try,” shrugs Lydia.

“But won't that hide us from the people searching for us?” asks Erica.

“I doubt anyone has noticed yet,” replies Lydia. “It's too early and we all know each other here — the others will think we've sneaked out together on purpose.”

Derek casts the spell, closing his eyes. This is the first time he uses the spell on anything other than himself and it takes more focus than he expected — the space is big to wrap his mind around.

“So — light spell or vision in the darkness?” asks Lydia. “What's more efficient? What's more effective? Oh, this is difficult. I'll write my next essay for Charms about that.”

“So what do we do now?” asks Scott.

Erica shrugs. “Think, I guess.”

* * *

“I'm bored,” complains Scott, laying on the ground.

“You’re in the middle of the Forbidden Forest,” reminds him Derek.

“And I'm bored.”

“Think of all the creatures out there,” suggests Erica. “Does that help?”

“...yes.”

“We're running out of ideas,” says Stiles. “Any other protective or defensive spells?”

“Did you cast Stealth Sensoring Spell?” asks Derek.

“No,” replies Boyd, checking his floating notes.

“What's that?” asks Stiles.

“It detects those under magical disguise.”

“Are we gonna need that?”

“Are you sure we won't?”

“That's fair,” nods Stiles.

Derek casts the spell.

Erica looks to the side, frowning. “Did you guys hear that?”

“No,” mutters Jackson, still inspecting their confines. “Busy.”

“You know what would be more productive?” says Stiles. “You should learn casting Expecto Patronus from Lydia. I bet your Patronus would be so slimy it would slip through somehow.”

Jackson flips him off but doesn't pause in his work.

“No, seriously. I heard that again. Like, barking? Or uh, howling,” says Erica.

Derek tenses. “About that — did we cast an auditory spell?”

“No,” says Boyd.

Lydia casts Silencio quickly. Just as she is about to tuck off her wand, they see a wolf.

“Fuck,” says Stiles, cutting the silence.

“Okay,” says Derek quietly. “Take out your wands, slowly.” He does so himself and without looking away, asks, “What can you tell us about wolves, Allison?”

Allison takes an audible breath. “They are deadly,” she replies. “They won't hesitate to attack and kill. Also,” Allison pauses, as if pulling herself together, “this may be a person. A werewolf.”

“So. Silver?” suggests Stiles after a beat of silence.

“You and your Muggle ideas,” says Jackson with contempt. “Silver doesn't kill werewolves.”

“Well,” starts Lydia, “it can hurt-”

The wolf jumps but is stopped by the shield spell. It growls, its teeth shining.

“The barrier won't withhold it for long,” says Allison. “We have to think of something.”

“Fire,” says Derek. “Fire can kill almost anything.”

“It may not be enough,” warns Lydia.

“Bully spells,” says Stiles. “We all know those shitty spells. Ears to kumquats, pimples, suspension by the ankle, legs dancing against your will.”

The wolf walks to the side and jumps just to be stopped again.

“If we cast all those at once, it may work,” says Allison.

“That's cruel,” says Scott.

“It's our chance to survive.”

“Choose the spell,” says Derek. “I can cast Incendio.”

“Immobulus,” says Allison.

“Rictusempra.”

Lydia shoots Stiles an incredulous glance. “You want to tickle it?”

“It's effective, okay?”

Lydia sighs. “Stupefy.”

The wolf jumps again, startling Erica. “I can only cast Furnunculus Curse!”

“So that he'd lose his beauty and retreat in shame?” asks Jackson. “Bat-Bogey Hex.”

“You’re disgusting,” mutters Erica.

“Reductio,” chooses Boyd.

“Scott?” prompts Derek.

“Langlock.”

Lydia turns to him. “How is tongue sticking to the roof of mouth going to help in-”

The wolf jumps and Allison shouts, “Now!”

The effect is a bizarre mix of colours, whirling together — there are flames, appearing and disappearing into bats, soon disintegrating. The wolf lets out an odd sound, something between a growl and a whine.

They all take a step back but now, the wolf is barely an arm's length away from Derek.

“Tarrantallegra!” cries Stiles but the wolf escapes the spell only limping.

“Stupefy!” tries Lydia again.

“Take the brooms,” orders Derek. “Fly up. I'll take care of it.”

“Fuck, Derek, this is no time to-”

“Now!” shouts Derek, cutting Stiles off.

Erica and Boyd are already flying up. “Reductio!” casts Boyd again. The spell hits the wolf but has barely any effect — it's still big, even compared to a large dog.

Allison finds a stone and with a spell, turns it to the one with sharp edges. “I can transfigure it to silver but I need time,” she says. “If we manage to drive it through its heart-”

“I can buy you time,” says Derek.

Allison and Scott go up, Scott choosing to hover low, ready to jump in at any moment.

“Stupefy!” casts Lydia again but the wolf is already jumping at her.

“Protego!” cries Jackson.

The shield is enough to slow down the wolf, enough so that he doesn't reach Lydia's hand. They fly up, out of the wolf's reach.

“Go,” says Derek to Stiles, who has two brooms in hand now. “Please!”

Stiles looks at him a while longer, not understanding, but then goes up. “Immobilus!” he shouts.

The spell hits the wolf and it is momentarily still.

“Incendio!” casts Derek again.

The flames go up; he can barely watch. The wolf jumps, then retreats. Derek can't tell what's happening anymore. He's not quite there when Allison shouts, “Ready!”

Derek doesn't know if it's a coincidence or knowing each other well enough to communicate with just looks, but Stiles and Scott cast Immobilus again together.

It's enough for Allison to fly in and thrust the silver right into the wolf's heart.

Erica flies down to her immediately and casts Vulnera Sanentur, healing her hand.

Lydia tries to stop the flames but only a few sparks come out instead. Her wand is broken from the wolf's attack.

She allows herself a curse with a sigh.

Boyd stops the flames and they are all on the ground again.

“I thought that Ravenclaws were boring,” admits Jackson suddenly. “I take that back.”

Allison huffs out a weak laugh.

“So, you think we could eat this?” wonders Jackson.

“I'm gonna puke,” says Erica.

Jackson rolls his eyes. “We may as well use all this meat.”

“That could be cannibalism,” says Allison. “We don't know if it was a wolf or a werewolf.”

There is silence as they process this information.

“It's still dead, though,” rationalizes Jackson.

Scott inspects the wolf. “Wow. My mum will never believe this.”

“Why wouldn't she?” asks Boyd.

“She's a Muggle,” explains Scott.

Jackson looks at him. “So you're a Mudblood?”

“Isn't that a slur?” asks Stiles.

“I think it was reclaimed,” says Erica but she doesn't sound sure.

“I'm fine with it,” shrugs Scott. “Although I'm not sure if it applies to me because my father was... is a pure-blood wizard. So I'm half-blood or something.”

“Huh. You don't have much experience in quidditch, though,” Jackson points out.

“He wasn't there much when I was growing up. Although he gave me a broom for my birthday once… But I guess the Ministry of Magic have figured it out because it wasn't working.”

“But your mom knows about magic?” asks Stiles.

Scott shrugs again. “Kind of.”

Jackson isn't listening anymore. “Your — your hand,” he says in a changed voice.

Derek finally looks away from the charred body of the wolf to turn to him. Jackson is pale, staring at the sleeve of Derek's robe.

“Derek,” says Lydia, “you're bleeding.”

Derek drops his eyes. “I'm fine.”

Erica heals his hand and bandages it with Ferula, not looking at anyone.

“You were bitten by what could have been a werewolf,” says Lydia, staring at him. “You could be-” she draws in a breath, “you could be turned.”

“I'm fine,” repeats Derek.

“What's going on?” asks Scott.

“Is that a problem?” Stiles looks around, puzzled. “It's not a full moon tonight, Derek's still human, and he says he's fine.”

“Werewolves kill whatever is around them once in their wolf form,” says Jackson. “They are not human anymore. They are just beasts.”

“He's right,” says Derek, looking at Stiles. “And I'm fine because I can't be turned. I'm a werewolf.”

* * *

“You knew,” says Lydia, looking at Erica and Boyd, who nod.

“I know the situation of lycanthropes is better now than it was,” starts Allison. “But how come we have a student at Hogwarts who turns into a bloodthirsty, killing beast once a month?”

“I get the Wolfsbane Potions,” replies Derek. “Professor McGonagall knows about me.”

“Oh, so at least you're wealthy,” Lydia points out.

Derek flinches as if struck.

“I don't see the problem,” says Stiles coldly. “Derek clearly has it under control. There haven't been any incidents — at least that we know of — and he's been here for a few years already. Really, the only thing it changes...”

Derek knows what's coming. He can't look at Stiles.

“Is that I need to become an Animagus quicker than anticipated.”

Lydia ignores him. “Did you want to become a werewolf?”

Derek tries to understand Stiles' response and is a bit late in answering. “No. I... it was an accident.”

It was Peter's curse, already changing their lives, but they didn't know it back then.

“Did you kill anyone?” asks Allison.

“No.”

“Then, again, I don't see a problem,” says Stiles. “Look, we have more pressing matters at hand.”

“Agreed,” says Erica.

Lydia looks at Derek a beat longer, then nods. “Fine.”

Jackson isn't convinced. He looks at Stiles. “You do realize lycanthropes still aren't treated the same as humans. There are still some who think they are more beasts than anything.”

“Oh, so there's prejudice.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “How novel.”

“Stiles,” starts Allison, “he could kill anyone here once turned. Just — think about this.”

Stiles looks right back. “There are some people who kill even without being turned.”

Allison looks away.

“Sorry to interrupt, but should we bury the body?” wonders Boyd.

“First, can anyone cast the Homorphus Charm?” asks Lydia.

There's no reply.

“Just to be sure, we should wait for someone to confirm it was a wolf and not...” Allison trails off.

“I agree,” says Erica. “I don't want to move it just yet.”

Derek casts a fairly strong Protego spell on the body, trying to keep his eyes on it without seeing anything.

Allison takes a step back from the group and feels the barrier behind her back. She slides down to the ground, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“What do you need?” asks Scott, sitting down next to her.

“It's not fine,” bursts out Allison. She winces and lowers her voice. “When you're human, you have a choice. But once you're turned, you can't control anything. You may slip one time and it's enough.”

“I know,” says Scott quietly, although he doesn't.

“My mom knew there was no choice. She knew it was all useless. She had the right to end her...”

Scott moves closer to her, bringing his arm around her.

“So, what, she was wrong?” asks Allison. “She just gave up?”

Scott doesn't answer. He knows that Allison, as well as many others around him, is more reflective, prone to consider different ideas. He wonders if there's a downside to it, if there's overthinking. He wouldn't know.

Allison sighs and draws her knees closer, hiding his face. “Thanks,” she mumbles.

If there was a crisis, it seems to have passed. Scott finds her hand and tightens his grip on it.

For a few minutes Allison just sits there with closed eyes. She doesn't listen to the hushed conversations around, especially the one between Stiles and Derek.

Finally, she feels ready to open her eyes again. She turns her head and sees a small spider on the other side. “Oh, hello,” she murmurs, managing a smile. “I wouldn't go ahead if I were you. Come on, turn around.” She watches as the spider comes closer. “No, really, you still have a chance... Oh, you poor thing,” she sighs. “You’re trapped here with us now.”

“I once tried a spell to communicate with spiders,” says Boyd.

Allison looks up, finding him also leaning against the barrier.

“It was weird.”

Allison stares at him for a beat longer. She didn't expect anyone would talk to her after the thing with Derek but then again, Hufflepuffs can be odd like that. “That sounds interesting.”

Boyd shakes his head. “It was just weird.”

Allison is waiting for details so he says, “You know Polyjuice, that changes your body to that of someone else? It works similarly, except what changes is your mind. For a few seconds I wasn’t really human anymore, my mind was that of a spider.”

They sit in silence for a beat when Allison chuckles suddenly. “It'd be nice to have you in Ravenclaw.”

“Uh, no,” starts Boyd, “I didn't want to join you guys. When the Sorting Hat gave me a choice I said Hufflepuff and here I am.”

Allison can't quite conceal her surprise. “Why didn't you want to join?”

Boyd shrugs. “My family wanted me in Ravenclaw.”

Allison blinks but doesn't press for more. The sorting to the houses is believed to be one of the most important events, a turning point in life. It leads to the arguments dividing the family, accusations of betrayal even though the decision is hardly the student's. She got lucky with the Ravenclaw; they are basically accepted everywhere. Yet even during her first dinner at the common table there were some students unhappy with the choice.

“Yes!” cries out Jackson suddenly. “I got it! It's right here,” he says, turning to them. “I knew there had to be a place where the barrier wouldn't work as well!”

Derek stares at him in amazement. “I admire your determination,” he says honestly.

Jackson scoffs. “How did you think I became the quidditch captain?”

Derek doesn't reply, startled. For him, it came easily: he's always been athletic and Laura loved playing quidditch. It was enough.

“Wow, awesome,” says Stiles flatly. “My palm barely fits through.”

Allison shrugs. “At least it's enough for the spider...” she trails off, looking at Boyd.

“We can't be sure it'll work,” cautions Boyd. “And even if it will, it may take too much time.”

“It's better than nothing,” replies Allison.

Boyd grimaces. “Right.” He turns to the rest and says. “I know a spell to communicate with spiders. Anyone wants to try?” he asks without a trace of hope.

Two hands fly up immediately. “Me!”

“Me! Totally!” joins Stiles.

Boyd frowns. “I didn't expect volunteers,” he says. “You do realize there's a chance that something will go wrong enough to change your mind irreparably?”

Stiles' hand goes down. He glances at Scott. “Uh, dude.”

“Talking to spiders! Like Spiderman, Stiles!”

“I know,” says Stiles, putting his hand on his arm, “and I'm right there with you.”

“And you wonder why I thought you two were dating,” says Jackson.

That catches Derek's attention. He looks at Stiles, rolling his eyes, and Scott, frowning, and then, of course, feels Lydia's stare.

Allison comes closer to the group. “Scott...”

“Well, someone has to do that anyway, right?” reasons Scott.

“It's too risky,” says Derek. “What else can we do?”

“Turn this spider to a giant one, attach a note to it with our whereabouts and make it attack Hogwarts,” suggests Stiles.

“That's mixing spells. We don't know how they would interfere with each other,” replies Lydia. “Also, it's so inelegant.”

“Not to mention there's animal suffering,” says Allison.

“This is potential human suffering versus potential animal suffering,” replies Derek.

“I don't see the problem,” says Scott. “Boyd did this spell once already and he's fine, right?”

“Yes, but what if something goes really wrong?”

“Actually, I can use Incarcerous to subdue Scott,” says Erica. “I, um. I forgot about this spell.”

“I don't like this,” says Stiles. “Lyds?”

Lydia doesn't reply.

“We don't have much choice,” starts Derek. “But that doesn't mean any one of us has to risk this much.”

“Risk landing at St Mungo's, for example,” clarifies Boyd.

“It's not that easy to be admitted to St Mungo's, though,” says Derek. “It's a big hospital but they don't have many in-patients, those are rare cases. Usually, people can figure something out, learn to live with their curse and so on.” He realizes the others are staring at him and shrugs. “Just a... fun fact.”

Even Boyd has a hard time not cringing.

Derek turns to Lydia, tired. “You understand escaping other people now?”

“Yes,” replies Lydia, ruthless.

“Look, I already did the spell once myself,” says Boyd. “I don't want to repeat it but...”

“Then don't,” says Scott. “I really want to try it. Also... I don't know how else I could help you guys.”

“You don't have to help us,” replies Allison.

“That's true,” inserts Erica. “You have no obligation here.”

“I want to,” says Scott, simple and earnest.

“If anything happens — I'll figure something out,” says Stiles. “I promise.”

Scott nods. “I know. I trust you guys.”

“Just — don't hold it against me if you do end up at St Mungo's,” says Boyd.

Scott beams at him. “No promises.”

“One more thing,” says Allison. “What are the possible adverse effects?”

“Sensitivity to touch, liking for meat, aloofness,” lists Boyd. “The spell should last about 5 minutes.”

Scott considers the words. “That doesn't sound that bad.”

“It really does,” says Stiles.

Allison hugs Scott. “I'm counting on you if anything's off,” she says to Erica, who nods.

Boyd raises his hand.

“Lower your wand,” says Derek. “You never direct a spell at someone's head unless the spell tells you to. Point at his stomach or chest. You lower the risk of degrading his mind this way.”

“How come you know that stuff?” asks Jackson. “You want to work at St Mungo's or what?”

Derek can't hold back a grimace. “I'd have to work with people all the time, no way.”

“Then why?”

“He doesn't have to answer,” says Stiles.

“It's weird. And suspicious.”

“Or personal,” says Stiles.

“My last name is Hale,” says Derek, looking at Jackson. “That's why.”

Jackson stares at him, frowning, before remembering the name. “So not everyone in your-”

“No,” Derek cuts him off. “And I'd rather not talk about it.”

“So it was personal, huh,” says Stiles.

“You don't know? There was the Hale fire-”

“Why are you telling me?” asks Stiles, incredulous. “What part of not talking about it don't you understand?”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “I know, so you may know as well.”

“No thanks. It's really not your decision to take.”

Derek looks away. He knows he'll need to tell Stiles about his family — it changed him too much to be ignored. The fire was just a start, leaving only him, Laura, and uncle Peter, the slow spread of the curse, fighting with it, admittance to St Mungo's... but he still needs more time.

Boyd raises his wand again and opens his mouth.

“Wait!” calls Scott. “I need to-”

“What, you got scared?” drawls Jackson. “You, a Gryffindor?”

“Are you seriously trying to manipulate him?” asks Stiles. “That's low. Do you want to take his place?”

“I would never risk my mind for you,” scoffs Jackson.

“You wouldn't even risk that much,” replies Stiles.

“No, guys,” Scott cuts in, “what am I supposed to say?”

“What?”

“What should I say to the spider?”

The group stares at him. Stiles groans, Erica laughs, and Allison sighs.

“Maybe something like, this is a trap, there are humans who can't leave, they need help. Say that to other spiders and try to get help?” suggests Derek, grimacing.

“How can we be sure spiders even want to help humans?” asks Stiles. “Maybe they'd be happy if we all died.”

“Not that it matters right now,” starts Erica, “but I can't believe we don't have ethics classes at Hogwarts. Like, seriously.”

“That's too much information,” says Allison, biting her lip. “Spiders aren't really social, they can communicate but it's not as developed as it could be. Also, they can process information but they do it... slowly. It's too complicated.”

“Just say that there is a danger here and we need help,” says Lydia. “Maybe even simply 'danger here' will suffice.”

“Yeah, that sounds better,” agrees Derek.

Scott nods and Allison hugs him before he goes to stand before Boyd again.

Boyd takes a deep breath and casts the spell.

* * *

Boyd observes Scott. At first, he appears completely still, just looking at the spider. But if he looks closer, Scott is doing all kinds of bizarre, small movements, twitching his fingers, twisting his lips, minutely shifting his body. He seems focused, but also blank, nor entirely there — it's disturbing. The spider suddenly moves, producing a line of silk. Scott moves to touch it and brings the finger to his lips, appearing to taste it.

Boyd risks a glance at Allison but she doesn't seem shocked, although she is pale and the grip on her wand is too tight.

It's strange to think he must have looked like Scott when under the spell. He was alone, chose an isolated spot. Now that he thinks about it, the whole thing was incredibly risky — he was stupid. But that was right after Christmas at his family with all the arguments around his sorting to Hufflepuff, again. He barely talked to other Hufflepuffs for a while, having mixed feelings. He chose this spell because he knew that's what a Ravenclaw would like to know. He needed to show himself that he was good enough for Ravenclaw. It was his decision to be in Hufflepuff and he doesn't regret it. But he could have gone to Ravenclaw.

Scott puts his hand down and the muscles on his face move slightly. The spider turns and gets through the barrier.

“The spider left,” says Boyd.

Scott stares ahead, unseeing.

“Scott?” says Allison softly. “Are you okay?”

Scott takes a breath and hums, sighing. “Fine.”

“What's your name,” demands Stiles.

“Scott McCall.”

“How much is two plus two?”

“I... four?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“Four. Answer,” says Scott slowly. “I think.”

“Who is the president of the US?”

Scott frowns, turning to him. “I don't know.”

“Who's the best quidditch player of all time?” asks Allison.

“Ginny Weasley,” says Scott.

“Something's wrong with him,” says Jackson. “The best quidditch player was obviously Draco Malfoy.”

Scott seems to regain fully his attention to the present. “No way! It was Weasley — she was both a great Chaser and a pretty good Seeker.”

Jackson is ready to continue arguing so Derek steps in. “Okay, I'm sure they were both great in their own right,” he starts, conciliatory. He's heard this kind of discussion too many times.

“Are you sure you're alright, Scott?” asks Erica.

“Yeah. Just... tired, I guess.”

“Come on,” says Allison, tugging him to the side and guiding him down to the grass. She lays his head on her lap.

Erica searches through her bag. “Here,” she says, walking to Scott. “You should eat some chocolate.”

“Oh,” starts Jackson. “I didn't get any after I fell... Casual house discrimination, huh.”

“It had nothing to do with you being a Slytherin but all to do with you being an asshole.”

“You do realize it's your fault we're trapped here.”

“For God's sake, I was joking!” says Erica, rounding up at him. All at once, the atmosphere deteriorates.

“It's never a joke,” replies Jackson. “It's always a test.”

“It was a joke! I'm not a Slytherin, I'm a fucking Hufflepuff! I thought it was obvious that you should leave the ball alone. But you kept chasing it and we were too far away to stop it.”

“You challenged me.”

“I was joking,” repeats Erica. “Jesus. You need to learn to let things go.”

“Is that your team's device, let it go?” drawls Jackson.

“You’re such a dick,” mutters Erica and walks away.

“And what were you even doing there in the first place?” asks Jackson suddenly.

“We stayed after the practice,” says Erica.

“Boyd isn't on the team,” says Jackson and turns to glare at Derek. “What kind of captain are you? He'd be a perfect Beater.”

Derek shrugs. “He doesn't like rivalry.”

Jackson looks at Boyd, incredulous.

“Quidditch is fun as a hobby and hobby only,” explains Boyd. “I have no intention of spending more time on it.”

Jackson stares at him, visibly trying to understand and failing. He turns away, deflating. “You make no sense.”

Erica shrugs. “You make no sense either.”

Stiles is the first to break the silence. “We should think of a better reason for coming to the Forbidden Forest than chasing a ball.”

Jackson glares at him.

“Just saying.”

Boyd sits down next to Erica, who leans against him.

“Oh, are you two a thing?” asks Stiles, curious.

“Do you want me to ask the same about you and Derek?” asks Boyd.

“...no,” admits Stiles. His fingers beat an off-rhythm on his robe. “So... I'm going to assume you aren't dating but you see a chance to redefine your relationship.”

“Is that how it is between you and Derek?”

Stiles won't blush. “I'm talking about you and Erica.”

“If you keep this up, you won't be able to talk about anything.”

Stiles knows how to choose his battles. He tactfully retreats and turns to Erica. “You were born in a Muggle family, right? I could tell from the way you speak.”

Erica sighs but gives him a smile. “Yup.” She answers his high-five and adds, “And I'm never coming back there.”

Stiles' smile tenses on his face. He turns away, feeling awkward. Erica seemed at ease sharing that information but Stiles has no idea how to react. He's lucky enough to have his dad, who may not understand much about Hogwarts, but still let Stiles go, recognizing how excited Stiles was about the opportunity.

He's relieved from replying by Lydia.

“So what are we doing now? We have discovered the hole in the barrier. That gives us more possibilities.”

“It's not a hole,” Jackson reminds her. “The barrier still works there, it's just weaker. You can still feel resistance when moving through. Actually, we can start unweaving the spell.”

“That could take hours,” says Stiles.

“All the better to start now,” replies Jackson, taking out his wand.

“I'd help you but I don't want to risk using my wand now,” says Lydia.

“We can help,” says Erica, glancing at Boyd, who nods. “Anyway, there's this spell to make you smaller, right?”

“It's too risky. We can keep it in mind but we're not desperate enough for it just yet,” says Derek.

“Yeah, potions are usually considered to be safer,” muses Stiles. “What?”

“There's a potion to make you smaller, too,” says Derek.

“Yeah, Shrinking Potion. But it takes a few hours and we don't have ingredients.”

“The greenhouse isn't that far from here,” says Erica. “We can try to Accio some of them and prepare them here.”

“Isn't the greenhouse closed?” asks Stiles.

“Yeah, theoretically,” says Erica. “Like the library's Restricted Section is restricted.” At Stiles' look, she says, “There are many spells to keep something out of reach. If the professors chose to use weaker magic, that itself tells you something.”

“I agree,” says Boyd. “Yeah, there is some weird stuff in the library but it also offers great knowledge. If anyone's interested, they won't really have a problem getting there. This rule is more of a warning than a real prohibition.”

“I like that justification,” says Stiles. “May use it sometime.”

“Don't mention me, though,” says Boyd.

“You'll be my anonymous source,” decides Stiles. “Anyway, you think the greenhouse works in the same way? No, it doesn't matter. We're trapped. We have the right to look for unorthodox ways to get free.” Stiles goes through the list of ingredients in his mind. “There must be some caterpillars here, but what about leech juice and rat spleen?”

“Stiles,” starts Erica, “we're in the Forbidden Forest. We just need to catch those and prepare them.”

“Yes, it will be only disgusting,” says Boyd casually.

“I'll help you with the potion,” says Lydia.

Stiles blinks at her. “I thought I'll be working with Derek.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows.

“I mean, we have more experience.”

“Oh,” says Boyd lightly, “you have more experience?”

“I'm just saying — we have Potions together. We work well together.”

“Tell us more about the things you do well together, Stiles,” says Erica. She would look politely interested if it wasn't for the glint in her eyes.

“Oh, God. Just get me daisy roots for the potion, if you will,” utters Stiles.

“They will,” assures Lydia. “In the meantime, you two should, ah, prepare.”

“Really, Lyds?” says Stiles, betrayed. “I hate you.”

“It's too much fun,” she explains, unapologetic.

“And you!” Stiles rounds up to Derek. “Say something!”

Derek shrugs. “Erica and Boyd had the right to needle you with the questions after you've done the same.”

“That's not what a good boyfriend would say.”

Derek stares at him. “I wasn't aware I was a boyfriend.”

“Merlin,” groans Jackson. “I thought we were trapped in the middle of the Forbidden Forest like in some second rate horror, not watching a bad rom-com.”

“It's slow-burn, too, so I'd say it's more of a soap opera,” says Erica.

“Daisy roots,” repeats Stiles, his face burning. “Now.”

* * *

“We should all go to the Diagon Alley,” says Lydia suddenly, waking Jackson next to her. They are all tired by now, sleepy. “I need to repair my wand... or find a new one.”

“All right,” agrees Derek immediately. It's a good excuse to meet Stiles but Lydia just gives him a somewhat pitying glance.

“Yeah, sure,” says Stiles.

Lydia sighs.

Jackson makes a face. “I don't particularly want to meet up with... Fine,” he relents under Lydia's gaze.

Erica turns to Boyd who shrugs. “Why not?” she says.

“You look different,” says Lydia, regarding Erica. “I mean, there's something different about your face. I can't describe what exactly but...”

“Ah, shit.” Erica sighs. “I forgot to refresh my charms.”

“You've been wearing charms all this time?”

“I always do.”

Lydia narrows her eyes. “I've never noticed.”

“Yeah, well, that's the point.”

“Show me.”

Erica shrugs. “It's not like I have anything better to do.” She takes out her wand and gets comfortable, as possible as it is, leaning against a tree. “So the first thing is to figure out your goal. Now, if we were to be found, we'd want to lower the punishment, and it may help to look more vulnerable and innocent.”

Lydia looks at her, surprised. “That's deception, isn't it? I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to value the truth.”

“I don't do that for pleasure. I don't like influencing people like that. But everyone already treats me like another weak, poor Hufflepuff girl so I may as well use it.”

Lydia is about to say something when Stiles sighs heavily. “Welp, it's done.” He looks at the acid green Shrinking Potion, then turns to Derek. “It was a pleasure working with you, Captain Hale.”

Derek huffs out a laugh and looks at Stiles from under his lashes. “The pleasure is all mine.”

They shake hands; the touch lingers.

“They aren't doing anything, not really, and yet it makes me so uncomfortable,” says Jackson, staring at them. “Like, they have this atmosphere.”

Stiles raises the potion threateningly. “You want to try this shit?”

“I do,” says Scott.

Stiles drops his hand. “Oh my god.”

“Scott, you've already helped once,” says Lydia. “It's enough.”

“Well, someone will have to do this sooner or later,” reasons Scott. “And I think it'll be fun. It makes you small, right? It's exciting!”

“Was talking to spiders fun and exciting, then?” asks Boyd flatly.

Scott loses some enthusiasm. “No. But this doesn't work on the mind, just on the body.”

“Theoretically,” says Stiles. “We can't be sure how it's going to work.”

��I trust you,” states Scott.

“But I don't trust myself!”

“You guys said that elixirs are safer than spells, so I'll be fine.”

“It doesn't work like that, Scott,” says Allison.

“Well, the chances of something going wrong are lower,” says Lydia.

“But if something goes wrong, it goes horribly wrong,” says Derek.

“So it's fine,” repeats Scott.

“No, it's not!”

“This really makes you think about the Gryffindor complex,” muses Erica. “Hero complex.”

Jackson shrugs. “Why are we stopping him, anyway? Let him sacrifice himself, I mean, that's only convenient for us.”

“See?” cries Stiles, turning to Scott. “That's reason enough not to do it!”

“Scott,” starts Allison, “you know that I won't stop you. Whatever you decide, it's your decision. Just — think about it. You don't have to do this. Please.”

Scott regards her for a while. “Thank you. But I still want to do this. I know this looks stupid to you, or thoughtless — but we have to do something, don't we? And out of everyone here, I'm the best person to try this way. No offense.”

“Only some taken,” says Jackson.

“Okay, but... Providing you, or someone else, drinks this elixir,” starts Erica, “what then? You leave, and what? You're not trapped anymore, just lost in the Forbidden Forest and stuck in a too-small body.”

“We could Diminuendo one of the brooms so that Scott can fly on it,” suggests Lydia.

“I hate to admit it, but it doesn't seem like we have any better idea,” says Derek. “That still doesn't mean you have to do this, Scott.”

“I'm good,” replies Scott, straightening. “I'm ready.”

“Any fun facts?” asks Jackson, turning to Derek.

“He's not your encyclopaedia,” shoots Stiles, defensive.

Derek sighs but turns to Scott. “Drink slowly,” he advises. “Give it a bit of time, the change will be confusing at first. Maybe Allison could give you the broom and take you through the barrier.”

“All right,” says Scott, bringing the potion to his lips. “Here it goes.”

* * *

“Again!” cheer the Gryffindors.

Stiles is getting tired of how noisy and full of energy they are, but they were the ones to provide the beer and all the food. Gryffindors get oddly creative when bending the rules for food and parties is involved.

“So I totally got small,” says Scott, grinning, “like, as big as a palm.

Erica turned the broom smaller for me but it was still a bit too big, awkward to fly. I flew up to try and find Hogwarts... But couldn't see anything.” Scott pauses, dramatic — it makes Derek, sitting next to Stiles, smile. “The height really changes your perspective, you know? I couldn't figure out where I was, where to go. So I flew back down to try to find the rest of the guys so they'd help me or something but I couldn't find even them! I was just circling over the Forest, looking for the signs of humans. And suddenly, I saw something. But it wasn't human.”

Someone gasps and Stiles rolls his eyes. He notices Jackson doing the same and is so offended at the idea of any similarity between them that a chocolate frog manages to jump out of his hand. Derek catches it in the air and gives back to Stiles, and Stiles is just... gone. Utterly done. Something must show on his face because Derek looks at him, their hands touching, the time seems to stop-

“It was a centaur,” says Scott and the Gryffindors make all kinds of noises, breaking the moment. “And he saw me. Pretty cool guy,” says Scott, considering. “Although a bit odd. He knew something was going on because of the spiders — and who knew the spider spell? Boyd!”

Everyone turns to Boyd, cheering on him and giving a round of applause. Someone gives him more beer that Boyd obediently drinks.

“So here I am, flying on a broom next to Firenze's ear and asking him to take me to Hagrid. We went to the castle to find Professor McGonagall but met Slughorn on our way so all four of us went to the Forest. Still, finding the exact spot wasn't easy... I guess Derek's escaping attention spell worked!”

Now Derek's in the centre of attention, the Gryffindors whooping around him.

“By the time we found the rest of the guys, I was normal height again. The timing was perfect, Stiles!”

“That wasn't my doing, that's just how long the Shrinking Potion works,” says Stiles but is drowned out by cheering Gryffindors. Someone pushes more chocolate frogs at him. “Oh, that's nice, I can make more potions.”

“Earlier, we were wondering what to say once found. And it was awesome,” says Scott, grinning. “I mean, some suggested just telling the truth...”

There is booing and Erica shakes her head, incredulous. She, Boyd and Allison wanted to tell the truth if found by the right people. Who was 'right' was also discussed.

“But Lydia decided that we should pretend that we've heard the howling and finally decided to find out if it's true that there are werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. Which made us sound like stupid teenagers on a dare-”

“Which was the truth,” says Erica.

“But Lydia said that the moral responsibility will have to be borne by people who allowed the spread of the rumour — the professors.”

Stiles can almost feel the wave of respect directed at Lydia. She gets applauded for the idea.

“And then Erica gave her best performance. She really convinced us that's exactly what happened.”

“Yeah,” drawls Erica, grinning, taking in all the attention, “I was good.”

“She was so good that something weird happened. Slughorn just — broke down. He had a complete meltdown, started apologizing. It turned out the spell trapping us was his doing, except he's never meant for any students to get caught up. He just wanted to get more ingredients for his potions.”

“Yeah, I actually felt bad for him,” says Erica, “so I told Professor McGonagall the truth.”

In the silence that follows Erica is once again the centre of attention.

“What?” says Scott dumbly.

“Well, she obviously didn't believe us so she invited me to her office earlier. I told her the truth. It's not like she would have accepted anything else,” she explains. “Also, I really felt bad for Slughorn. Oh right,” Erica grins suddenly, self-satisfied. “We may have a new class next year. Ethics. No need to thank me.”

“No one was going to,” says Jackson.

“I think it will be interesting,” argues Allison.

“I actually agree with Jackson,” says Scott. “By the way, if it wasn't for Jackson, we'd still be trapped. He was the one who found the place where the barrier was weaker and started unfolding the spell.”

The Gryffindors drink to his name. Someone gives Jackson Bertie Bett's Every Flavour Beans which he puts away immediately.

“It was also his idea to have a party at Gryffindor,” says Stiles pointedly.

“Well, why did you listen to me?” complains Jackson.

“I suppose we can leave now,” says Lydia. “Stiles, you have our permission to date Derek.”

“Wha- I don't need your permission!”

“Obviously,” agrees Lydia, “but you wanted it. Derek, I'm keeping an eye on you.”

“Yeah, well...” Derek looks around and frowns. “If Erica and Boyd hadn't sneaked out already, they'd say the same to you. Probably.”

“But still!” says Scott. “The one who was the best was Allison! She totally saved us all from the wolf.”

Stiles can't hear his thoughts over the noise at this point. Allison was impressive, it's true — it turned out they haven't killed a wolf... but it wasn't exactly a werewolf, either. It had no human form, only a wolf one, but was much stronger compared to a normal wolf. Stiles heard some muttering about a guy called Lupus, who was supposedly involved.

He turns to Derek and they silently agree to get out.

Derek mutters something, moving his wand surreptitiously and suddenly confetti appears around them, further exciting the Gryffindors and turning their attention away.

Stiles and Derek shrink away, soon climbing out of the Fat Lady's portrait.

“I think I've heard something about fireworks,” says Stiles.

Derek looks at him, startled. “Now I'm worried about them,” he admits. “Should we go back, just to make sure they're okay?”

“Allison's with them, they'll be fine,” dismisses Stiles, walking with purpose.

Derek goes after him. “You have somewhere you want to be?”

Stiles turns to him with a smirk. “I have a date.”

Derek huffs out a laugh, remembering it's Friday night. There's an odd feeling in his stomach as he follows Stiles. They seem to be alone, it's quiet and dark around.

Stiles spins to the corridor leading to the library and Derek comes with, turning the corner. He almost walks into Stiles, who is now standing still, waiting for him — all at once they end up oddly close to each other.

Stiles opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He licks his lips nervously and tries again. “Tell me — tell me it's okay,” he says quietly and moves even closer, enough for his lips to almost touch Derek's. At first, both are still, uncertain, wavering, but then Derek presses this inch more.

The kiss is short and sweet but Stiles still feels as if he ran a marathon.

Derek stares at him, his eyes too green. “I promise I'll try to be a good boyfriend,” he says suddenly.

Stiles grins. “Finally caught up, huh,” he teases, as if confident.

Derek rolls his eyes and takes a breath, ready to argue, but Stiles pulls him closer for another kiss.

There's no hesitation this time. Derek goes with him willingly.

#bloodspeckledraphael #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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lilytakeharryandgo · 5 years ago

Text

STOP ROMANTICISING SEVERUS SNAPE - A MANIFESTO

“Albus Severus Potter, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a great strategist, the other one was a racist, hateful, bitter, scary bastard. Voldemort must have damaged some brain cells when killing the Horcrux inside of me.”

Now that I have Snape fans raging and screaming for blood, here’s my show of evidence:

If the boring, same argument brought up by Marauders stans is Snape being a Death Eater, I know it’s basic, but it’s basic for a reason: it’s true. Supporting Voldemort doesn’t mean you support his ideas? I’m sorry, what did he support? The Dark Lord’s contouring skills? It is a truth universally acknowledged that joining a group of racists and following them in perpetrating crimes does make you a racist and a criminal.

JK Rowling herself said that Death Eaters are an analogy to Nazis, Marauders stans are not making this up. Are you questioning what JK ROWLING said? Because you know, she is JK ROWLING.

We know it was Snivellus that created the Levicorpus. He must have used it against the Marauders in order for them to learn it. And let’s just remember that “Snape’s worst memory” takes place after the Shrieking Shack’s incident, when dear, lovely Severus tried to unmask Remus so that he could be expelled for being a Werewolf. He went down to the Whomping Willow of his own free will, no one forced him, and he supposedly knew what was happening there: he risked his own life only to get Remus expelled. Yes, it was Sirius who thought it would have been funny to lure him to the Shrieking Shack where Lupin was due for his transformation, and that was wrong. However, why did he do that? Because Snape was constantly spying on them. Was it wrong? Definitely, no one is trying to get Sirius out of this one. Still, James saved Snape in time. Did James do that just because he wanted to protect Remus? Most likely: James gave them all a family and he loved his friends and would have done everything for them, and he did. But also, he wouldn’t have let an “innocent” (if we want to call him that) die. So James saved Snape’s life, which dear Half Blood Price seemed deeply ungrateful for later, and yet, Snape constantly tried to get the Marauders expelled from Hogwarts time and time again while using Dark Magic and creating his own dark spells (see the irony?). Stop saying that the Marauders’ actions pushed him to become a Death Eater. As if “Snape never missed an opportunity to curse James” was a lie. As if Snape wasn’t on his way to being a buddying Death Eater by his 5th year. As if Snape hadn’t came up with a curse that slices your body open by his 6th year. As if the Marauders had nothing to do but ruthlessly bully Snape all day and all night, when they actually are described as the brightest as some of the brightest students of their year despite being engaged in loads of other things like the creation of the Marauders Map, becoming Animagus, dealing with Remus’ monthly transformations (because those demonic guys didn’t leave him alone and didn’t report him to get him expelled as someone else was willing to do), James and Remus being responsible enough to be Head Boy and Prefect. Oh, and training for a war and joining the Order once they graduated. Minor things, right? Things they were busy doing in their personal lives such as surviving, living and being happy? Nah, that never happened, their entire life consisted of bullying innocent, poor service teenagers, that was their goal. Snape experienced one side of the Marauders (and we read that from his own pov, so it’s a little biased too): that is not a deciding factor of whether or not they (and especially James) are good people. He was so fascinated with the Dark Arts, even after Lily’s death and hence his presumed redemption, that Dumbledore did not appoint him as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Snape’s apologetics make it sound like the Marauders made Snape’s life hell every minute of everyday and he was the poor victim who was not capable of standing up to himself against those horrible demonic creatures, but he was the one inventing the Sectumsempra and using it against James, against George. Only a truly tormented person could have invented such a bloody spell.

So now let’s talk about Remus. Remus, a hero who fought against Voldemort and joined an anti-terrorist resistance organisation when he was just 18 years old, who fought alongside Frank and Alice Longbottom in the Order, is about to start his first class with the third years. Neville is there, of course, Remus knows his parents’ fate, how they were tortured into madness, and probably guessed that Neville’s biggest fear would be similar to what he guessed Harry’s would be. He’s probably planning on stepping in before Bellatrix Lestrange shows up, but then it’s not her, it’s Snape. Snape who insults him in front of his class, Snape who tries to shame him. Can you imagine how he must have felt? Yes, they bullied him, but his best friend James grew up, and what did he get in return? Death. Instead, Snape hasn’t gotten over himself a little and most importantly he does not realise that being a teacher also means being responsible for those children. Snape never changes: he is the same petty, angry, bitter child that he had been in school, except now he’s bullying children half his age instead of yelling racial slurs at his classmates. While Snape is one of his students’ greatest fear, Remus starts off the year by letting his pupils confront their biggest fears. Remus truly, deeply cared about his students, and wait… what did Snape do? He got him fired! But even most achingly than that, just imagine… it’s 1993, Remus is coming back after a rough full moon. He’s feeling down, he’s weak, both physically and emotionally, he’s one more time without his friends by his side, one more time alone as he was before the Marauders became Animaguses to be alongside him to support him during the roughest times (horrible people, isn’t it?). So Remus is coming back to his class of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and his best friend’s son is writing an essay on how to kill him. But Snape didn’t stop there, no, he told the whole Wizarding World that a man who had struggled to keep his condition secret all his life was a Werewolf. He had to withdraw from his position as a professor because of that, and straight after that the Ministry issued a law against Werewolves which made it impossible for Remus to have a job. So, to sum it up, not only he exposed him as a Werewolf, he also condemned him to live in poverty and be persecuted for that reason. Also, quoting, when Remus was trying to explain things in PoA he attacked him and said “I’ll drag the Werewolf, perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too.” James and Sirius were the kind of persons, the kind of friends and brothers, who risked their own life every month for one of his best friends. Think about this: they found out about Remus’ situation when they were just boys in their first years of school, and they didn’t leave him, they decided to help him embarking in something much bigger than themselves. Whereas dear lovely 33 year old Necrophilus told everyone about Remus’ secret and basically had him fired. Sounds angelic, why haven’t I thought about doing something like that before? That would most certainly secure me a spot in heaven!

Do we want to talk about an abusive person? Well, Snape was not just abusive as a person, he abused and took advantage of his position as a teacher (and Head of House too, to reward extra points from the other Houses) to bully his own students (even after his presumed “redemption”). He told Neville he would have given his failed potion to his toad, Trevor, so that the fatal effects of the potion would teach him a lesson. He bullied Neville to the point that he was literally his greatest fear - Neville’s parents were tortured to the point of insanity by Bellatrix, yet Snape was his greatest fear. He also condoned and took part in bullying when Draco cursed Hermione’s teeth to grow. He said he didn’t see any difference, then watched as she ran off crying. From the very start he starts bullying Harry: he perfectly knew he was raised by muggles, he knew how Petunia was and still went on to ask questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer. And after calling Neville and idiot for a mistake that anyone could have made he took points from Gryffindor because Harry didn’t tell him how to do it right - great teaching strategy, let’s nominate him for Most Valuable Teacher. Harry had nothing to do with what went on during Snape’s school years, but he physically resembled James and he was his son, so let’s bully him from the very first second! And honestly, asking an 11 years old Muggle-raised kid the difference between monskshood and wolfsbane in front of everyone on the first day? There is no difference! They are colloquial terms for the same plant. He just wanted the intellectual upper hand over a goddamn little kid. But he didn’t stop there: that resentful git always tried to blame Harry for something even without proof (as most of the time), and he physically abused Harry because he was angry (“Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard onto the dungeon floor.”). He knew how important it was for Harry to learn Occlumency and he stopped giving him classes and later ignored when Lupin asked him to start them again even when he knew how poorly Harry’s progressed. And he was cruel: he knew Harry was sad about Sirius’ death, and gave him a detention in which he was going to see his and his father’s names multiple times while copying out old detention records. Yes, Harry’s deeds should have called for expulsion, as McGonagall states, but Snape chose something more painful than that. Not only he punished Harry (don’t get me wrong, he almost killed Draco, he deserved detention if not expulsion), but he chose to inflict him more pain and at the same time tried to ruin the memory of Harry’s father figures. Ordinarily, copying out old detention records wouldn’t be worse than writing lines, but Snape vindictively tailored that detention to inflict pain. In addition to this, he could have been an awesome teacher if he wasn’t a disgusting waste of a human being. He knew from his teen years that the instructions that the textbooks were giving were not as goos as they could be so he improved the potions and recorded his own methods at 16. Harry himself states what an amazing teacher “the Prince” is. If Snape were not such a horrible person, he could have either written the entire textbooks himself, or taught his students his own alternate methods. Instead he spent his time bullying children. He could have been great and become everything a Slytherin should have been

Snape also saw his friends perform Dark Magic on Mary Macdonald and when confronted by Lily, literally didn’t see any problem with it and compared it with the Marauders’ pranks.

He called Lily, his supposed best friend, a Mudblood. Then he tried to get away with it by saying he didn’t mean it and that she (and only she) was different from the other Muggleborns. And Lily tried, she tried to tell him he was not on the right path, she tried, and she got called a racial slur from the person she trusted the most at the time. And, for the extremist Snape apologetics in the back, who even hate Lily (how can they hate on Lily I don’t know, but apparently these people exist too): Lily Evans did not owe anyone anything. She had the right to cut ties with her friends for any reason she pleased, whatever that’s because she was sick of them or because they were hanging out with a group of terrorists wannabe. She did not owe anyone her love, loyalty or energy. She tried to be Snape’s friend despite his other group of friends (“but Mulciber’s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don’t understand how you can be friends with them”), but there’s canon evidence that Snape chose his Death Eaters friends over Lily’s friendship and safety. It was her choice to cut ties with him after what he and his friends had done (and the racial slur of course, truly a touch of class), and it’s not like he was a good friend to begin with: he called all other Muggleborns “Mudblood” and was canon friends with the people who wanted Lily and other Muggleborns killed, and he even still wanted to be a Death Eater while being her friend. Like, wait here while I go out and slaughter your people, Lils! And if Snape stans are still arguing that he was suffering because he got dumped, that’s another no: he did not get dumped, she just didn’t have romantic feelings for him but was trying so hard to be his friend and he was just a whiny baby about it. Is that a crime? No, it isn’t. Is not getting over it and taking it out on countless kids who weren’t even born instead a crime? Yes, it is.

Also, from the get-go we see him drop a tree branch on Petunia. That shows that he didn’t see a problem in hurting the people Lily loved (seen later in a larger proportion, that’s his tag line). Lily loved her sister, but Petunia was an obstacle between her and Snape, hence, Snape hurt her. And no, that was not accidental underage magic, just as Lily performs magic on the flower, Snape uses magic to cause a tree branch to fall on Petunia. Even as a child he had no qualms about hurting someone Lily loved, this really serves to underscore the idea that Snape, with his so called love for Lily, was not invested in her happiness or wellbeing because he didn’t care about the people she loved. As a child he didn’t care about hurting her sister and at 20 he didn’t care about the imminent deaths of her husband and son. If he truly loved and cared for her, he would have wanted to see her happy. Not even considering how crushed she would have been if her husband and only child were dead, and she was left alone and pregnant in the middle of a war.

Okay so now let’s talk about James. Yes, James was a spoiled brat, and Lily hated him for that, then guess what? He matured, he started protecting the weaker ones and joined the Order along with Sirius, Remus and Lily to fight for a better world. He didn’t hold it against her nor did he sulk for days, he grew up and matured because he was a well adjusted human, unlike some. James Potter was many things other than an “arrogant bullying toerag” (hey, also, well done for trying to destroy a 15-year-old orphan’s memory of his heroic father): he was a friend who risked his life every month for Remus’s safety and comfort. A brother who took Sirius in and was “the best friend he ever had.” An adored friend of half-giant Hagrid, in an age when all “half-breeds” were looked upon with suspicion during the war. An all time “favourite student” of Minerva McGonagall, so much that she waited all day at his son’s future home and wept at his death. A savior of his enemies even when they were trying to expose his friends’ secrets. An activist protecting the right of existence for Muggles, Muggleborns and hybrids right out of school. A soldier who faced Voldemort three times and lived to tell about it. A caring father who went into hiding to protect his son. A loving husband who sacrificed his life for his family. A faded trace of magic still trying to guide his son when the man that killed him returned to life. A young man that inspired so much loyalty in his friends that Remus Lupin, who so feared the idea of harming people because of his condition, was 100% willing to abandon those morals to avenge his death, and would have done so, had Harry not reminded him and Sirius that James would not have wanted them to murder anyone for him. A Patronus helping Harry through his darkest moments until the very end. James had a friend facing bigotry and he became an illegal animagus to help make that friend’s life better. Snape had a friend facing bigotry and he joined up with the bigots. No one is trying to pretend that James was an angel, but he got better and better until his last breath. And again, that spoiled brat and the love of his life joined the resistance and were martyrs. James, Lily, Sirius and Remus all died for Harry. Are you trying to blame James and Lily for sacrificing their own lives to save their infant son? What terrible parents they were! Their sacrifice was an act of love and wait… actually ended up saving the Wizarding World. The only thing James and Snape had in common was that they would have both sacrificed James’s life in order to save Lily’s. James was the hero, he was the one who faced Voldemort without his wand (pretty dumb thing but he was a Gryffindor, hence no surprise) in order to give his wife and son more time to flee. When he opened that door on Halloween, he thought he was sacrificing his life so that they could live. He literally died wandless perfectly knowing he wouldn’t survive, but facing death for those he loved, hoping he would be able to stall enough time so they could escape. He was never more dedicated in anything in his short life than he was to the loves of his life: he died for Lily and Harry, and would have happily died for Sirius, Remus and Peter. And this is absolutely canon, of course it is: we might not have some explicit description of him but all we know comes from the lives he touched, how they talked / not talked about him, the pain they felt - the seven books are a testament of James and Lily’s love. James Potter was the kind of person that would have been happy to die for love, he would have taken pride in that. How do we know that? Are we making this up? No, we are not: all we have are the words of people who knew him, from his best friends to McGonagall, and who remembered him as a hero. This, albeit indirectly, speaks volume about the kind of person he was. He might have been obnoxious and arrogant as a teenager, but at 21 he died a hero - wandless, alone, betrayed, hopeless, but also bravely and out of love - and nothing can change either of those. Yes, he bullied Snape (let’s be clear here even though I highly doubt Snape did not retaliate) and that is a disgusting attitude. But how can you forgive a 31 year old man for bullying his kids and not a 15 year old boy who bullied one of his definitely not innocent classmates? Who matured and who later died, at the young age of 21, for his wife and son? How can you hate James Potter when as soon as he graduated, he was ready to fight a war against the most powerful wizard of his age? Yes, he had a big head and I am fairly certain he did actually strut - and let’s just take a moment to remember why Harry doesn’t know anything about him… oh, right, Snape went to Voldemort and told him about the prophecy - but he was a caring person, who stood up to what he thought and stood up for his friends and his family. The spoilt boy Snape’s apologetics hate, who grew up to be a great man, who died fighting and protecting, not some emo with a crush and an ego the size of the Great Lake! Wait, I hear somebody trying to bring up the “we have no real evidence of him becoming a better person” thing. Let me get this straight: James was mentioned to have jinxed other students, not to have bullied them. He did not pick out targets, it was implied to be done at random as it is explicitly stated that he jinxed random people in the corridors. Fred and George pranked other students in the same way, and they would have often have more disastrous effects, but no one calls them bullies. We know that on one known occasion attacks Snape with Sirius at his side and almost pantsed him with a spell of Snape’s own invention. James and Snape had a rivalry, and it was two-sided. It wasn’t James relentlessly hexing poor, innocent Snape, so if you still want to call James Potter a bully, okay, do it, he was a bully bullying a bully. The evidence speaks for itself: he was Head Boy in 7th year (hence I don’t think Dumbledore despised him that much), he was unapologetically a blood traitor, he dated Lily Evans (who hated him for how he was and would have never fallen in love with such a brat, so it’s pretty evident he did actually change), he joined the Order of the Phoenix (an anti-terrorist organisation, at the peak of the war, as a teenager, whereas someone else joins a racist dark cult), he died protecting his wife and child! And if we really, really want to bring the ‘evidence’ thing up… well, we have no evidence he bullied Snape, except for one little incident - I’m fairly certain he did, but let’s play it literally now. And since we are there, we may not have been blessed with more about the Marauders, but Sirius and Remus both tell Harry Lily changed his mind about James because he became a better person, why don’t Snape stans consider that an evidence pro James but “Snape’s worst memory” is their pro Snape pamphlet? That chapter showed us an incident where both Sirius and James were assholes but everyone that was there supported it but Lily. All the other Students supported it because of what the fandom conveniently forgets that Snape loved Dark Arts, disparagingly called Lily a Muggle twice, tried to expose Remus and run around with a group of Death Eater wannabes tormenting Muggleborns all through his school years (he literally says that torturing Mary Macdonald was funny - “That was nothing, it was a laugh, that’s all”), to the point where Lily’s friends and herself questioned their friendship: “none of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. I’ve made excuses for you for years.” And eventually, when questioned by Lily if he wanted to join Voldemort, he couldn’t find any way to lie to her: “you and your precious little Death Eater friends— you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You Know Who can you?”. He literally didn’t find anything wrong with Voldemort’s political position (only the fact that he wanted to kill his obsession, he only had that so called change of heart when it personally affected him as his beloved Dark Lord wanted to kill the object of his lust). So yes, he did join the Death Eaters because he wanted to and was everything he’d always desired. Does this make him a bad person? HELL YES.

And wait, can somebody remind me why the Potters were forced to hide? Wow, it must have been because Snivellus dearest spilled the tea to his master. So basically it went like this: “Hey Dark Lord! Our adorable group of racists kills Mudbloods for fun, but there’s this filthy Muggle born I fancy, can you please kill her husband and baby so that I can have her?” How the hell could he think Lily could have ever forgiven him? He was totally fine with Dumbledore saving Lily but not her husband and infant son (see how deeply he cared about Lily’s happiness?) and only cared for him being the rebound. James and Harry were totally expendable but hey, bravest man ever known!

So yes, he protected Harry (in his very own and questionable way, he did), but I’m sorry, that’s not enough. However, before someone says “in the end he cared about Harry” let me say a big, important fact: NAH HE DIDN’T. And not only he didn’t, but he also openly states that: in the Deathly Hallows chapter with the Pensieve, Snape describes Harry as selfish, self-important and arrogant - does it matter than all the other teachers like him and see none of those things? Of course not. And he’s not talking about sassy 4th-6th year Harry (who I really thank for that “there's no need to call me "sir" Professor” gem): Snape is tasing about an 11 year old who was picked on his whole life, who never had a family of his own and who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He’s a child, an orphan (now tell me what’s that heroic about tormenting an orphan). However, Snape had decided that Harry must be bad news from the start, so he reasonably spends six years making his life as difficult as possible. That’s a great way to honour Lily’s memory, right? Do Snape stans remember what their hero answered when Dumbledore asked if he had grown to care for the boy, after all? He literally shouted “for him?” before casting a Patronus (a little over obsessive too). He felt he owed it to Lily to make sure Harry survives, and for Merlin’s sake, he did! He went to Voldemort and basically condemned the Potters. I’m not saying he is THE reason why they died, that honour goes to the lurid latrine rat, but he is one of them. Protecting Harry was the least he could do. Switching allegiances doesn’t cancel the awful actions before Lily’s death, as much as taking advantage of his position can’t be justified by his loyalty to Dumbledore. And most importantly, he cannot be redeemed by his stalkerish obsession for Lily (or by the creepy ‘look at me I want to die looking into your mother’s eyes,’ ew). All he did was made out of selfishness, even in his quest to redeem himself. Snape had a chance to honour Lily's memory, and disregarded it every single day. He claimed to regret his past, yet his cruelty to Harry was persistent and immature. Plus, loving someone doesn’t redeem terrible deeds. He aligned himself with a terrorist organisation who murdered for sport entirely of his own volition, endorsed the torture of Muggleborns, but of course, what a hero! I will never understand how people continue to use Snape’s obsession with Lily and ‘protecting’ Harry thing as an excuse for all the pain and terror that he inflicted upon small children. Does that mean you’ll excuse a father who continuously hit and emotionally abused his child and made their life a living hell if his excuse was “well I was still protecting them they had their dead mother’s eyes”? This is SICK.

And if you can still argue that “he had a terrible childhood,” that is inarguable, however, it just cannot justify him. Remus was bitten when he was 4, he had no friends until he was 11, lived in constant fear that he was going to be outed as a Werewolf, was forced to turn into a monster every month, lost everyone he loved and lived in poverty for 14 years and still managed to be a decent person. Luna watched her mother die, was picked on by almost everyone, was treated as a freak and only had one friend until she was 14 and still managed to be a decent person. Ginny was literally possessed by Voldemort himself for almost a year, guess what? Decent person too. Neville was constantly told how worthless he was, lived knowing his parents were tortured to insanity and was bullied and belittled by everyone. Decent person? Yes, right again. And do we want to talk about THE lonely kid who was abused his entire life? Sirius was raised and abused by blood supremacists, was disowned by his family, framed for murder (of his best friends, for Merlin’s sake!) and literally lost almost everyone he loved and still managed to be a decent person. He couldn't help the way he was? The environment around him conditioned him to be that way? If I remember correctly, Harry was raised by neglectful relatives, wore ill-fitting clothes, felt inadequate among his peers… Harry is proof that a terrible childhood doesn’t excuse despicable behaviour.

So, Snape hated Neville because he could have been the Chosen One instead of Harry (but it’s definitely on him for going to Voldemort and condemning the Potters), he hated Harry because he was James’s copy and he hated Hermione because she was a Mudblood and brilliant as Lily was. Makes sense, again, and again, it stresses how much of a beautiful person and teacher he was, don’t you think so? Also, had Voldemort picked Neville to kill instead of Harry, Snape would still be a Death Eater. It’s not like he thought being part of a group of supremacists and terrorists was wrong. It wasn’t until something directly affected him that he turned his back to his master - so brave, right? Snape may have done some good for the Wizarding World when he joined the Order, but while he was alive, he was horrible. He wasn't fighting the good fight because he couldn't possibly imagine a world where Voldemort was in charge (honestly, he couldn't have cared less), he was doing it to spare Lily’s life and get her for himself. James and Lily fought for the light because they believed in the light. Snape fought against the dark because the dark had offended him. Had Voldemort gone after the Longbottoms instead, Snape would have lived and died as the most loyal Death Eater in history.

Wait, I hear a “there’s no evidence that Snape voluntarily murdered anyone in his entire life” over there! He joined a group whose aim was genocide and was actually one of the few members which were part of the inner circle of Death Eaters, he didn’t get there by throwing kisses and rose petals around. It is explicitly said that not all Death Eaters actually bore the mark. Only selected wizards can be part of Voldemort’s circle, and not only Snape was part of that circle during the First Wizarding War, but it is also heavily implied that he passed messages from Voldemort more than once. Plus, he was also able to speak directly to Voldemort and even ask him to spare Lily’s life. Voldemort actually told Lily to move over three times before killing her, and he didn’t do that because he had such a kind heart and wanted to spare a Muggleborn’s life, he did that because Snape begged him. And maybe we haven’t read the same books, but it’s not like Voldemort strolled along Diagon Alley offering favours to random people. In addition to this, Snape did most certainly kill someone since Dumbledore compares Draco’s soul to his, meaning he has done remorseless acts of great evil before, hence his soul was already damaged, unlike Draco’s. So please, stop saying Snape was somehow influenced into joining the Death Eaters and never committed any crime: he fully believed in what they pledged and actually longed about being one of them for years (according to Lily). No one manipulated him into joining said group nor into perpetrating crimes. And no one manipulated him into being a horrible person even after he “switched sides.” He’s the one who willingly decides to be a terrorist, he’s the one who willingly decides to abuse children half his age, and he’s the one having the nerve to be awful to Harry when he’s the reason why Harry doesn’t have any parents.

And he was so childish and cruel! He threw a tantrum after discovered he was getting an Order of Merlin and wasn’t going to see Remus and Sirius in jail (even though he knew they were innocent).

There we go: HE KNEW SIRIUS WAS INNOCENT (don’t try to deny it, he was part of the inner circle of Death Eaters, he perfectly knew Sirius was not the one selling the Potters to Voldemort)! Did this matter for him? Of course not! And was Snape cruel and abusive to Harry because he blamed himself for Lily’s death and Harry was a constant reminder of his guilt? Yes, he was. But you know who else blamed himself for the Potters’ deaths and also was constantly reminded of them by Harry, and yet, did not abuse him because of his guilt? That’s right, Sirius. Sirius whose death was indirectly caused by Snape who kept making fun of him for being locked in Grimmauld Place. Sirius who had no problems breaking out of Azkaban, all he had to do was turn into a dog and leave. He could have left anytime he wanted to over those twelve years but he didn’t. You know why? Because he thought he deserved to be there. It was his fault his friends were dead. Everyone could blame him all they wanted with false accusations and it didn’t matter, since to him, changing Peter to the Secret Keeper, he was guilty for his friends’ death and deserved to be in Azkaban. He only broke out when he knew Harry was in danger after seeing that filthy rat on the newspaper. And when he broke into Hogwarts? Do people remember those lines: Hermione said “It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” to which Ron responded “I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run. Didn’t realise it was Halloween.” Please, of course he realised it was Halloween, he perfectly knew that. He went after Peter on the anniversary of James and Lily’s death to revenge them and to save his godson. Sirius might have strut as much as James during his teens but again, he turned out to be a decent person.

And think about Harry, a 17-year-old grown up in an abused “family” (and still managed to be a decent person too): he has no memories of his parents, the only thing remained is a photograph. A photograph of a happy little family, showing James and Lily in love with the fruit of their love. Snape found it and ripped off and stole the half with Lily smiling so he could pretend her happiness and love were directed at him and not at her husband and son (yes, people, that disgusting moment actually existed, and it was so creepy Yates couldn’t put it in the movies). He stole Lily’s picture and Lily’s last words from Sirius, a friend she loved, the Potters’ best man, James’ brother. How nasty. What can I say, at least he waited until after Sirius’ death to go to Grimmauld Place and raid his bedroom?

Lovely Snivellus, such a cupcake, also laughed and mocked Tonks when her Patronus changed when she fell in love with Remus (let’s also remember that Tonks’s one was not the same as Remus’s, as stated by Rowling, before Snape stans can accuse me of applying double standards: Remus’s Patronus was a regular wolf, and okay Harry is oblivious at times, but he would have recognised a regular wolf) despite the fact that his own changed to match Lily’s - let’s just remember that THIS is obsessive behaviour, whilst James and Lily’s Patroni represent them being soulmates. Snape’s Patronus does not honour Lily, stop considering this the greatest romantic moment of all times, it does not show virtue nor morality, it’s just the representation of his creepy fascination with necrophilia. It’s disgusting, not noble. His so called love for Lily is creepy. She found happiness with another man, yet Snape was possessive, manipulative, and inarguably obsessive. And let’s remember that J.K. Rowling said that “he thought Lily would find him impressive if he became a real Death Eater”… was he really her best friend or was he just completely blinded by his attraction to the dark side? This is not a redemptive love, this is problematic, toxic, abusive, emotionally-stunted, obsessive.

This is because there was never a love triangle and that’s why there is simply NO Team Snape! Not winning at the genetic lottery doesn’t justify being such an awful person! Also, THIS is why the tag line should be changed from “always” to “Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll hold him off!” or to “until the very end” because a father’s eternal love for his son is much more important than a racist’s obsession of a dead woman (dead because he contributed to her death, to be precise). His always and doe patrons can’t get him out of this one. Eventually, let’s remember J.K. Rowling’s dedication in Deathly Hallows: “[…] to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end.” Not “always” nor creepy moaning, just the pure words of a hero, of a loving father who died protecting the ones he loved most.

Now, I don’t get why we should celebrate Snivellus as the hero of Slytherin and an example of the “not all Slytherins are evil” when Regulus Black died in a cave, drowned by reanimated corpses to bring about the downfall of Voldemort, and Narcissa Black straight up lied to Voldemort because she’s first and foremost a mother, ruthless in doing whatever it took to save her beloved son. Regulus and Narcissa were brave: despite their flaws they knew what mattered the most and they were two big key factor in Harry’s survival and Voldemort’s demise. Sure, Snape was among the three that deceived the Dark Lord, but whilst Regulus did it because he realised what was right and what wasn’t, and Narcissa did it because of love, putting her family first (plus, she wasn’t even a Death Eater, and this tells a lot about her, as her loyalties solely lie with her family), Snape did it because resentfulness. Sure, Regulus joined the Dark Eaters of his own free will and Narcissa did what she did only after having her family threatened, but since one of Snape stans’ major point in his defence is his family being abused, let’s take their family into consideration too. The Blacks were pureblood supremacist, they grew up within that establishment and yes, some members of the family rejected those arguable ‘values’ but not everyone has the courage to do that (also, every Black family member is indisputably a badass, don’t get me started on that). On the contrary, Snape was a half-blood, and still, ended up hating muggleborns - yes, don’t try to say he didn’t, he joined the Death Eaters because he believed in Voldemort’s cause. He disparages mud bloods, he joins in on their massacre as a Death Eater after having idolised them for years in school before actually joining them. Read this again: he idolised a group of pureblood supremacist, he actively helps orchestrate genocide against the muggleborns. And what is his Freudian excuse? He believed that, in so far as Halfblood, he had to ‘prove’ that he was magical and capable enough (does this remind you of somebody else who hated muggles albeit being a half-blood and eradicates his whole Muggle family?), you can see that in how he strived to highlight his maternal Prince lineage in his stupid nickname. And no, now don’t try to blame the Marauders’ behaviour for this: Severus Snape, the man you glorify, hated muggleborns and went out of his way to commit genocide against them. So, in the end, if you still deny that, despite it being clear in the books, you are being dishonest. If, on the contrary, you fully realise it and still glamorise Snape despite how horrible of a person he was, well Snape stans, you have sunk to a new low. I’m not trying to justify anyone who supported said supremacist beliefs, but at least Regulus and Narcissa were born and bred within one of the Sacred 28, those beliefs were instilled in them from the very beginning, Snape reached them all on his own (well done for embracing your nazi self Snivellus). Regulus turned his back on Voldemort as soon as he realised how wrong he had been: at age 18, he literally sacrificed himself to try and stop his master. Narcissa, on the other hand, never sworn loyalty to Voldemort: she was a pureblood elitist, yes, she was guided by pride, but she was also calm, rational and restrained where her sister was crazed and her husband was reckless. So… Regulus faced death in the hope that when when the time had come, Voldemort would have met his match and would have been mortal once more, and Cissy only wanted best for her family and did everything she could to protect her son. She perfectly knew that Voldemort could have easily killed her in a second, but she wanted to find Draco, kept a straight face as the strong woman she was and fooled the Dark Lord. And why did Snape deceive Voldemort? Oh, right, he told him the prophecy that eventually led to the killing of the woman he was obsessed with (and no, again, he did not care at all about her husband and baby), this, of course after asking him to spare her life so that he could have had her (so this is, once again, classic Snivellus holding grudges). Regulus and Narcissa are pretty much the epitome of Slytherin, and still, let’s celebrate Snape! As a Slytherin myself, I am utterly disgusted by Snape’s behaviour. He could have been an amazing teacher, he had the talent to be one of the greatest Potions masters ever, and he willingly chose to throw it away in favour of being awful for the sake of bullying his own pupils. If we have to pick characters who proved that not all Slytherins are evil, let’s look at Regulus, let’s look at Narcissa, let’s look at Slughorn and Andromeda. Slughorn fought against Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts and refused to become a Death Eater, Andromeda married a Muggleborn. And guess what? None of them bullied children for 15 years.

Then, for the “I sometimes think we Sort too soon” thing… no, just no. Before you can start yelling at me, I am not, I repeat, I am absolutely not saying this because I endorse the whole Gryffindor being saints thing. I am a Slytherin, and a proud one. I just don’t agree that Snape was brave. Is being a resentful, childish and abusive man being brave? Wow, I’ll have to refresh my vocabulary! It is not brave to bully your pupils for years because you lost your loved one, it is not brave to refuse to accept a woman loves somebody else and moves on, it is not brave to keep a childhood grudge against that someone because they ‘stole’ the so called love of your life, it is not brave to try to destroy an orphan’s image of their heroic father. Snape was burned Lily had chosen James over him, so burned that, fuelled by jealousy and envy (and by his pretty questionable ideals too, because it’s too convenient to forget he is 100% a Death Eater and hence a supporter of Voldemort’s lovely view for the Wizarding World), he struck out and ended up getting Lily killed. I don’t consider playing the martyr by “teaching” (if we really want to call that teaching instead of child abuse) and being an occasional spy being brave. I call it feeling guilty, I call it ��I deserve to suffer for hurting Lily but I still choose to bully her own son instead of honouring her,’ I call it ‘I keep on tormenting an orphan because I hated his father and he looks too much like him, plus, he has his mother’s eyes so I’m constantly remembered of 1) Lily choosing James over me and 2) Lily dying because of me telling my beloved Dark Lord the prophecy.’ Any protection Snape offered Harry, he did it because of his penance, not because protecting him (and hence stopping Voldemort) was the right choice. Wow, how brave of him. I don’t think Snape could have been a Gryffindor at all, and I hated how David Yates (again, very conveniently for his martyr business) placed the Gryffindor scarf hanging up in the background in Snape’s death scene as a nod to his supposed bravery. Like, really?! Even if you really want to call him brave, he’s still an awful person who shouldn’t have been allowed to teach because of how abusive he was, an awful person who was a member and supporter of a supremacist, racist and violent sect, an awful person who caused the death of innocent people - and I could go on and on. You can’t let a few good deeds outweigh all the bad! It’s not like some potion or Imperius Curse made him join the Death Eaters, spill the tea about the prophecy and terrorise those children. He willingly chooses to do that because he was an awful person until the very end. And still, Snape apologists be like “the conclusion of his arc is that abusing your position of power over children is forgivable if you stalked one of their parents when you were a teen.” Again, sick.

Snape’s portrayal in the movies is entirely fan-service throughout the whole series of films, but especially in DH part 2: they never showed Sirius arriving at the Potters the night Lily and James died, they never showed the moment his whole world collapsed when he saw the corpses of his best friends, the moment he blamed himself for what had happened. No, we got an entirely made-up (and creepy) scene of Snape getting there, holding Lily’s body and crying when that never happened! We also never got a scene with Sirius and Remus evidently struggling to hold it together while they tell Harry about James, how he changed and how Lily fell in love with him. Their pain would have shown how much James had an impact on their lives, for the better, but of course, we only got a partial rendition of Snape’s worst memory, with careful cuts of course, they couldn’t say he didn’t find anything wrong with the torture of Muggleborns, right?

You can like Snape, sure, he’s a flawed character with an interesting past, but he’s not a hero, stop portraying him as such instead of what he really was: an abusive, creepy, racist man. You are allowed to like villains (who doesn’t?) but stop praising him! You don’t have to justify his actions because you like him: he was awful, recognise it.

Do we (still) need to talk about double standards? Well, there we go: people hate Lavender Brown and Cho Chang. Fair enough, pretty annoying girls if you want to hear me, but why do they get hate? They get hate for how they handle their feelings: Lavender gets hate for how she handles her unrequited romantic feelings, and Cho gets hate for crying and grieving over the death of her boyfriend. Does this sound like a thread to you? With the sole difference that they get more hate than Snape and this is disturbing and honestly just sick. He is a terrorist, he literally moans the entire series and abuses and terrorises children because he couldn’t have Lily but hey, misunderstood hero!

Stop romanticising Snape: the only reason why people love him is Alan Rickman, and all of this hatred is just a pathetic way of trying to cover up that James grew up while Snape didn’t. How can people glorify and stand up for a man who canonically is a vindictive bully? To be honest, I’m genuinely concerned for people who over romanticise such a man. Correct me if I’m wrong: do you see anyone sticking up for the Dursley’s or Umbridge, when they do basically the same stuff to Harry as Snape? How is Necrophilus any different? I will never regard him as a hero for as long as I am alive, however, the movies conveniently cut those parts where Snivellus was the half princey of baddies, right? Also, I really wish Sirius could have found out about this lovely nickname Snape gave himself as a teenager, that alone would have cured his depression, post traumatic stress disorder and alcoholism, this is a real tragedy.

Severus Snape did not die for love. He died because Voldemort thought hew was the true Elder Wand owner. I repeat: he did not die for love. Period.

He raised a wand to McGonagall!

Avada

Kedavra

#jamespotter #marauders #lilypotter #severussnape #snivellus #hp #hogwarts #harry potter #jily

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need-a-fugue · 4 years ago

Text

You Belong to Me

A ghost story, if you will... Written for @wonderlandmind4‘s Fall Winter Writing challenge. I know this is in well before the deadline, but it felt like it needed to be read on Halloween.

The prompt? “Goblins and ghosts and ghouls, oh my!”

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, etc. (no pairings)

Every night, now, is the same.

Every night, the woman comes for him, entering his room like an ethereal dream. Climbing atop him like an old fashioned nightmare.

Every night, Sam feels her sit atop his chest, gripping his shoulders with icy fingers. Squeezing his ribs, his lungs, between her naked, knobby knees.

Every night, she leans in close and drips foul-tasting lake water into his wide open mouth as he releases yet another silent scream into the dark, empty room.

Every night, he breathes her in – the cold, cold water that she seems to be comprised of – choking and sputtering and retching. Until he drowns all over again.

---

It was supposed to be an easy mission. It was an easy mission. Little more than lookout duty on his part.

He and Bucky were tasked with sitting, it seemed, the two of them made to hunker down and hold steady at the tree line, to keep watch while Steve and Natasha infiltrated the tiny – likely long ago abandoned – building nestled deep within the Siberian wilderness.

“This place is hell.” The words crackle in his mind, the sound of his own voice – pitching into pure petulance – echoing eternally as the memory plays out in yet another restless dream. He shakes his head idly to-and-fro before craning his neck a bit and twisting, the slight crack-crack-pop resounding in the air.

Bucky snorts in reply, his eyes still – always – suspiciously narrowed, trained ahead, his advanced vision allowing him to see the cracked open door where their teammates had entered without the need of his rifle’s scope. “It’s Siberia,” he drones. “What did you expect?”

“Not this.” No, not this, he thinks, breathing out a sigh, absolute boredom stretching out along the deep exhale as his eyes tick off past the outpost.

This is nothing like what he had expected Siberia to be. He’d pictured a barren wasteland. A snow-covered desert. A place – dead and dark and devoid – that could be of no use beyond breaking men and building monsters.

This place is beautiful. Stunning. Lush and full and picturesque, with swaths of deep, rich color popping through the low-hanging clouds. Every shade of green blanketing the ground, swirling with earthen browns in the distance as the forest gave way to the far-off mountain range. Snow-covered peaks, buried deep in the background, showing a hint of the frozen scape that he had expected to see as they traveled from the other end of the world.

Off to the east, just at the edge of the expansive clearing… that’s where a small lake lay, the water reflecting the soft gray hues of the overcast sky, small slivers of silver shining from between the thick branches of peculiar looking spruces and pines.

No, it isn’t the place he expected to see when they first climbed off the jet and began the four mile trek to the tiny outpost. Nor is it the kind of place that warrants being called hell. At first glance, it seems more like an expansive – albeit cold – paradise. And yet, Sam can’t help but feel an eerie tingling up his spine, a physical sensation that tells him there is something very not right about this little part of Siberia.

It’s the noise. Yes, that’s it. It’s the noise – or lack thereof – that has his shoulders set high and his chest tight in a sort of nervous anticipation. This place… it sounds like something out of a nightmare.

They’d been sitting in the same spot for what feels like hours, crouched at the edge of the forest, huddled in amongst the thick, spiky bushes and sap-covered trees. They’ve been sitting in their own self-induced silence – because Barnes is worse at small talk than Romanov – for a veritable eternity. And nothing, not a single bird nor squirrel nor whatever the hell kinds of animals live up here, had made a sound.

There is nothing. Not even the soft rustle of the trees in the wind. There is no wind. There is only stillness. And utter, deafening silence.

His ears ring and whomp from the emptiness filling them, the richly absent noise that burrows so deep it manages to infiltrate his brain with a cold, gray stillness to match that of the far-off lake.

And then… the silence is broken. Shattered by a deafening creak from the heavy, metal door on that small building that sits abandoned in the middle of the clearing. Blown apart by the sudden pounding in Sam’s chest, forcing a thunderous tide of blood to resound in his ears. Destroyed entirely by Bucky’s single, barely audible word, hissed out through tightly clenched teeth as he jumps up and shoulders his rifle.

“Shit.”

---

“It’s perfectly normal… this sort of reaction,” the doctor tells him with a shrug as she scurries to the other side of the small exam room. “You went through a traumatic experience. You very nearly died.”

“Yeah,” Sam replies with a bit of a scoff. “But I’ve very nearly died before,” he counters, challenging brow raised high.

She lets out a long-winded, exhausted-sounding sigh, the expression riding on her far-too-young face – what is Stark’s deal with hiring child geniuses, anyway? – showing more than a hint of annoyance. “It’s extremely common for the brain to either alter or block out entirely certain memories when a traumatic event occurs. And to have… disturbing nightmares. Trauma does funny things – ”

“Please stop saying trauma,” he laments thickly, cutting her off mid-thought. “Look, not to sound like a dick, doc, but I know what trauma is. Hell, I’ve been a trauma counselor. And this? It’s not that.”

She glares at him from over the top of her thick-rim glasses. “Alright. Do you see this woman when you’re not dreaming?” she asks, eyes narrowed in interest, or perhaps suspicion. “Are you having hallucinations?”

His shoulders drop, a low groan pulling from his chest amid an annoyed, “No.”

“Because you were without oxygen for a considerable period of time,” she goes on, eyes flicking to the tablet in her hand as she begins a frantic scroll through his chart. “I was going to sign off on you today, but if you’re experiencing symptoms related to possible brain damage, to some sort of mental deficit…”

“Mental deficit?” he repeats incredulously. “No, I’m not… it’s not…” He throws his hands dramatically up into the air and hops down off the exam table. “You know what? Forget it. Just… forget it. I’ve been traumatized. This is an extremely common reaction. No brain damage here,” he tells her, reaching up and rapping at his skull with his knuckles. “Right as rain.”

She eyes him warily for a long moment before clicking out of his chart and offering a painfully forced smile. “In that case, you are cleared for duty, sir.”

Cleared for duty. It should be a good thing. It is a good thing, he tells himself as he heads for the conference room on the ground floor. Their mission in Siberia had been effectively cut short by his little plunge into that icy lake, the team racing to his rescue in lieu of clearing out the bunker and following up on any potential leads.

The place had been abandoned, or so Steve had told him once he woke a day later, laid up in medical. It looked to be little more than storage, a thick layer of dust sitting atop mountains of boxes, piles of papers, and stacks of old hard drives. He and Natasha had been slowly making their way through the plethora of crap, attempting to discern what held the most intel, what items were important enough to be lugged the four miles back to the jet, when they heard the heavy metal door to the building slam open.

Steve couldn’t say where the woman had come from. Natasha either. They had seen a row of cells that extended down a long, musty corridor. Had walked the hall and shone their flashlights into each and every one. But there was no one there, not that they had seen.

And while they had heard the door creak open up above them, signaling the woman’s escape, and while both Sam and Bucky had seen her flee, race across the field and into the woods. Once she hit the water and plummeted into that deep, cold lake, it was as though she had never really been there at all.

“You good to go?” tears Sam’s attention away from his wandering mind, deep brown eyes shooting across the room and finding a rather concerned looking Steve staring him down.

“Uh,” he sputters, glancing back at the open door. He had been so lost in own world that it hadn’t even realized he’d made it downstairs and entered the conference room where the prep work for the return mission was taking place. “Yeah,” he says with a slow nod. “All clear.”

Steve gives him a quick, stilted nod of his own, worry still etched across his face. “Good.”

---

She’s here again tonight.

He feels her approach, splitting through the soft quiet of his bedroom with a foreboding silence that echoes deep in his ears.

He sees her loom above him, a pitch black shadow that swallows even the moonlight-tinged darkness around him.

He feels his lungs begin to burn and constrict as she coils herself around his chest, squeezing him tight as she settles in.

He watches – paralyzed, eyes wide and unblinking – as she leans in close and whispers something into his ear. Into the dead of night. Something soft yet cutting, familiar yet indecipherable.

He stiffens even further as she cages him in, dark wet hair spilling down either side of a face he can’t quite make out, drip-drip-dripping into his once-again gaping mouth.

And – again – he drowns.

Sam wakes with a start, a choking, burning sensation filling his chest and tearing up and out of his throat in a gasping shout. He bolts upright, wide eyes desperately searching the dark for… something. For the dark haired girl whose silhouette is scorched onto the backs of his lids. For a familiar shadow… of anything or anyone that might calm him, ground him, make him believe he’s here. Safe at home.

For nothing at all. Because that’s what this is after all. Right? Nothing but a dream.

A long, languid sigh spills out of him as he spins and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting heavily as his breaths begin to level. He ducks his head, his bleary eyes blinking to focus on the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s nothing. Until…

Drip. He hears it first, a drop of water plopping, tiny but close, a drip onto the floor beside him.

Drip. He feels the next, splatting on his naked toe. The smell of sulfur – of rotten eggs and putrid lakes, decaying dreams and literal brimstone – suddenly pervades the room.

Drip. This time landing on the very center of his foot.

He shifts to face up, head righting itself achingly slowly, hesitation flooding his veins. His lids roll shut, pinch tightly together, as his face straightens, head slowly shaking back and forth in a silent plea.

Drip. A tiny, cold burst of water hits the tip of his nose. And his eyes snap open, taking in nothing but the pure, eternal dark.

---

Everything feels like a dream these days. Even this. Even sweating in the Avengers’ decked-out gym, Bucky by his side cringing like a mad man as he finishes his reps. There’s something odd and… murky about the world as it goes on around him now. Like everything is graying at the edges, the picture in front of him curling and singeing and smoldering into black even as he sits – paralyzed – at its center.

Sam shakes his head swiftly to fling away the eerie thoughts. To bring things back into focus.

“A roo-what-a?” he asks, voice thick and groggy, as he replies to Bucky’s just uttered words. He swipes at his red-rimmed eyes yet again, the thick grittiness left from too little sleep – from too much effort at holding them open – never fading, no matter how much he rubs.

Bucky racks the weights – just your standard 120-lb dumbbells, nothing too heavy for an early morning warmup – and grabs his half-empty bottle of water. “Rusalka,” he repeats before easily chugging the rest of his drink.

Sam rolls his eyes. The bastard just finished five drop sets, and he admitted to being late to the gym because he accidentally ran an extra five miles… and he’s barely even broken a sweat. “You do realize that doesn’t clear up a damn thing,” he issues out in a painfully annoyed tenor. “Right?”

He crumples the plastic bottle in his metal fist and chucks it into the recycling bin in the corner. “Look it up,” he says, his own voice taking on an irritated tone to match.

“You know, Barnes, you’re a real dick.”

Bucky glares at him for a moment, that oh-so-familiar dangerous stare that he opts for too damn often. Over the past several months – as Steve saw fit to pair him up with this wreck of a man for too damn many missions – Sam had grown rather accustomed to the stern, narrow-eyed scowl. But he was also starting to get used to the look that followed, the relaxed jaw and raised brow that seemed to signal a shift from the protective cover of the Winter Soldier to the knowing – at times even trusting – fellow Avenger. “I stood here and listened to you bitch about some nightmare witch, didn’t I? Seems like I’m a fucking fantastic friend.”

Sam rolls his eyes again, a deep, burning ache pulsating just behind them as he does so. “Look… I know it sounds crazy. It is crazy… but…”

Bucky nods slowly, his lips pursed and brows raised as if in absolute agreement.

“But,” he goes on, only to lose the thread entirely. The truth is, there’s no possible way that he can say anything, explain anything, that won’t make him sound like an absolute psycho. “I just… you were there, man,” he tries, voice fading off into a defeated sigh. “I don’t… I don’t really remember what happened. Not all of it. But…”

“A woman ran out of the compound,” he begins gently, his voice oddly deep and light. Patient. “Looked like a prisoner or a… an experiment of theirs. She took off into the woods, fell in the lake. You went in after her.” He relays what happened – for the umpteenth time – in a calm, matter-of-fact way. He is, after all, no stranger to gaps in memory. Nor, frankly, to traumatic nightmares. “I pulled you out,” he says, dropping his strong, flesh hand to Sam’s shoulder and giving a quick, firm squeeze. “Never found her.”

Bucky’s eyes tick up to look past him, over his shoulder. He gives a slight nod just as the heavy gym door clanks shut. “What’s happening, gruesome twosome?” Clint calls out as he strides over. “Cap got you two working out together now too?” he asks with a chuckle. “Feels like he’s trying to set up his best friends. Better be careful, I think that guy’s a step away from parent trapping you two.”

Sam blows an exhausted sigh out through his nose as Bucky pivots away and says simply, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Haley Mills, Sarge,” he responds with a crooked smirk as he steps up to the rack and grabs a pair of twenties. “Don’t bother with the Lindsay Lohan crap.”

“Okay,” he drawls out, gaze setting back on Sam, his clear blue eyes shining with a conspiratorial glimmer. “Doesn’t clear up a damn thing.”

Clint drops down to the bench to start some curls, watching his biceps carefully as he asks, no strain at all to his voice, “What are you two BFFs gossiping about down here all alone?”

“Ah,” Bucky breathes out with a soft cadence. “Sam’s seeing ghosts.”

“First of all,” Sam breaks in, single pointed finger raised high. “I hate you. And secondly, one ghost. Just the one. And you named her.”

“I didn’t name her,” he bemoans rather dramatically. “I said it sounds like a rusalka.”

“Which is…” Clint intones, inquiring brow raised high.

Bucky lets out a harsh sigh, his shoulders drooping as an annoyed expression tugs at his face. “It’s just this bullshit legend.” His countenance drops, eyes ticking away and darkening for a fraction of a moment as he states, “Couple of guards I remember used to talk about it. Superstitious fucks.” Another sigh, and he returns his typically steely gaze ahead. “It’s like the lady of the lake. A ghost,” he finishes with an exasperated cadence.

“Ooooh,” Clint mocks, glancing up at the pair and offering a playful wink. “Goblins and ghosts and ghouls, oh my!”

“It’s not funny,” Sam spits out, his normally good-natured attitude splitting at the seams and releasing a rather embittered version of himself… one that catches Clint off guard, causing him to stop his curls and gently set the weights down beside him.

“This about the mission last week?” he asks, his own lighthearted voice taking on a more serious edge. He turns to Bucky. “Lady of the lake? Like the lady you two saw drown in that lake?”

He nods, head bobbing low to hide the slight blush – a ruddy betrayer of shame – as he internally chides himself for mocking his friend’s pain. “I used to have to dreams too,” he says softly, voice low and tender. “Still do.” He looks up at Sam, nervously chews at the corner of his mouth before releasing a sigh and steeling himself once again. “You kill someone, or just… can’t save someone… yeah, that shit haunts you.”

“I know that, man,” Sam counters, a frustrated quality to his tone, to his stance. His eyes flit between Bucky and Clint, each man giving him his full attention, rapt and stoic and… invested. “I’ve had dreams too. Nightmares. Of missions gone wrong and people lost and…” His head begins a slow, certain shake, his gaze piercing and true as he states, “This isn’t that. I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t that.”

---

It hits him again, the moment his eyes finally fall shut, every battle against sleep seeming to end just the same way. The smell of the water. The stench of rotten eggs sitting high in his sinuses, tingeing the air he breathes now, here in his quiet, dark room.

“Shit,” breaks through the peculiar din, and Sam’s distant gaze snaps towards the building at the center of the clearing. To the door, no longer merely ajar, but flung wide open. “Shit,” Bucky repeats, the curse heavily spat as he rises and shoulders his rifle before launching forward through the brush.

It’s a woman – a girl – stumbling over a jumble of too-long legs before quickly righting herself, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the still-swinging door, and bolting across the clearing. Sam pops up the moment he sees her, takes off running just a fraction of a second before Bucky does, and chases after.

She’s heading for the lake, her bare feet plodding so delicately atop the grass that no sound comes from them, her escape seeming just as silent as the world surrounding them. It’s just breaths. His own, fast and hard as the air beats in and out of his lungs. Bucky’s easy and controlled, even as he runs in pace behind. The woman’s, stilted and frantic as she speeds across the land, slipping into the forest, making a beeline for the water.

She runs. On broken, blistered soles. Over frost-bitten grass and through sharp, stinging nettles. Branches slapping, cracking, whipping thick, red lines into the exposed flesh on her arms and legs. She runs. Away from the others. Away from everyone. Away from everything. She runs. Towards salvation. Towards home. Towards a wide, placid expanse.

Bucky pulls ahead, fueled by that damn super soldier serum that pumps endlessly through his veins. He flies into the forest after her, splitting the trees with his wide frame, plowing forward as his boots crunch violently on the fallen pinecones underfoot. And Sam follows. Just as he always seems to do. He chases after the super soldier, thoughts of Steve – I do what he does, just slower – flitting anxiously through his mind.

Sharp cracks and snaps echo through the air, breaking through the silence with small pops more startling than giant claps of thunder. Sam feels his chest constrict, his heart jumping at the sounds before resuming it’s wild beat against his ribcage.

And then… the heavy thump of boots on the ground stops, disappears altogether the moment he enters the forest. The sounds of crunching pine needles and snapping branches gone as well, leaving only the heavy pant of his own breaths and the fast-paced thrumming of his own heart echoing in his ears. Silence. Again.

Yes, this is what he remembers most.

The girl, pale and cold and desperate, running past him, slicing through the still air without making a sound. He turns, anchors his foot into the lush earth and swivels towards the flash of dark hair. The quick glimmer of a white dress. Or… no, it isn’t a dress, is it? No. It’s more like a hospital gown. No pants, no shoes. No jacket to cover her shivering body.

“Sam!” The shout pulls his attention and his heavy boots slip as he tries to turn, looking for the man he followed, the soldier who led him into these cold, dark woods. “Sam!” he hears again, finally lighting onto Bucky’s form, a quick, blinding flicker shooting off the bright metal arm. He’s far behind, stilled in the brush, his normally stoic face awash with something akin to fear. To terror.

Sam’s boots skid and slip on the muddy, moss-covered shore, eyes blowing wide as he looks down and sees the silver mirror of the lake, so close. In his periphery dances a swath of long, dark hair. He spins to see, spins and sputters, catches just a glimpse of her pale form just as it breaks through the water, the glassy surface splitting apart into violent ripples. A splash from a distance. The crunch of boots from behind. But the only thing he hears is his own short gasp as his feet slip out from under him.

And then… nothing. There is nothing to see but blackness.

He shakes himself awake, blinking almost maniacally, turning wide eyes towards the window, towards the sliver of moonlight peeking into his room. No. It hadn’t been black. It was green. The whole world was green. And gray. The water was pure silver and gray. Until he broke through that perfect, mirrored surface.

Sam! A shout, one carrying Bucky’s desperate tenor, resounds in a far-off corner of the room. How many times had he shouted his name? Once? Twice? Three times, as he raced frantically for him?

He can’t remember. All he can remember is the quiet that followed. And the cold. And the placid gray water turning murky and black the further he sank.

His eyes slowly close once more, lids too heavy to remain at attention. Body too heavy to keep from drifting off, from stilling and setting and sinking into the mattress. Sinking. He’s sinking. Down, down, down. Further into the cold dark. He feels a part of him twitch – his leg perhaps? maybe just a foot? – before he goes completely still. Paralyzed. Sunk.

A flash of a memory tears through the darkness, a snippet of something that he’s yet to recall with his waking mind. Traumatic experience, an easy explanation for why his dreams are so fucked, his memories so jumbled. So murky and black. But… This isn’t that. I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t that.

He remembers the silence. The stillness. A woman running.

He remembers the snapping and stomping and shout of a friend.

He remembers the cold, cold dark enveloping him as he sank. As… as she tugged him down. Long, dark hair. A white gown. Ghostly pale skin… gooseflesh all along her naked arms. She pulled him down. Down, down, down.

His eyes snap open once again, lungs clenching tightly as they try to pull in air. But they can’t. His chest burns, like the blister of ice water filling within. It aches, likes a thousand pounds rests atop him. Nothing works… not his lungs, nor arms, nor legs. Nothing works except his eyes. They tick up, widening in a frantic search, desperately cutting through the dark.

Something moves above him, the tiniest glint, a reflection of moonlight shining off of… long, dark hair. Wet, the thick curtain hangs heavily, concealing much of her face as it drips. Drip, drip, drip. Icy droplets ping against his skin, plopping to his cheek in scalding shards.

She’s sitting atop his chest, squatting, perched like a stony gargoyle atop its church. For the first time, he’s able to make out her face, staunchly white, oddly luminescent. Small features, a tiny nose, thin bowed lips. They part, just enough for a bitterly cold breath to blow past. And her eyes… her eyes are empty, pale, pale blue. No. Silver. And gray. And murky, like the lake water. She stares at him with those cold, dead eyes, cocking her head as his breathing and pulse grow more erratic.

Her lips move, the smallest echo drifting to him. Unintelligible words that he’s heard a dozen times before. A hundred? A thousand? She jerks suddenly off to the side, off of his chest, faltering for just a blink of moment before shattering into a million icy shards that melt into a cool puddle beside him.

Her soft voice continues to echo through the room. Through his mind. Through his soul.

Ты принадлежишь мне. Вы принадлежите нам.*

*You belong to me. You belong to us.

#sam wilson fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #wonderland4seasonalwc #sam wilson #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #ghoststories

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mitsuya-takashi · 5 years ago

Text

“Staying in”-Taekook

okAY I know it’s been a while but once I post this I’ll be posting a lot more quotes and writing !! To make up for me barely being active I’ve made this cute Taekook boyfriends one shot ! I hope you all like it, I worked hard !

Here ya go @facepalmmylifeu !!

TAEHYUNG

Waking up next to Jeongguk was still the best part of Taehyung’s day. As he lay there, nestled in his bed with his arms wrapped loosely around him, he let himself slowly wake up. He tentatively opened his eyes, using one arm to shield himself from the light gently filtering in as he attempted to blink away the remnants of his slumber. He was ready for a calm morning, sitting up slowly to gently untangle himself from Jeongguk and giving him a quick peck on the forehead before looking over into his mirror to see his hair sticking up in all directions.

Yawning, he ran a hand through his hair and shuffled over to their shared bathroom, walking straight in knowing that Jeongguk wouldn’t be up any time soon. He went down to the kitchen after brushing his teeth, preparing a quick breakfast for Jeongguk and himself, though he knew it would be a while before he would get up and eat it. Sighing contentedly, he stood, making his way back to the room to wake his sleeping boyfriend.

JEONGGUK

Everything was so bright. Jeongguk walked out of the coffee shop with a warm tea in his hands, not exactly remembering how he got it or why he did. As he was struggling to recall what exactly happened to him, he heard a low voice, distracting him from his thoughts.

“...guk…” He blinked as the voice became clearer, looking around confusedly at the empty street.

“Baby.” came the voice, louder now. It was muffled, almost surreal. It sounded familiar, though…

“JEONGGUK!” Jeongguk was jolted awake by a yell and a sudden weight on his body. He saw a blurry figure on top of him and rubbed his eyes to get a better look at who it was. Gradually, the person came into focus, until,

“Tae?” he said groggily. “What are you doing up- what time is it?”

“It’s noon.” Taehyung deadpanned, rolling off of Jeongguk’s body.

“Aw, hyung, you were warm!” said a disappointed Jeongguk.

Taehyung leaned over to put his face directly in front of Jeongguk, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, so you like me on top of you?” he asked teasingly.

Jeongguk smiled, pushing the other out of his face. “Get out.”

“You know I can’t do that, Guk.”

“You could,” Jeongguk mumbled, “If you really wanted to.”

Taehyung simply smiled, laying down next to him before saying, “So the hyungs aren’t here, anything you wanna do?”

When Jeongguk didn’t respond, Taehyung looked over to see him drifting off to sleep again.

“JEONGGUK!” Jeongguk startled awake, almost falling off the bed.

“I was awake I swear!”

“Nope, time to get out of the bed. Get up and brush your teeth.”

“But hyung-”

“Up!” Taehyung said, standing and pulling Jeongguk with him.

“Fine,” Jeongguk pouted, “But only if you come with me.” He got up from the bed, shuffling sleepily to the bathroom with Taehyung following right behind him.

TAEHYUNG

As Jeongguk stood at the sink, the older male came behind him to wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. Taehyung admired him through the mirror, taking in his morning appearance that he still loved seeing every day.

“How are you always so beautiful, Gguk?” Taehyung asked tiredly. Jeongguk paused, holding his stare for a moment before breaking eye contact to rinse his mouth and turn to the person who had been watching him. Taehyung placed his hands on Jeongguk’s hips, giving him a short kiss.

“I love you, Tae.”

“I love you more, baby.”

Jeongguk scrunched his face up. “Never. Nope. No way.”

“Sure Gguk.” Taehyung said before leaning in to kiss him once more. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Can we just sit and watch movies all day? We haven’t done that in a while.” Jeongguk said, looking at Taehyung with large doe eyes.

Taehyung pulled away to clap his hands, cheerfully saying that he knew exactly what movie to pick first.

“Ok, then while you get the movie set up, I’ll get blankets and then we can both get snacks, that good?” Jeongguk asked. Taehyung just grinned at him, nodding his head in agreement.

JEONGGUK

By the time Jeongguk had retrieved the blankets, the movies had already been set up, with the first one on the screen and the next few written down on the little whiteboard on their nightstand (Why he did that, Jeongguk doesn’t know, because Taehyung isn’t ever organized with anything at all. He decided not to question it, something he’s learned will only create more questions).

The two went to the kitchen, Taehyung making sure Jeongguk ate his breakfast before they grabbed a bunch of different snacks and some water bottles and walked back to the room (So what if they got distracted and dropped a few? Everything got where it needed to be.) After getting everything to the room safely, they nestled in the covers, Jeongguk wrapping Taehyung’s arms around him securely before turning on the first movie.

“Taehyung.”

“What?”

“Why did you pick a scary movie? You know this won’t end well for either of us.”

“Yeah it will, watch.”

“Tae...”

TAEHYUNG

As it turns out, Jeongguk was right. Neither of them could handle scary movies. Initially, it wasn’t too bad, with the both of them laughing at the poor effects of the older movies and clinging to each other during times of suspense. It got progressively worse, however, so much so that they had to turn the movies off due to Jeongguk leaping into the closet and refusing to come out (Which is funny, considering) and Taehyung desperately trying to console him while holding back his own tears.

Needless to say, their movie date was pretty much a bust... for now. Taehyung couldn’t help but be optimistic. There were other things to do than watch movies (Neither of them seemed to be able to handle looking at any TV screen for at least the next 3-5 business days). Taehyung started thinking of ways to get Jeongguk out of the closet (Which is FUNNY, CONSIDERING) when an idea popped into his head (A great one of course- he could almost feel the heat radiating from the metaphorical lightbulb that just went off over his head).

He sprang up, ran to the closet, and swung the door wide open (Which did not scare Jeongguk a little, and he definitely didn’t screech in fear, and Taehyung absolutely did not screech back, and a screeching battle so didn’t happen at all) to get Jeongguk out. After that little...episode, Taehyung was breathlessly able to tell him about his Best Idea Ever™.

“We…” he said, wheezing. “Are gonna...build...a FORT!”

Jeongguk, still recovering from his “near death experience” (His words, not Taehyung’s, or anyone else’s for that matter), simply blinked at the other, taking more time than necessary (In Taehyung’s impatient opinion) to register what was said. When he did, though, his face lit up completely and he broke out into a large smile that seemed to take up the majority of his face.

Seeing that smile almost completely erased the earlier fear from Taehyung’s brain. He flashed one back at the other and dragged him over to the large pile of blankets they left on the bed (after their earlier evacuation). Excitedly, Jeongguk grabbed a few and started setting them up around the room, encouraging Taehyung to join. By the time they finished, they had set up a blanket canopy (They had a hook on the ceiling from years ago) that extended about halfway across the room with a few different secret entrances and even a little space for their half eaten food. Taehyung looked over at Jeongguk, proud of their work. Suddenly, he got another idea.

WHOMP.

The pillow he had just hit Jeongguk with lay limp on the floor, dropped when he doubled over laughing at the other’s expression. Jeongguk looked so surprised, so offended, that Taehyung couldn’t help but chortle at his absurd reaction. He soon realized it was a mistake, though, when he felt something soft yet somehow very not soft at all whack him in the stomach. His laughter stopped abruptly as he glared daggers at the man grinning oh so innocently at him.

“Oh it is on, Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Bring it, babe.”

“I will.”

JEONGGUK

“Well that didn’t last long.” Jeongguk said, the two breathlessly collapsing on the bed together.

“Shut up, you hit hard. I still won though.” Jeongguk snickered, looking over at Taehyung and smiling at him.

“Sure you did.” he said, rolling over to cuddle into Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung held onto him, kissing his hair before asking what time it was.

“Four, o’clock,” Jeongguk giggled as he checked the time.

“How fitting,” Taehyung said, smiling up at the ceiling. “What do you wanna do about food, Gguk?”

“...Can we make ramen?”

“You always want ramen,” Taehyung complained.

“You always say yes.” Jeongguk retorted.

Taehyung sighed. “You have me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

“That I do,” Jeongguk said, leaning in to kiss Taehyung before standing. “Now let’s eat!”

TAEHYUNG

After they ate, Jeongguk and Taehyung made their way back to their room, seeing their fort still up (A little damaged from the pillow fight but oh well).

“This is going to be such a pain to clean up.”

“Let’s keep it up until tomorrow then. I don’t want to take it down yet anyway.”

“Well, the hyungs are gonna be back soon, baby. Is there anything else you wanna do until then?” Taehyung asked Jeongguk sweetly.

“Nooooo I just wanna take a nap and cuddle with you.” Jeongguk said, pouting.

“Aw, of course you do.” Taehyung cooed. “You’re such a baby, you know that?”

“I’m your baby, though.”

“No one else’s.” Taehyung leaned in to kiss him before the two laid down, Jeongguk with his head on Taehyung’s chest and Taehyung clutching him like a pillow as they drifted off to sleep.

“I love you, Tae. So much.”

“I love you too, baby. More than you know.”

It was peaceful.

end.

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parchmateshp · 4 years ago

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A Letter To... [Solo]

Cold permeated the air thicker than he could ever remember for September through all of his years at Hogwarts. The wind whistled as it blew over the open expanse of the lake, thunder rumbled beyond the mountains, and a chorus of frogs sounded directly underneath Harry’s window. He laid in bed, staring blankly at the unfamiliar stone ceiling, listening to the maddening and unusual noises of the school’s lake side. He missed being in Gryffindor Tower, where his room had faced Hagrid’s hut and the quidditch pitch and the Whomping Willow. All the comforts that had enticed him to come back for eighth year seemed to have evaporated, leaving only the same disconcert that had plagued him for months during the war.

There was a loud splash under his window and his weary mind immediately filled with images of the Giant Squid weaving a tentacle around the now silent frogs. There would be no sleeping tonight now that the thought was in his mind. Sighing, Harry eased himself slowly out of bed. He was unsuccessful in preventing the slow creeak that all the beds in South Tower seemed to have, but neither Neville nor Dean stirred at the noise. They seemed to be adjusting to post-war life and the nuances of their new home just fine. They were sleeping well, at least. Harry sank his feet into his house slippers, wishing he could say the same.

He walked carefully towards the common room, fingers wrapped around the shaft of his wand, heartbeat racing for no reason. There were no secret dangers lurking in the halls at Hogwarts now, as Hermione was quick to remind him, but years of experience told him otherwise. Some habits were just too hard to kill. With his back pressed into the cool stone of the hallway, Harry glanced cautiously around the corner, ready to assume a battle stance at once. But there was no need. The common room was empty, just as it had been every other night since arriving back at Hogwarts.

His grip relaxed marginally on his wand, and he headed towards an ottoman that he’d come to think of as his. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if they had pulled the thing right out of the Slytherin common room; it was two and a half feet tall, twice as long, and made of the softest velvet in a green so dark it was nearly black. If he tried hard enough, he could probably curl his six-foot frame up and take a nap on the thing. The moment he sank into the plush material, Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and he allowed his wand to sink back into his robes. The ottoman coupled with the warmth of the fire and the 2:00 am solitude had an effect on him that was almost… Well, magical.

Tension drained out of his shoulders. Suddenly, Harry felt like he could take on anything. Even if he hadn't had more than a couple of hours of sleep in over a week. He could roam the halls like he used to do, or visit Hagrid. Maybe he could even try to look into the four new Hogwarts professors. They seemed suspiciously close, closer than any of the other Hogwarts professors for sure, and Harry didn't like that one bit. Any other time that a teacher had acted out of the ordinary, there had been a plot underway. Voldemort was gone, yes, but that didn’t mean the world had been cured of evil. Harry was sure they were up to something. Maybe if he could prove it early on, the rest of the year could be peaceful.

Hermione’s face floated through his mind, scowling in disapproval. Harry had made his case to her against the new teachers already and her response had been to scoff and roll her eyes. “Your proof is that they’re friendly with one another? Harry, I know that you’re still in fight-for-your-life mode, but they’re just teachers. Good ones, I might add. The ministry has been rounding up all of You-Know-Who’s supporters. With Kingsley as minister, we know that they’re going to do the job right this time. Do you want me to make you a Calming Draught?” If she found out that he’d gone sneaking about the castle, Harry knew she’d be starking mad. Besides, he supposed that the chances of the professors being in the halls at this time seemed unlikely.

Harry decided to put the mystery out of his mind for the moment. He would keep an eye on them during class and in the halls, the best he could anyways, and come back to Hermione with more proof. There would be more proof.

What could he do in the meantime?

Homework? Perhaps, but they’d only been back to school for a week. The load was still light and with no Quidditch or evil-doings to distract him, Harry had gotten most of his work done already. All that was left to do was to have Hermione check over everything to make sure he hadn’t made any idiotic errors. She would be able to do that during breakfast, easily.

There was always the pen pal program that McGonagall had mentioned at the start of term feast. Harry still hadn’t written a letter to his parchmate, nor had he received one. Hermione had already written quite the lengthy letter to her parchmate. Whoever she was paired with hadn’t responded either. Harry suspected it was because of the length, but she was already working on a second letter for fear of failing. Nobody was sure how the program would factor into grades, just that it was mandatory to pass.

A simple summoning charm later and Harry had the charmed parchment and a quill in his hands. “Okay,” he thought. “Letter writing. That’s simple enough, just talk about…” What? He wasn’t actually sure what someone normally wrote in a letter. Surely writing about getting attacked and painful curse scars wasn’t the norm? Outside of a few brief answers to his friends and Dumbledore, that was the only history Harry had in writing letters.

Several topics ran through his mind, all of them small talk and none of them substantial enough to carry a conversation. The weather? Lousy, worse than it had been in his living memory. The school? Different in too many ways. With no other ideas, Harry jotted down the first thought that came to his mind. I’m going to miss playing quidditch this year. The ink shimmered on the page for a moment and then vanished without a trace. A sick, creeping sensation gnawed at his stomach as the image of a diary filled his mind. Seconds passed in rapid heart beats as Harry expected the small, spidery writing of Tom Riddle to answer him. After several long moments, he finally accepted that it was just a spell, nothing more. He made a mental note to warn Ginny about it; her reaction would be ten times worse than his had been and he wanted her to be prepared.

So, no quidditch talk then. Fair enough. It would probably be easy to pinpoint who was writing based on that, Harry supposed. The only returning eighth years who had played on the house teams were Dean, Malfoy, and himself. Harry heaved a sigh. Sure, he was the boy-who-defeated-Voldemort, but apparently a bloody letter was going to be his downfall.

It reminded him of a rant that Hermione had gone on earlier in the week when Neville had asked her how to write a letter. “Have you noticed that Hogwarts has never taught us any everyday skills? Most wizards communicate through owl post, but students are never even given an introduction to the most basic fundamentals of the skill. You know, I read a report that says floo calls are becoming more popular in younger generations because they simply don’t know how to communicate through the written word. As the premiere wizarding school in Europe, you would think that there would be more foresight into teaching secondary skills.”

Before he really knew what he was doing, Harry was copying down what he could remember of Hermione’s speech onto the parchment, peppered with his own asides. The words stayed shining on the page. He sighed, this time in relief, and rolled the letter up and tossed it into the parchmates collection bin.

Relief quickly turned to guilt though. Hermione has always been extremely anti-plagiarism. Would copying down her words in a letter count in her mind as plagiarism? He didn’t think so, but his thoughts so often turned out to be wrong. If anything, he was giving his parchmate the completely wrong idea about what to expect during their time writing to each other and he didn’t want to do that either. He didn’t know what to say, but Harry liked the idea of being able to write to someone in an anonymous setting. That someone would like him or hate him based on his own merits and not because he was some kind of wizarding messiah.

The second letter still didn’t have a lot of thought put into it; it was a scribbled four sentences that basically boiled down to “I’m a fucking idiot”. Eloquent, no, but it would give his partner a better idea of what they were getting into. Besides, Harry supposed it was true. He watched the second letter disappear when it hit the collection bin and then settled down further into the ottoman. Only five more hours until breakfast.

#para #para01

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sternerstufftoys · 5 years ago

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Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogobot

Gobots. The great adversary. The twisted, grim mirror in which out worst fears are mutilated still further. The thing that makes Aaron Archer wake up in the middle of the afternoon in a cold sweat. The ones that lost.

Yeah yeah, let's just move on. Using Gobots as a punchline was old before it was even new, and kicking a toyline when it's down is a pretty cheap thing to do. As many learned souls have pointed out, the Gobots was a viable contender for transforming robot toys back in the 80s. Still, while the original G1 cartoon can best be described as 'not actually that great', the Gobots cartoon wallows in the mire of 'no really, just as bad as you think'. Just as an example, while Transformers was stealing Star Wars sound effects for the show with gleeful abandon, the Hanna-Barbera Gobots show was largely stuck with the same old boings and whomps that they'd been using since the 60s. And today's star, Crasher, was so generic a bad-guy henchbot that she could have wandered onto the set of He-Man or Thundarr without anyone noticing.

Oh hang on, I meant Fracture, the copyright-friendly name she got when released. Back in 2007 when the first live-action movie turned out to be a massive hit, Hasbro scrambled to get as many movie-branded products on shelves as possible, and this meant taking older moulds from Cybertron, Energon, Classics and Universeand slapping the hot new branding on them. Indeed, Fracture was initially going to be released as part of Universe but was shunted into a line that kids might actually want to buy. And then... the knockoffing.

The thing is, a huge number of very convincing-looking knockoff Fracture toys were created, with equally convincing packaging. I picked this up second-hand at a convention, so I'm not really sure if it's a knockoff or not. The joints are pretty tight, other than the waist, but some of the paintwork is a little bit scuffed. Considering people have reported that knockoffs often flop around and fall apart the moment they are taken from the packaging, I think I got off alright either way.

As a toy, Crasher is a simple redeco of Classics Mirage, aka that one Mirage everyone's started trying to sell off now that the Siege one is out. But honestly, this is one hell of a mould. There's a few nods here and there to Mirage's traditional look but mostly it takes the design in a new direction, with an utterly bonkers transformation that somehow puts half of the car front end on the chest, the other half on the back and sheds part of itself to become a rather rubbish weapon that I always conveniently put elsewhere when she's in robot mode.

Oh yes, she's a she. The Gobots really didn't make a fuss about gender, and had female characters there on day one. Imagine the peace and quiet from the 'girls smell' crowd we'd have today if Transformers had had the guts to keep Ratchet female as intended. If only.

Like Combiner Wars Ultra Magnus, Crasher has a kind of forced perspective effect, with massive lower legs tapering upwards to a pretty tiny head. It makes her look far taller than she really is, when she's actually only the size of a regular deluxe. It's great for having her loom over stuff, though she will invariably look a bit weird from above. The other problem here is that, as with Classics Hot Rod, her fists are too dainty to carry standard 5mm weaponry, so she is sadly stuck trying to pretend that her front bumper is in face some kind of deadly weapon. No it isn't, Crasher, it's a bit of your alt mode that fell off.

Alt mode's a bit of a scream, to be honest, and thrashes the pants off the clunky Siege Mirage mould. It's about as impractical as you could possibly get for an alleged robot in disguise, but the black, red and white paint job sets it off nicely. Since Gobots toys usually had pretty great alt modes back in the day anyway, it's somewhat fitting. As a lush futury-looking race car it has a handy closed cockpit to give it the sense of an endurance racer, or possibly something that goes so stupidly fast it would be irresponsible to not seal the driver within. Either way, it looks awesome.

I want more neo-Gobots. Hell, I want an absolute ton of them. I want every other Generations Selects release to be a sneaky Gobot tribute. Give me Earthrise Leader-1, Cyberverse Turbo, Combiner Wars Scoot- actually, maybe not that one. There is only one other proper Gobots tribute in the entire Transformers run, and it's frigging Spoons, a daft orange Forklift. It's also rare as hen's teeth, being only released in a two-pack with pretty limited distribution. Still, these Gobots gotta stick together, man. There's not many left.

#transformers #macaddam #toy review #crasher #fracture #gobots #the forgotten cons

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ctl-yuejie · 6 years ago

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HP!TayNew

part 5: delicate

( 4.5 k)

thanks as always to @earthpodd , @sluttynewwiee , @bl-phillip @ziq-panda + @somewhatavidreader for the cutest live-commentary & sweet comments

read on ao3 (part 1 2 3.1 3.2 3.3 4 6)

Newwiee knew for a fact that he looked great in green. Too bad that he had gotten sorted into Gryffindor. Even worse that his BF was a Hufflepuff.

“I’m over wearing red all day”, he complained to Tay, pouting. “And it only gets worse in winter. Now we have to wear sweaters and scarfs in house colors, too.”

“Red looks good on you though.”

Tay quite liked how the gold stripes on Newwiee’s uniform seemed to mirror the yellow of his.

Newwiee absentmindedly poked his finger into Tay’s sweater while he stared at the Slytherin students in their class and let out a dejected sigh. Tay ruffled his hair and turned his attention back to the giant snail to his feet.

“Green would make me look slimmer as well. I wish people would stop spoiling me by saying that I’m thin.” “I never said that”, Tay snickered. “Fatty.” Earning a slap from Newwiee.

With his thick protective gloves, Tay was guiding another snail away from where they were standing.

After getting points deducted by professor McGonagall for hexing his clothes Newwiee had stopped trying to charm them. He was a brilliant spell-caster. But he had nothing on Hogwarts’s magic.

“Wouldn’t it be great to see if a Blast-Ended Skrewt would win a fight against a Streeler? Whose venom is more toxic, you think?” But Newwiee wasn’t paying any attention to him, most likely trying to figure out how to he could get his hands on a Slytherin robe. He had bugged Gun about this before. But besides the obvious difference in size, Gun hadn’t understood the appeal of his uniform to Newwiee. “They aren’t even THAT green”, he had said and refused to ask a friend to borrow a sweater that would fit Newwiee.

Putting his hands onto one of the sharp spikes, Tay pushed another Streeler’s shell away from him and made it reroute to the other end of the clearing. It was their exercise for the hour to herd the escargatoire into their winter den.

Suddenly there where hands on his shoulders and he whirled around almost losing his footing. Off had sneaked up on him and was laughing at Tay’s reaction. “Oi, Peng! What are you doing here?” Tay was happy to see his friend. “Had a special herbology class down at the grounds.” Tay knew what special herbology classes meant. He looked at Off in excitement, his eyes begging his friend to say what monstrous plant they had examined. “Made a quick trip to the Whomping Willow.” Off wasn’t impressed by dangerous plants and had stood at a safe distance throughout his class, but with Tay making his overexcited face the class had totally been worth it. “Ahhhh, I wish I could get close to that thing…At least we have unicorns on our curriculum this year.” “Don’t mean to disappoint, but most likely Hagrid will just make you trace them and collect their hair. We never saw an actual unicorn in class.” Tay looked crestfallen. “It’s fine. Rumor has it they don’t like men that much anyways”, Off tried to salvage the situation. “I thought they might be okay with me”, Tay mumbled dejectedly.

While he was talking he had forgotten to hold off the Streelers and Newwiee almost got run over by one. Shrieking he jumped onto the rock next to him to evade touching it.

From across the clearing Hagrid was checking up on them. Tay awkwardly gave him two thumbs up before having a look around. He wasn’t that interested in gastropods but he had to admit that Streelers were right up his alley. Enormous in size and with both toxic spikes and a venomous trail they left swath of destruction. Tay was buzzing in excitement. The shells would change color hourly making the clearing look like a kaleidoscope. Beautiful but dangerous. “What an abundance of nature”, he exclaimed.

Off was raising an eyebrow at him.

Pointing to Newwiee still perched on the rock like a cat he asked “What’s he doing?” to get Tay’s attention back. “Ogling the Slytherin’s.” “Is he still not over this? Gun complained to me about getting harassed by him.” Tay gave him a look like he agreed that Newwiee was starting to get way too obsessed with wearing Slytherin robes. Newwiee would definitely look great in green but the lengths he appeared to be willing to go to wasn’t something Tay was able to follow.

With a tap to Tay’s shoulder Off said goodbye and made his way back towards the castle. “Love you Peng!” Tay called after him, Off raising a hand in response.

Newwiee sighed again. The only reason he hadn’t dropped Care of Magical Creatures had been Tay. And Tay wasn’t paying any attention to him at the moment. Next thing Tay knew was that he got pushed against the nearest snail, starting off his next round of arguments with Newwiee.

Tay had been right about one thing. He really had no idea to what lengths Newwiee was willing to go to in order to get his hands on a Slytherin robe.

After a study session Newwiee held Tay back, making sure that no one around them was listening.

Off and Gun hadn’t realized that they were hanging back, arms around each other as they walked down the corridor.

“Let’s break into the prefect’s bathroom”, Newwiee whispered into Tay’s ear, holding onto his shoulder. “What?” Newwiee had to hush Tay before he could protest. “We follow the Slytherin prefect into the bath and grab his robes once he gets into the water.” Tay wasn’t sure if this was supposed to count as a plan. “We could steal them somewhere else? Or not at all?” He tried to argue back. Newwiee turned to him indignantly. “If I have to take them away from someone I want it to be at least a prefect.” “You don’t have to take the…”, Tay sighed. “That’s breaking a ton of house rules.” “But it’s exciting!” Newwiee met his eyes conspiratorially. “I just don’t see how a furius professor McGonagall and a sad professor Sprout are exciting to you.” It was a fruitless exercise to try an persuade Newwiee. “Your idea of excitement is talking to the ghost of the Fat Friar in the Hufflepuff basement.” “He has a lot of interesting thoughts on religion!” Tay objected. But Newwiee wasn’t listening. “Don’t worry about the professors. We just have to not get caught.”

‘We’ Tay thought. Of course he was included in Newwiee’s plans.

They met in the boy’s restroom on the fifth floor the next Sunday. Only wearing some dark pants and their white uniform shirts to make it more difficult to connect them to their houses.

There had been a slight change of plans. Not knowing the layout of the prefect’s bathroom put them at a disadvantage so they decided to break in first and then hide and wait. With some hasty digging they at least knew the usual time the Slytherin prefect was using the bathroom.

After making sure that no one was around they went outside and headed down the corridor. Passing the statue of Boris the Bewildered they arrived in front of the door that lead to the prefect’s bathroom.

The few days they had had to prepare for the heist hadn’t been enough to wangle the password out of one of the head boys or girls. Which meant that they had to improvise.

Crouching down in front of the door they brooded over the options. It had been silly to assume that standing in front of the door would give them any clues. A sweet scent wafted underneath the door and tickled Tay’s nose. “Urghhh”, he scrunched up his face. “I really don’t like Ylang-Ylang oil.” Newwiee looked at him confused “It smells more like vanilla to me.” Before they could start to get into a fight about bath salts they heard a click from the door and it unbolted. They sneaked in, closing the door softly behind them. Tay hadn’t expected that they would even get this far and felt really lost. Newwiee appeared to have trusted in their abilities as he didn’t seem to be surprised about actually getting in. Tay watched him pull out his wand.

“Homenum Revelio!”

No reaction.

It seemed like luck was on their side and no one had entered before them. They made there way through a narrow entrance that opened up into a big oval. The room was dominated by a large swimming pool-like tub. The water was perfectly clear only steam rising up from its surface towards the ceiling. They hadn’t bothered with illuminating the room so the only light came from outside, passing through the stained-glass windows making the place look even more magical than it already was. The only sound was coming from a bouquet of faucets, water in different colors slowly running down, filling up the bathtub. A heavy floral scent wafted through the room. Behind the enormous bathtub a bunch of changing cubicles were lined up against the wall. The thought of a hot bath was really tempting and Tay couldn’t stop himself from imagining what Newwiee would look like with wet hair, water running down his chest. Trying hard to stop his train of thoughts the next thing he knew was Newwiee dragging him over and pushing him inside one of the cubicles. Pointing his wand upwards he incantated a protective spell, conjuring a shield that would make the cubicle stay hidden so that no one would be able to see or hear them. They left the door ajar to better survey the room.

Tay crouched down, heart beating wildly. This protection charm was advanced magic and he hoped that Newwiee hadn’t overreached and could actually uphold its effect. “Hope they will come soon. I haven’t tried this spell over a longer period of time.” Newwiee seemingly relaxed leaned on Tay, eyes fixed on the entrance way. Tay started to panic. He couldn’t even tell if it was the humidity of the room, Newwiee’s proximity or the certainty of the discovery that made him dizzy. Just when he felt like he wanted to bolt and get away from the room voices could be heard.

Lights turned on and the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and the Slytherin prefect entered the room, already stripping off their clothes while they were walking towards the tub. They had some light banter going on between them and when they were fully naked they canon balled into the water. The Slytherin prefect relaxed against the edge of the pool, calling out towards the hallway. The head boys of Ravenclaw and Slytherin skittered inside and hastily stripped down to join the two seniors. Realizing that they weren’t planning on using the changing cubicles Tay let out a soft sigh, immediately clapping his hands over his mouth. Newwiee’s charm seemed to still be working. On the other end of the pool the prefect turned some of the faucets and soon not only the tub but the whole floor was covered with foam and bubbles.

Newwiee’s eyes were fixated on the Slytherin captain’s robes that were lying on their side of the pool. They both had a sturdy build, so they should fit. Adrenaline was pumping through Tay’s veins and he clung to Newwiee’s arm in order to not black out. “I get the robe and then we run.” Tay’s heart was in his mouth but he straightened himself up, getting ready.

Bolting from their hiding place scaring the boys in the water Newwiee yelled “Accio” and a Slytherin robe flew into his arm as they slid across the slippery tiles of the bathroom towards the exit. Having underestimated the amount of bubbles, it took them longer than expected to cross the room and when they entered the hallway they were wet from head to toe.

Tay was laughing hysterically as they made a dash towards the exit. “Colloportus!”, the Slytherin prefect yelled after managing to get his hands onto his wand. The lock on the door clicked and they were trapped. “Alohomora!” Newwiee yelled in return but they were running way too fast and he couldn’t aim properly. Just as they were about to collide with the door Tay stretched out his hand.

“Annihilare!��

Not only the lock was blasted open but he took the whole door with him. Besides being naked the force of their exit had the Slytherin’s shaken so it took them some time before they went after them.

Blinded by the explosion Tay and Newwiee grabbed onto each other as they turned the corner. They had an advantage of a few corridors but besides not having thought about where to go moving was made more difficult as Tay was shaking with laughter and clinging to Newwiee’s arm to steady himself. Newwiee was partially in a state of shock, already regretting to have asked Tay to come and break some school rules with him. This wasn’t a simple case of breaking and entering anymore, but school property getting blown-up. Tay didn’t know how many stairs they had taken to get to higher floors but he felt his energy getting drained making it hard to go one. His laughter came out as wheezes and he couldn’t control his breathing.

Chasing around the same block on the seventh floor several times, they started to panic more and more. Seemingly from all sites footsteps of running people could be heard and they didn’t know where to go. As they ran past the same wall for the third time, Newwiee noticed a small wooden door opening up in front of them. He grabbed Tay by his arm and steered them through it.

They crashed into the back wall painfully, Newwiee almost hitting his head but Tay pushed his hand in between just in time. Wooden sticks rained down on them and they all but expected the next Slytherin to open the door and drag them out. There was no way this ruckus could have gone unnoticed. But nothing happened.

Looking around Newwiee could hardly see anything in the dim light but he was quite sure that he was standing in a cramped broom storage room.

With his arms full of Tay.

Trying to stand up straight and disentangle himself Tay was shaken by another fit of laughter, forehead colliding with Newwiee’s shoulder. “Oi, Tay. Shush.” He wasn’t listening to what Newwiee was saying feeling like he wasn’t in control of his body anyways. Still giggling he turned his head slightly breathing against Newwiee’s collar.

“What did you do to that door?” Newwiee tried to sound reprimanding but the amusement in his voice was obvious. “I blasted it.” Tay started to shake with laughter again, his weight almost dragging Newwiee down to the ground. “Like a real picaroon.” ”A what?” Newwiee would never get used to the words Tay tended to throw around. “A bad person.” Tay snickered against his neck. “Shush.” Tay chortled but managed to calm down a bit.

“Your hand okay?” As if he could do somethings about it Newwiee took Tay’s hand in his, softly touching its back where it had come into contact with the wall. “I can’t feel anything.” It wasn’t a lie. Tay was far too distracted by Newwiee stroking his hand. After getting soaked by bubbles Newwiee’s shirt clung to his chest, Tay noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything under it. “So slutty.” Newwiee tried to turn his head so Tay could see his look of disbelief but Tay’s hair was in the way. “You should see yourself right now.” he whispered back instead. “I’m not that handsome though.” Tay said while pulling himself up to face Newwiee. His voice was serious. He meant it. Newwiee was ridiculously handsome and he couldn’t compare. Tay wanted to explain himself some more but realizing how close they were his words got stuck in his throat.

He could feel Newwiee’s breath on his lips.

It should’ve felt ticklish but he was so focused on their proximity that his body seemed to be numb to any external sensation. The only thing he felt was his heart beating loudly and his chest getting tighter and tighter. He had no idea what Newwiee was doing, whether he was staring back at him, aware of how weird Tay must be looking, whether he was thinking about their pursuers, or if his mind had wandered to the robes. All Tay could focus on where Newwiee’s lips. His eyes started to strain as he continuously had to cast them down. Slowly Newwiee’s lips vanished from his angle of view.

Electric bolds ran through his body when their lips touched.

Only fleeting while both had been swaying towards each other just so slightly at the same time. But he had felt the touch and could still feel the tingling sensation that got left behind. All air had left his lungs and he leaned against the wall in order to not fall down as all strength left his legs. He was trembling. Newwiee was looking at him questioningly with widened eyes. They still were close but Tay tried to melt himself into the wall behind him. Newwiee moved his body forward and panic rose inside Tay.

“Sorry”, it escaped him as a barely audible whisper and he bolted not caring about the Slytherins waiting for him on the other side.

He stumbled through the corridors, disorientated and head void of any idea where he should go.

How he wished that their lips had never touched. How he wished he had pulled Newwiee closer and really kissed him. How he wished that he would’ve played it off, like it was an accident. Because it had been an accident. How he wished it hadn’t been. How he wished that Newwiee had felt nothing. How he wished that it had been Newwiee’s intention to kiss him. How he wished he had had the courage to kiss him earlier. How he wished he had never tried to stay so close to him. How he wished to have never come here. How he wished to have known Newwiee earlier so he could’ve had the chance to make him his.

Somehow, he made it to the Hufflepuff basement undetected. His hands where still gripping the Slytherin robe and the few people around the fireplace looked at him in confusion. Without explaining himself he went inside his room and hid beneath the covers.

He pulled the Slytherin robe tightly to his chest, in substitution of not having anything that belonged to Newwiee to hold onto.

Instead of having Newwiee to hold onto.

He wanted to have him next to him so badly.

Tay bunched up the robe and the side of his blanket to form a bolder. Holding onto it he imagined Newwiee lying there next to him. He would throw a leg over his side to hold him in place as he would slowly kiss up his neck. Hands in his hair he would hold Newwiee’s face before kissing him on the mouth. Getting their bodies as close to each other as possible to feel him everywhere. Tay imagined how Newwiee’s lips would taste on his, how he would kiss him until Newwiee would open his mouth to get more air. How he would put his head into Newwiee’s nape and leave more kisses beneath his ear. He could almost trick himself into thinking that Newwiee’s hand would hold onto his waist before moving to his back to pull him close and hold him tight. Like Newwiee had done so many times before. As friends. He thought back to the second their lips had touched. Angrily he flung the Slytherin robes away from his bed and punched the cushion. He wrestled with the blanket tears of frustration pricking his eyes. What if Newwiee hated him now. What if Newwiee hadn’t even noticed their lips touching. What if it was all in Tay’s head. What if they couldn’t go back to how they were before.

Off found Tay tangled up in his blankets fast asleep. Sometimes he wished they could switch bodies for a day so that Tay wouldn’t stress out so much all the time.

The following week was stressful for everyone around them.

Tay had decided to carry on and act like nothing had happened but whenever Newwiee would get close to him he would withdraw completely. After he had pushed Newwiee’s hand away then Newwiee had tried to touch him for the umpteenth time that day Newwiee had gotten moodier and moodier. Tay couldn’t do anything against it. Forgetting that their lips had ever touched was clearly not working but he couldn’t find the strength to explain himself which let to himself getting even more irritated. They argued with each other as always but there was no lightness in their banter, comments cutting and almost hurtful. They couldn’t stay apart from each other, aware of how entangled their lives and themselves had become. But when they were together they were wearing each other down leaving each other exhausted and disgruntled.

They had calmed down a bit by Wednesday. Gun let out a big sigh of relief as he watched Tay and New climb the astronomy tower next to each other grabbing Off’s hand and moving it to his head so he would pat him.

They settled next to each over on the observatory as always but there was more space between them than usual. Tay turned away from Newwiee and rolled onto his side. His chest hurt and he couldn’t bear to look at him for much longer. Newwiee really seemed to not give much weight to their lips brushing. Neither of them was saying anything and their silence continued for the next days, much to the distress of professor Flitwick who had taken quite a liking to their bickering.

Over the weekend Newwiee seemed to have vanished. Tay missed him immensely. He blamed himself for pushing Newwiee away when the other wasn’t even aware of what was going on inside of his head.

He thought he had figured their relationship out by now. How could he still be so unsure about what he wanted himself. Newwiee had put his hands on his many times, they had been a constant presence on his shoulders and his waist. In return he had hugged Newwiee, held his hand and put his head onto his shoulder. That was all he wanted. He didn’t need to kiss Newwiee if it meant that they wouldn’t be the same anymore. It was frightening to think about walking up to Newwiee, but this really was his fault. And him blowing hot and cold shouldn’t cause Newwiee to suffer.

Decided on putting an end to it once and for all he grabbed the Slytherin robe that was still in his room and started to look for Newwiee.

Rain was pouring down outside so he decided to focus on the inside of the castle. After canvassing all classrooms, he went up to the 7thfloor and waited in front of the portrait of the fat lady. Some first-year students eyed him up and down suspiciously when they past the entrance for a second time and he was still lingering in the corridor. Finally some fourth year students were approaching.

Talking to them didn’t help much. It seemed like Newwiee hadn’t been back to his dorms for the second day in a row. Tay was sure that his classmates were telling the truth as they seemed genuinely confused by Newwiee not being by his side this whole time.

Dejectedly he turned around and wandered down the corridor.

After telling Off and Gun tentatively about what had happened that day, only leaving out the part when his lips had brushed Newwiee’s, Gun had perked up at the description of the broom closet. By chance it seemed like they had stumbled upon the so-called room of requirements. “Papii and I go there all the time”, Gun playfully raised an eyebrow at Off, cocking his head. “Because that’s where we keep all of our clothes”, Off added cool. “Thought about banishing your tonics there more than once.”

Having checked all the places Newwiee tended to frequent he decided to follow up on his only remaining lead.

Not knowing what room Newwiee might have wished for he ran up and down the corridor imagining a place that would bring them back together. A room that allowed him to enter. A room where he could find him.

Slowly a big cast-iron door with intricate details started to form. Impatiently he bobbed on the balls of his feet when at last a door handle formed and pushing it down he went through.

What he entered was less a room but the nave of a cathedral.

Between gigantic pillars of stone an array of things was piled onto each other. Wandering inside he became aware of the amount of secrets this place must hoard. Statues, stuffed animals, several musical instruments and a never-ending arrangement of instruments and furniture. To his left one of the piles was made up only by books and almost reached the ceiling. Several meters above the floor Newwiee had caved a hole into this paper-tower and was lying there with closed eyes.

“Newwiee!” Tay could hear his voice break.

When Newwiee opened his eyes and turned towards him Tay simply held out the Slytherin robes not trusting his voice. Gingerly Newwiee climbed down from where he had been perched and landed in front of Tay’s feet. Their eyes met and Tay’s heart-beat calmed down by a bit when he was awarded with a soft smile. Newwiee put his hand on Tay’s, throwing the robes onto the ground. Tay knitted his brows together in confusion. “I don’t know if I really want them. Might feel weird to wear them, even if they’d look good on me…” He crinkled his nose. Tay had to smile against his will. Newwiee put his hand on Tay’s shoulder and when Tay let him do so without pushing him away he could see him relax.

This was all he wanted.

Asking for permission with his eyes Tay sighed when Newwiee nodded in answer. Putting his arms around Newwiee’s waist he hugged him tightly. They stood like that for a while until Newwiee amusedly patted his head, surprised at the sudden clinginess. “What room is this?” Tay asked, resting his head against Newwiee’s collar bone. “This is the room of hidden things.” Newwiee replied sheepishly. He had tried to play it cool, but saying it out loud he realized how helplessly corny it sounded. Tay giggled and slowly entangled himself, left hand never letting go of Newwiee’s shirt. This was good. They were good. This was all he needed.

Having Tay look at him with such fondness, Newwiee’s lips curled into a smile, eyes twinkling. But standing this close he had to swallow hard.

Newwiee could feel his lips tingle, remembering how they had touched Tay’s.

to be continued

part 6

#hp!taynew #hp taynew drabbles #tay tawan #newwiee #taynew #new thitipoom #newtay #i had so much fun writing this #tay is a hopeless romantic and newwiee is sappier than he lets on #more pining

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dreamytfw · 6 years ago

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Holloween

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! I started writing this before season 14 premiered, so this contains no season 14 spoilers. This fic was written for @mybloodyrosered. On AO3.

Summary: Dean spirals into a deep depression after casting Michael out and ends up isolating himself. But Castiel WILL NOT let him spend his favorite holiday alone. (Words: 3,642)

Tags: Destiel, Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester mentioned, Jack Kline mentioned, Mary Winchester mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Depressed Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence, Halloween, First Kiss, Depression, Mental Illness, Unreliable Narrator

Dean didn’t know how long it had been since Michael got the boot. Not how many days, weeks, or maybe even months since nearly everyone in the Bunker had broken through the dream Michael kept him caged in and convinced him to revoke consent. Time didn’t mean a hell of a lot to him anymore. Maybe that was the one side effect left over from being chained to a comet. God knows he couldn’t tell how long he had been possessed, so maybe…

Michael hadn’t lied when he told Dean he wouldn’t leave him a drooling vegetable. Dean could walk, talk, shower, eat, and everything else just fine all by himself. So could Luthor, which surprised everyone considering how long Michael was inside him. The difference between Dean and Luthor, though, was that Luthor could still care.

Dean could do everything he did before Michael, but he didn’t care enough to. Sometimes he’d force himself to get up and eat something or duck under the shower for 10 minutes, but only when he couldn’t stand himself anymore and only when he knew the rest of the Bunker would be quiet. When the refugees from the apocalypse world wouldn’t glare at him and whisper behind his back. When Jack wouldn’t try to ask him to teach him how to train or play some card game in a falsely cheery tone undercut with pity. When his mom wouldn’t look at him tight-lipped before asking him if he wanted to go see a movie. When Sam wouldn’t give him his trademark puppy eyes and tell him that he was there if he wanted to talk. And when Cas wouldn’t stare at him like he was a world away, his insanely blue eyes drooped down in a silent, sad, judgmental tone.

Dean couldn’t talk about it. There wasn’t much to talk about. He’d made a stupid call and got burned. Again. Saving Jack and Sam and finally getting to ice Lucifer felt right, but the way he did it and what happened because of that was the part he regretted. He should have kept his cool and looked for another way. This wasn’t anything new, though. The ends always felt justified, but the means always made him feel like shit. What set this one apart from every other time was the lack of bouncing back. He was determined to do what he normally did and fake it til he made it. To pretend like there wasn’t a giant hole in his chest slowly sucking the life out of him. But Sam insisted he rest for at least a day just to make sure Michael really hadn’t done any damage and he just couldn’t force himself to get back up.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t see the point. When they brought him back it was obvious Sam could not only take care of himself but at least a dozen other people. Jack had those same other dozen people to take care of and look out for him. Cas had finally learned to look after himself and his mom never needed him to take care of her. They had a whole hub of hunters working every case that came over the line to the point where there were never any “left over” for him to take. No one needed him to be the leader or care giver. Even if they did, he was sure he’d just make another selfish choice that only put that person in danger – or even worse, get them killed like so many of the other people he’d promised to protect.

So he stayed in his room. It was weird at first. He felt like he should have been up and doing something. Cleaning the Bunker, or tuning up Baby, or trolling for a hunt. But the Bunker didn’t need cleaning thanks to the new team effort. Sam had taken care of Baby just fine and nothing was wrong with her. And there weren’t any extra hunts that he could solo. He had to keep reminding himself that there was nothing he could do. Weirdness turned to freedom. Freedom from prying eyes, scornful expressions, and whispers that followed him wherever he went. Freedom from having to constantly worry about taking care of the people he cared about. He could just be him and no one would care if he listened to the same song 50 times in a row, or if he didn’t change his clothes for a few days, or if he stayed up or went to sleep. No one cared, least of all him.

Dean slowly realized he didn’t care about anything anymore, no matter how much he wanted or tried to force himself to. All of his music sounded like static. He would watch hours of TV or movies on his laptop without taking anything in because it didn’t matter. His memory foam mattress seemed to have a permanent imprint of him curled up on his side. When laying in his own shape got annoying he would move to the floor – a decidedly less comfortable spot, but where else was he going to lay down while his silhouette faded from the mattress? Sitting up for any period of time just wasn’t an option anymore. It was so much more comfortable to lay on the floor than sit at his desk chair. He’d just end up slumped over with his head on the desk anyway, so may as well cut out the middle man.

At some point people started trying to come in and talk to him. He knew better than to lock the door. Locked doors made people worried and he didn’t need anyone worrying about him and trying to take away his carelessness as a result. He couldn’t ever say what the conversations were about, what the other person said filtering through his mind as whomp-whomps like he was a kid from the Peanuts and the other people were adults. Sometimes the words were soothing and coddling, other times they were impatient and firm. Mostly, though, they just felt like noise. He would respond at the appropriate times, saying anything to get the person to go away and leave him to his confined freedom. He would arrange his features to make reassuring expressions and make it seem like he really was fine and just needed a little more time without feeling what he was saying. He couldn’t really feel anything anymore.

Not long after that he’d start finding things on his bed after coming back from foraging or showering. A copy of On the Road he had lent Cas years ago. A tape of Zeppelin IV. A list in Sam’s handwriting of shows to watch on Netflix. A DVD box set of the original Star Wars trilogy. Things Dean normally would have enjoyed but couldn’t anymore. He’d put the gifts on his desk and watched them pile up over time with a detached amusement. It was like his personality and identity was slowly filtering out of him and into the pile of well-intentioned junk on his desk. The only thing missing from it was Baby.

There were times when he’d pass the garage on his rare outings. Sometimes he’d just stand in the doorway and stare at her for a few moments, aching for the days when he could care about her before moving back to his room. On rare occasions when he got tired of being in his bed and his back complained about being on the floor, he’d slide into the back seat of the Impala. He’d lay there with his hand running over the leather as he stared at the back of the front seat or the carpeted floor or the smooth tan ceiling, the scents the car had collected over the years folding over him. They brought back memories of when he’d almost fallen down similar holes. But those times he’d always had something to keep him hanging onto the edge, even if it was just with the tips of his fingernails. Rarely, he thought about starting her up, laying back down, and letting her take his hollow shell. He’d never do it. Outside of suicide not being the Winchester way, the garage was too big and someone would definitely hear the car running. But sometimes it was reassuring thinking that if he wanted to, he could.

Dean knew he couldn’t keep living like this. He knew sooner or later, something was going to give and life would come crashing back in on him. He knew he needed to prepare. To get his shit together and make some sort of effort of at least faking it. But the more he tried, the more he even thought about it, he found that he just couldn’t anymore. He wanted to tell Sam or his mom about his inability to care when they would knock on his door to come and check on him, but the words wouldn’t come out. He wanted Jack to keep an eye out for him in case he did something stupid, but he couldn’t bring himself to put all his baggage on the poor kid. He wanted to reach out and pull Cas down next to him just so he wouldn’t be alone, but he could never find the will to lift his hands or say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything to make contact with the people he wanted to care about again, and Dean hated himself for it.

So when a knock sounded on his door as the Bunker lay unusually quiet, he thought it would be the same old song and dance of wanting to connect while pushing away.

“Come in,” Dean heard himself say, his flat tone sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. He didn’t even bother to look up when the door opened, his eyes remaining fixed on the wall in front of him. He heard a heavy sigh he recognized as Cas’s and silently agreed.

“I’m glad to see you’re not on the floor this time.”

Dean gave a short hum, his mind sluggishly trying to come up with a reply.

“Makes me stiff if I lay there too much.”

He could hear the angel shift, a familiar stiff rustling noise that Dean’s slow mind couldn’t quite place added to the usual sound of fabric.

“I’d like to spend some time with you, if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean replied on autopilot. He winced and started screaming at himself in his head, but the words just spilled from his mouth. “I’m fine.”

“Allow me to rephrase,” Castiel said. Dean heard the door click shut and felt Cas’s weight at the foot of the bed the next moment. That finally got him to turn his head and look at the other man, blinking dimly at the stern concern etched into his features. “I’m spending time with you tonight whether you like it or not.”

Dean swallowed. Slowly, painstakingly, he rolled over onto his back and sat up, leaning back against the headboard.

“Cas-” Dean began protesting, but was cut off.

“Dean, please,” Castiel pleaded, placing a hand on the mattress and leaning forward earnestly. “It’s Halloween. You always said this was one of your favorite holidays and I will not let you spend it alone to rot in your own misery.”

Dean blinked again, not really sure where to start. A guilty look flashed over the angel’s features, the expression Cas always had when he thought he’d said too much.

“…Halloween?” Dean asked dumbly. He could feel his mind struggling with the concept. He’d felt frozen in time for so long that the idea of a specific date felt completely foreign to him. And yet… something about hearing what day it was made something click in his brain. He could feel the rusted out cogs in his brain try to move, to try and make him aware of his surroundings again.

“Yes,” Castiel replied with a wary look. “That’s why it’s so quiet tonight. Sam and your mother took Jack and the children out trick-or-treating with the other parents and everyone else is out celebrating at a local bar.”

Dean sat there for a few moments, attempting to process this information. His brain scrambled, trying to contextualize the information, trying to feed him memories of the last thing he could remember before everything went grey and flat.

“…has it really been six months since Michael…?”

Castiel frowned in confusion, concern returning to his features. “Do you not remember all of us bringing you home?”

“I do. I just can’t really remember when that was,” Dean replied slowly, a sense of shame coming over him. How could he not remember when they brought him home?

“You’ve been home for three months.”

Dean stared at Cas dumbstruck. Three months? It felt like both too short and too long of a time frame. It didn’t make sense. If it had been that long, why hadn’t anyone tried to snap him out of it? Dean leaned his head back and let it lull to the side, his vision falling on the pile of stuff on his desk. Then he realized they had tried to snap him out of it. They’d been trying hard for months. Coming into his room every day, bringing him things they thought he’d enjoy. Sam had always been there to talk to. His mom offered to take him out and get his mind off of things. Jack asked him to teach him things and tried to bond with him. And Cas always came in to check on Dean what he could only assume was every day. They’d all tried so hard to get him to come around. He was just too wrapped up in his own selfishness to respond. A pressure started pushing in on his chest and down on the back of his throat. The world was crashing in on him.

“Three months?”

Castiel simply nodded, his eyes drooping in sadness.

“At first we though Michael did something to you while we were trying to cast him out. But once it was obvious that you were capable of taking care of yourself, we realized it was something else. We all tried to bring you back to some semblance of normalcy, but short of physically dragging you outside, it didn’t seem like there was much we could do.”

Dean’s gaze drifted from Cas to the wall behind him as he tried to draw in breath, the world spiraling. He’d been home for three months. He’d abandoned everyone for three months, longer if you include Michael taking over. They’d all known something was wrong and tried to help him for three months, but he’d been too stubborn and caught up in finally not caring to realize what was going on. He was such a self-centered bastard.

“Dean?”

Dean took in a shuddery gasp, desperate to pull air back into his lungs. The world was closing in around him and it was smothering him. He was drowning in his own thoughtlessness. He could practically feel water it was so heavy. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, threatening to implode as punishment for his arrogance.

And then, there were arms around him, trying desperately to hold him together. The world crashed in on him like a wave and everything he hadn’t felt over the past three months came flooding into him at once. Cas was his only means of staying afloat in this maelstrom of emotions and Dean clung to him. He clung to him and let go.

“I’m sorry,” Dean sobbed, his head tucked into the angel’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up so bad. I’m such a useless, selfish, arrogant, stupid piece of shit.”

“No you’re not,” Castiel reassured Dean gently, his voice cracking. His hands moved soothingly over the hunter’s back and his head nudged in against Dean’s. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is. I left you. I left all of you. Just so I could… I don’t even know. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was doing. I just know that I didn’t want to care anymore and now I can’t no matter how much I want or need to. I need help but I’ve been too chickenshit to ask anyone for it.”

“You’re asking for it right now. And you’ll get it,” Castiel said gently. His words were like air and Dean clung to Cas tighter, pulling the source in closer to his own drowning, gasping, desperate form. He didn’t know how long he cried, but Cas cradled and spoke gently to him the entire time. At some point they ended up lying down with Dean’s face pressed against Cas’s chest, but Dean couldn’t tell who had dragged whom into that position. All that mattered was that Cas was there. Dean stayed nuzzled up to Cas long after the tears stopped, just breathing the angel in.

“Sorry about that,” Dean eventually muttered. “You know I don’t usually… I just… Three months. It’s a lot to think about.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you finally reached out to me.”

“I think you technically reached out to me, but whatever.”

Castiel chuckled and the warmth of it seeped through Dean. Somehow, it was the most comforting thing Cas had said the entire time.

“How do you feel?”

Dean paused and thought, his face dragging down into a confused frown. He sat up and wiped at his eyes, his voice small. “Numb.”

Castiel let out a sigh next to him. Dean felt his weight shift and a hand cup his cheek, turning his gaze towards sincere blue eyes.

“I’ll be here until that goes away,” Castiel smiled, his thumb wiping at the wetness on Dean’s cheek.

Something in Cas’s eyes hit Dean hard in the chest, leaving him winded. Memories came back to him suddenly, flashes of the day dream Michael had kept him in so Dean couldn’t revoke consent. Driving to the Carolinas with Sam next to him and Jack, Cas, and his mom playing “I Spy” in the backseat. Sitting on a warm beach, watching Sam and his mom teach Jack how to swim while Cas sat next to him holding his hand. Getting a little too drunk one night in the hotel room he shared with Cas and finally telling him how he’d felt for years. Seeing that same look on the angel’s face that he was seeing now and the warmth it gave him to hear Cas say he felt the same way. The feeling grew with each returning flashback. It wound and hooked itself around his heart and tugged him forward slowly until his forehead came to rest against Cas’s.

“Dean? Wha-”

“I was an idiot,” Dean’s voice felt rough against his own throat as he closed his eyes and brought a hand up to cup the back of Castiel’s neck.

“You didn’t have a choice. Michael-”

“Not that. I mean, yeah, I was an idiot about that too. I should’ve known that dick wasn’t gonna keep his word. But that’s not what I’m talking about here.”

“I… We don’t need to-”

Dean closed the small space between them and pressed his lips against Castiel’s, cutting off his stammering. The feeling hooked into his heart squeezed tighter and Dean needed more of it. It was the first good thing he’d felt in months and he needed more of it. There was another tug when he felt Cas return his kiss and melt into it. They sat there for a few long moments, Dean scared to move for fear of the feeling ending or the world crashing back in on him. It was Cas who moved first, his other hand coming to rest on Dean’s shoulder.

“As much as I enjoyed finally getting to do that, I don’t think now is an opportune time to talk about this.”

Dean opened his eyes and looked at Cas with a confused need. The feeling was fading and Dean leaned back in to try and bring it back, but Cas pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice steady. If Cas rejected him now, he didn’t know what he’d do. Cas coming in here was like a ladder being lowered down into whatever hole he had fallen into and if the angel refused him he’d be taking that ladder with him. “You said you liked it. We don’t have to talk. Just…”

Castiel offered Dean a comforting smile, silently asking Dean what he was going to do with him.

“I did, and I would like to do it again, and frankly more if I’m being completely honest,” Castiel paused, his endlessly blue eyes searching Dean’s puzzled green ones for a sign of comprehension. “But I think it’s more important for you to get better first. I’ll be here with you for however long that will take.”

“It might take longer than we want it to,” Dean grumbled glumly, laying back down as his body sagged under the weight of his slowly returning apathy. He felt exhausted all of a sudden.

“I have time,” Cas spoke softly. Dean felt the angel’s weight shift on the bed again and heard the same stiff rustling from before. “I also have candy and a movie if you’d like to spend Halloween together.”

Dean raised his head and saw Cas holding a bag of Twizzlers and a bargain bin DVD of Frankenstein. His eyes shifted back to Cas’s hopeful look. He was tired and he didn’t think he’d be able to actually enjoy the movie or candy now that he felt nothing again. But at the same time, he didn’t want Cas to leave either. And that small island of want in his sea of apathy was something at least.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds nice.”

#PBExchangeHalloween #ProfoundNet #SPN #Supernatural #Destiel #Castiel #Dean Winchester #OTP #my precious bby angel #fan fic #fan fiction #mybloodyrosered #suicidal thoughts #suicidal ideation #hurt/comfort #depression #mental illness #Halloween #op

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mikotyzini · 6 years ago

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What Defines Us - Ch. 24

We’ve reached the halfway point of the story!

Link on ff.net!

If anyone wanted to see the phrase ‘helicopter parent’ in action, they could come over and experience the combined helicopterness of Yang, Blake, and Weiss. It was incredible! The loud whomp whomp whomp of spinning blades filled the air, following Ruby wherever she went - into the garage, into the kitchen, even in the bathroom she could hear it! Well, not really because it wasn’t a real sound, but it was practically a sound by now!

Blake and/or Yang hardly left her side and, if they did, she could still feel one of them watching her closely. Or trying to not closely watch her closely. Like maybe she wouldn’t notice them pretending to read or watch a movie while keeping an eye on her instead. And maybe she wouldn’t notice how they kind of stalked her around the house.

The forever-stalking was extra creepy at night with Blake’s glowy cat eyes. Once or twice, Ruby made the mistake of glancing down the hallway on her way to bed and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw glowing eyes in the distance. They either belonged to Blake or a ghost, but she was too scared to find out which!

On top of the Glue Crew (Ruby’s new nickname for Yang and Blake since they stuck to her like glue), Weiss was sending nearly constant messages asking how Ruby was doing. Seriously, Weiss checked in at least once every hour, sometimes twice every hour.

Not that Ruby minded the extra attention from Weiss...it was nice that they were thinking about each other so often! Maybe Weiss was primarily worried about Ruby’s health and wellbeing, but Ruby could pretend that that was the same thing...she was great at pretending things.

But seriously, she’d had the equivalent of a bad headache! And then she might’ve passed out or whatever, and they might’ve had to use the little laser on her again - but come on! A pack of ice and pat on the back probably would’ve had her up and running in no time. Nope! She had to go to the hospital and that meant more tests and medicine and yadda yadda. The doctors used big words that she didn’t understand, so she spent most of her time nodding even though she had no idea what they were talking about. Why couldn’t they just call her brain a brain? Why were there different names for simple things?

Now she was perfectly fine, but everyone was treating her like she might explode at any minute. Apparently, she’d earned a new nickname - Ticking Time Bomb Ruby.

Why wasn’t she in charge of her own nicknames? She was way better at coming up with them than Yang.

On the slightly-really horrible side, after talking to the doctor Yang had banned Ruby from any and all physical activity for the next few days. Which sucked! But it was just a precaution to make sure her brain shrank a bit before she worked it up again. Who would’ve thought people would wish for her brain to shrink? Certainly not her grade school teachers…

Barred from physical activity, forced to get a decent amount of sleep every night, and given another pill bottle to add to her tower. This one would be a cinch - no side effects, only a handful of pills, no problem! She could take them all at once! But that was highly not recommended.

There was good news in the midst of the crummy news though!

Unlike before - when Ruby had to twiddle her thumbs when she wasn’t allowed to train - now she had a friend to talk to! Thankfully, Weiss seemed more than happy to chat whenever Ruby wanted, so her days of mandatory rest would pass quickly. And, as soon as the time was up, she was going to beg Blake to practice with her again. After going on one hunt, she wanted to go on more. A somewhat-suspect brain wasn’t enough to stop her!

Glancing at the time, Ruby tossed her scroll on the bed and headed out of her room so she could catch Blake and Yang before they left for the night. Once in the hallway, she walked to the kitchen. Walked.

Walking was soooo slowwww. It was such a waste of time! If she moved faster, she’d get to the kitchen faster and have more time to do other things! But Yang had specifically banned Ruby from using her semblance and had even set a speed limit in the house - anything more than a walk and Ruby had to organize all of Yang’s shoes, which was not something she ever wanted to do.

So she was walking everywhere. And they didn’t need a bigger house because this one was already way too freaking big.

When she finally made it to the kitchen (about a decade later), she found Blake and Yang putting away the dishes from dinner. Well, Blake was putting away dishes while Yang held onto her and whispered into her ear, making her laugh about something.

“The doctors didn’t permanently attach your hand to Blake, did they?” Ruby joked, drawing their attention her way.

“Why yes they did,” Yang replied with a grin, refusing to remove her hand from Blake’s side. When Blake tried to move away, Yang clasped onto a handful of her shirt to keep her in place. “They said it was medically necessary for my survival. And ya know what? I’ve never felt better.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at Yang’s overjoyed smile. Her sister was impossible to tease, as usual. No matter what Ruby said, Yang could always turn it around and make it some sort of weird compliment.

But something was up with them. They’d been extra fond of each other recently...and that was saying something since they were normally extra fond of each other.

“What’s up with you two?” Ruby asked after Yang stole a kiss while Blake wasn’t paying attention, making her ears twitch in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Blake asked, her cheeks blushing a soft red.

“You're like...extra lovey-dovey with each other.”

“I’m not allowed to love my girlfriend?” Yang asked, sharing a warm smile with Blake.

Shaking her head, Ruby decided that she probably didn’t want to know what was up with them. For all she knew, they were celebrating some sort of anniversary that should not be shared with siblings or any other family members. No thanks. Her ears didn’t need to bleed today! Then they’d probably rush her back to the hospital, and they’d have to start this whole thing all over again.

“How are you feeling?” Somehow, Blake managed to peel her attention away from Yang just long enough to ask Ruby that question.

“Good as new!” Flashing two thumbs up, Ruby grinned. “I feel like I could run a whole marathon and not get tired!”

“That’s great! Cuz I’ve been meaning to organize my shoes forever.”

Ruby stuck her tongue out at her sister when Yang laughed.

“I’m not gonna run around! But I feel fine,” Ruby added before glancing at the clock over the stove. “Shouldn’t you be leaving soon? I thought the concert was in an hour!”

“It is. And yes, we should be,” Blake answered before giving Yang a playful shove towards their room.

Tonight was the night of the Achievemen concert Weiss gave Yang tickets to. Thankfully, Blake had convinced Yang not to blast the albums on repeat all day long - something about how Blake didn’t want Yang to ‘wear out’ the songs before they heard the live versions. And there may have been a more violent threat whispered right after that, but it had been too low for Ruby to hear. It made Yang more than willing to agree though!

“This is gonna be the best night ever,” Yang said with a smile. “Just me, Blake, and backstage passes to meet the Achievemen. We’ll be close enough to see them sweat! Isn’t that awesome??”

The look on Blake’s face said that that was not at all awesome, but she nodded anyway.

When Yang got excited like this, her mood was impossible to dampen. A fire hose wouldn’t even be enough to calm her down. Ruby would love to try that out though, just in case. But it probably wouldn’t work, and then Yang would be mad that Ruby sprayed her with a fire hose.

“We even get to meet them after the show! Gonna get some autographs for sure,” Yang continued happily. “Next time you’ve gotta come, Ruby. You’d have a -”

The sentence abruptly cut off as Yang’s smile fell.

“Oh shoot! We need someone to watch Ruby if we’re gonna be gone!” Yang said, turning to Blake with an expression of concern.

“Yangggg, come on - I don’t need a babysitter!” Ruby whined. “I can take care of myself!”

“Uh huh...and what’re you gonna do if your brain tries to explode itself again?” Yang retorted.

“I’m pretty sure that won’t happen!”

“How sure?”

“I’m not a doctor!” Ruby replied, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

Following the conversation, Blake tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the countertop before intervening.

“I’m sure Weiss would be willing to come over,” she suggested. Ruby’s eyes widened at the idea - which was genius. Leave it to Blake to figure out the best solution ever.

“That’d be pretty cool if Weiss came over!” Ruby quipped, her happy endorsement making Yang smirk.

“Oh really? What was all that whining for then?”

Furrowing her brow, Ruby nodded her head as if she was seriously pondering her sister’s words. “I’ve reconsidered that, and...I think it would be a good idea to have someone here. Just in case.”

When Blake shook her head and Yang laughed, Ruby couldn’t help but smile.

“Ok, short stack.” Yang reached out and tried to rustle Ruby’s hair, but Ruby successfully dodged out of the way. “Why don’t you see if Weiss can come over now?”

Grinning at the question, she almost used her semblance to blast to her room to retrieve her scroll. But she didn’t. She walked quickly. Which was still so freaking slow. At this pace, the concert would be over by the time she reached her room, and then she’d never get to see Weiss.

It took a gazillion steps to get out of the kitchen and another quadrillion to make it down the hall, but she eventually made it to her room. Grabbing her scroll off the bed, she typed out a quick message.

‘Blake and Yang won’t leave for the concert unless someone is here to watch me. Can you come over?’

She only waited a few seconds for Weiss’ response to arrive - a very succinct ‘On my way.’ Weiss always had such concise answers. Even her messages were tidy - it was cute!

Er, it was...interesting. Which apparently meant the same thing as cute these days.

Beaming at what had unexpectedly become an awesome evening, Ruby decided to keep the scroll with her so that she wouldn’t have to cross Remnant to get it again. After another full day of walking, she flounced into the living room and caught her sister and Blake at the end of a kiss.

“She’s on her way!” Ruby announced, but her presence did nothing to put space between them.

Jeez...what happened to the days when they’d separate a little bit? Not that she cared - they were in love and happy. It was just weird to remember that there was actually a time when they’d acted completely different around her.

A lot had changed since then.

Ending the kiss and playing with Blake’s hair, Yang smirked and rolled her eyes at Ruby’s news. “Of course she’ll drop everything to get here right away...” she muttered.

“But someone will be here to watch Ruby,” Blake replied, taking Yang’s hand and pulling her towards their bedroom. “So now we can get ready to leave.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone is excited to see the Achievemen!” Yang called out, allowing Blake to pull her down the hallway. Ruby laughed at the idea that anyone but Yang liked that band, but she couldn’t hear Blake’s muffled response. She could imagine it though! It was probably something super clever and witty like ‘ha, you wish’ or ‘yeah, right’ or…

There was a reason why Blake was the witty one and not Ruby. She sucked at being witty under pressure!

Since it would take another year or two to walk to her room and back, Ruby hopped up onto the kitchen counter and waited for Weiss to get there. Because Weiss was coming over! Ruby had planned on spending her alone time in the workshop, but this was way better!

Even though they’d been in near constant communication via scroll, Ruby hadn’t seen Weiss since the hospital. That was only a couple of days ago, but it felt like they’d been apart forever. Sending messages was nice, but it was nothing compared to hanging out in person! A message didn’t have Weiss’ voice or her eyes...that would be really weird if they did though. Oh! They could video message! Although Ruby had to wonder if Weiss would be ok doing that. It wouldn’t be an option when Weiss was at work or doing something important, but maybe at other times?

Waiting for the time to pass, Ruby swung her feet and traced her fingers along the scar on her wrist. It had been a long time since her arm really hurt. Sometimes there was a slight achiness in it when she overused it, but even that was disappearing with time. The scar would never disappear though, which was fine with her. It gave her something to remember the injury by since she didn’t have the actual memories of it. Plus, scars were supposedly attractive, right? She’d heard Yang say something about that once...and she definitely agreed when thinking about the small scar that ran across Weiss’ eye.

Amongst all the interesting things Ruby had ever learned, one of the most interesting was how interesting Weiss was! She was basically...all thought-consuming. For the longest time, Ruby had had such a one track mind - it was training, training, training, and nothing else. Then bam! Weiss walked into their life, and suddenly she was all Ruby could think about.

Ok, Weiss hadn’t walked in with a bam. The door hadn’t made any sort of noise. And maybe it was more appropriate to say that Ruby now had a two-track mind. One track was reserved for training and becoming a huntress, but the other was exclusively for Weiss. Because Weiss was very, very...interesting.

Hearing Blake and Yang’s voices carrying out of the hall, Ruby looked up from her wrist. The two were dressed for a night on the town, as Yang liked to call it. Walking into the living room, they rummaged through the hallway closet for whatever shoes they were going to wear to the concert.

“Jeez Ruby - waiting for someone?” Yang teased while indiscriminately tossing several miscellaneous shoes out of the closet.

“It takes forever to walk anywhere!” Ruby complained, kicking her feet in exasperation.

“It only feels like forever because you’re used to moving twice as fast as regular people do,” Blake commented with an amused expression. Somehow, she’d already found her shoes and put them on when Ruby hadn’t noticed.

“Welcome to how the rest of the world feels!” Yang added with a cheeky grin.

“It sucks,” Ruby moped from the countertop. “You’re all so slow.”

Chuckling at the response, Blake walked over to the front door and opened it - revealing Weiss just stepping up onto the front porch. Not at all surprised that she hadn’t been able to knock, Weiss merely looked at Blake and shook her head in admiration.

“Hey Weiss,” Blake said with a sly smile as Ruby let out an ‘eep!’ and jumped down from the counter to greet their guest.

“Weiss!” she called out, meeting Weiss right inside the front door and pulling her into a quick hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Yes, we’re all very fortunate you could make it,” Blake added with a grin while handing Yang the second shoe she’d been searching for.

“Aha!” Yang exclaimed as she took it and slid it onto her foot. After checking her pockets and bag for the tickets, she gave Blake a thumbs up. “Now I’m ready!”

“Guess we can finally leave,” Blake teased, taking Yang’s hand and heading towards the door. “Getting you there on time will be an achievemen-t of its own.”

When Ruby groaned, Yang laughed and pulled Blake close to place a kiss between her ears.

“Have I mentioned that I love you today? Because I totally love you,” Yang remarked with a big grin before finally acknowledging Weiss’ presence. Her smile fell a bit, but she cleared her throat and spoke first.

“Uh, thanks for the tickets, Weiss,” she said, lifting her hand in a loose fist and making a motion like she wanted Weiss to bump it with her own. Weiss didn’t understand the gesture at first, but eventually caught on and lightly tapped her knuckles against Yang’s.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, managing a small smile of her own as Yang stepped outside with Blake.

“Oh yes, thank you for encouraging this unhealthy obsession,” Blake teased.

“Just wait, Blake. By the end of the night, you’ll be begging me for their albums.”

“Yes, so that I can burn them.”

Chuckling, Yang suddenly stopped and turned back to the house, pointing a finger towards Ruby and then Weiss.

“And you two - don’t do anything Blake and I wouldn’t do.”

“There are actually things you won’t do?” Ruby joked.

After making a face at Ruby, Yang pulled the door shut with a “Be back later!”

Left alone in the house, but still able to hear the two girls talking outside, Weiss turned and smiled at Ruby. Ruby’s excitement immediately shot through the ceiling - because Weiss was here! They got to spend the night together! Or like, maybe not the night, but at least until the concert ended.

“How are you feeling?” Weiss asked first. About an hour had passed since she’d asked that question, so it was exactly what Ruby expected.

“Perfectly peachy!” she replied with a big grin. “Absolutely amazing! Fantastically fantastic! Extra uh...excellent!”

Weiss pursed her lips at the slew of words.

“I’ve been asking that too much, haven’t I,” she said, her clear blue eyes saying that she already knew the answer to that question.

“Nope! Well, yeah, a lot, but I totally don’t mind!” Using her best ‘totally not minding’ face, Ruby successfully erased the concern from Weiss’.

“Well, how about I ask you a different question then?” Weiss asked with a hint of a smile that had Ruby hanging onto every word. “What would you like to do now?”

“Something Yang and Blake wouldn’t do!” Ruby immediately answered, throwing her hands up in the air in excitement. “So...clean, maybe?”

The joke made Weiss laugh - and Ruby really liked it when Weiss laughed. There was something so rewarding in seeing light blue eyes sparkle with joy and, for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of a different person - the cheerful, less poised version of Weiss peeking through every expression of true happiness.

If only there were a way to get Weiss to laugh more...then maybe that other version of her could stick around longer...

Oh! Ruby happened to know an extra-awesome and super-effective way to make someone to laugh oodles. Duh, why hadn’t she thought about this before? It was only something Yang did to Ruby all the time.

“I have an idea.”

“Really? What is it?”

Weiss’ willingness to hear the idea was super adorable, but Ruby didn’t need to say it out loud. Instead, she raised her hands and wiggled her fingers in the universal ‘I’m gonna tickle you’ gesture. Eyes instantly widening in recognition, Weiss took several steps away.

“Ruby…” Weiss’ voice was low with warning while she inched towards the living room. “Don’t you dare.”

When Ruby grinned and stepped forward, Weiss took another step back to match. But Weiss was backing into the living room, where there was very little opportunity to escape. The furniture would work perfectly in Ruby’s favor - allowing her to pen the girl in. And if she could get Weiss to the sofa, she would win. Ruby knew all of this from personal experience - on the losing side of things, of course.

Frozen in a draw, each of them waited for the other to make the first move. It was just like sparing! One of them had to move first, and the other would try to react in time.

Grinning at the comparison, Ruby decided to make the first move. She faked a step forward and to the left, which Weiss instantly reacted to, but Ruby was expecting that reaction. Planting her foot on the ground and quickly pivoting the other direction, she just barely managed to reach out and wrap her arms around Weiss before she slipped out of reach. Spinning around, Weiss tried to escape backwards, but all she managed to do was drag Ruby right along with her as they both collapsed awkwardly onto the sofa - which played right into Ruby’s advantage.

As soon as they hit the soft cushions, Ruby unwrapped her arms from around Weiss’ waist and tickled Weiss’ rib cage - by far the most ticklish spot for most people.

And, interestingly enough, Weiss was ‘most people.’ She let out the most adorable squeal Ruby had ever heard while struggling to get away from the tickling fingers.

“Ruby! You -!”

When Weiss’ words dissolved into uncontrollable laughter, Ruby grinned and continued the relentless onslaught of tickles. Weiss looked so happy right now, even as she squirmed and tried to free herself. But there was no way she was getting away from Ruby - Ruby was the tickle master-in-training! Or more of an apprentice.

Wiggling her fingers in between Weiss’ ribs, Ruby laughed as she dodged a flailing arm that almost whacked her in the head. She should’ve tickled Weiss way earlier!

“Alright! You -!” Weiss gasped before a few more giggles escaped. “R-Ruby you win!”

Hearing the magic word, Ruby immediately stopped and grinned down at Weiss, satisfied with the victory.

“God, Ruby - you...dolt,” Weiss huffed, trying to regain her breath while a soft red colored her cheeks. “You’re...trying to kill me…”

Even though Weiss was pretending to be annoyed, she was still smiling.

Weiss was really pretty when she smiled - a real smile and not those guarded ones she normally used. Like, she was really, really pretty. And when she was lightly panting through slightly parted lips, staring up at Ruby with intent blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, with the two of them intertwined on the sofa...it almost felt like Ruby could - or she should - lean down, closing the small gap between them and -

Coughing into her hand to clear that sudden thought from her mind, Ruby refocused on Weiss. On Weiss’ eyes, not her lips.

“Death by tickles, huh?” Ruby asked, sitting up in order to put some space between them and bury the random craving she’d just had.

“It’s possible,” Weiss replied with a serious expression as she sat up, too.

“Nuh uh -”

“Yes ‘huh,’ it’s happened before.”

Giggling, Ruby patted Weiss on the shoulder. “I’m not falling for that one!”

“Want to look it up?”

A smirk accompanied the question - marking it as a challenge. Ruby’s resolve wavered at the look. If Weiss was willing to look it up, maybe she was right. Or...maybe she was bluffing and hoped Ruby wouldn’t catch her. But that would be tricky. Was Weiss tricky?

Staring at Weiss for what felt like forever, Ruby searched icy blue eyes that were much warmer than their color implied. There had to be a hint in there somewhere...something that gave away whether or not Weiss was bluffing…

When Ruby narrowed her eyes, Weiss playfully narrowed hers in turn.

If Weiss was lying, what would give it away? Would it be in her eyes? Would they slightly squint or change color? Would her pupils be a little bigger than usual, or would she have the tiniest hint of a smile?

Suddenly stumbling over the answer, Ruby beamed in delight. There was one. Weiss had a tell!

“Ok,” Ruby replied, sitting nice and straight on the sofa cushion. “Let’s look it up then.”

Weiss was good. Very composed. She hardly flinched at Ruby’s words, but when Ruby reached for Weiss’ scroll to put this matter to rest, a hand shot out to stop her.

“Wait.”

Ruby beamed at the single word, ready to accept her tiny triumph while Weiss looked baffled at how her bluff had been called.

“Alright, you got me. How did you know?”

“You have a tell, Weiss!” Ruby exclaimed, more excited about finding that than about being right. But her words only made Weiss blink in confusion.

“A...tell?”

“Yeah! A tell - like something you do when you’re lying! I just figured it out!”

“What??” Weiss asked in shock. “I do not have a tell.”

“You totally do!”

“Then what is it?”

Sensing the trap and successfully hopping over it instead of falling into it, Ruby shook her head - sending her hair flying all over the place.

“No way - I’m not telling you! Then you’ll just stop doing it!”

“But...you have to tell me!”

“Why?” she asked, laughing at Weiss’ miffed expression.

“Because! I...you...you just should!”

“That’s super not convincing!” Ruby replied gleefully. “But maybe you can persuade me to part with my secrets?” When Ruby playfully batted her eyes, Weiss looked more shocked than anything else.

“How?”

“I dunno. What’s something really awesome that I might want?”

When the question made Weiss blush and turn away, Ruby’s cheeks warmed up too. Had Weiss just thought about what Ruby had just thought about? Or something completely different? Something better?

What had Weiss just thought??

“I’m not sure…” Weiss mumbled before turning back to Ruby - the moment of indecision already gone and replaced by a more assured persona. “One million chocolate chip cookies.”

Ruby burst into giggles at the offer. Because yes, that was amazing and yes, that was something she’d want, but also because Weiss looked so serious about it! Like this was some business deal and she’d literally hand over a million cookies in exchange for the information.

But Ruby couldn’t be bought so easily! Well, maybe normally she could, but not this time!

“Noooo thank you!”

The reply made Weiss’ mouth fall open in surprise.

“You’re turning down a million cookies,” she stated in disbelief while Ruby nodded, pleased with her random thread of self-control.

“Yup! I think this information is much more valuable than that. Plus, I don’t think I could eat them all before they went bad!”

Maybe she could, but that was an awful lot of cookies. What would that even look like? Would they fill her room? The whole house? The neighborhood would probably smell like heaven! How much milk would she need to eat that many cookies? They’d have to get their own cow! She’d name him Herman. Wait - did boy cows make milk?

While Ruby contemplated the logistics of receiving one million cookies, Weiss tapped one finger against her knee, furrowed her brow, and bit her lip in the most adorable display of concentration as she tried to figure out how to pry the information from Ruby.

“What do you want…?”

The question wasn’t directed at Ruby - it was more like Weiss said it to herself while trying to find the answer in Ruby’s eyes.

What did Ruby want? She wanted a lot of things! But knowing when Weiss was trying to lie would probably be super valuable. Maybe she’d be willing to exchange the information for…

Instantly blushing when her brain jumped to something she would absolutely give up the secret for, Ruby averted her eyes and blew a puff of air through her lips.

Why was that her answer? Why was she thinking about that so much right now? Hopefully Weiss’ superpowers didn’t include mind reading. Otherwise Ruby was in for a world of first-class embarrassment right...about…

Now.

When Weiss’ finger kept tapping her knee and nothing else happened, Ruby grinned and wrapped her arms around her legs.

“I can’t think of anything!” she remarked. It was a fib. A big, fat one. There was one thing she couldn’t stop thinking of right now, but there was no way she could ask for that! No, she’d just keep the information safe and sound for now.

“Nothing?”

“Nope! Plus, I like knowing something about you that no one else does. Even you!”

That last part was the truth. Knowing this information made Ruby special, and she really, really liked the idea that she was special - at least, she wanted to be special when it came to Weiss.

Tilting her head to one side, Weiss stared at Ruby for a long time. Obviously, she hadn’t expected Ruby to be so difficult to crack. Which was probably smart thinking - it wasn’t every day Ruby found the resolve to turn down a million cookies! She’d probably take that deal ninety-nine times out of a hundred. Weiss was just unlucky tonight.

“But maybe I’ll tell you one day!” Ruby added with a grin. Weiss stared for a few more seconds before smiling and shaking her head.

“You’re obviously feeling better.”

“Yup! I’m great!”

“Good. Because I really don’t want to take you to the hospital again.”

“And you’re telling the truth!” Ruby added playfully, making Weiss’ eyes narrow in thought once more.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“You think I’d turn down a million cookies and then just hand this priceless knowledge out for nothing?? No way!” Shaking her head, Ruby added, “They’d have to offer me something better!”

“Such as…?”

“Uh, such as…” Racking her brain, she tried to come up with anything that could possibly be better. It was really hard! Weiss had nailed that offer even if Ruby hadn’t accepted it.

“Yang would have to shave her head!” Ruby said before laughing at how funny it would be to see her sister with no hair. “Oh! Or, Blake would have to let me take Gambol Shroud apart and tinker with him for an entire - three days!”

That last one was quite enticing, too!

Chuckling lightly, Weiss shook her head.

“So never.”

“Basically. It’s cookies or bust.”

Satisfied with that answer, Weiss nodded and leaned against the sofa. Ruby collapsed backwards too, grinning all the while. Being around Weiss was always really fun and...easy. It was kind of weird because they hadn’t known each other that long, but they were already pretty comfortable around one another! Maybe they hadn’t known each other for years like some friends did, but that didn’t matter, right? As long as they had a good time together, they could be great friends!

This ‘making friends’ thing was easier than she’d thought. It probably helped that Weiss already knew Yang, but Ruby would take all the help she could get.

With their shoulders barely touching, Ruby waited for a few seconds in silence before deciding that she needed to say something. She was the host, after all! It was important to keep guests entertained and not bore them to death. And it was possible to bore someone to death - look it up!

“So we did what I wanted to do...now what do you wanna do?” she asked, shifting in her seat to look at Weiss.

“I thought I was supposed to watch you.”

“You’re just going to sit there and look at me?”

Smiling, Weiss shrugged at the question. “Sure, that wouldn’t bother me one bit. But is there anything else you’d like to do?”

That was a great question. What did Ruby want to do? There were so many choices! The world was their oyster! Except that they probably shouldn’t leave the house, and Ruby wasn’t allowed to do anything more physical than shuffle her feet across the floor.

The world was their slightly-restricted oyster!

There were still lots of great options though. They could go for a walk around the house - that would take them into next century. Or they could go into the garage and work on something - maybe Weiss would want to work on a project with Ruby? That’d be cool! Or they could hide Yang’s shoes outside. Or...

“Oh!” Ruby exclaimed when an idea popped into her head. “I know! We can practice my hand-eye coordination! Can you use your glyph-things to throw stuff at me? Do they work like that?”

When Ruby hopped off the sofa, Weiss’s eyes followed her.

“Yes...but throw what ‘stuff’ at you?”

“Um…” Unsure about an answer, Ruby glanced around. What was small and a good projectile?

Leaving the sofa behind, she walked into the kitchen and started opening drawers in search of something to use. “Aha!” she remarked in success, pulling a handful of silverware out of the drawer and turning back to Weiss. “How ‘bout these?”

Looking from the silverware to Ruby and back again, Weiss’ expression was one of pure incredulity.

“Let me get this straight...Yang made you invite me over to make sure you don’t end up back in the hospital, but you want me to shoot knives at you and hope you can catch them before they impale you?”

“Yeah!”

Smiling, Weiss shook her head. “No...I’m not going to do that.”

Her balloon of excitement deflating, Ruby dropped the silverware onto the table as Weiss stood and joined her in the kitchen. Moving with an air of determination, Weiss methodically searched through the drawers herself before pulling open the fridge and rummaging around inside. A few seconds later, she emerged with a bag of grapes in hand.

“I would be willing to throw these at you though,” she said with a pleased grin.

See? This was why Weiss was so much smarter than Ruby.

“Yes!”

Pumping one fist in victory, Ruby slowly and carefully made her way back to the living room and stood in front of the television. Ok, that was a lie. She kind of, sort of ran-hopped. But Yang wasn’t around to say whether or not it was too fast. A speed limit was useless unless there was a cop around to hand out tickets!

That didn’t mean Ruby was dumb enough to use her semblance though. One runaway petal and she’d be as good as caught red-handed.

With Ruby in place, Weiss took a seat on the sofa and set the bag of grapes on the cushion beside her (the coffee table had yet to be replaced after its unfortunate accident). Carefully plucking one grape out of the bag, she held it up for Ruby to see.

“Are you ready?”

Rubbing her hands together, Ruby nodded and focused on the small, green orb between Weiss’ fingers. Nodding in return, Weiss tossed the grape towards Ruby in a slow, meandering arc.

Ruby was about to complain that that was way too easy - then a white/blue glyph appeared out of nowhere. The instant the grape hit the glyph’s surface, it shot off at a completely different angle and nailed Ruby in the side like a friendly version of a mini rocket.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, watching the grape roll away from her before turning back to Weiss. “That was super fast!”

“Did you think I’d take it easy on you?”

Stunned by the response, Ruby looked at the grape on the floor before grinning at Weiss. There was a playful sparkle in Weiss’ eyes that suggested Ruby should’ve known better than to expect such an easy game.

Well, she knew better now!

“Ok,” she said, bending her knees and raising her hands in preparation. “I’m really ready this time. No more drops!”

Nodding, Weiss held another grape up so Ruby could see. This time Ruby made sure to focus all her attention on the tiny orb - every single bit of focus she had in her entire body.

In not-really slow motion, Weiss drew her hand back and let it fly.

Determined to catch this one, Ruby pinpointed the grape in the air and figured out its trajectory - but the game didn’t stop there. At the first glimpse of white, she locked onto the glyph as it appeared and determined the angle it was pointing in relation to the grape. As soon as the two met, Ruby shot her hand out to where she anticipated the grape would go and closed her fingers around the squishy object.

“Aha!” she cried out in success, holding up the grape in victory.

“Good job,” Weiss congratulated her with a smile.

“Yes!” Ruby exclaimed, hopping with joy. “Blake’s gotta watch out - she’s not the only ninja anymore! Ruby Rose is the sneakiest of sneaky in this house now!”

Ruby waved her hands around like a ninja - making karate chops in the air - before a small object bounced off her side. Looking around in surprise and finding another grape rolling away, she turned back to the sofa and found Weiss trying to stifle her laughter.

“Looks like you missed one, Miss Ninja.”

Playfully narrowing her eyes, Ruby popped the grape into her mouth and raised her hands at the ready.

“Oh, you think you’re soooo good at throwing grapes and stuff?” she teased. “Bring it on!”

“You’re not ready for this.”

“I totally am! You’re not ready for this!”

When Weiss arched one brow at the lame comeback, Ruby shook her head.

“Or something more witty than that! Just - let’s see what you’ve got!”

Waving her hands around like the world’s most skilled goalkeeper, Ruby watched Weiss prepare for the next round of this battle between two equally matched foes. Equally matched, as in one of them was not better than the other.

Maybe Ruby should be concerned by the handful of grapes Weiss was holding in one hand...but she wasn’t! She was slick as a ninja! Quick as a cat! More Blake references!

Squeaking in surprise when Weiss threw not one but two grapes in the air, Ruby watched as two glyphs pointing in different directions successfully pelted both grapes into her on opposite sides.

Ok, so Weiss was pretty good at this.

“Lucky shot!” Ruby called out before ducking as a grape whizzed over her head.

She managed to catch one out of the next three grapes thrown her way, but the moment she paused to say “Aha!” two more ricocheted off of her back. Her back! Tossing the grape at Weiss - who deftly dodged out of the way - Ruby yelped while trying to catch two more, but they flew into her instead.

If this was a competition, Weiss was winning. It wasn’t even close. But it was still equally matched.

Ruby was going to catch the next one, but then the glyph rotated at the last second and sent the grape spinning off of her shoulder. And the next grape stuck to the glyph for a half second longer than expected, the white patterns swirling together before firing the grape like a shot out of a cannon.

Every time Ruby squealed when a grape hit her, Weiss laughed. And every time Weiss laughed, Ruby couldn’t help but laugh too.

Laughing made it a lot harder to focus on the flying missiles, but she started having more success after the first dozen or so grapes. Whenever she managed to catch one, she’d throw it at Weiss - only for it to fly right back at twice the speed.

She was losing the battle and the war, but it didn’t matter when she was having so much fun.

“Ok!” she finally called out, raising her hands in surrender (which only exposed her ribs for Weiss to hit with two last-second grapes). “Ok, I give up! You win!”

Slowly lowering her hands, Ruby beamed when she saw Weiss’ twinkling eyes and amused smile.

“So you’ve had enough?”

Ruby smiled when she saw the tease in Weiss’ eyes.

Most of the time, Weiss was calm and collected. But right now, she was...playful. It was like she’d briefly let go of whatever plagued her and allowed herself to be happy and free.

Playful, happy Weiss was now one of Ruby’s favorite things…

Looking at the floor littered with grapes, Ruby bent down to collect a handful for herself.

“Hey, it’s not that easy!” she replied while standing up with her ammunition. “Why don’t you try? Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

Ever a good sport, Weiss nodded and stood from the sofa. Crouching slightly, she raised both hands like Ruby had just been doing. After taking a brief moment to appreciate Weiss’ super cute expression of concentration, Ruby looked down at the grapes in her hand.

She didn’t have super cool glyphs like Weiss did. She had her speed, but that wasn’t helpful in this situation - not that she was allowed to use her semblance anyway. But what she lacked in awesome glyphs, she made up for in ingenuity!

She could throw just one grape, but that wouldn’t be a challenge. Two would also be pretty easy…

Fortunately, she had the element of surprise on her side - because she had a doozy of a plan!

Picking up a solitary grape, Ruby held it in her left hand and swung her arm back like she was going to throw it. But, at the same moment she let that grape fly, she shot her other hand forward and threw the entire fistful of grapes at Weiss at once.

It was brilliantly executed.

As was the glyph Weiss formed in front of her to capture all of the grapes in midair.

Catching the flash of a smirk on Weiss’ lips, Ruby instinctively covered her head and turned as the grapes pelted into her - every single one of them bouncing off of her before falling to the floor.

Only when the barrage ended did Ruby lower her hands and start giggling - looking over to the sofa to find Weiss laughing too. And laughing Weiss was just...the best.

“How did you know I was gonna do that??” Ruby asked through her giggles, only for Weiss to smile and shrug.

“It seemed like something you would do.”

“Uh oh.”

“What?” Weiss asked, her expression quickly turning to one of concern.

“You know me too well,” Ruby concluded with a grin. Relaxing, Weiss returned the grin with a smile - another one of those amazing smiles that reached her eyes and made them shine with joy.

Ruby loved seeing that - she loved it when Weiss smiled so freely. She loved it when Weiss relaxed and had fun. And she loved being able to bring out this side of Weiss, if only for a few seconds at a time.

Ruby would’ve shared that smile forever, but Weiss eventually broke eye contact and looked at the mess of grapes on the floor. As she did so, her walls slid back into place, and the carefree version of Weiss slipped away.

It was a fast change, and it left Ruby with a strange feeling of loss - but she wasn’t discouraged. If Weiss was still here, there was nothing to be discouraged about.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Ruby said as a plan popped into her mind. Runn - walking quickly to the fridge, she pulled out a carton before rushing back to the living room and pressing it into Weiss’ hands.

“What’s way more awesome than grapes?” she asked, grinning at her genius idea.

Looking down at the carton in her hands, Weiss then looked at Ruby in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious -”

“Deadly serious! Come on - it’ll be fun!” Pressing her palms together, Ruby begged with her eyes - using the best set of puppy dog eyes she had.

After briefly biting her lip, Weiss fought back a smile while pulling two eggs from the carton and setting the rest on the floor by her feet. Holding one of the fragile items up in the air, she gave Ruby a playfully serious expression that did little to mask her enjoyment of the situation.

“You’d better catch these.”

Taking the words as acceptance of the idea, Ruby giggled in delight while hopping over to her spot in front of the TV.

Honestly, she didn’t care if she caught the eggs or not. All that mattered right now was that the happy version of Weiss was back.

#rwby #white rose #weiss schnee #ruby rose #what defines us

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demonsonthemoon · 6 years ago

Text

Selfishly With You

Fandom: Harry Potter Word Count: 3657 Summary: Harry tries to understand what's so appealing about romance that he's losing all of his closest friends to it, and find the perfect confidant in one Luna Lovegood. Note: Posted in honor of #AggressivelyArospecWeek 2018. Based on these headcanons I posted last year.

Also available on AO3.

The shift came gradually, then crystallized in an uncomfortably sudden way.

He started seeing it happening during his fourth year. Most people had finally gotten used to him being Harry Potter, the Chosen One or whatever they called him. He had thought that from this point onwards he would be able to live his normal life as a normal teenager, and not be hero-worshipped for something he hadn't even actively participated in. He had thought he would be able to show others who he was as a person. That his personality wasn't only contained by his achievements.

And then the thing with the Goblet of Fire happened. His name was spat out, and suddenly he was the youngest contestant in the Triwizard Tournament, and nobody cared about him as a person anymore. People started asking for autographs again, treating him like a living historical figure and not just a fellow student.

And then there were the girls. Well, mostly girls. And the girls were the only ones who dared to say it upfront.

Of the few who didn't hate his guts for cheating or lessening Cedric Diggory's chances, there was a group that looked at him with stars and hearts in their eyes. One actually confessed she had a crush on him. Harry didn't feel comfortable pointing out that he didn't even know her name, and just said sorry and ran away.

Then Rita Skeeter started spreading rumors that he and Hermione somehow had a secret love affair. Harry couldn't figure out the logic behind it, considering there was absolutely no reason for them to keep it secret, had such an affair been going on.

And then, then, came the Yule ball.

All in all, his fourth year was when Harry Potter really started noticing how obessed with romance the world around him was.

It wasn't that he didn't think about it at all. Just that it confused him a whole lot. He was told that he had to find a partner for the ball, but he had no idea who he was supposed to invite.

“Well, usually people go with the people they're dating. Or they ask someone they have a crush on, see if they say yes. I guess some people also go with their friends? Just as a way to hang out?”

The answers he received were vague. He felt as if it was all organised into some kind of hierarchy. If you're not dating anyone, you ask one of your crushes. If your crushes say no, you ask a friend. In practice, he saw students ask people they barely knew to the dance over picking their closest friends. Harry figured he would have a lot more fun spending the night with someone he already got along with than a complete stranger but well... He was trying to be a normal teenager.

When people asked about his crushes, he thought about Cho Chang. About thinking she was pretty when they had played a Quidditch match against each other. Pretty and strong, and warm in a discreet way. They had talked a bit before, always about Quidditch, as fellow players more than as friends. But Harry had liked those conversations, and he felt curious about Cho, so he assumed that must be a crush.

So he asked Cho out. And she said no. And he went with Parvati Patil instead, althoug he didn't know Parvati at all and they didn't have much in common. And then there was Hermione, beautiful in her blue dress, dancing with Victor Krum instead of spending the night with her two best friends. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself, unlike Ron and Harry. He might not understand why, but he could appreciate that fact.

So it was during his fourth year that Harry realised he wasn't sure if he understood what other students meant when they said they had a crush on someone. There were those people he was interested in, wanted to know more about. Those people he wanted to be friends with, or maybe close to in some other way, though he wasn't sure what that other way was. Of course, there was wanting to kiss someone, wanting to have sex with them. But if he was honest with himself he wasn't against the idea of kissing most of his friends. And there were some people he thought he might like to kiss without really knowing whether he wanted to date them or not.

It was confusing, but most of the time he could just ignore it. He was a wizard, learning magic in a magical school, after all. And then there was the fact that an someone evil had killed his parents, tried to kill him on several occasions, killed a fellow students in front of him and was trying to take over the world. That was a rather big distraction from his confused sentiments about romance.

But after his fourth year came the fifth, and after the fifth came the sixth.

Sixth year was the year of love, at least for everyone else. All of his friends started talking about their various crushes. People bought love potions at Fred and George's shop. And still, Harry stood there, confused.

When Ron started fixating on Lavender Brown, Harry tried to be a supportive friend. He didn't complain about the fact that he barely saw Ron at all except for classes and their dorm room. He didn't complain about having to do his homework alone because Hermione said he had to do it himself if he wanted to learn and Ron just wasn't there anymore. Ron said that Lavender made him happy, so Harry tried to be happy for him.

And then he noticed. He noticed that Hermione was colder than usual. He noticed how hurt she looked whenever Ron ignored her because Lavender claimed his attention. And Harry tried to be supportive of her, too. He tried to find a way to comfort her without putting all of the blame on his best friend. He tried to convince her – and himself – that Ron still cared about them, after all, that it was all fine, it wasn't that important.

Hermione accepted to go to Slughorn's party with Cormac, and Harry thought for a second that taking a walk near the whomping willow sounded like a much better idea than staying here. When his friends enquired who he would take to the party instead, however, he didn't have to think about it for long.

Luna Lovegood was the obvious choice. Luna, who he had befriended the previous year in somewhat creepy circumstances. Luna, with all of her quirks and all the stares she attracted. Luna, who seemed to keep herself outside of the turmoil that was the romantic adventures of Hogwarts students.

She accepted his invitation with pleasure and an easy smile. With her at his side, Harry actually felt able to brave Slughorn's party. Between the professor's ambiguous attentions, Hermione's panicked state at the idea of having to stay close to Cormac for a whole evening, and a general distate for the politics that motivated party, Harry thought of Luna as a refuge.

The girl would make remarks about what other students were doing, and they would have been snarky said by anyone else. In her case, though, they were delivered with perfect innocence. Harry found himself containing his laughter more than once, even in front of Slughorn. The professor seemed to find Harry's choice of partner quite distateful, though he couldn't say so in as many words, risking to breach his own code of conduct.

Harry had to leave Luna for a moment, needing to speak to Slughorn some more, as well as help Hermione escape the grasp of her evening partner. He was surprised at having to deal with Draco playing gatecrasher on top of it all, and was tightly wound up when things started to wind down and he couldn't find Luna in the room.

He looked around once more, avoiding anyone who tried to talk to him, and finally stepped outside. Sure enough, Luna was sitting on a step a bit further down the hallway, swaying a little bit as if she was humming a melody to herself.

Harry wondered, for a moment, at how calming even just her presence could feel to him. She was different from everyone else. Different in a way that made you feel encouraged to become the truest version of yourself you could be, when with her. Luna didn't look at him like a hero or the Chosen One. She didn't look at him like a rare collectibe or a tool to be used. She saw him as a person, and her very attitude invited him to come to terms with that person. It was always an invitation. Never a forceful gesture.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. She didn't seem distressed in any way but, if he was honest with himself, Harry wasn't sure he would recognize what distress looked like on the girl's features.

She looked up at him, not having noticed his arrival. The startledness was immediately replaced by one of the soft smiles that were her trademark. “Yes, of course,” she replied in a melodic voice. “I was just a bit overwhelmed. And scared that the Smergls would get to me. Although I don't think they would work on me. But you're never too sure.”

Harry walked towards her and she moved to the side, leaving him space to sit. “Smergls?”

“Oh, yes. Haven't you noticed the infestation?”

Harry shook his head. “What are they?”

“A kind of creature. They're very hard to see. Wizards actually aren't sure under which circumstances they reveal themselves. They feed off human energy, and attach themselves to people's heads, drawing them into a state of emotional excitability. They mostly affect younger people too. I'm not exactly sure, but I think there's been a breakout in our year.”

“Emotional excitability? So you mean the way all everyone's been talking about recently is who they want to date?”

Luna nodded. “This is one of the most noticeable side-effects of Smergls, yes. There are others.”

Harry smiled. Luna's strange ideas about the world often seemed far-fetched and confusing, but there was a simplicity and honesty to them that he appreciated. He settled more comfortably against the cold steps of the stairs.

“And you think you're immune to them?”

“Well, possibly. I'm aromantic, you see.”

This was one more term that was apparently part of the witch's everyday vocabulary but that Harry was unfamiliar with. He was very happy that Luna usually wasn't opposed to his incessant questioning.

“What does aromantic mean?”

“Oh,” Luna said with a tilt of her head, as if she was surprised that he didn't know. “It means I don't experience romantic attraction. That I don't feel the urge to date anyone.”

This was a much less magical answer than the one he had been expecting. It didn't sound like something she had read in The Quibbler.

“That's... How does that work?”

“Well, in much the same way romantic attraction works, I suppose. Except the opposite.”

“And it's not... Don't you...” Harry faltered. This felt much more personal and invasive than his usual inquiries.

Luna swayed her head two more times. “Don't I wish I was different?” She asked, as if it wasn't a loaded thing to say. Harry nodded. “I don't. I don't see why I would. It's not as if I could miss it, since I don't experience it. And I don't think it's something that important really. People are all made of different parts, and this is just a part of me.”

“That seems really wise. I'm not sure I would be able to think about it in that way.”

“Did you enjoy the party?”

She didn't give him any warning before changing the subject, but Harry was fairly used to that being another quirk of hers. He shook his head, then shrugged.

“Not really. I'm not... it's not really the kind of gathering I enjoy. Nobody is actually there to have a good time. They're just trying to gain things from each other. There's no... There's no warmth to it.”

“Mmh-mmh. I thought you weren't enjoying yourself. I'm sorry if I wasn't the best person to bring.”

“No, no.” He put a hand on Luna's shoulder. “You were actually the perfect person. Thank you for coming. This doesn't seem like your kind of party either.”

“It was interesting,” she said.

They both turned their heads as a student stumbled through the hallway in their direction. “Hey, Potter,” the boy shouted. “What you doing with the Loony-bin?”

Harry felt anger rise through his body. He started standing up. Luna tugged on his robe to stop him. “It's okay Harry.”

Still fuming, he turned towards the other student, who had already started walking in the other direction. “I'm having a good time with a good friend, is what I'm doing.” Harry shouted after him. “Asshole!”

He wasn't sure if the boy understood a word he had said, considering the way he was zig-zagging through the hall in a drunken stumble.

“Come on, Luna. Party's winding down anyway, I don't think they need us in there anymore.”

That particular party marked a turning point in their friendship. Harry hadn't really had the occasion to spend a lot of time alone with Luna before that, but he quickly discovered how much he actually appreciated her company. With Ron still engrossed in his relationship with Lavender and Hermione still angry about it all, he became more and more relient on moments alone with the blonde witch to relax. After arriving at Hogwarts, Harry had discovered how social a person he was. Summers were usually hell, with no one around to talk to. Spending time with friends what was gave him the energy to go through the day.

And that was what Luna was. A friend. Somebody he could look forward to seeing whenever they agreed to meet each other in the library or the Room of Requirements.

He didn't tell Ron and Hermione about his new friendship, which was slightly weird. At the same time, he felt like his best friends would only deserve the right to know when they regained enough of their wits to realise that the trio was slowly drifting apart.

And it felt nice to have this for himself. He didn't think of Luna as a secret – that would feel too much like she was something he was ashamed of and hiding. It was more that he enjoyed their friendship not being under scrutiny. He enjoyed being able to define who they were to each other without the pressure of external gazes.

When that thought crossed his mind, it made Harry stop. Was that a crush? Was he looking at Luna as something more than a friend?

The expression felt wrong. “More than.” His relationship to Ron and Hermione was going through hard times, but he still couldn't say that he felt closer to Luna than them. It was just that their relationship was different.

He tried again to think of what a crush was supposed to be. Butterflies in the stomach, a desire to kiss the person. Well, he did sometimes feel tingly with excitement knowing that he would be able to spend time with the witch. He found himself relaxing in her presence. As for kissing... Harry frowned. He guessed it would be enjoyable? He wasn't really sure.

All in all, he felt like all of his interrogations stayed inconclusive. He might or might not like Luna differently than he liked his other friends. He might or might not like to kiss her, depending on the situation and whether she would be interested or not and also depending on whether other things were supposed to be included after the kiss.

But anyway. Nothing would happen. Nothing could happen, right? Because she was aromantic. So it didn't matter. Harry would just be imposing himself on her and that was bad.

Luna looked up from the issue of The Quibbler that she was reading, lounged across a beanbag.

“Are you okay, Harry? You seem distracted.”

Harry put down the quill he had been holding. He hadn't written a word in possibly two minutes, and the ink had started to dry on the tip. He sighed, stood up from the desk he was seated at, and sat down on the floor next to Luna instead.

She smiled at him, and he found himself playing with a strand of her long blond hair that almost touched the ground.

Playing with her hair was probably not something he should be doing considering what was on his mind. He kept doing it anyway. It felt nice, intimate. And Luna didn't seem to mind.

Harry sighed. “I guess I am distracted. Sorry.”

“It's okay. You can tell me what's on your mind, if you want.”

He looked up at her. He didn't feel the urge to do anything with her. To kiss, or have sex, or whatever. He just felt comfortable. Really comfortable. And he wanted to cherish that.

“Are we friends?” He asked, and he immediately knew it wasn't the correct way to phrase the question.

“Of course we are, Harry.”

“No, I mean... I know we are. I know you're my friend. I just... I'm not friends with you like I am with Ron and Hermione.”

“I think everyone is different. And because of that, every relationship is unique. It is what makes meeting new people interesting.”

He let go of her hair, frustrated at his inability to express himself. “I know, I know. What I mean is... I don't know if I think of you as just a friend, or if I have a crush on you. I'm not gonna... I know you don't get crushes, and that's fine. I'm not gonna do anything. But I didn't want... I didn't know if it would make you uncomfortable, but I also just wanted you to know.”

Harry looked down at his hands. He wondered why he still hadn't learned to cast a spell that would create a hole in the earth he could fall into. Why weren't there spells for all the actually useful things?

When he finally looked up after a moment of weighty silence, Luna was slightly swaying from side to side, that movement she did that made it seem like she was always singing under her breath. She didn't look mad or hurt, Harry noted with relief. More like she was considering things.

She held his gaze for a while, still silent. It was finally Harry who spoke, needing to relieve his pent-up energy.

“Are we okay?”

Luna stopped moving and nodded. “Yes. I'm just thinking. I don't think I care, about how you feel about me. I don't think you need to care either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I told you that I don't want to date, and as long as you respect that and know that I don't feel romantically attracted to you, I don't see how the type of your feelings actually matters. I think we tend to associate certain forms of relationship with the type of feeling they entail, but there isn't any written rule about it. As long as we respect each other's boundaries and just enjoy each other's company, does it matter what type of relationship or feelings are involved?”

“I don't... I've never...”

“That's just the way I think, of course. I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable, Harry. If you feel like you have to take your distance, that's perfectly understandable. I don't want you to feel pressured into-”

“Luna. Luna. Stop. I'm not leaving. That would be... That doesn't make sense. I love spending time with you. You make me discover so many new things, and I feel like I can be truly myself around you, because you don't... You don't judge. You don't expect things from people. Sometimes I feel like you're the only person in this school who makes any kind of sense, because at least you're always yourself. And I... this is a very selfish way to say it, but I want to keep that. I'd like to be your friend, Luna. As long as you want me to.”

She smiled a little at that, which caused sparks to erupt inside his stomach. He smiled back. They were nice sparks.

Love potions, it turned out. This whole mess had been caused by love potions. Harry had spent all this time trying to be supportive of his friend's unexplained crush, and actually it hadn't even been a real crush at all. Not all was lost, though, since Ron and Hermione seemed to have realised that they potentially felt something other than friendship for each other, but Harry still felt he had a right to his frustration.

The good thing was, he finally had his best friends back. And in the middle of Dumbledore's machinations, he needed them. They were hanging out in the Gryffindor common room when Ron finally asked the question.

“So, like... I feel like I've seen you a lot less than before in the past few weeks. You keep disappearing on your own... Do you have a secret you're keeping to yourself?”

Ron punctuated his question with a mischievous smile, which made Harry shudder. “I'm not hiding a romantic partner if that's what you're asking. Also, please, never ask that again. Considering what I had to deal with with you and Lavender for the past month, I feel like you owe me that.”

Ron's cheeks quickly turned bright red.

“It's okay if you don't want to tell us, Harry,” Hermione interevened. “Ron and I were just curious.”

Harry nodded. “I know. And it's not really a secret I'm hiding. It's just... I think I prefer to keep it to myself for now. That's a selfish way to say it but... yeah.”

#AggressivelyArospecWeek #Meeni writes fics #Harry Potter #Luna Lovegood #Fanfic

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