#me casually avoiding summer schoolwork be like:

[fixtations-on-whatever]

finally did a full something for the sillies again :D

illust based on poundtoundhound's massive ahh banner + speedpaint

[mysterystarz]

the romance checklist:

summary: a chance meeting with kageyama has you striking up a bet to see if one of you could fall in love with the other before the year was up. cue the romance checklist, a piece of paper that molded your fate and his.

pairing: kageyama tobio x g!n reader

word count: 3.2k

genres + themes: literally pure fluff, reader is a first-year karasuno student, reader is also kind of a romantic

warnings: none

a/n: so this is my first time writing for kageyama and i know he's probably pretty out of character, so my apologies!! this was inspired off some headcannons i wrote for one of my irl friends, and this wiki-how article which i used to structure the actual checklist! to all my lovely kags simps, this is for you <3 (also to all the people who hate angst, you lucked out bc i was about to add an angst part but got lazy)

You had never thought a trip to the vending machine could be so eventful.

It had been lunch break, and you found yourself wandering towards the machine, money in hand as your eyes trailed the snacks. It had become routine to sneak away during lunch hours for this, enjoying the fresh autumn breeze as you bought your snacks. It had always given you time to think and the time to recompose yourself when you didn’t have a clue what to do.

Usually it also provided you with time alone.

That wasn’t the case today though. Standing in front of the vending machines was Kageyama Tobio, frantically pushing the button for milk with a grumpy sort of scowl on his face. From the distance you stood, you could make out his height and the way he tapped his foot continuously, as if he didn’t have the time to wait for the milk to be dispensed from the spot.

Strolling up to the spot, you stood silently next to him, watching the way he retrieved the milk from the slot wordlessly as he walked away, not even a glance in your direction.

You knew full well who he was. In fact, you could barely walk through the halls of school without hearing a murmur about the prodigy setter and his closed off ways. The girls found him intriguing from afar, and while they never dared to approach him, they all wanted to.

You hadn’t really understood what they saw in him. He was average...if not below that in academics, and he seemed to dedicate most of his time to volleyball, not caring much for other people. He didn’t seem to have many friends, and was almost always grumpy.

All of this should’ve been reason enough to avoid him, and yet you couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was something about him that was different. You just needed to find out what that was.

The next day came around, and sure enough, he stood at the machine again, toe-tapping as his milk was dispensed from the slot. This time his eyes scanned the courtyard as if he was seeking something before they finally landed on you.

You weren’t prepared for the full impact of his gaze. It was calculated and pointed, with some sort of intent that was expressed in every inch of those dark blue eyes. You weren’t put off by it.

In fact, it was charming in its own way.

“Are you looking for something Kageyama?” You asked as you walked towards him, pulling a few yen out of your pocket. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.” He deadpanned, his eyes still trained on you as you selected a snack from the machine’s buttons. “I see you everywhere. Who are you?”

You hadn’t expected that. You knew he was observant...when it came to volleyball specifically, but never realized how it translated anywhere else. “I’m Y/L/N Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what else to say to him. Gently grabbing your snack, you politely nodded at him before leaving him behind, the thoughts rapidly accumulating in your brain. Did he notice you the entire time? Why did he ask? Did he know something? Was he planning to use you as some example to the other girls who wanted to know him?

You wish you had an answer.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t think of any.

It had been two weeks since you had met Kageyama by the vending machines. It had now become routine to expect him there during your lunch breaks, milk box in hand as he regarded your very presence with something that felt a whole lot like curiosity. Every now and then he’d offer commentary on the mundane happenings of Karasuno, or ask about you, but you weren’t sure how you could hold a conversation with just these things.

“Kageyama.” You nodded, strolling towards the machine as you always did. He whipped around almost immediately, offering a solemn nod in return, clutching his milk box.

“Y/L/N.” He murmured, taking a sip of his box.

“Have you ever thought about love?” You found yourself asking, internally screaming at the word choice. Great, now he was going to think that you were some crazy person.

“I think so…?.” Was what he offered in response. His features seemed to soften at this question though as he scrunched his brows in thought. “What type of love?”

You raised a brow at him in question. “Kageyama...what type of love are you talking about?”

“Well...I love volleyball and milk.” He shrugged. “That counts.”

“That...wasn’t the type I was referring to.” You said, suppressing the laughter that bubbled into your chest. “I was talking about the other kind.”

“The other kind is stupid.” Kageyama replied instantaneously. “There’s nothing special to it.”

You felt confusion seep into your system before you quieted it, letting your mind wander. With Kageyama’s status, you assumed that he’d at least thought of the concept at least once, although it seemed that he’d never even pondered the idea altogether!

“You’d have to feel it to come to that conclusion,” you countered, “Have you?”

“No,” he scoffed, “It’s still stupid.”

“Why?” You asked, feeling the curiosity surface. “Any specific reason?”

“Why would anyone want to dedicate all their time to another person?” Kageyama asked straight back, his gaze unwavering. “I just don’t see the point.”

You stared back at him, feeling the challenge bubble in your veins. “I bet...I can make you fall in love with someone by the end of the school year.”

At that moment, the boy in front of you looked thoroughly surprised, throwing his empty milk box at the garbage can nearby. He seemed speechless to some extent, as if he wasn’t able to process the words that had just left your mouth.

“And what happens if you can’t?” He asked, hesitantly bringing his gaze to your face. “What then?”

“I’ll buy you milk for a whole month.” You placed your hands on your hip as you kept your glare firm. “I stick to that.”

“Okay then,” he sighed, “Game on.”

With a shake of your hands, you cemented your fate.

You would win that bet. That much was certain.

“What’s this Y/L/N?” Kageyama asked, pointing at the piece of paper you held at him. “How are you going to win a bet with this?”

The two of them stood in the courtyard of Karasuno, the fresh autumn breeze rippling the paper you held in your hand. It had been a good day so far, and Kageyama had surprisingly stuck to his resolve, meeting you at the vending machine when he could’ve easily avoided you.

It was always more fun to challenge a competent opponent.

“This is the romance checklist.” You grinned proudly. “This has all the things we need to get you to fall in love.”

“How is it fair if you don’t do the checklist’s things too?”

“Well, that’s why I’m doing them with you.” You responded, already anticipating these types of questions. “I drafted the checklist off of the things I’ve observed over the years that should totally lead to feelings of love!”

“Whatever.” Kageyama said, his blue eyes scanning the paper’s contents. “How do you plan to do this?”

“We follow the steps.” You nodded. “Since I’m doing this with you, it’ll be foolproof.”

“Y/L/N...what if we competed against each other?” He mumbled. “We follow the checklist and use it against each other. Whoever falls in love first loses.”

“Do you really want to risk that?” You smirked, “That’s a bold move you’re making.”

Kageyama stood up straighter at this, the challenge burning deep in his eyes. “I’m going to win, so it won’t be an issue.”

“Suit yourself,” you grinned. “I’ll be winning this anyways.”

He simply smirked as he looked down at the paper, the promise of a challenge fresh and bright between them.

STEP ONE: MEET SOMEONE

After a long time, you had finally gotten some free time away from schoolwork and the obligations that pinned you down. It was a rare occurrence with the amount of pressure that the college prep class placed on you, and you intended to make the most of it.

You found yourself on the pathway of a cafe you used to frequent in the summer with your friends. It had always been a place to collect your thoughts and let your worries float away with every sip of one of the immaculately crafted beverages that they offered there. You felt your lips twitch in an involuntary smile at the memories.

“Y/L/N?” You heard a voice call out, a shocking contrast to the normal chattering you heard within the shop. Looking up, you were met with Kageyama’s eyes, narrowed and confused as you sat at the table frozen. “What are you here for?”

“It's a break for me,” you shrugged, “I come here all the time. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“They have good drinks,” Kageyama replied bluntly. A few beats of silence passed between them, with neither of them knowing what to add to the conversation.

“You can sit down with me.” You offered, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. “The more the merrier.”

He didn’t question this as he slid into the seat, fingers drumming on the table as he looked at the window. From your point of view, it was almost picturesque the way he managed to appear. His blue eyes were focused on the trees outside, and his posture was ever so casual and relaxed as he sat there, as if he had no other care in the world.

It was unfair how model-like he managed to appear, even despite the fact he wasn’t trying.

Ah. Perhaps this is what the girls at school noticed.

Once the drinks arrived at your table, the two of them drank in comfortable silence, admiring the flavors on their tongues as their surroundings continued on as normal. You didn’t feel the need to contribute anything to the silence, finding it calming in its own right.

“So Kageyama, are you feeling anything yet?” You teased, setting down your half-empty cup.

“No.” He admitted, setting down his drink as well. “I am supposed to?”

“Well technically no, but it’d be good if you did.” You chuckled, finding amusement in the cluelessness of his ways. “Step one of the romance checklist: meet somebody.”

“We already met though.” He countered, “How does this count as anything?”

“Well, we just encountered each other out of nowhere.” You smiled, “That counts as a meeting in my book.”

He wrapped his mind around this information, nodding solemnly. “I guess so then. I still don’t feel anything.”

“Neither do I.” You said, willing the slight butterflies in your stomach to subside. It was really nothing. This was simply a chance meeting, nothing more than luck and fate that had you encounter each other today of all days.

You shouldn’t have been affected this quickly. You felt far too warm, far too...fuzzy, for a meeting of chance. It was simply far too intimate.

Well, it seemed that Kageyama had gotten the one upon you at this stage.

You’d beat him next time. You knew you would.

STEP TWO: FLIRT

“You look good today Kags,” you smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction creep up in your veins at his flushed cheeks,

Over the course of the weeks spent together, you had been able to learn more about the mysterious boy in front of you and had even formed a friendship of sorts. For starters, he was flustered very easily, which is why you decided to make your move so early in the morning.

“I look like how I do every day, dumbass!” He growled, the red deepening in his cheeks when you merely winked in response.

Ah yes. He tended to insult those he befriended. That was yet another endearing thing about the boy in front of you.

“No, something is different today,” you commented, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“No,” he frowned, the flush never subsiding from his cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m just saying genuine things you know.” You laughed, punching his shoulder casually. “Besides, I think I’m succeeding so far.”

“Succeeding? This is that stupid checklist again, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Step two: flirting. What is the point of this again?”

“It’s to show interest.” You remarked. “Besides, if you want me to fall for you, you’re going to at least have to act like you’re interested in me. I know it’s working on you so far.”

“No it’s not!” He yelled, although the defense was half-hearted. You knew he was merely putting up a front. You could tell it from his body posture alone.

You had the upper hand right now.

You waved him goodbye as you entered the Karasuno grounds, climbing the stairs to reach your class as he walked in the opposite direction. Even if you had the upper hand right now, you knew that you had to be on-guard the rest of the day.

If there was one thing you knew very well in the time you had spent with Kageyama, it was that he was extremely competitive. There was no way he’d ever go down without a fierce fight, especially when a month’s worth of milk was on the line.

You had been absolutely right to doubt him.

When lunchtime rolled around, he stood at the vending machine like he always did, leaning against it casually as he waited for you, his focus placed on the entrance.

The first thing you noticed was how calm he was. There was none of his usual frantic energy or the practiced insults that you threw back at one another. He simply stood there, content, as he watched you make your entrance.

The second thing you noticed was how an unconscious smile crept onto his face when you waved at him and slipped away the minute your eyes darted to his mouth. He sipped his milk casually, although you knew that internally, he was definitely scheming.

He could be a gremlin if left untapped.

You were about to purchase your snack in silence, thinking about all the ways he could win against you when you felt his hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw him holding out a container of your favorite snack, handing it to you wordlessly.

What?

“I thought I would get it today,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his milk. “You’ve bought me milk sometimes. It’s only fair.”

He didn’t consider it much of a big deal, but you felt your heart begin to accelerate in its pace at the thoughts that came flying into your head.

He had paid attention to your favorite snack? He had actually cared about when you bought him milk?

He noticed all of this?

“You...have a nice smile.” He mumbled, a flush rising onto his cheeks once again. You felt yourself fluster a bit at the compliment, not used to hearing it that often.

“Uhhh thanks.” You exhaled, not knowing how to respond to such an out-of-the-blue remark. “Your smile looks a lot like the Cheshire cat you know.”

For a moment his face was contorted into an expression of horror before he laughed a bit, the low chuckles sending heat straight to your cheeks.

Damn it. His laugh was adorable.

It was a low chiming sound, but it still managed to uplift your spirits in the brief time that you heard it. It was absolutely perfect.

You’d like to hear it again if you could.

A small smile was on his face as he looked to the ground, thinking about something while you took the time to really look at him. Behind the stone exterior, was someone talented, clueless, and amusing in every way you could possibly imagine.

You noticed how his posture mirrored yours, and the way how he smiled when your eyes finally met his own.

Damn it! He got the one-up on you. Again.

STEP THREE: GO ON THRILLING DATES

“Tobio! Let’s go on this one!” You yelled as you dragged him towards the large rollercoaster that caught your eye.

It was a beautiful Saturday with the most perfect weather. Sunny skies met a fresh breeze as you dragged Kageyama around the amusement park you had insisted on going to together. He kept with your quick pace as you went from ride to ride, never once letting go of his hand.

If anything, you were more confused why he didn’t comment on the fact that you had been holding hands that long. Rather he silently followed you from ride to ride, occasionally commenting on how small it looked for them.

From where you stood, the rollercoaster looked positively incredible with the multiple loops and drops in its track. This certainly fit the bill for thrilling. Maybe Kageyama could finally agree to ride this one.

“Y/N, do we really have to do this one?” He asked, his gaze not tearing away from the ride. “Doesn’t it look a bit too small for us?”

“Well if it’s too small, then we can still ride it as a joyride, don’t you think?” You grinned as you shoved him into the line of the coaster. Soon enough, it was your turn as you were ushered into the seats while the employees strapped you and Kageyama into the rollercoaster.

The wait was excruciating, with every second that passed sending a wave of anticipation and adrenaline through your system. Looking to your side, you saw Kageyama’s face, which was composed, even though his fingers drummed rapidly on the bar.

Was he nervous?

Hesitantly, you reached to clasp your hands together, relishing in the feeling of your palm on his as the rollercoaster suddenly began moving, bringing you up the tall lift hill.

“Tobio, are you okay?” You questioned as you neared the top, the grip he had on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“I’m fine!” He yelled, just as the roller coaster fell over the lift hill, sending them into a plummeting drop.

You felt the exhilarating feeling of soaring as the ride propelled you forward, shouts of glee leaving your mouth ever so often. On the other hand, all you heard from Kageyama was the occasional shout of horror when they encountered yet another drop on the track, the grip he had on your hand deathly tight.

“Tobio! You’re afraid of rollercoasters?!” You shouted as you were guided into a loop.

“No I’m not!” He shouted back, shutting his eyes when he was finally upright again. “They just make me feel like I’m about to die!” When he opened his eyes, they first found yours in a look that was both petrified and fond. “I think I lost the bet!”

“You did what?!” You yelled as the wind rippled in your ears again.

“The bet Y/N! I think I’m in love with you!” He yelled. “I thought I should tell you before we die!”

You felt your heart soar at the words that had just been exchanged, a testament to the budding feelings you had felt for months around him.

“We’re not going to die.” You sighed as the ride finally slowed, feeling exhilarated as you smiled at him. “I love you too.”

Stepping off the rollercoaster, Kageyama was more silent than anything, red flush adorning his cheeks as you massaged soothing circles onto his hand. “We both lost it in the end.” You laughed.

“I think it was worth it,” he chuckled, the beautiful chime, showing you that he meant every word.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

taglist (bold cannot be tagged): @moi-bunni @kousukii @littlecatfairy @iwasunshine @kawaii-angelanne @haikyuutothetop @dearkousei @catchmewiddershins @perqabeth @sunarinluvr @elektrosonix @milktyama

reblogs are very appreciated <3

[write-orflight]

Like Real People Do. Chapter 4

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though), fainting, reader just being thirsty in general. 

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N We’re getting into the main crux of the story now! Message to be added to the taglist. thanks for reading! Much love, Cia

                Chapter 4: Why were you digging?  

Months pass and the early spring turns into hot humid D.C summer. You were never a big fan of the summer, you preferred the colder months despite the bad memories you had associated with them. 

Things changed and some things stayed the exact same. You caught bad guys, which was typical, you actually ended up getting tackled by a drunk Unsub once which results in you being out of the field with a broken arm for four weeks. You found a cat in an alley digging through the trash near your apartment one day when you were walking home. You left food out for him since until one day he decided to come up to you. And now you have a cat you affectionately named Garbage. 

You and Ethan (the guy from the bar) had a “situation-ship”, as Garcia liked to call it for about a month and a half. In your opinion, there was no situation-ship, you guys had mediocre sex until he wanted more and was upset you “worked too much”. So when he “broke up” with you, you weren’t really upset. Your heart wasn’t in it anyway. 

You and Spencer never talked about that night at the bar. In fact, you hardly talked at all. Your Saturday’s together stopped, you had no excuse to see each other now you were finished with school. Now that there was no thesis, there was no thesis for him to help with. 

That didn’t stop Spencer from occupying the space in your head rent-free though. You couldn’t help yourself, he was always in the forefront of your mind and frankly it was starting to affect how you worked. It was a paperwork day and everyone was working silently, merely coexisting and since there was nothing really going on your mind couldn’t help but wander. Spencer was sitting across you reading case files, taking occasional notes in a legal pad next to him. Your eyes instantly went to his hands as he traced it down the page as he often did when he was reading. You studied them for a while, long slender fingers resting on massive palms. You never thought you were someone who’d be attracted to hands but the amount of times you thought about them on particularly lonely nights, specifically the things he could do with them. 

Yea, it was enough to make you a cheirophile. 

You went back to watching him when suddenly one of the aforementioned hands were waving in your face. 

“Y/N” he said. “I’ve been calling your name for 3 minutes.” 

“I’m sorry, Spen.” You flush instantly at being caught. “What did you need?” 

“I asked if you had a red pen I could borrow?” 

“Yea.” You rummaged through your drawer, producing the pen in question. His hand brushes yours as he grabs it, you try very hard not to shiver at the contact but you couldn’t help it. “Keep it.” you say. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He says. “You’ve been extremely out of it lately.”

He was right, you have been out of it lately. Spencer was putting you out of it. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that night at the bar and your almost kiss. Since then, it was like he was trying to constantly bring your attention to his mouth, whether it was by his habit of stealing lollies from Garcia’s office or the constant biting and licking of his lips whenever he was deep in thought. They had seared their way into your frontal lobe without permission. 

Working with him had become exceptionally hard and an unwelcome distraction, especially out in the field. Last month, the two of you had gone undercover in a nightclub, an unsub had been murdering young couples who were overly affectionate in public, so you had to spend the night practically wrapped around the man you had an insane crush on, breathing in his scent. You sipped your “cocktail” (it was just cranberry juice) as Spencer kept his arm steady around your waist. Eventually, you hear Emily in the earpiece you were wearing. 

“You’ve gotta do more guys if we’re going to draw him out.” She says. 

“Yea and loosen up. If  you guys look uncomfortable, no ones going to believe you’re a couple.” Morgan adds. 

You and Spencer look at each other for a beat.  

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you’ll tell me right?” He whispers to you. You nod instantly. Suddenly Spencer’s arm is tighter around you, pulling you flush to his body. He dips down attaching his lips to your neck and jawline. You gasp, you had not been expecting that at all, you clutch your drink harder other hand moving to his side. He pulls you in tighter somehow, suddenly you feel his hand move downward until he is palming your ass, you bite your lip to keep your composure but his lips suddenly meet that spot behind your earlobe that he couldn’t have possibly known about prior. A quiet moan unintentionally rips through you and you could’ve sworn you felt his fingers twitch, squeezing your ass slightly. Emily and Morgan were right, the Unsub did approach you guys shortly after that and led you into the alley like he did so many couples before only to be met by your badges and guns. 

Then there was the time a couple of months ago when you and Reid had gone to interview a child psychiatrist and discovered that he was a molester. Spencer had been livid talking to the man, making threats that honestly should've been promises to throw the man in jail. You had never seen Spencer angry or at the very least this angry, and for some reason that turned you on beyond belief. 

You decided to close that can of worms and save it for another day. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” You say, smiling tightly at him turning back to your stack of files. You couldn’t be mad at Spencer for your inability to keep it in your pants while you were working. So that’s what you did, worked and tried to avoid Spencer as much as you could. And if that night from the club replayed in your head often while you were alone in your bed that night like many nights before, it was no one’s business but your own. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning, you woke to the sound of construction equipment being used next to your apartment. D.C’s already so dense. What more could they be building?   You thought as you got up to make yourself a much needed cup of coffee. 

Now without your schoolwork or  standing date with Spencer, Saturdays always felt too long. You drank your coffee, read a book, watched some TV and when you looked at the time it was still only noon. You sighed heavily before getting up to get changed. The weather was nice, you hoped a jog would at the very least tire you out so you could waste a couple hours napping. 

So off you went, down the path of a nearby park. You had been jogging for about 30 minutes when you see a familiar shape in the distance. As you get closer you notice it’s exactly who you wanted it to be. 

“Hey, Spen!” You say excitedly as you slow to a stop in front of him. He looks up from the book he was reading on the bench. He smiles once he sees you. “Y/N, Hey.” He says. 

“What’re you doing in the park alone?” You ask. 

He lifts up his book. “I just came to read, thought a change of scenery would do me better than sitting around my apartment.” He says 

“Same here. Now that I finished school, it feels like I have too much time in the day. Now it just feels like I’m doing stuff just to keep myself busy, hence the jogging.” You say lifting your leg slightly, pointing out the running shoes you were wearing. You felt his eyes slowly trail up your bare legs, taking in your form slowly and diligently as if he thought he would forget it all the second he blinked. His eyes finally stopped at yours and you released the breath you didn’t know you holding. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your book. I’ve still got 2 miles to go.” You say, as you start to jog away, you hear Spencer call out to you. You stop and turn back. “Yea?” you ask. 

“Umm…” He says trailing off before taking a breath. “I’m going to see a movie later, I was hoping maybe you’d wanna come? It’s in french, but I can whisper-translate for you.” He says. 

“Yea sure, I’m doing anything else.” You say, a little too excitedly. Calm down, Y/N, he didn’t even say it was a date. You think to yourself. “What time should I meet you there?” 

“7?” He says. 

“Great! See you at 7, Reid!” You say before jogging away. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

You leave your house around 6:45, after spending about an hour and a half trying to find something to wear. Since it wasn’t a date, or since he didn't say it was one, you opted for something casual. A pair of comfortable jean shorts and your favorite band’s t-shirt. You did light makeup, and after an inspection in the mirror you decided you looked the right amount of cute and comfortable. 

Spencer was waiting outside the theater when you arrived. He was dressed casually too, a blazer over a simple t-shirt, cuffed jeans and converse. He smiles brightly at you as you walk up to join him. 

He insists on paying for the movie and you have to fight him to get him to let you at least pay for snacks but soon you are seated in the almost empty theater together. 

He moves close to you as the movie starts, whispering translations in your ear. At some point halfway through the movie, his arm ends up around your back as he continues to translate, your hand falls instinctively to his thigh. 

The movie ends eventually, and the two of you begin to walk outside together. You know a really good ice cream place that’s not a far walk from the theatre so you suggest going Spencer instantly says yes. You guys walk in silence for a while before you open your mouth to say something. 

“Can I confess something to you?” You ask him. 

He turns and looks at you. “Yea, what is it?” 

“Je parle quatre langues, dont une est le français.” (I speak four languages, one of which is french.) You say. 

He looks at you incredulously. “Pourquoi m'avez-vous laissé traduire le film entier pour vous?” (Why did you let me translate the entire movie for you?) He asks 

“Tu veux dire, pourquoi t'ai-je laissé chuchoter à mon oreille pendant deux heures d'affilée?” (You mean, Why did I let you whisper in my ear for two hours straight?) You smile flirtatiously at him. “Je suis sûr que tu peux comprendre celui-là.” (I'm sure you can figure that one out) You nudge him with your arm. “Come on, I believe you owe me ice cream.” 

----------------------------------------------------

You and Spencer, deciding you don’t want the night to end just yet,  take your ice cream and walk to a park. You lick lazily at the cone you opted for opposed to the cup he got. You guys seem to try and catch up on everything the two of you had done since your last coffee shop visit. He tells you about the books and Doctor’s journals he’s read. You explain to him the entire plot of the latest season of Drag race. You talk and talk and talk, to the point you don’t even realize it’s getting late. 

“It’s late.” he says, “We should head back.” 

And so you do, the two of you walk back to your cars parked near the movie theatre in semi-silence. As the two of you approach your driver door, you turn to look at each other. 

“This was fun, to hang out, I mean.” You say. 

“Yea, it was.” He adds. “I’d like to do it more, if you don’t mind.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’d love that.” you say. 

He takes a step closer to you and you do the same. This was it, he was finally going to kiss you. He looks down at your lips and up to your eyes again as if searching for the approval you give a quick tiny nod. He smiles, moving a hand to the side of your head leaning into you--

Your phone rings. He takes a step back. 

Moment ruined.   

You look at your caller ID. “It’s Hotch.” you say, he nods at you while you answer the phone “Y/L/N” you say. 

“Y/N/N, you need to meet me at the office. Right now.” He says. 

“Why sir? Is there a case?” You ask. 

“No case.” He says. “Gabriel Ferguson’s date has been set.” 

That name. 

You tried everyday to forget that name. 

The name of the man who took your family. 

Your innocence. 

Your way of life. 

Gabriel Ferguson. 

The Beechwood Killer. 

You freeze. Spencer is watching you, concerned now. “W-Why do you need me to come in for that?” You stutter. 

“Because… he’s refusing to tell us where he dumped the first bodies.” Hotch pauses. “Until he speaks to you.” 

You drop your phone. 

The last thing you hear is Spencer calling out to you while everything fades to black.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​ @blameitonthenight21​ @slyskyeey​ @liaabsurd​ @di-essere-amato​

[uwua3]

Hello, can I please suggest a childhood friends to lovers troupe with Banri? Thank you so much!

of course! i put this off at first because i wanted to understand banri’s character a bit more and what direction i wanted to go with this! it might be a little bit opposite of what you wanted but i hope you like it~ ♡ i hope you don’t mind childhood enemies to friends to lovers ;)

summary: all your life, you wanted to beat settsu banri, just once

warnings: arguing, breaking the law, bullying(?), injuries, physical fights,

author’s note: this is definitely much more different from anything i’ve written! please enjoy it~

being naturally good at everything = wanting to compete at everything once’s there’s someone worthy and i think it’s a complex we need to address. honors students who get burnt out often give up because it’s not easy at first. setting children up to be the best and putting them against one another instead of encouraging teamwork is evil and a flaw in the education system. so take risks, and take down any institution that disrespects you :)

word count: 4,298

music: hot girl bummer – blackbear, preacher man – the driver era

childhood champion.

🍁🥇 settsu banri

banri was the most insufferable, annoying kid to ever walk the face of this earth

everyone picked him first for their sports team in gym, he always knew the answer even when the teacher caught him sleeping in class, and he knew what a multitalented threat he was

it was so unfair! even as a child, you had to spend countless hours studying the next topic to stay ahead but banri did it without even trying

you were second in class, he never even wavered or was worried about his valedictorian position

banri was so, so annoying

you two were the first picked to advance to honors–level classes the next school year in middle school

you actively rose your hand in class to get the answer correct. you sat in the front and kissed up to your teachers so they would submit more than just “a pleasure to have in class” on your report card

banri would doze off in the back if he was forced to attend school. it would take multiple tries to get him to wake up and even then, he could’ve summarized the entire class lesson with no effort. he didn’t care about other people’s opinions

which must have been nice, considering how everyone either loved him or fully hated him

you two were never aware of each other’s existence throughout elementary; it wasn’t until your teachers constantly compared you to banri’s perfect grades and banri to your model student behavior that you began to despise each other

to you, banri was your #1 rival and competitor. everything you did, you wanted to beat him at. but to banri, you were just another tryhard that wouldn’t survive in the real world

it was when you were the only student getting every question right that you talked to him for the first time. you rose your hand again, a pleasant expression on your face as your teacher looked around, sighing as everyone averted their gaze

before the teacher could call your name, you felt a wadded–up paper ball hit the back of your head and a snicker. the class went dealthy quiet for once

you whipped your head to the back to see banri’s egotistical maniac of a smirk staring right back at you

“nerd.” banri dropped, his arms behind his head and feet propped up on his desk. his bag wasn’t even open and his pencil was stuck behind his ear. what a troublemaker

“mr. settsu! apologize this instant, we do not tolerate name–calling in this classroom.” your teacher reprimanded maturely, watching as banri shrugged and put his feet on the ground with a loud thud. leaning forward, banri put his hands together with an exaggerated sad face as he batted his eyelashes

“i’m so sorry~” banri laughed, his mocking tone making you narrow your eyes, plastering on a fake smile as you simply nodded and turned around. it wasn’t worth it to fight with someone who didn’t even care

anger boiled in your blood, all you wanted to do was turn around and give him a solid punch

yet, you straightened your posture, answering each question precisely with a tight grip on your pencil as you felt more spitballs land near you

no boy was going to get you to stop focusing, and especially take class time away

banri didn’t know why he bothered trying to piss you off anymore when you didn’t react. it was boring him, to say the least

when he “accidentally” stole your lunch, you just used your allowance to buy something from the lunch ladies (who absolutely hated that they had no evidence he stole from the fruit bar). when he knocked your books over off the desk with a bang, you just picked them back up and moved to a different table. hell, he even started a grade–wide game that pretended you weren’t there. you didn’t care, you kept doing your schoolwork

you were so, so boring

banri was on cleaning–duty for vandalism or whatever, something that didn’t follow the school guidelines. he was assigned to his homeroom classroom and had to wipe down the desks, sweep the room, and scrape off gum under any surface

“what the hell...” 13–year–old banri cursed, kicking at the dust pan as he didn’t want to start. he didn’t clean, he was good at it, he just didn’t like doing it

turning on his heel to ditch the classroom and deal with the consequences later, he was face to face with the fakest smile ever as you leaned against the doorframe (seemingly satisfied with his predicament)

“sorry, settsu. i’m here to supervise you to make sure you’re cleaning, today.” you dropped your sweet, quiet tone and revealed the truth: a tough, tired attitude that was ready to snap at any point. banri raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms as he scoffed, looking to the side

this should be fun

“oh yeah? what will you do to stop me? can you even handle me, i’ve seen how you don’t score shit in gym.” banri spat, your lip twitched at the swear as you had an incredulous look

two could play at this game, you weren’t backing down

“i’m not here to fight, settsu. i want you to hurry up so i can go home and do my homework.” you heard his sickening laugh throughout the empty hallway. it echoed, reminding you how he had no filter or manners whatsoever

“homework?! imagine needing that to pass. even i don’t do my work... and i’m at the top. how sad.” banri fueled the flame on purpose, eyes glinting with something of boredom and a wicked evil found in prepubescent boys

“you wouldn’t know what that’s like, though, right?”

you clenched your fist, all the pent–up rage you withheld in to have the higher ground was beginning to turn your vision red

“come on,” banri grinned, finding fun in driving you insane as he lazily moved into a fighting position, not expecting anything. “hit me—”

you didn’t remember what happened next, but you had to sit next to banri who had a black eye with an ice pack up to it in the principal’s office

both you and banri received a weeks worth of suspension for having a fight on school grounds

you hated settsu banri. and he found you interesting, so he didn’t say anything when he came back, letting the rumors die down

banri wanted to be your friend. your punch wasn’t even all that bad, maybe he could teach you how to hold your fist

but you avoided him at all costs now. he started going to school more frequently, and played impractical jokes on you in between classes just to get a reaction

you didn’t do anything. you just requested a schedule change and had classes on the opposite side of the building

classes became boring again, no one wanted to fight with him because they knew they’d lose, and he stopped attending classes out of spite

banri couldn’t believe he may have finally met someone who had some balls to do something to his shitty attitude and you just left

but throughout the years leading up to his first year in hanasaki, banri had immense respect for your 12–year–old self who landed a nasty hit (it totally would’ve k.o.–ed him if this was a video game)

banri had his eye out to see if you were in the front row with your hand up, or if you were hiding in the library behind towering shelves, or if you were even just moving past him in the crowds of people in the hallways

but it’s like you disappeared out of no where, how boring

you kept a secluded, mysterious reputation. no one had anything to say about you because you did nothing to get attention. so banri couldn’t even track you down through the grapevine of gossip

you disappeared and remained second (behind banri, of course)

as school went on and the summers cleared his mind, banri slowly forgot all about the young kid who gave him a black eye

as he passed the exams to qualify for entry in hanasaki, he didn’t even think twice if you were gonna be there

second year at hanasaki academy. 16–year–old banri nearly dropped out because of his own insatiable boredom. he got into more fights (he always won), ignored his classmates, and just kept being a huge jackass even unprovoked

school was so, so boring

class rankings were released after finals, banri remembered strolling up to expect his name at the top spot but watched as the crowd of students nervously parted to let him through

his eyes automatically landed at the #1 spot (he never checked anyone below him, they were dumb) but it wasn’t his name. instead, he saw yours. you were beating him

letting out a sarcastic laugh, banri backed up and left without another word, leaving the students to breathe a sigh of relief they weren’t the next victim of an infamous settsu roundhouse

how long had you been at this? how long did you study just to see your name printed over his? he must’ve been a big deal to you

banri ditched school early, about to hop the back fence before he noticed a flash of the academy’s school uniform above. halfway up the fence, banri looked behind him. no one. looked up, and you were sitting at the edge of the rooftop, swinging your legs casually

after all these years, and banri found you on accident

“hey.” banri drawled, waving up to you who seemed lost in your own world. you had a loose grip on some textbook, staring off into the slow clouds. you must’ve missed the lunch bell signaling the end of eating. you? skipping class? it was almost too funny to be true

banri bristled under the lack of attention. it’s been years and this was the response he got? he was ready to start shaking the fence to alert everyone within a one mile radius he was here. yet, banri noticed the hardcover textbook that must’ve cost hundreds begin slipping from your fingers. you didn’t care to notice

“hey! hey! what the fuck!” banri tried to make you snap out of it, but he swore as he leaped from the fence as soon as the book started falling. you shook your head rapidly like you just woke up, nearly falling over as you watched banri catch the heavy textbook with one hand as he rolled onto the rough pavement. it was a move out of a superhero film, like he was a professional stunt double

you gasped, scrambling to get off the edge and jumped. banri was about to yell a very inappropiate curse, but you grabbed onto the tree branch nearby and climbed down easily. it was like you did this countless times... what the hell happened to you and who was this that replaced you?

“oh my god! i am so sorry, i wasn’t paying attention at all.” you apologized sincerly, offering your hand to help pull him to his feet. banri ignored the pain in his shoulder and hip as he pushed himself up, the scrapes on his palms and rips in his uniforms making him wince for a moment. you noticed

“you idiot! what were you thinking? you could’ve died!” banri snapped, pushing the textbook to your chest as you stumbled back, eyes wide. you huffed, feeling aggressive as every instinct to fight with him came back as strong as ever despite banri’s heroic act

“don’t act like you know everything about me! i said i was sorry, what else do you want?” you fought back, pushing him back even harder with your book. banri felt something burn inside him for the time ever since you punched him: excitement

“let’s settle this. you. me. right here. right now.” banri got into a battle stance, pretending to be very serious when he didn’t even hit girls. but, he wanted to piss you off so bad. he was so bored of his life being on super ultra easy mode (it was like you were the final boss)

he didn’t even get another word out before you sighed, put your backpack and books down gently, rolled your eyes, spun around, and kicked him straight in the jaw

you had used the infamous settsu roundhouse kick against him

this time, he was much stronger than he was before at thirteen. he straightened himself up, stared at your clenched fists, and laughed

“after all this time, you never learned how to throw a real punch?” banri taunted, but the playful tone of his voice gave himself away. you slowly backed down, going back to your normal position as you revealed a tired smile. you ran your hand through your hair, seeming to contemplate on whether or not you should respond before shrugging

“never really had to fight losers like you before.” you retorted and banri gave an impressed look that you even made a comeback. rubbing his jaw and feeling the bruise about to form, banri watched as you stuffed your books into your bag

“by the way, that was for everything you put me through in middle school.” you stood up, flipped him both with hands confidently, and left. turning the corner, you winked and shot him a finger gun, showing you didn’t hold any grudges anymore for his stupid behavior

“wait—dammit.” banri rushed to catch up with you, but you were already gone the moment he went over. there was no trace of you and banri kicked the wall out of frustration, regretting it immediately when he forgot about his injured leg

“mr. settsu!” he heard from one of the classroom windows and looked up, seeing his maths teacher glare at him. uh oh

banri put his hands up, knowing security would have to come drag his ass to class

he could’ve swore he heard your laugh as he got yelled at for getting caught, making him subconsciously smile

(banri got into more trouble when the teacher thought he saw it as a joke)

gossip was exchanged as banri came into class sporting a bruised jaw and ripped clothes. they said the gangster was finally taken down by someone who he was no match for, it was almost laughable

i let them win, banri thought, barely paying attention to whatever his teacher was writing on the blackboard

but banri wanted more competition. he couldn’t just let you hit him even if he fully, 100% deserved it

banri closed his eyes, falling asleep with his hand in his cheek. you better not have any plans this afternoon

it was 5pm. you were heading out of school after finishing all your extracurricular duties. it was exhausting pretending to care, faking a smile just so your superiors thought you were the perfect leader. whatever gets you into university, right?

you needed a break. you stepped up to the rooftop after sneaking into the locked stairway. oddly enough, it was already open. you tip–toed in on guard, preparing to hit someone with your bag before you noticed a shadow against the pavement

but as soon as you stepped out, banri was waiting

it was nearly sunset, and banri was playing some game on his phone against one of the benches against the border

you paused, not sure what to say before he casually looked up and did a double take, rushing to pocket his phone and standing up

silence. like you two had nothing to say after all these years. you didn’t expect to see him again, you stopped caring about his laziness and focused on yourself even if you didn’t have the motivation anymore

banri awkwardly put his hands in his pockets, the blazer elbows almost torn to shreds. a strand of his hair fell in front of his face, you wanted to reach out and push it back

here you were, with a perfect appearance with nothing out of place, as expected of a model student. your uniform was ironed to perfection and had no creases despite your tree jump. you learned how to get rid of the evidence

when nothing seemed to be happening, you almost turned around before banri spoke way too loudly

“i’m sorry.” banri choked out, like he was saying it against his will. you froze, not wanting to turn around as you gripped the strap of your backpack. was he being serious?

“i’m... sorry for basically picking on you in middle school. it was dumb of me, i was stupid.” banri explained, appearing cool but his fingers were clearly fidgeting in his pockets. oh, he was serious

a part of your child self felt like it was healed, knowing you had one over settsu banri. you nodded, turning slowly to face your childhood rival. your childhood competitor. the childhood champion of everything

this time, you were the winner, but it didn’t feel like it

“yeah? i’m sorry for beating your ass twice then.” you joked, seeing the tension leave his shoulders as he naturally laughed. it was almost therapeutic to finally not fight for something for once

“truce?” banri put his fist out, and you didn’t even have to think about it before moving forward and fist–bumping him

“truce.”

you and banri became close after your so–called peace treaty. you put all the rivalry behind you, you forgave him

banri surprisingly understood you had a “perfect reputation” to uphold despite all the secret trouble you got in. in public, he stayed away and pretended like you didn’t exist. in private, you two snuck onto the rooftop to have lunch and stay until night, talking about nothing and everything at once

you even tried getting him back on track, using the temptation of competition to trick him in doing his work (it at least worked half the time)

(“i definitely could finish this faster than you!” banri protested, scribbling his answers and he always finished first. he never realized what you were doing when he was in the heat of the moment)

banri had never stayed at school this long, his attendance was making a come back and he was even looking forward to times he could see you in between classes

(he never put this much effort in, he didn’t want to find out he wasn’t naturally good at being your friend)

everything was good. you two were compatiable friends who cursed every middle school teacher who set them up to be enemies. you swore at teachers who now abused their position of power and laughed about leading a revolution. you two were young, dumb teens who wanted change. you wanted anarchy, he knew enough about it to get behind it

banri texted you screenshots of his elite gaming status in the game he recommended to you, getting a response the next day proving you were almost at his level. damn. he could respect that

banri took you to his favorite local arcade, (believe it or not) after you claimed you could at least tie him at something. when he saw you get frustrated, he pretended to stumble on the arrow pad for DDR and feigned annoyance as you beat him for once. he even gave you his spare coins once he got bored and watched you, adding unnecessary commentary you’d kick him for

(“not again!” banri pretended to cower, protecting his jaw that was already healed)

you guys would even raid 24/7 stores after leaving school, stocking up on snacks and energy drinks so you could stay awake throughout the day after game night

but his favorite thing to do with you was sneaking out and returning you back before curfew. banri was naturally a homebody that didn’t find the outside fun, but when you confessed you never had a late night drive before, he arrived a block away and nearly gave you a heart attack when he knocked on your window

(you two agreed to have a special code and banri would knock to the beat of your favorite game’s theme song)

that night, you sat on the hood of his car and watched the stars, unaware of how banri couldn’t tear his eyes away from you

when banri dropped you off and helped you back in with his hand at your back, he nearly fell off the tree as you made your way onto your second–floor bedroom

you smiled, a strangeness to your windswept hair and messy clothes. you didn’t care what you looked like around him

banri gulped, forcing himself down the tree as he ran to his car, heart racing a mile a minute

what the hell was that? banri took a deep breath in the driver’s seat, rubbing his forehead as he groaned. why did he feel like this? did you do something to his soda or something?

as banri drove home, he flipped on the radio. teenage dirtbag by wheatus blasted on the inner roads

“how does she know who i am? why does she give a damn about me?”

banri braked, the car halting in the middle of the road. it was 3am, the street lights gave way to the empty, deserted road

oh my god. he liked you

he liked the person who gave him a black eye, got him a week suspension, kicked him in the jaw, and got him caught by his teacher

teenage dirtbag faded out on the street as banri sat there, listening to the lyrics

“fuck.” banri deadpanned, knowing things wouldn’t be good if he kept acting up like this

well, everything was good, until that night

banri arrived at midnight sharp like always. you rolled out of bed with full clothing ready for any night activity he planned

he took your hand to go down even though he knew damn well you didn’t need the help. sneaking out was like second nature at this point, it was a miracle you two hadn’t been busted yet

you two were stealthy, avoided all the cameras your parents put in place after noticing there were footsteps imprinted on the grass (it didn’t bother banri, he liked the challenge)

speeding off, banri slowed down to the speed limit once he saw you push the roof down and stick your upper body out into the wind. he shook his head, lowering the windows as well. he heard you scream along to whatever pop song was on at the top of your lungs

in that moment, you forget you were hanasaki academy’s perfect model student. you were just a person having the time of their life with their best friend

pulling into an abandoned parking lot, banri stopped in the middle as he tugged your shirt down. his wolfish grin seemed electric, like he was high on a predictable adrenaline rush already

“hey, do you trust me?” banri revved the engine, one hand on the wheel and the other out as a fist

it felt like that day back on the school rooftop where you made a truce with your middle school rival. like everything was about to change

without a second thought, you bumped your fist to his. “i do.”

banri shifted to level one as he turned the wheels to a full direction. you held onto the edge of the door as you realized what he was about to do

“you’re joking!” you yelled over the sound of the engine, banri flashing you a quick wink before the car started spinning. he was doing donuts because you said you wanted donuts the other day, this was not what you meant!

“you knew i didn’t mean it like this, you jerk!” you protested, but couldn’t help but laugh along with banri as smoke rose from the tire tracks on the concrete. you felt dizzy, but you never felt more alive laughing with your best friend in the middle of the night

banri suddenly stopped, his foot on the brake as a distant shout made you freeze

“hey, who’s trespassing?!”

“go, go, go!” you yelled, pushing banri’s arm as his foot triggered the gas and changed the speed. you guys zoomed out of the supposedly “abandoned” parking lot, hearing the random owner attempt to chase after you before tripping on his own feet

“holy shit!” you exclaimed, not feeling sorry you were laughing at the man who was now shaking his fist at you. you knew it was too dark to even see banri’s license plate, you were fine. you felt your energy peak as you couldn’t help but turn around with a wide smile

“did you see that guy’s face, he looked like he was ready to kill—” you started but banri braked again, both hands tightly gripping the wheel. you almost lurched forward but banri stuck his arm out against your chest, holding you to your seat as he glared at you

“how is this funny to you? we... you! you almost got caught! your future would’ve been ruined, do you understand how severe that situation was?!” banri ranted, sweating as he had to practice controlled breathing to prevent himself from saying something he’d regret. he was so worried, he never cared this much

“so what at this point? what’s there to even live for after college?” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. banri’s arm started retracting, but he randomly grabbed your face and pulled you over the divider, looking you deeply in the eyes like he never wanted to let you go. like he wanted to remember this forever

“me. live for me.” banri muttered, before he closed the distance between you two. your childhood rival, competitor, and enemy liked you

high on adrenaline, you kissed back. you were on top of the world

and suddenly, everything was good again

you both won

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I know you guys hate it but I love making Mel and Harry fight, huge ‘I’m-yelling-bc-I-love-you’ energy -Danny

Words: 4,093 

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Worst In Me’ -by Julia Michaels.

Chapter Ten: Growing.

Turns out Umbridge was inspecting Trelawney's class, and if Mel could've graded the experience, she would've used a massive 'D'.

The girl paired up with Neville because she would often find herself chatting over Trelawney's orders whenever she and Ron shared a table. She didn't want that this time, and so she tried her best to focus on what she was doing with Neville. She was fearing that being in a different table, she wasn't going to be able to stop Harry if he tried to do something silly, the class went by with no accidents besides the fact that Trelawney could not do a prediction for Umbridge, which clearly made her fall a few points down.

Mel walked to her D.A.D.A. class with Neville, they talked about his new discoveries in herbology, she desperately needed to speak about some common silly nothings to remain sane, so when they entered the classroom, she hesitated a moment before finally deciding to sit next to the boy. They were a few tables behind Harry, Ron and Hermione. Mel felt a bit guilty about not making any real efforts to stay close to Harry, but she was feeling in a better mood now that she was having a normal day with a normal classmate.

"Wands away," Umbridge instructed. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Hermione raised her hand a few seats ahead, Umbridge got up from her place and walked up to hers, her usual terrifying smile plastered on her face.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two."

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well," Umbridge giggled. "Then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But —"

"That is enough. Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" Harry asked angrily. Mel could see Hermione whisper something to him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"

"Why aren't we allowed to give our opinion? The teachers always encourage us to ask questions and be curious!" Mel blurted out, emboldened by the memory of her jobless uncle. "Was it really their way of working, or just your racist rubbish?"

"And Quirrell was a great teacher all right," said Harry right after her, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

There was a thick silence afterwards, Umbridge smiled a both, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sweetly. "Miss Dumbledore, you may only speak when spoken to, or when you're granted the word. Otherwise, I'd recommend you to remain quiet. Sixty points from Gryffindor."

Mel entered the Great Hall fuming, she walked up to her table and saw Angelina, Professor McGonagall and Harry all arguing about something.

"I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?" Harry asked in outrage. "Mel already lost sixty!"

"Shut up!" She hissed.

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" Professor McGonagall looked at her in the same way. "Dumbledore told you to stay out of it, Miss Dumbledore, I see myself in the obligation to talk with the Headmaster about this! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!"

Angelina stormed out of the Hall, not without giving Harry one last nasty look.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?"

"I know, mate, she's bang out of order," Ron put extra bacon on Harry's plate.

"You disloyal twat!" Mel aggressively put down a jar of murtlap essence in front of Harry. "Now Dumbledore will lecture me again because you decided to rat me out!"

"Well it's true, isn't it?" He pointed to the jar. "What's that rubbish?"

"That rubbish is for your hand," She retorted in an awful mood, "put it on your bloody hand and it should heal right away."

The girl left without waiting for a reply, wanting to hex everyone. The fact that she'd spent twenty minutes of her breakfast hour doing the stupid essence now felt like a really dumb thing to do. She wondered why was she still trying to be nice when Harry didn't care, he knew that she could feel his pain and still decided to get another detention. Maybe they were better on their own, trying to remain as a team was starting to break them further apart.

Mel clenched her fists and continued until her feet took her to the only safe haven they could remember. The library was empty, no one had urgent schoolwork to finish being the second week of the trimester. She sat down at the very end, rubbing her temples and pondering on whether she should cry a bit to release some tension or go back to the Hall and have breakfast with Ginny when she heard the soft sound of footsteps.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" asked a voice in amusement.

Erick stepped closer with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You stood me up last Saturday. What now, you get a boyfriend and suddenly decide you no longer need friends? That's a bit–"

Mel didn't let him finish, she stood up and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Erick froze, his arms hovering above her awkwardly. "I... I missed you too?"

Mel stepped back, quickly cleaning her face.

"Merlin's sake, you don't have to say it if you don't want to..."

"Sorry– it's just... That's the first time someone says that to me..." The last part came out barely above a whisper, Erick avoided her eyes.

"Well, it's true. This summer was a nightmare..."

"I know what you mean... at least a little. My grandad's been... not great," Erick glanced at the table and then her. "Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you're always grumpy..."

"It's the O.W.L.S, you know?"

"Sure, not like I've seen you argue with Potter," Erick smirked. "Want advice? Kiss him whenever he acts up, that'll shut him."

"That's out of the question," She sat down again. "We're not dating."

"What?"  He exclaimed.

"Shh!" Mel looked around and then glared at him. "Sit down."

"I don't understand," Erick's frown deepened. "You two were so sickeningly happy and–"

"It was a mistake."

"What?" He asked again, this time laughing a little. "I'm sorry, but since when is dating your crush a mistake?"

"We didn't date," She retorted. "We... it blew up in our faces– Sit down, will you?"

"But what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Okay!" He huffed. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Why don't you tell me how's your Grandad?"

Erick's face did not tense at the mention, but it certainly grew worried.

"He's well enough... stayed with him the whole summer so I didn't write to Anne, in case you were wondering."

"Don't ask about Harry and I won't ask about Anne," Mel shrugged. "Seems fair."

Erick only looked more alarmed. "Seriously, what happened?"

"Erick," She said, "leave it."

"Are you at least going to tell me why'd you stood me up the other day?"

"I invited Hermione by mistake. I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Why?"

"Because Harry– well now I don't want to," She added when she saw the way he rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to go to my next class..."

"Let me guess, because you'll have to see him and talk to him," He finally sat down, pondering for a moment. "All right, then get rid of him. Stop being his friend."

"I can't do that. Dumbledore's orders."

"He asked you to babysit?"

Mel nodded gloomily.

"Do you really have to be near him?"

"Well," She tilted her head. "I guess not... just when Umbridge's around."

"So just during her class?"

"Probably..."

"Okay, make sure he keeps his mouth shut for an hour or two and then you have the rest of the day free."

Mel thought about it for a second, then groaned in frustration.

"Knowing Harry, he'll find a way to run into her more times a day..."

"Potter's old enough to know better, don't you think?" Erick raised a brow. "Especially after what he went through..."

Annoyance flooded over her at the way Erick so casually mentioned Harry's close call. She clenched her jaw and shrugged. She didn't want to keep talking to him, being honest, she simply didn't want to talk to anyone at all.

"I'm tired," She muttered.

"I can't help with that, go take a nap," He sighed. "I'm sorry you didn't get the prefect badge, by the way..."

Mel laughed humorlessly.

"I don't care. Guess a part of me always knew Hermione would beat me."

"I really thought you'd be it," He replied. "Not that I don't think 'Mione's not smart or anything,  it made sense, you and Harry..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thinks we have too much in our hands," She started to peel the corner of the table. "Or that we're out of control..."

"He certainly has reasons to believe it..."

"Did Parkinson and Malfoy report me?" She blurted out.

Erick frowned.

"What did you do now?"

Mel quickly told him about the incident, Erick found it extremely amusing.

"Had it coming, those idiots..." He admitted. "But you really shouldn't do that. Umbridge will take any opportunity to take you to her office and see if she can force you into confessing about the Order."

"Talking about that..." She moved so she was now facing him. "Are you part of it, then?"

"Not until I'm seventeen and out of school... I'm a very active intern for now."

"But do you want to be part of it?"

Erick didn't hesitate this time.

"I do. I won't be hiding behind my mother's skirt, once I'm out, I'll be out forever. My plan hasn't changed, I'll live with my Grandad and I'll help as much as I can."

"I'm proud of you, you know?" Mel smiled, her mood lifting with the passion he was letting out in every word.

"Shut up," He muttered.

"I mean it! You've come a long way. Remember my first year? You found me crying and told me to just give up on Hermione. Look at you now..."

"I'm still trying to convince you to give up on people," He moved on his chair awkwardly. "I told you this was my plan since the beginning, I'm just finally doing something about it."

"Yeah," Mel agreed, thinking that her own plan had been obliterated and now she was stuck in place. "I'm happy for you..."

"You know what? Take my advice. Keep Potter's mouth shut during class and we'll trust that he can find his way without you for the rest of the day. You need a break," Erick stood up, grabbing her bag and picking it up for her.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know."

Mel stayed away from her friends for the rest of the day, and Harry found a way to get an extra day of detention during their Care of Magical creatures class -Umbridge had been there– but the girl persisted, she had lunch and dinner with Ginny and her friends, and she spent her free period with the twins and their friends.

When she entered the common room, she discovered that Harry wasn't there with Ron and Hermione, which explained why her right hand was starting to feel sore. She sat with a small smile playing on her lips, her day had improved after a whole afternoon without useless bickering.

"Is there any point on asking?" Hermione sighed.

"No," Mel said calmly, tunning out the pain on her hand.

Harry arrived close to midnight with his hand bleeding profusely, Mel made sure to write in a way that the darkness could hide her own bruised hand. Hermione handed him the murtlap jar Mel had left for him during breakfast.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron.

"No," said Harry.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman. Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison."

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that? 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well... You know, I was thinking today... I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry.

Mel's hand stopped writing but she didn't look up.

"Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it! You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week? And Mel's all right but I'm sure not even her can get past the stress!"

"But this is much more important than homework!"

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron teased.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year —"

"We can't do much by ourselves, I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —"

"If you're planning on reading just like you read in Umbridge class, then it won't change much," Mel said.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's to busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you and Mel, Harry."

"About me what?"

"What?" Mel laughed.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's an idea," Ron said calmly. "Mel could teach us, with her extra lessons and everything..."

"But... But I'm not a teacher, I can't —"

"You and Mel are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, this time grinning. "No, I'm not, you and Mel have beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't. You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done! Look at what Mel can do!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione with a smirk, then pretended to concentrate fully. "Let's think, uh... first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who–"

"But that was luck, that wasn't skill —"

"Yeah, and Quirrell smashed my skull afterwards!"

"Second year," Ron insisted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle, Harry."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I —"

"Third year," Ron raised his voice, "Mel starts her private lessons with Dumbledore and she learns to do non-verbal spells as if they were as simple as a nap. Then you two fought off about a hundred dementors at once —"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't —"

"Last year," Ron was practically yelling now. "Mel learned to fight off the Imperio curse in her first try and saw right through Moody before anyone else. You fought off You-Know-Who again—"

"Listen to me!" Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —"

"I had tons of help!" Mel exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "I read until I couldn't keep my eyes open– most of the things I know are all theory and no practice– don't smile at us like that! You know we're as close to being teachers as a bowtruckle!"

"Don't sit there like you know better than we do," Harry said heatedly. "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right— or Mel lost control and it just happened to work out in our favour, but we just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing and Mel— STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry stood up menacingly, the jar falling off his hand and breaking into a bunch of sharp pieces. Hermione and Ron quickly lost their smiles.

"You don't know what it's like! You— neither of you— you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that, having to suck the life out of a someone in order to survive!" Mel's breath hitched, none of them had told the others what had happened last June. "And you two sit there acting like we're two clever little kids standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me if it weren't for Mel– it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me and I hadn't used Mel's—"

"Shut up!" She yelled, pulling him back because he'd gotten too close to their friends.

"We weren't saying anything like that," Ron said fearfully. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —" He stammered the rest under his breath, unable to end his sentence out of shock.

"You didn't sound understanding," Mel stated, dropping Harry's arm when he snatched it away. "It's never over, not like we lived through it and then just continued with our day... there's... we would always have..."

"Nightmares," Harry ended weakly.

"Guys," Hermione said quietly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

Mel would've been proud of Hermione, but she was still too agitated. However, Harry did react, he sat down again, though still breathing as he'd run for hours. A cramp ran down her hand in full force and she hissed. Harry frowned, noticing right away.

"I'm an idiot."

"I'm not going to argue you that," Mel scowled, holding her hand tightly. "I thought you'd be smarter, knowing what it does to me..."

"I don't mind being punished for telling the truth... but I don't want to drag you with me– I never wanted that," Harry sentenced.

Ron and Hermione stared at the both of them without really understanding what they meant.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione, glancing between the two. "Please?"

Harry nodded quietly, Mel hid her hand in her pocket and shrugged.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Their friend continued, still shaking. "Erm... 'night."

Ron got up too, he turned to look at Harry. "Coming?"

"Yeah," He said, looking down at the shattered glass. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

"I'll help..." Mel murmured.

When it was just the two of them, Mel crossed her arms and stared pointedly at him.

"Well?" She raised a brow. "I'm tired of being the one cleaning up your messes."

"I never asked–" He looked up at her and sighed, tired of fighting. "Doesn't matter... Reparo!"

The essence was gone, and she groaned thinking of how it was up to her to get more. She also knew that Harry needed to tend his hand now if she wanted to have a good sleep, so before he could leave she added:

"Sit," Mel grabbed her wand. "I'm going to mend you."

"I don't need–"

"I'm doing this for me," She showed him the purple bruise of thin letters that were forming on her skin. "You're still trying to cut out the lifeline? It's not working."

"Like you're doing any better," He hissed when she 'accidentally' pressed his wound.

"I'm not the problematic one, am I?"

Harry remained silent.

"That's what I thought," She healed the open cuts gradually. "Unlike you, I know how to stay out of trouble and I don't get as injured..."

"Well, it's not you the one people's been attacking–"

"It's not you either," She replied sharply. "People talk about you, but you're the one picking fights. The only person being attacked here is Dumbledore and I don't see him yelling at the rest of the staff."

"I don't see him talking to anyone but you, so that must be why," He said hastily.

"That's not my fault," Mel let go of his hand, it wasn't bleeding or inflamed, which was impressive considering it was her first time healing someone.

There was something bitter about the fact that holding his hand wasn't bringing her any kind of sweet emotion like it used to. She would still feel waves of affection, but those were dying quicker as time went by, something inside her was successfully pushing him out of her system, and she was starting to get used to it.

"If you're so desperate to talk to him then why don't you visit his office?"

Harry gave her a sour look, and she let out a dry laugh.

"You do want him to ask, don't you? See if he cares?"

"I think I'll go to bed now," He stood up.

"Suit yourself," Mel shrugged. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I thought you had done it for yourself," He replied sarcastically.

"I still made you a favour by doing so," She said. "You know, if you'd show a bit of gratitude instead of ignoring everyone that offers you help, people would–"

"THANK YOU!" He said rudely, his back turned to her as he left the common room.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @sarcasticallywitty15

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 7

@badthingshappenbingo square “Public Humiliation” requested by: Anonymous 

(white dots are requested, red dots are filled. Request with an ask, specific story or character optional)

Wow. It’s been a minute or two, but I’m back from the land of schoolwork and stress! If you need to catch up or read previous parts, this story now has a masterlist!

Tag list (dm or ask to be added or removed, especially since it’s been so long): @whump-tr0pes​, @burtlederp​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​, @doitforthewhump​, @shameless-whumper​, @endless-whump​, @theycomeinthrees​

CW: creepy whumper, noncon (nonsexual) touching

“I-I didn’t, it wasn’t, my fault… it h-hurt and I-” 

“-need to learn how to cooperate through pain, you mean.” Percival cut him off and finished the sentence for him. “I know that’s hard for you, but following orders is of no use if you can’t do it whenever I need you to. So, dear, that’s what we’re going to work on right now.”

“Lucky for you and that lovely voice of yours, I’ve brought you some fresh water to drink before we go. Boiled from seawater of course, but made specially for you,” Percival said, head held high like he should be winning some kind of award for his supposed kindness.

He pulled Floyd’s head up from the table as far as he could and cradled it with one hand, holding a cup up to his lips with the other. His captive shrunk back, eyeing it warily, and he sighed.

“Obviously you’d never know if I put anything unsavory in this, but there’s no reason to refuse it. Not like you have a choice in the long run... I either force this down your throat, or you drink it and be grateful for my generosity.” he said, pushing the water back up. After a moment, Floyd opened his mouth to accept it.

After a moment of letting it settle in his mouth, he was relieved to see that Percival really hadn’t done anything to taint it. Or, if he had, it wasn’t something he could taste. He swallowed quickly, opening again and greedily gulping down the rest of the water. When another full cup came right after, Floyd downed it halfway before Percival took it away. He whined from the back of his throat, and the other man chuckled.

“There you go. And now you say…?” 

“...thank you.” It was still raspy and nearly inaudible, but the cup came back and he drank the rest of the water to the sound of gentle praise from his captor. 

It wasn’t nearly enough to satiate his thirst, but it was something to cling on to in hopes that he might earn more. Percival finally let him off the table after that, loosening straps to reveal reddened wrists. It was a small reprieve in the big scheme of things, but it was nice to be rid of some discomfort even for just a moment. He rolled to sit up, but sore muscles protested, the brunt of his efforts the past day just setting in. 

Percival stood above him with the leash once again in hand, clipping it onto the metal ring of his collar and tugging at it.

“Come on, up you go. In light of recent events, I’ve decided that you and I are going for a walk after all. Not a proper one, not yet, but I’m sure you’ve been itching to stretch your legs.”

Floyd sat up unsteadily, arms shaking when he used them to prop his upper body up. It got worse when he tried to roll on to the balls of his feet, nearly losing his balance multiple times before he was able to stand. He leaned carefully against the table as he stretched each limb, trying to alleviate some of the soreness from the previous night.

A harsh tug on the leash sent Floyd stumbling forward before he was ready, forced to either get his feet under him or fall face first to the floor. Percival strode forward faster than wobbling legs could carry him, and he limped uncomfortably just to avoid being choked. They managed to make it out to the hallway before he really started lagging behind.

“Benedict, sweetheart, what’s the matter? You do know I’m terribly busy, and if you keep walking so slowly I’m going to assume you don’t respect my time.” He laughed like it was funny, and Floyd cracked a bit at that. In his right mind he wouldn’t have fought back, but maybe if he could just defend himself for once...

“I-I can’t go faster-” he said, but Percival spoke right over him, not batting an eyelash at the protest.

“Oh, you poor boy. Fine, then. If you want to take your time that badly you’d better get on your knees.” He went rigid at that, dignity defensively taking the reins. “I told you to kneel, Benedict.”

A sharp yank down on his leash punctuated the biting words, choking and pulling him forward. Floyd’s knees buckled and hit the floor hard, pulling a gasp from him that he breathed out in a snarl.

“Now crawl,” Percival commanded, tugging so hard that the collar pressed into the back of his neck, but his captive still refused to move. Nails and knees scraped against the wooden floor as the leash won over his undernourished, exhausted body. When he realized it would only be more difficult to resist at this point, he hesitantly leaned into a step, and the sheer relief at the loosening tension only fueled him to take another.

“That’s it,” he praised, “my good little pyro, there you go Benedict.” And Floyd flushed a bright rose color at the patronizing encouragement, but his resilience had run thin. He shuffled slowly through the dust and grit on the floor, only speeding up at insistent tugs on the lead. 

In the hallway around him, a few crew members strode by, making casual conversation with Percival as if Floyd wasn’t even there. One in particular stared down at him and made a comment about, “how cute that new one is! How long do you think it’ll last?” And though he already thought he was going to hurl at hearing that--and he certainly would have, if he had anything in his stomach, at least--he felt the urge twice as strong when his captor just gave an ambiguous shrug and continued on.

When they finally exited the cabin, Floyd expected to see the darkness of night after he’d spent all day tied up and kneeling, and definitely had not gotten a full night’s sleep when he fell unconscious. So when the bright summer sun hit him at full force, he hissed and squinted his eyes shut against the assault on his senses. He brought hands up to shield his watering eyes, but the pull on his leash was back and he didn’t have time to stop himself before the sheer force tilted him off balance and he fell.

Floyd turned his head to the side at the last moment and his temple took the brunt of the impact, dull, rattling pain exploding into a burning ache as he sprawled out defenselessly on the splintering wood. He was quickly hauled forward and scrambled to get his limbs back under himself.

“Nonessential shifts dismissed from work!” Percival called out above him, “Be back at the next bell, or join me at the bow for a show, if you prefer.” The smile was evident in his voice, and Floyd could see the front of the ship quickly approaching through his teary, blurred vision. A small crowd of spectators gathered around, poking, prodding, and kicking at him as he crawled.

Throbbing knees carried him the last few feet to where Percival was waiting and directing other members of the crowd. The leash came off, but suddenly Floyd’s hands were taken from under him and wrenched above his head, and other arms pulled him forward to the bow. The wood stretched out in front of him above the sea, and tight grips looped his arms around it. Rough ropes cinched around his wrists and wrapped around metal loops, pulling him farther off the deck. 

When they reached for his ankles, he panicked. He flailed, shouting and seething as he realized what they were going to do to him. A swift backhand across the face stung, stunning him along with the subsequent punch to his midriff. He stopped kicking long enough for his ankles to be secured around the bar, effectively suspending him.

Floyd’s core was tight and sore as he tried to hold himself up and retain any dignity, but it was proving impossible. Gradually, under the amused watch of the pirates behind him, he sagged against uncomfortable bonds and stared down into the churning ocean waves below. 

That’s all that was here. It was him, the ocean, and his shoulders and thighs that were certainly about to be pulled from their sockets. He guided himself through a series of shuddering breaths to shut out the world for however long he could, closing his eyes, but flinching violently when a hand clamped around his calf.

“You still with me, Benedict?” Percival’s voice, rough and deep, cut through his concentration and Floyd elicited a startled gasp. Aches and pains returned tenfold without the unsteady haze, and raucous laughter of Percival’s crew returned to the forefront of his mind. 

The fact that so many people were watching him, half naked and vulnerable, already weak from torment, and surely about to suffer further, made him want the ropes to fall away and let him tumble into the hungry abyss of the sea.

“Come on, sweetheart; pay attention or you’ll never make it down from there.” he sang a chastising melody, and Floyd nodded, if only because of the blatant threat in his captor’s words.

“I- hhh, I’m listening,” he said, voice small and shallow. Breathing was difficult with the collar’s weight still around his neck, and speaking even more so.

“Ah, I’m glad,” Percival squeezed his leg in a false display of comfort. “Look in front of you at those ropes. You may not be able to see it from your fortunate position, but they’re suspending a bucket of seawater above you. Once you burn those ropes, you can come down. But until then you’ll be our little figurehead, won’t you?”

“I don’t- please, I can’t even use this, I don’t know how to do magic, or what I...I...” 

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have resisted when I tried to help kindle your flames earlier then, hm?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but it hurt and- I’m just sorry okay? I can- I can work harder, just please tell me what to do.” Deep breaths punctuated short phrases as Floyd spoke. Despite his shame at asking, he wasn’t going to get through this without help.

“Mmh, as intoxicating as your pleading is, Benedict, I do have a commitment to uphold. Just… think warm thoughts.” The smug satisfaction in his voice was infuriating, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Floyd set himself to the impossible task. The faster he could finish this, the sooner he could get out of this awful predicament. He focused inside himself, reaching for that vague feeling he had felt when Percival was searching for his magic earlier. When the other pirate did it, it felt like a violation. But now, he felt almost at ease with himself when he sensed the magic somewhere deep in his gut, coiled and docile. 

He reached for warmth and found it there, still just as it had been left. A twitch of his fingers brought it to life, and he focused hard on spreading it through his body.

A sudden pain slashed through his thigh and he cried out in agony, wailing against the stinging sensation of a knife’s cut. Fingers smoothed over the wound and he wanted to scream when Percival spoke.

“Oh, look at you figuring it out! There’s definitely a bit of fire running through those veins yet…”

Floyd set his jaw and tried to get back into that introspective headspace, but it seemed like every time he grabbed hold of his power, another cut would slice through his skin. Different hands every time, pressing deep, heavy wounds into his back or long, shallow ones across the backs of his thighs. A few buried themselves into the soles of his feet, wrenching howls from deep within him. Laughter from the gathered crowd reminded him constantly of his audience, all lusting after his blood.

“You know, the longer you take to finish, the more cuts you’ll have open for that water to dribble into. Just thought you might like the reminder,” Percival commented after a while. He was dehydrated, and delirious from blood loss and lack of sleep combined. Every aching joint and muscle was telling him to just pass out and avoid the suffering, but every subsequent cut jerked him awake with further discomfort and unwanted awareness.

Magic flowed within him like the tide, rushing in and flowing right back out until finally he held a firm grasp on it. His skin was slick with sweat, the water his body didn’t have beading on his forehead and arms, and driven to burning temperature by the sun alone, but he still felt the sparks when they erupted from his fingers. Knives struck against his skin, but Floyd buried deep into his focus and opened his eyes.

In front of him, the rope holding the water held tight against the bow, but it was tense. Going off of instinct alone, he gestured lightly with his restricted hands and stared a hole into the pole where the rope looped around. Sparks burned brighter and hotter against his skin and, in a blink, the rope had caught fire. It was much higher up than he intended, but Floyd felt a tiny pang of joy at actually having managed it. He held the fire as steady as he could, channeling more power into it so it would burn faster and finally get this over with.

It was only after the fire spread across the entire rope, nearly catching on the bow, and one point finally broke that he remembered what awaited him when it finally burned through.

He heard the bucket flip above him, felt the splash of water, and it was fine, and clean, and cool against steaming skin. 

But then it was acid.

He felt every individual cut as it lit up and he arched his back against the sensation of sizzling and searing pain. And he wailed, drawn out and desperate, tears spilling and breath hitching, only making him cry out harder. The ropes around him slid back, loosening and hands were pulling him back onto the deck, but the moment he felt wood under his feet he collapsed against it. 

He keened when Percival knelt down and used his bleeding back as a support, and choked it into a whine when emotion tightened his throat. He’d never felt so weak and disgusting in his life. He was crying and sniveling on the ground, not even able to kneel or cower away as the stifling heat of the crew crowded around him, watching him devolve and break.

“...so proud of you, Benedict,” Percival’s soft laughter was low in his ear, fingers pressing over his back and into his hair. One looped around the collar and pulled it back until he raised his head to make eye contact. “You’re gonna make such a good mage for me, aren’t you? Just for me, that’s right…”

Somewhere just beneath the surface Floyd desperately wanted to shake his head no, no, please no... but he settled for dry heaving onto the floor next to him before blacking out.

Next part

[clinioelerrante]

A girly chat

Summary:

Ginny and Hermione meet casually in the school halls after curfew. The situation is getting more complicated and. . . some things must be said, once and for all.

The copyrights of the characters belong to their creator J. K. Rowling.

 A girly chat

If the renowned Hogwarts School of Magic and Sorcery has a thousand years of tradition, there is possibly another tradition that is even older than Hogwarts. In fact, it is probably as old as it was when the first boarding school that took in teenagers of both sexes for almost a whole year was set up.

 Into the shadows, Ginny Weasley carefully scrutinized the last stretch of corridors to the staircase that finally led to the Gryffindor common room. A couple of hours ago the curfew had come into effect and now her only concern was to be able to reach the safety of the common room before some particularly fussy prefect, or worse, a teacher, discovered her returning late to her tower.

 She had split up with her boyfriend Dean a while ago after a not too satisfying snogging session and her mood was particularly irritable.

 Lately, things between the two of them haven't been working out as they should for a couple of girl and boyfriend. She was aware that there was an imbalance in the relationship. She liked Dean, that was indisputable and she would never have agreed to have a relationship if there was even the slightest interest on her part.

 It was one thing to have a very satisfying intense and passionate snogging session in the heat of the moment and quite another to maintain a relationship with another person with nothing more than the purely physical. Not that she was against it. In fact, some of her classmates had that kind of relationship, “a term flirt", they called it. The kind that start a few weeks into the school year and end up back home for the summer holidays with some of the Hogwarts Express carriage suspiciously isolated from the rest with silencing spells, door locks and a few imperturbable ones too. It was simply that this type of relationship was not for her and the point was as time passed, the relationship with Dean seemed to slide dangerously towards that way.

 She was fully aware that Dean was the one most emotionally involved in that relationship. In fact, Ginny was beginning to suspect that Dean was genuinely falling in love with her, and while it was true that she was attracted to the bloke, it was even more true that she was nowhere near as attracted to him same way.

 To make matters worse, Dean was developing a somewhat overprotective feelings about her and, without intending to, was overwhelming her with all his solicitous displays of attention. She knew that he didn't mean to do it on purpose, but for a country girl who had to deal with six older brothers, two of whom were the biggest and most terrible pranksters in the history of the school, another who had the dubious honour of being the biggest blind stubborn who ever walked the face of the earth, one leading member of Dumbledore’s army, one sneaky fighter in the mystery department and owner of the most terrifying bat-bogey hex known, all those attentions were, to put it mildly, a pain in the ass.

 To add to all this the growing, even at the end of February, level of anxiety that every fifth year student experiences as the dates for the OLWs tests approach, the initial appreciation that Ginny's mood was particularly irritable tends to fall short and, if by the hands of the devil, we add as the last ingredient to the potion the Weasley name and its legendary explosive temperament, it is not necessary to have an NEWT  in potions to discover that we are faced with the perfect elaboration of the “Weasley Wrath” potion trademark and, only a fool, a suicidal, a desperate person or someone absolutely unaware of the delicate boil that was cooking in the small body of the redhead, would think of taking it out of the pot.

 Ginny Weasley wasn't the only one wandering the halls at that hour. Also on the way to the common room, Hermione Granger was returning from one of her lonely prefect patrols. For months now, she had avoided patrolling with the other prefect of Gryffindor, so she simply left the common room early and made an erratic patrol of the castle in a desperate attempt not to find him in her path. If she had met him or anyone else, they would have immediately noticed her swollen eyelids, her red eyes and the soft sob that escaped from her mouth. Normally she would try to hide these already constant features on her face through some make-up, glamorous charms, impeccable uniformity and an apparent indifference to what was going on around her, but today she was too hurt, despondent and tired to realize her real look.

 Having spent more than half of her shift in a secluded corner blowing off steam in her crying, all she wanted was to reach the quiet of her bed, cast an imperturbable spell and keep crying until the tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep.

 It had been months since Ronald Weasley had started dating Lavender Brown and contrary to what might have been expected, the pain of heartbreak had not diminished one iota, quite the contrary. As the weeks passed, it was manifesting itself in all its majestic and vileness.

 It was simply agony!

 Her daily routine had become an unconscious attempt to avoid him for any means. Waking up even earlier, skipping meals, going to classroom for unusual routes, prolonging her library study hours beyond what was customary there to her. . . every conceivable means had been used by her to avoid him, but it had not been enough. Somehow, as always with Ron, it was never enough.

 She couldn't avoid him completely, whether it was in classroom, in the common room, at her frugal meals or even in the library, where he would go when he had no choice but to complete his schoolwork and even though she tried so hard not to notice him when he was in those risk areas, it was so unlikely that she thought the expression “ignoring the elephant in the room” was an understatement and should be replaced for “ignoring the Ronald in the room”, because a redheaded lighthouse more than six feet high was frankly impressive and even harder to avoid.

 To her greatest misery, where her brain was plotting escapes, her treacherous heart longed to see the one responsible for her misery and more than once she surprised herself looking for in the direction she knew the insufferable redhead was. The problem was that usually the image her hungry eyes encountered was not that of a lonely, bucolic Ron pining for her, but of a nasty Ronald Bilius Weasley who seemed to have attached with a permanent Sticking Charm to Lavender Brown's mouth.

 Those were the worst times for Hermione, except for the nights when these images of constant kissing were repeated incessantly and while part of she was disgusted and nauseous at such sexual display, it was no less true that another part of she, most of she to be honest, desperately wanted to tear Lavender from her face and transfigure her into a couch on which to throw Ron so that she could measure his tonsils with her own tongue. That was the moment when the tears came to his eyes uncontrollably and the need to take refuge somewhere isolated arose.

 So, the lonely prefect rounds were in a way a blessing and a curse.

 Blessing because she was allowed to hide in any of the school's classrooms where she could vent her tears sometimes, sometimes with a brief burst of anger. Curse, because in the lonely rooms of the castle, that was when her brain was at its most tortured and that night, the memories had been particularly painful.

 Without pretending to rejoice in her grief, she had gone back in time, remembering the happy moments with Ron, especially after the incident, saved by the skin of her teeth, from the Mystery Department. Even before, she had felt that something was changing in their relationship as friends, as for example, when she discovered that Ron had given her a bottle of perfume, but it had never been so evident until after the disastrous raid that had taken Sirius ´life.

 The point was that ever since she woke up with the ugly scar on her chest, she shuddered at the memory, Ron had been with her all the time, comforting her and even, in a moment of weakness she had, making her feel that the imprint had not diminished in any way how beautiful she might look to a man. Quite the opposite. It was proof that she was a brave woman willing to face any manifestation of injustice and evil and if any man was not able to see it, then he would not be worthy of her love.

 “If I knew a woman who was willing to fight like that for me. . .“, he had started with a dreamy look, “...I'd be in love with her forever and someday I'd make her my wife“. Causing her to fall on his own arse if she hadn't been lying on one of the beds in the school infirmary wing, at the same time that she becomes a puddle of drool.

 She had barely been able to stop herself from grabbing his shirt, drawing him in front of her and facing his eyes, telling him:

 There's one who's been fighting for you since the bloody second year and you still haven't noticed, you stupid idiot! and then kissed him like there's no tomorrow.

 Instead, she'd babbled something unintelligible, burst into moan, and then she'd taken refuge in his chest and burst into tears.

 Great, Hermione! She thought as she banged her head repeatedly against the nearest wall. You had your chance on a silver platter and you chose that moment to show yourself as a weak, crying damsel. You are mum Myrtle pride.

 Previous times, during the summer, she had gone to The Burrow like so many others and had to admit that there had been a change in Ron's behaviour. Somehow, he seemed to be more solicitous of her without that meaning the end of his usual discussions. It simply seemed as if it was easier for them to be together without provoking each other for trivial matters, at least until “Fleeeerg" with her stunning beauty and “teggific" accent, made her presence felt in the vicinity, at which point Ron seemed to be slightly dazed and in spite of everything, she had to admit that this daze lasted for only a moment before he pulled himself together. Sometimes Hermione helped him with a particularly hard and cruel slap, on the other hand very satisfying for her, on the back of his neck.  Anyway, his reactions to Fleur's presence weren’t more that a brief stunned. Just the opposite to the pitiful sight of the fourth year.

 In short, his behaviour in the hospital wing, The Burrow and the first months of the term at Hogwarts did not bode well for what was to come. In fact, she thought they were taking steps in the right direction until after she invited him to Professor Slughorn's party and perhaps that was the final reason she felt so broken. She had been brushing against happiness with her fingertips so close that she could almost feel it and suddenly found herself touching. . . nothingness.

 Thus she was immersed in her own reflections and returning to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor Tower when she seemed to perceive the movement of a shadow lurking in the darkness of the corridors.

 Surely if she had been sufficiently rested and clear-minded her reaction could have been better, but for someone who is personally, emotionally exhausted, and with Hermione Granger's history of unpleasant encounters, this was perfectly understandable:

 “IMPEDIMENTA!”

 It had been like suddenly hitting an invisible wall. Convinced that the path between her hiding place and the stairs leading to her target was free of obstacles, she had launched herself into a swift race towards the stairs and, at a stroke, bounced back.

 If the initial impact had been brutal, falling to the cold, hard floor of the school in an uncontrolled manner had not been a piece of cake either, but if she had learned anything from her recent fight it was that pain could wait. Because in the time it takes to complain about the wounds, a spell with very, very bad intentions can go after you and that is definitely much worse than the pain itself. So as soon as she had finished bouncing around on the floor of the corridor, she threw herself to the side as she wielded her wand to confront her assailant and found herself facing another wand, behind which were astounded and very familiar brown eyes.

 “Her. . . Hermione?”

 “Ginny?”

 They were both so bewildered that they forgot to lower their respective wands, which continued to point at each other like a mournful omen, until the prefect of Gryffindor surrendered hers while offering her other hand to help the friend with the sore arse.

 “For God's sake, Ginny”, she scolded her as he helped her up. “You scared me to death. What are you supposed to be doing at this hour outside your bedroom lurking in the school halls?” She finished.

  “Oh! I don't know”, accepting help meanwhile she rubbed her bruised arse with her other hand and giving her friend an unfriendly look, the redhead's response was not long in coming. “Maybe wait until a hot wand witch was encouraged to use me as a target for her shooting practice”, she said sarcastically.

 “You know that's not what I'm asking you, Ginny”. Hermione ignored the little voice at the back of her head which told her to answer with the same irony, an instinctive reflex, and the fruit of the continuous and biting training that she practiced daily with the youngest of Ginny’s brothers.

 That was before, she corrected herself. We are even talking to each other anymore, she told herself and after all, Ginny was her best friend. The one who had been supporting her in her worst moments making imaginative descriptions of her stupid brother to try and cheer her up.

  “Okay, okay. I've been spending some time with Dean”, she explained as she dusted off his uniform. “Far from prying eyes, Hermione. Is that good enough for you, or would you prefer me to give you more details about our business?” She ended up with a smile that had nothing innocent about it.

 “Save me the nauseating details please, I have just finished my dinner and I would like to keep it inside my stomach, thank you very much.”

 A nasty expression was drawn on her face and the youngest Weasley didn't know for sure if it was more fake than real. What if it was completely real is, that it was the most blatant lie Hermione Granger had ever told her.

 “Hermione”. She paused for a brief moment thinking of how to approach the subject. “I didn't actually see you in the big dining room during dinner so, I'm wondering if you had anything to eat?”

  “Well. . . er. . . me. Yes”. . . She stuttered. “I was actually late while completing my homework, so when I realized this, I spent a moment in the kitchens while making my rounds.”

 “Hermione. . .”

 “Giiiinny?”

 All right, the gentle approach didn't seem to yield the desired result, so it was time to tighten the screws a bit. Ginny had a genuine concern about Hermione's health. She was aware of how little she ate and of the use of glamorous charms on herself. Not for nothing, she had been her only real friend and confidant.

 “Hermione, don't try to hide it”, her voice took on a tone of harshness necessary to provoke her friend reaction. Hermione tended to ignore all the negative things said about her and the requirements that displeased her. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt, like when Draco Malfoy constantly insulted her, but making a habit of it, she tended not to give it much of her attention at the moment.

 “It's because of my arse of a brother, isn't it?”

 The prefect's expression of pain and the sinking of her shoulders confessed exactly what Ginny had suspected.

 “Hermione, this has to stop now”, she continued, looking into her eyes. “He is a perfect prat, we know it but, look at yourself. Your eyes look like they've fallen victim to the conjunctivitis curse and you’ve been crying so much that even the tiny amount of makeup you do wear got smeared’. You don't eat. You don't rest. I doubt you're even getting enough sleep. You can't keep hiding it with glamour charms. You have to talk to him.”

 “I don't have anything to talk to that. . . that. . . lubricious dog”, Hermione said, her body went rigid at the mere suggestion of talking to Ron. Under no circumstances would she stoop to talking to him.

 “Hermione…” Ginny was patient enough to confront her friend. Sometimes she was surprised at how damned stubborn she could be and how much she and Ron were alike in that. “Right now you're being miserable and stupid too. Yes; stupid. Don't look at me like that”, she defended herself when the brunette frowned at her. “Think about it. Since you stopped talking to him, you don't have him like your couple or like your best friend anymore.

 This does not mean that you have stopped nursing a broken heart, or that have you forgotten him. You’ve closed off any chance you might have had from making him realise he’s a right tool for dating Lavender because he can’t already to notice how extraordinary you are. How's he going to notice if you aren’t anywhere near him?

 Ginny knew it was her turn to tell a big lie. Ron already knew how extraordinary Hermione was. During the summer holidays of the fourth year, Voldemort's return had been a constant topic in family conversations, but the other big topic had been Ron's monologues explaining how damned cool Hermione was and that a certain Bulgarian “pumpkin head” didn't deserve her at all. They used to end with the twins placed one on each side of a red Ronald in rage, while imitating a pair of languid-looking violinists, playing a romantic tune.

 “Don't go down that road, Ginevra. As far as I'm concerned, your brother has ceased to exist. I'm not going to let him keep hurting me one way or another”, Hermione interrupted her as she proudly raised her chin and passed a sleeve of his school sweater over her face to clean it. “He was the one who started treating me like dragon dung after I invited him to the Slughorns party and I don't even know why. I can't remember anything I could have offended him about and I don't care anymore. As far as I'm concerned, he can take Lavender and do whatever he likes with her.”

 Ginny could hear the tremor in Hermione's voice when she made her last statement, but she couldn't tell her that not for a moment had she managed to fool her with that bombastic claim that she didn't care at all what Ron and Lavender did together, because a feeling drowned out her own voice. A feeling called. . . remorse.

 “In fact. . .” Her words escaped in a whisper from between her lips as her gaze rested on her own shoes.

 Hermione stopped her walk when she saw Ginny to stop. Even through the veil of tears that covered her eyes, she could sense that something was wrong with Ginny.

 “Ginny, what. . . ?”

 “In fact”, She took every ounce of courage to lift her eyes off the ground to face her friend's, knowing that what was coming now would have frightening, unknown, and possibly disastrous consequences. “I think you should know that not Ron’s entire fault.”

 For months, Ginny had been carrying guilt about what happened between Hermione and her brother. She knew that Ron had processed in the worst possible way the information that she had let slip. No doubt her passionate brother was ultimately responsible for the entire aftermath, yes, but there was no denying that her indiscretion had been the trigger for everything that had happened afterwards.

 “Ginny. What do you mean?” Something shook in Hermione's gut. Something dark and slimy, like a premonition that something terrible was coming, something that made her afraid to know the answer.

 “Hermione… you see… a few months ago Harry surprised me when I was snogging Dean behind a tapestry.”

 “Well”. For a moment she hoped that that awful feeling of apprehension was just her imagination. “I don't think Harry liked that very much and I understand that you felt uncomfortable, but I don't understand how. . .” but when she saw Ginny Wesley’s serious face, that hope vanished like sea foam.

 “Ron was with him.”

 A freezing cold ran down Hermione Granger's spine, making her wince while her heart seemed to have missed a beat.

 “Wh-what else happened, Ginny?”

  “Ron… well, you know how overprotective he is… he burst into a speech about my reputation, what everyone would think of me, and practically called me a scarlet slut”. Ginny blushed furiously as she remembered the whole incident. “I finally told him there was nothing wrong with it. I made fun of him that he wished Fleur would kiss his cheek and that his best kiss had come from Aunt Muriel”. Her voice seemed to raise an octave at a time as she was telling it, as if the memory were recreating the anger she felt against her meddlesome brother at that moment. “That everyone was doing it and enjoying it except him. I teased him and told him, if he kissed Pigwidgeon, Harry kissed Cho, and you. . .” Ginny was interrupted at that moment when she realized the look full of pain and betrayal that Hermione was giving her with all her intensity.

 “Say it, Ginevra Weasley”. An acidic poison filtered through her words as she waited for the statement that would confirm what her heart already knew.

 “You kissed Viktor”, she finished, in a whisper.

 And there it all was. Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as her tiny body shook with rage. The ultimate reason for her broken heart and her pain, for her frustration and her bitterness, for the caresses and kisses that were denied her and given to another, for the worst months of her live in short, was finally before her.

 Feeling the bile rise in her throat she began to turn around to run to a toilet where she could vomit when she felt her elbow being caught as she listened:

 “Hermione, I. . . I'm sorry.”

 That was already more than he could bear.

 “Are you sorry? You, who call yourself my best friend, do you feel sorry?” For months she had been containing all her feelings of pain, resentment and hate under a seemingly flawless facade, but Ginny's confession had caused a rift and all that steam that had now found a weak spot was uncontainable. “And what exactly are you sorry for, Ginny? Are you sorry you didn't tell me so I could have tried to fix it at the time? Or are you sorry you to stole my hope and my chance for happiness? Or maybe are you sorry you didn't keep Dean's tongue inside your big mouth and avoid destroying everything”, she said as he trembled with anger and pain, feeling the magic crackling between her fingers, asking for permission to claim her wand and curse the redheaded traitor.

 “You knew how I felt about your brother”, her face reddened with pure fury, as her eyes filled with the tears of broken hope. “You knew I was afraid of how Ron would react if he found out about Viktor. I begged you, I pleaded with you to keep it a secret“, her voice began to break. “I supported, comforted and suggest you when you were a nervous wreck with Harry. I defended you so that your brothers would not leave you behind and take you out of danger like a weak little girl unable to defend herself. I put my heart in your hands and my trust in your silence and you… you betrayed it all because you couldn't control your temper when they stopped you having a goddamn shag with your boyfriend?”

 Okay. Hermione had overstepped the mark. Ginny wasn't a Weasley for nothing. She understood that she was broken by the pain, but it was also true that she needed to learn something and, by Merlin! She was going to learn it! Even if it meant casting a full-body binding spell on her! The pain and remorse for the involuntary betrayal of her friend was not the only thing on Ginny Wesley’s conscience. There was also something else, and it was time to bring it out into the open.

 “It was your fault that you and Ron never got anywhere too, Granger! I'm sorry, but that was”. Hermione felt as if the previous insult had been added to a slap. Not only was the charge harsh, but Ginny had used her last name, something that only happened when she was particularly angry. She wanted to answer, but she didn't have time to reply before the temperamental redhead started talking again without taking her eyes off the stunned prefect.

 “Do you ever really wonder why he's with Lavender and not with you? Have you ever really tried to put yourself in his shoes to understand what he saw in her or what she offered him and that you never gave him?”

 Hermione felt again the taste of bile rise in her throat and only the anger that burned inside her like hellfire prevented her from vomiting right there.

 “Sex! That hooker is shagging him. . .” escaped between her teeth in a hiss so low and so loaded with hate and contempt that it seemed pure poison.

  “For Merlin’s beard!” Hermione was surprised to find Ginny who rolled her eyes in obvious disbelief. “Do you really think Ron's with her because they're fucking like rabbits, Hermione? Merlin! I knew Ron was a tough cookie, but I think you could give him a run for his”. Her eyes fell back on the increasingly stupefied, frizzy-haired witch.

 “And, when were they supposed to start ‘copulating’, Hermione?”Ginny made an obscene gesture with both hands and a finger. “He was stuck with you from the time the course started until the day you decided to stop talking to him. You shared classes; you shared patrols around the school. He had the quidditch training sessions. When he was in the common room he was joking or slaughtering Harry at chess and when it was neither of those things, he was with you in the library begging you to help him with his homework. So unless he has a time-turner or is sneaking out at night, can you tell me what time of day he takes to sneak out and to shagging Lavender into the wall?” Ginny thought her explanation had made the point, but as she watched the brunette's frown grow into a gesture of intense concentration she could not help but be horrified.

 “I can't believe it!” She raised her arms to the incredulous sky. “You're really considering what I said? Well, I have to tell you something, genius! Two people are needed for that activity. Did you ever see Lavender mysteriously disappear before all this mess and, come back dishevelled, with hickeys or looking appropriately fucked?”

 Ginny was reassured to see the light of sanity in Hermione's eyes again, but this was quickly replaced with a deep sadness that obscured her gaze.

 “So, if it wasn't the sex, I don't know what you mean, Ginny. I understand what he sees in her. Lavender is everything I'm not physically, but I've been her friend since first year. I thought he would appreciate that much more.”

 Ginny's disbelief in Hermione's blindness was reaching cosmic proportions.

 “Exactly! That's what he sees. To a woman who offers him the attention of a friend and sometimes less than that. He has never seen from you any attention or, Merlin, not so much as a compliment’ that reflects more than friendship for him, Hermione!” she spat  while the other girl seemed to look like a victim of a stunning spell, but Ginny pressed on, determined not to give Hermione any chance to replicate.

 “You never told him he was worth it! A mention at the end of the third year after Sirius broke his leg, and little else! Never as quidditch player. Damn it! You didn't even see him in his victory last year, when he was the star of the game without being, for once, under Harry's shadow, grounded by the disgusting toad. No. You left with Hagrid. You ignored him again. He understands you putting him behind Harry, but Hagrid? For Merlin’s sake, Hermione”, the temperamental redhead put her hands on her hips, meanwhile she went back to her bewildered friend again. “You've seen his performance in DA. He's the best duellist after Harry. He only fails when he's confronted with you. The poor jerk is not even able to hold his wand properly when he has your image in front of him. . .” a mischievous smile slips on Ginny's face for the first time. . . “in your presence, at least.”

 Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide as a furious blush covered her cheeks at the prying comment of the meddling sister, and her heart seemed to go crazy in her chest when she wonders what she meant and one, not at all honest, image of Ron “wand in hand” seems to venture into her mind, causing a shudder in her belly.

 But before she can revel in it, the truce given by the youngest of the Weasleys concludes.

 “Did you ever tell him he was a good wizard? No; not like a friend, not like a partner, but a WIZARD. Did you ever really fight for him?”

 Ginny was sorry. It really pained her to yell at her best friend that way, especially when she saw Hermione’s face in pain. It was one thing to launch an offense of the moment and quite another to proceed with a full-blown assault, but it was too late. A dam had been broken and the torrent was already uncontrollable, moreover. Some things needed to be said and done, no matter how much they might hurt and perhaps make them look.

 “Lavender did it! She noticed a wizard she liked, she found him funny, she found him fanciable, handsome, worthy of being shown off as her boyfriend and who knows what else in my dumb brother, and she showed her! That's why you lost him. Because you drowned in your own insecurity and fed his! And it won't be because you didn't have more than one warning!” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her know-it-all friend.

 “Do you really think that Padma Patil, proud Ravenclaw and one of the most beautiful girls in the whole school, didn't have other suitors for the Yule Ball? Or... Are you seriously going to argue that you didn’t notice how Luna was staring at him all of last year?

 It was as if Hermione had been hit with a stinging spell. Of course! She had noticed the sustained glances the grey-eyed blonde had given Ron and the conversations she seemed to be looking for when the meeting was over. Although compared to what she felt against Lavender it was a trifle, that time was definitely when she felt the green-eyed monster establish a permanent camp in his heart.

 “You can be thankful that he's completely clueless, or he could’ve ended up giving his heart to someone a long time ago”, she said with a suggestive eyebrow.

 “But no. You decided to stay in no-man-land, with no initiative, ignoring warnings. Perhaps thinking… no, hoping… that no one else would notice him. Obviously, he won't have a second look from Madame Rosmerta right now and you might even find it comical to remember the Yule Ball incident with Fleur, but if you took a moment to reflect on who Fleeeeeerg's fiancé is, you might find out what another Weasley looks like”, she said with an eyebrow raised again as one of the corners of his mouth seemed to rise in a mocking smile. “Maybe if she hadn't met Bill and Ron had gotten a couple more years to grow up. . . Well, Gabrielle is a Delacour too, is veela too and she's pretty cute, don't you think?” Ginny's smile looked awfully similar to George and Fred's when they were preparing some of their shenanigans against Ron. “Really I don't know, though. After all, my brother seems to have a thing for women “older..." with her fingers, she simulated the quotation marks“...that him.”

 If Hermione's brain seemed to have been blocked with the information overload, her heart, which had seen all the signs! It seemed to have been used as the model in one of Professor McGonagall's classes and transformed into an angry hummingbird that buzzed in her chest protesting that it'd been silenced for so long and shouting I told you so!

  “Maybe, deep down, you're still seeing the eleven-year-old boy you met on the train”, Hermione’s shoulders sank in resignation, “and you didn't realize that boy is long gone! Someone's here! Someone claimed him as her own! And now, you're learning the lesson he learned in fourth year: that one day someone could come along and take him away from you...  FOREVER.”

 That had been overwhelming. Hermione felt as if she had been caught in an avalanche and it was dragging her helplessly down the mountain, unable to resist its uncontrollable power.

 “B. . . Bu...” she stuttered as she tried to pull herself together. “But I… I gave him clues. I invited him to Professor Slughorn's party; I kis... kissed him before the game. . .”

 “On the cheek, damn it!” Ginny blew up, interrupting her. “Like if he was just a brother or a baby boy!”

 “He hasn’t ever implied that he has any other interest in me”, her voice fell in a whisper that did not even seem to have the strength to convince herself. “H... He called me a nightmare once.”

 “Merlin’s beard, Hermione! He was an eleven-year-old boy who was overwhelmed by a girl who had read and memorized all the books of the first year before starting school and who in her first class of spells, casted a perfect spell on her first attempt when she didn't even know she was a witch until three months before.”

 “Is that it, then?” If there was a daze before, it was now as if she were in the presence of a boggart facing her worst fears. “He thinks he must be with a pureblood because I am a freak who should have been a pitiful witch for being mugg-muggleborn and...” Her thoughts died on her lips when she suddenly found herself at the other side of Ginny's wand.

 “Don't even complete that sentence, Granger,” Ginny's face had become so red that it was practically purple. “Don't even think about completing it”, she hissed. “Ron may be too blind to see what's right in front of his eyes, but I won't have you insulting my brother like that”. Her voice is practically vibrating with wrath. “You didn't see him completely devastated at your bedside after the raid on the mystery department, nor when he came, every night! To watch over you when the basilisk petrified you, back in your second year!”, Hermione's eyes open wide as a moan escapes her chest at the revelation, but the redhead is not finished with her.

 “Did you know he confronted McGonagall and Mrs Pomfrey when they wanted to force him to stop visiting you? That he fought a giant spider for you? Don't you remember when he spent an afternoon throwing up slugs for you? Yeah. He may be a more of an oblivious prat than anyone else I know, but his heart has always been in the right place. Maybe the problem is that there's more than oblivious prat round here.”

 “You always told him that Krum was just a friend, but you never told him that you did NOT love Viktor and you didn't know or didn't want, to caught him between the rock and the wand and ask him: Why are you jealous? and force him to confess. With all the stupid fights you have all the time! The most important was the one you didn't provoke it, when you know, Ron works best with a direct approach and is very insecure under the shadow of his brothers, but there are more so”.

 “Your pride got the better of you and you never told him you were Krum's Yule’s Ball partner. If you had told him, he might have had more time to deal with it. But  you didn’t. Without wanting to, you rubbed it in his face and you never stopped to think that when he saw you on Krum’s arm, before the jealousy, he must have felt that you didn’t trust him.”

 “You didn't realize, I'll give you that”, she raised her hand before Hermione can even hear the whole sentence, “you were always comparing him to Harry. . . Harry, the handsome one. . . Harry, who grew up so much last summer. . . Harry, with his manly scars. . . Harry, the bloke... Harry, the fanciable one. . . Harry, the great teacher. . . Harry, who kissed Cho “in a more than satisfactory way. . . Harry, who you never accused of being an insensitive wart or of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. . . even though Harry is as blind and made the same mistakes, if not bigger, about girls, as Ron”, the redhead's voice broke for one moment.

 “Yes. You invited him to Professor Horace's party, but do you remember how you did it? You didn't tell him that you want to go with him, but, that guests were allowed to bring companions and that you had planned to invite him. How do you think that sounded to him? Perhaps, like an act of mercy towards the mediocre friend of The Chosen One and The most brilliant witch of her generation, The Slug Club’s honour guests?” Ginny questioned Hermione with a look. “You told me how excited you were to have quality time with him at Grimmauld Place before Harry came, remember? You told me and only because I had you over a barrel, but did you ever tell him? How happy you were to be able to share some quality time, you with him? Have you realized that he always invited you to our home, but you never invited him to yours?”

 “And finally”, Ginny's pupils were so high that it looked like her eyes were going to roll back on themselves, “the icing on the cake. Instead of telling him he wouldn't have needed the Felix potion, because you were sure he would be able to play an extraordinary game on his own, you attacked him for using it. A perfect continuation of what happened in the summer before fifth year. Who was elected prefect, Hermione? It was Harry, wasn't it?”

 Hermione felt as if a stone had been tied to her feet and thrown into the coldest dungeon. Ginny had laid out the facts in a cold, one-on-one manner, as if she were a court prosecutor giving her an overview she had never acknowledged before. But of all that, what hurt her most, it was the mention of Ron's prefecture. She would have been happy to give up her soul in order to correct that terrible mistake and, even then, the implacable redhead did not seem to have finished with her.

 “And you can still be thankful he doesn't know what you did with McLaggen in the keeper trials”. As soon as she heard her, she was no longer hopelessly abandoned in a dirty dungeon, but her hands were tied behind her back, a bag was placed over her head and she was thrown into the sea as she sank irretrievably into an abyss that did not allow her to breathe. “Harry just used a mind trick on him. He made him to think he was invincible because Harry had cheated, but. . . YOU DID IT! Can you imagine what it'd do to his self-esteem if he found out about that? That would make him see that you see him as useless. Like a snotty baby who needs to be helped to walk, unable to do anything good by himself. . .”

 “IT'S A ROTTEN LIE!” The burst of the heartbreaking scream gave way to uncontrollable crying. The grief that had gradually set in Hermione's chest could no longer be contained and she could no longer bear it. “It has never been like that”, a whiny whisper escaped her lips before she put her hands over her face and felt herself falling to her knees on the cold stone.

 “It's never been like this.” If seeing Ron with Lavender had been like having her heart ripped out of her chest, Ginny had ripped her soul out like a dementor leaving her hollow, empty inside. In the last remnants of her sanity she wondered if all the Weasley siblings had the gift of cruelty.

 “He's extraordinary”. She sobbed. “He doesn't realize it, but he is and that frustrates me so much”, she confessed. “He doesn't realize it, but I see it. I've been watching it ever since I saw that long and gawky redheaded guy with dirt on his nose. He was adorable when he tried to do magic with Pettigrew trying to turn him yellow. Why do you think it hurt me so much to be called a nightmare, when I had been called worse things in my old muggle school?”

 Now the surprise had changed sides and it was the redheaded Weasley who was left with her eyes wide open as she felt the longing in her friend's voice.

 “Because it was him who told me!” She almost screamed, raising her face to the sky to confront her inquisitor. “I wouldn't have cared if the insult came from anyone else! I was already ignoring the “know-it-all”, “cactus-head” and “beaver-toothed” comments that some were giving me, but I didn't care about him. I wanted to be his friend. His friend! That's why I was willing to lie to McGonagall!”

 The crying had finally stopped and as she focused her inflamed, red eyes on her best friend, they began to glow with the passion behind them.

 “Do you really think I don't see the kind of extraordinary wizard. . .? NO!”  She interrupted herself and there was real pride in her voice now.

  “Not because he's wizard! It would be exactly the same if he were muggle. Do you think I don't see the kind of extraordinary MAN he's meant to be as long as he has a little more confidence in himself?” She had raised her chin now when pride in her best friend had surged over her chest threatening to pop the buttons on her shirt while, the vocal inflection she imprinted when she referred to him as man made a chill run down Ginny's back from the back of her neck to where her back loses its honest name.

 No. That was not desire only. It was much more! It was a wild wish. Primary and possessive like the predator that stalks its prey. Ginny had no doubt that if at that moment her carefree brother had turned up there; despite her anger, despite her spite, Hermione would have cornered him against the wall and ridden him like a wild beast marking him as her own forever, and yet the temperamental redhead grasped something else. Underneath that entire wish, there was something else. Something she knew but had never understood in its fair measure until then.

 Love.

 A love so immeasurable and desperate that it could consume all the lives that Hermione Jean Granger could live.

 “Do you think I haven't seen how loyal he is? Do you think I don't see the gratitude he professes for Harry since he chose him over Malfoy before he was classified?” Hermione had lost all inhibition and stood proudly on the ground. She had been accused without knowing the fullness of her feelings for Ron. Good. So be it. In return, she would bare her soul and burn everyone who saw it with the burning radiance of her love for him.

 “Ronald would be able to go down to hell with one arm tied behind his back if Harry asked him to. Yes, that's right. I didn't know about the acromantula affair or his confrontation with the teachers, but knowing that doesn't change what I feel, because that's not the fear that nests in my heart. No”, she said as she nodded her head. “My terror is not to know what or how many more times he's done it. I saw him standing front of Sirius, battered, bleeding, with a broken leg,... no wand and willing to be an insurmountable wall between Harry and me. Willing to drop dead rather than let him pass”, his proud pose now cracks and for a moment his body trembles, but she pulls herself together. Her face hardens again and her gaze returns to her best and most painfully sincere friend.

 “No Ginevra. That's not what grips my heart and squeezes it like a black claw. I am not afraid of all he has done, because he has done it, it is past and now he is here, safe and with me. What terrifies me is what he will do”, an atom of understanding appears in the eyes of the redhead what is quickly replaced with fear when she comes to understand all the consequences of Hermione's point. “I know it. One day he'll come between me and a deadly curse and he will be taken from me by it, Ginny. He'll be ripped away from me and there's nothing I can do to stop him”. There was so much love in Hermione's eyes, so much devotion, so much pride and so much despair that Ginny's heart trembles as she notices the moisture flooding her own eyes.

 “And I don't need that to love him. I used to do it before all that. It just makes me love him even more. With such intensity and such desperation that it hurts Ginny. It really hurts”. Tears now roll freely down both women's faces.

 “Do you think I don't know that he sees himself as stupid, ignorant and mediocre in everything? But I've seen him beat McGonagall when he was twelve. I have seen him develop a brilliant strategy to protect Harry and me with the cost of his own life on a deadly chessboard”, again her voice trembled, as she relived in her mind that horrible scene of Ron being brutally beaten by the queen while for the second time, the youngest of the Weasleys regretted opening her big mouth and how similar she was to her closest brother.

 “You're saying I don't realize his magical abilities? That, I can't see that he's with the same level as Harry? But have you noticed how much better a wizard he is than I am?” Hermione has a dark satisfaction in watching Ginny's wide open eyes. She, who has accused her of despising her brother, is not innocent of the same sin.

 “He hardly studies. He falls asleep in all the history of Magic classes, is always late to write his essays. . . So what? He is able to perform any spell once he has seen the technique; he doesn't even need to study it. I can’t see it before, but I understood it at the end of last year. He doesn't give a damn about any data or magic that has no practical application. Now he causes hilarity because in class of transformations he invoked a huge moustache when the spell failed”, a sad smile comes to her face when she remembers the scene. “But when he finds out how useful they can be in hiding from the Deatheaters, to do body transformations will be like breathing for him”. Hermione pauses for a moment, as if needing to rearrange his thoughts after his vehement exposure, and on his serious face, an ironic smile is drawn.

 “So, how did he feel overwhelmed by me when I levitated a quill at Professor Flitwick's class?” And now it was the fire of defiance that burns in her eyes when she turns to Ginny.

 “He used ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ to knock out a mountain with its own club in the middle of a combat to death” And just in that moment, Ginevra Molly Weasley realized that in front of her was not a haughty Hermione Jean Granger, but the still unconscious Ron Weasley’s wife in fiery and proud vindication of her husband.

 “The only problem is his damn insecurity”, there was a hint of sadness in her voice now. “He feels so inadequate under the shadow of all of you that, God! Sometimes I feel in my fingers the magic to curse all of you for having contributed to that. But when he is safe, when he is calm, when he does not feel the need to prove himself to anyone, when he does not have time to think or when no one sees him, he is amazing. I. . . I only cause him to he see himself as he is, as the others see him, as Luna see him!” She sobs. “There's not a more beloved prefect in the whole school! Every time a student has a problem, they go after him. It doesn't matter what house they are. Everyone knows they can count on him. Did you know that I learned the names of all the students of Gryffindor from him, Ginny?” Surprised, she shakes her head without saying a word. She was intensely aware that she shouldn’t interrupt Hermione's cathartic process now. “He knows the names of all the students in the lower years of Gryffindor. I imagine that even the sixth and seventh years and everyone goes to him when they have a problem in their real life or get into a mess. Not like me, they only come to me when they have problems with their homework and they do it not because he is soft or he will not punish them. I've seen him put such imaginative and appropriate punishments that would make McGonagall want to adopt him! No, it's nothing like that. It is because he understands them and helps them when they really need it, but he is so convinced that he is mediocre, he is so afraid to fail that he simply suffocates herself and slips up because of it”.

 “That's why he didn't ask you to be his date at the Yule Ball”, Hermione is surprised when Ginny takes the floor again. There's no reproach in her tone now, just warmth. “That idiot, he was dying to invite you. Believe me, I know”. Ginny raised her hand gently to Hermione's threat of interruption, who had opened her mouth to give her the counterpoint.

 “But he was terrified, Hermione. He couldn’t just see you as his best friend anymore to become someone he likes in the romantic sense of the word. The poor idiot wanted to hide it saying those silly things about going with the prettiest girl, or that since you both didn't have a partner you could go together and all that dragon shit”, she said, raising her hands and rolling her eyes at the same time, “and you saw how it ended that night. He went with one of the two most beautiful, exotic and noticed girls in the school, but he didn't dance her, he didn't give her a compliment, he didn’t give her a glance, because of how jealous he was of Viktor Krum.”

 Ginny had taken the hand of the brunette with the furious hair and red eyes in front of her. All the initial frustration had faded as she discovered the intensity of Hermione's feelings for her brother, and now she just wanted to give her the comfort she really needed. To be the friend she was supposed to be.

 Hermione, on the other hand, was devastated. If physically this confrontation added to her exhaustion from the last few days, emotionally she was a broken doll, and the tears that ran down her cheeks were the irrefutable proof of that. She felt her legs fail her and let herself slide down the wall of the corridor until she was seated on the hard floor of the castle. In a moment of rage and pain, she had opened the doors of her heart wide to her best friend. She had taken out of her chest all that anger and pain that she had been feeling for months and now, instead of a little peace, what she found was an immense emptiness, a darkness so dark that she was surprised that her heart continued beating, because seemed that it was only fed with that anger and now, in its absence, it found no sense to continue beating.

 Her silent crying was interrupted for a moment when she felt her friend sit beside her and wrap her in a warm hug. There was no hostility there anymore, just warmth and an offer of comfort that she accepted crying out loud.

 “I had bought a new dress for the slug meeting”, she whispered between hiccups and sobs after a moment. “Since I couldn't have that ball with him, I wanted, oh God!” She sighed. “I… I really wanted to have a real first date with him that was perfect. I even intended to be much more aggressive...”, a sad smile escaped her lips that broke Ginny's heart when she saw it“... with him that night. I even thought about having a couple of drinks to loosen up a bit and make it easier”. The longing in her eyes made the youngest of the Weasleys understand the double meaning of the phrase when she heard it. “And, what happened, Ginny? I missed his first kiss and I lost him.”

 “Then you know what you have to do when that pair of squids break off”. The freckled redhead had genuine love in her eyes when she said it and gently pressed her hug when the brunette looked at her with a face of disbelief.

 “Oh, come on! Don't look so surprised, Hermione. That relationship won't last. Ron is not comfortable with Lavender. It's true that she has improved his self-esteem, but he doesn't love her. There's got to be a lot more than kissing in a relationship with Ron. He needs passion, vehemence, fire. There has to be someone to incite him, to challenge him, to cause him to be better, do you remember?" She said, raising his eyebrows as she wrote “quotations marks" with her fingers.

 “He needs you.”

 That says it all. The two join into a comforting embrace, each resting her head on the other's shoulder, and while the only daughter of the Weasley clan feels the moisture seeping through her sweater and the tremor of her disheartened friend, this one can barely hear the “stupid blindness” that Ginny mumbles.

 “Miss Weasley, Miss Granger! What are you supposed to be doing at this time outside their common room?”

 Sitting on the floor, Ginny was stupefied for a moment and then, the next moment, she burst out laughing uncontrollably, causing her hands to fall to her ribs as she rolled on the floor in a very undignified position, seeing how “by magic", the “perfect prefect” seems to have apparate standing next to the head of the house, defying the rule that she has repeated countless times, ‘No one can apparate at the Hogwarts grounds...’

 “Miss...Miss Weasley! Just what is so funny. . . ?” But the redheads uncontrollable laughter interrupted her.

 Meanwhile, at the same time Ginny tried to point her trembling finger at one Hermione Granger, who seemed to have inherited the Weasley superpower to redness to the point of spontaneous combustion.

 “Miss Weasley”, without losing her composure in the face of the unusual scene, Minerva McGonagall tried to take control of the bewildering picture, although in reality she didn’t seem in the least surprised. “Please pull yourself together, stand up! I hope you have a satisfactory explanation for your behaviour.”

 “Prof... Professor” , Hermione's timid attempt is again interrupted, with another roaring laugh from Ginny, who can barely stand on her shaky legs as she kept pointing at her friend and her face seemed to be about to split in two for a grinning from ear to ear.

 “Shit on it, Hermione! For Merlin's sake. . .”

 “Miss Weasley!”

 “Just a moment ago...” Ginny seemed to ignore the presence of the transformation teacher as she continued her jocular chatter “...you were talking about how to try and relax, so you could have the courage to face Ro. . . the ‘asshole’ and do what you want and, as soon as Professor McGonagall appears, you jump up and down and get stiff as if a stick had been shoved up your arse? What. . .”

 “MISS WEASLEY!” At this moment the teacher's face looked absolutely horrified with the colourful language from the youngest of the Weasley family.

 “Ginny. I sincerely believe that this is not the time. . .”Whispered a brunette with her hair more frizzy than ever, as she threw an Avada Kedavraish look at her shameless friend who, seemed to have either uncontrollable verbal incontinence or an unparalleled suicidal wish. Meanwhile Ginny continued to talk without realising it.

 “Are you going to be just as stunned when he freezes and a trickle of slime when you “turn more aggressive with. . .”

 “ENOUGH!” Raising both her voice and her hand in an energetic gesture that cannot be replied to Mc Gonnagall interrupted the diatribe and laughter of the fifth year student, who finally seemed to notice the presence of her teacher. “I don't really care anymore why you are out of their rooms after curfew and not even what it was all about”, she said, as she puts two finger to the bridge of her nose as if she had a terrible headache. “The point is that you both are contravening the rules of the school and therefore both deserve a detention”, provoking the immediate face of terror of the sixth year prefect.

 “Miss Weasley. It's not just the fact you are wandering around the castle after hours, doing who knows what? But I will not consent to the use of such vulgar and rude language in my presence. So, next Friday, you will report to Mr. Filch who will tell you which toilets to clean. . . no magic.”

 “As for you, Miss Granger; I really cannot understand why you did not immediately accompany Miss Weasley to Gryffindor Tower neglecting your duties as prefect. Do you have anything to say that might excuse you?”

 “Actually, I think I can, Professor McGonagall”, which provokes a gleam of curiosity in the glances now directed at her, from the punished student and the Transfiguration Professor simultaneously. “But it's not in my defence”, she says, looking up from her shoes, “but in the case of Ginevra Molly Weasley”, a perverse smile hints at Hermione's face that quickly becomes sweet, when she see a grimace of annoyance at her friend's as soon she was called with her full name. “Actually, I was having a problem focusing on one of my assignments and she offered me a new perspective”, she says just at the instant she turns away for a moment her eyes from her favourite teacher, to offer a warm smile to the stubborn redhead.

 “Well, that's a commendable attitude no doubt, Miss Weasley”, for a moment the latter of them thinks she detects the flash of a smile on the teacher's face, but it's so fleeting that she thinks she's imagining it. “But both of you will understand that the corridors of Hogwarts at dawn are neither the place nor the time for such things, for which the sanctions are still in force. Are you both aware of this?”

 “We are, Professor McGonagall.” They both answer together.

 “Good. Gryffindor will be deducted ten points for each of you for being out of the common premises after curfew and Miss Weasley will be deducted another five points for inappropriate language. I would recommend that you do not reply, Miss Weasley”, she adds, seeing like the redhead was making the attempt to protest, “and thank Miss Granger for her defence. Initially I was planning to deduct another ten points.”

 “I'll thank you very much, Hermione”, she mumbles in a buzzing tone that makes the target of  her gratitude shudder imagining the kind of thank you that must be planning to give her the explosive temperament of the redhead. “All right. I think it's time for us to get back to the tower and get some rest for the rest of the night”, she says in a breath.

 It was at the moment when both students have turned around and started to withdraw in the direction of Gryffindor Tower when:

 “By the way. . .” the voice of the head of Gryffindor house forced them to turn around to face her again and find her with her back to them.

 “I think that change of perspective will be very useful to you, Miss Granger”, she adds as she turns his head and stares over his glasses at the surprised prefect.

 “Wha..Yeah?. . . err. Yes. I. . . I think it’ll be, professor. Yes, I'm sure it will be. Thank you very much”, stutters the dazed brunette meanwhile Ginny bit her hand in a desperate attempt not to burst into laughter once again.

 “I expected no less from you, Miss Granger. You're dismissed.”

 And so, while the two students of the renowned Hogwarts School of Magic and Sorcery, one of them in a state of shock and the other one barely able to contain her laughter, headed back to their tower, Professor McGonagall finally headed for her own quarters, the beginnings of a smile on her face:

 “Fifty points for Gryffindor...”  to his mind comes, the memory of the great dining room adorned in green and silver, while a venerable aged man with white beard speaks and one chubby and fearful child, listens astonished his words.  '. . . It takes great courage to stand up to our enemies, but it takes the same courage to stand up to friends. . .'  "Miss Weasley.”

 The End.

 Notes:

I would like to thank to the incredible @headcanonsandmore, for her invaluable help in completing the English version of the text. Without her, it really wouldn't have been possible. I think this is, so far, my best work, and if there's anyone it deserves to be dedicated to, it's you. Again, thank you very much for your help.

 This is the work that, I really would have liked to present at the @romioneficfest 2020, but it turned out to be a bit long. . . more than 10 times longer, but... a lovelly Dragon, gave me a chance.

:)

Thanks to read.

 #Romione #Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ginny Weasley #Ron Weasley #Luna Lovegood #Mental Anguish #Love Confessions #True Love #Friendship #Missing Moments

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513438

[juniperwindsong]

Dragonology 101 (7/10)

Summary: "I think you need to consider that your parents might not have your best interests at heart. Parents are just people too. They make mistakes and they can do the wrong thing." "How would you know? You barely have parents." "That's exactly how I know."

Felix is a little taken aback to discover how beautiful Hogwarts is at Christmas time. It's not as if the castle is ever dank or gloomy, but now its halls are practically alive with good cheer. Holly, ivy, and greenery of every kind are wound around banisters and hung on doors. Fantastically decorated Christmas trees are stuffed into all the empty corners. Even the Slytherin common room, infamous for being somber and gloomy, seems transported by the softly glowing garlands and the cosy stockings hung by the fire.

Felix takes in the sight for the first time as he walks through the entrance wall after ensuring all the students from his house returning home for the holidays have made it safely to the train. While Felix has never stayed before, Slytherin house usually sees the largest number of students at school over the Christmas break. This year's slew of boggart attacks, however, has frightened nearly all the winter regulars into seeking shelter elsewhere. Even Merula Snyde has gone with her new best friends, Ismelda Murk and Barnaby Lee, to Ismelda's house, leaving Juniper Windsong the only Slytherin student to remain. Besides Felix himself.

"What are you doing here?" Juniper asks in shock, jumping up from her spot in front of the fire as Felix enters. Her rapid movement disturbs the loose pile of papers and parchments she's been pouring over. She's still holding a quill loosely in one hand, and has the air of someone who has been interrupted in the middle of doing something they shouldn't.

Felix narrows his eyes at her. "You mean, in my own common room?"

"No, I mean here. At school. At all. You never stay for the holidays."

Felix leans casually on the back of the sofa, surreptitiously eyeing the bits of parchment littering the floor.

"You've been here two and half years, Windsong. That hardly makes you an authority on what I never do."

Juniper shoots him her lopsided smile. "Okay," she concedes, "I mean, I've never seen you stay over the holidays before."

"Of course not. I never stay over the holidays," Felix deadpans as he walks around the arm of the sofa to sit down.

Juniper throws her quill at him.

"Careful," Felix warns her, smirking, "I can still dock points, even at Christmas."

She ignores him and resumes her seat on the floor in front of her parchment and papers, hiding them from view. Felix wonders if this is deliberate.

"So why are you staying this year?" Juniper asks, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Well," Felix draws the word out a bit, debating how to answer. "The dragon, of course. I don't like the idea of you visiting him alone. It's too dangerous."

Juniper lowers her eyebrows at him, suspiciously. "Really?"

"You've seen the way he looks at us now," Felix says, leaning slightly onto the arm of the sofa to try to see around her without tipping her off. "And on your own, you're just reckless enough to go back down in there with him."

"No, I mean, is that really the reason you're staying?" Juniper clarifies.

Felix ceases his attempt to spy and meets her eyes. He's a little taken aback; he thought his story was quite believable and his delivery flawless. But Juniper can be very discerning sometimes, and, he supposes, she knows him too well by now.

"It's a reason," Felix answers.

Juniper holds his gaze a second longer, then turns around to gather up her things.

"Well," she announces, in her best impression of a plummy prefect voice. "I do hope you'll try to keep your noise to a minimum. I plan to use this time to get a good deal of revision done."

Felix throws back his head and laughs.

-

Felix doesn't discover what Juniper is working on in secret and he doesn't ask. He has a pretty good idea that it involves the new cursed vault and, while unhappy with her decision to continue investigating in spite of Dumbledore's express warning, Felix has decided to avoid the subject unless absolutely necessary. He has enough problems to deal with at the moment. His post-Hogwarts future, his upcoming NEWTS, and Sparky's undecided fate are all vying for top billing in the anxiety showcase his brain puts on for him every night before he falls asleep. It's the real reason he's chosen not to return home for the holiday. He can't bear the thought of being forced to rehash these topics with his parents every day after running them through his head all night.

Instead, Felix makes it a point to hold Juniper to her off-hand joke made at the start of break. In an effort to keep her out of trouble, he frogmarches her to the library whenever he can find her or demands she remain in the common room: to revise, or help him revise. Juniper puts up a reasonable amount of grumbling at this academic peer-pressure, but turns out to be a surprisingly effective revision partner; mostly due to her habit of asking a million questions. She does this on purpose, Felix is sure, in an attempt to annoy him into letting her escape, but it actually helps him understand and remember the material better. Felix, used to working on his own, enjoys this method of revision more than he thought he would. When he's talking with her, he finds his anxieties intrude upon his thoughts much less.

Their schoolwork is nearly always done in the evenings, however, as Juniper now insists on visiting Sparky first thing in the morning. Felix is confused by this, and by her strange new habit of walking slowly and with great ceremony back to the common room immediately after dinner. It isn't until he accompanies her one day and sees Mrs. Norris tailing them closely that he understands the reason for her newfound scrupulousness.

"With everyone else gone, Filch doesn't have anything to obsess over except me," Juniper explains to Felix as they reach the privacy of the common room. "I can get away in the mornings when he's doing actual work, but once that's done he pretty much just follows me around all day."

Juniper takes a seat at the circular study table in the back of the common room where they've left their books and notes from their revision session the previous evening.

"He's convinced I only stay over breaks to search for the vaults. Which," she admits slyly,"isn't entirely wrong."

This reminds Felix of something that's been nagging at him for nearly the whole term. He takes the seat next to hers and pulls a book toward him but doesn't open it. He debates whether they're close enough for him to attempt such a personal question. True, Felix has spent more time with her this term than any other single person, but their scattered attempts to discuss anything not dragon related have always been rather tense.

In the end, curiousity gets the better of him.

"Juniper?" Felix asks tentatively.

She looks up, a little startled at his use of her given name.

"When you were explaining about the dragon - that very first night in the common room - you said, you found it over the summer?"

Juniper inclines her head, slowly, eyes slightly wary.

Felix plunges on. "What were you doing here? Students aren't usually allowed to stay for the summer holiday."

He expects her to be evasive, or defensive, or to try to brush the subject away with a joke. He does not expect her eyes to go wide and her face to suddenly flush brick red.

"What?" Felix asks, astonished. He can't imagine what the answer must be to embarrass her so thoroughly. "Did you camp out in the forest or something?"

"No, Juniper mumbles, looking down at the table. "I - I got special permission from Dumbledore to stay at school the last month before term started."

Juniper fumbles for a quill and parchment as if to begin taking notes, but she has no ink near her and no book open. She simply stares at the parchment, quill in hand, as if she's forgotten how to write.

"Why?" Felix asks. Part of him feels like a prat for pressing the issue, as it's obvious she wants the conversation to be over. But he's fascinated by how visibly uncomfortable she is, when she's famous for being composed in even the most dangerous situations. And it incites his curiousity to riot, wondering what could possibly make her this unsettled.

Juniper doesn't answer him right away. She worries the quill between her fingers, then taps the feather against the parchment distractedly. Her head is bent so low over the table that her hair falls in front of her face, hiding much of it from view. So when she does respond, her words are slightly muffled.

"I got into a spot of bother with...muggle law enforcement."

"What?" Felix says, nonplussed.

Juniper rubs her forehead with the hand not fumbling with the quill.

"My father..." she begins haltingly, "he's an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. He's always working. I mean, he was always gone a lot even before...everything with Jacob. But this summer... " she rubs at her cheek now, "this summer he didn't come home at all. Probably he just...lost track of time - he does that a lot. Didn't realize it was summer holidays. I tried sending him owls but.. he doesn't always have time to read them."

Juniper twines a bit of her hair round and round her finger, still looking at the table. "Anyway... I was out of food and, well, money. I mean - I know we have some but it's in Gringotts and I didn't have any way to get there." She drops the quill and taps her fingers in an unconscious rhythm against the parchment. "So...I ended up... getting caught trying to nick some food from the grocer's in town." She says this last all in a rush, now looking away toward the window where the water from the black lake swirls against the glass.

Felix has rarely had occasion to use the word "flabbergasted" to describe himself, but as he sits back in his chair, mouth slightly open, he decides that's definitely what he feels now. His brain tries to itemize all the elements of this story that require follow-up questions but discovers there isn't any bit which doesn't. He isn't even sure where to start. He focuses on the end of this surreal confession.

"You got caught? Why didn't you just use magic!"

"What, and be expelled?" Juniper asks, finally looking at him, her face incredulous. As though he were the one not making any sense.

Felix can't develop a decent argument to this as most of his brain is occupied in processing the other parts of her story, so he moves on.

"But why didn't you just send an owl to Khanna or one of your other friends? Surely they would have helped you?"

Juniper shrugs, looking back at the window and twisting at her hair again. "Rowan was abroad with her family, I wasn't going to worry her. And I didn't want to bother Penny or Bill. I... I don't really know them well enough for that and I don't know their families at all and..."she sighs, dropping her hands. "It's embarrassing."

Felix wants to argue that this is ridiculous. But as he opens his mouth, he's struck by the question of what he would do in a similar situation. It takes him only a few seconds of quick imagining to come to the conclusion that nothing less than physical torture could get him to admit it to anyone. Felix spends a good deal of time and energy ensuring that he never appears anything but entirely capable and confident, and he knows Juniper is probably similar. They are both in Slytherin, after all, where image is everything. He supposes he can't fault her for not wanting her friends to know about her less than satisfactory home life.

"Anyway, it all worked out," Juniper says, trying to infuse her voice with some of her usual good humour. "I was able to get in touch with the school. And Snape actually had to come and rescue me from gaol since he's my head of house which was kind of hilarious. And then he and Dumbledore arranged for me to stay here for the rest of the summer as long as I promised to work out someone to stay with next summer so this doesn't happen again." She takes a deep, steadying breath as her story comes to its conclusion, then glances around the table as if looking for what to do next. She reaches for a bottle of ink and the nearest textbook, and begins copying words down quickly.

Felix sits numbly, watching her write without really seeing. Memories of his own summer flick through his mind like a picture book: reluctantly attending stupid social events, bored stiff; hiding up in his room to avoid his parents with their incessant lectures and pointed remarks; wandering the grounds, the library, the conservatory, brooding miserably and generally feeling sorry for himself. Felix wishes he knew exactly where he had been and what he had been doing when the girl across from him, who tamed dragons and thestrals, and fought ice knights and werewolves, had become desperate and hungry enough to venture out of her lonely house to steal food from muggles.

He has a mad urge to put his arm around Juniper, to comfort her somehow. Not that she appears to need it or want it. She seems embarrassed, but not sad or bitter. He wonders how much of her brave face is an act and how much really just rolls off her shoulders.

Felix clears his throat. "You know...if you ever...I mean-” He pauses and puts the words together in his head before continuing. "If it happens again, you can always write me. I won't tell anyone, I promise, and I'll make sure you don't have to resort to petty theft."

Juniper lets out a snort of laughter and rolls her eyes. "You know, you can't lose house points over the summer. Slytherin's reputation was just fine."

"It's not about Slytherin," Felix says and his voice is earnest enough to stifle her affected humour. "It's just... you're thirteen. You shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing."

Juniper gives him a little half-smile. "Thanks... " she says awkwardly, "but it's really ok. It's hardly the worst thing to ever happen to me. And like I said, it all worked out for the best. I wouldn't have found Sparky if I hadn't been here."

Juniper returns to copying notes, but Felix doubts she's taking in anything she's writing

"And," she adds as an afterthought, not looking up. "I'm fourteen. My birthday's at the start of break."

Felix isn't sure what to say. He pulls his own book toward him and tries hard to focus on the lines of text, but he knows he won't remember anything but her words the following day.

-

The two Slytherins visit Sparky nearly every morning now they have no classes, but have yet to venture back down into the valley to touch the dragon. Felix thinks Sparky might look a bit less furious with them, though. He has started catching the food they throw to him again, at least. But it's becoming increasingly obvious that rabbits will not sate the growing dragon much longer.

"He really needs bigger game," Felix notes. "If we don't hear back from Kettleburn's friend soon, we're going to have to find something else to feed him."

"How long has it been since you wrote him?" Juniper asks, sitting perched on the ledge, legs swinging back and forth restlessly.

"Nearly a month," Felix admits, "But it's not like sending a letter to London. It's bound to take some time."

"Still," Juniper says, her voice strangely brusque, "it's been long enough that we ought to have heard something by now. What exactly did you say?"

"I've told you already," Felix sighs. He sits down next to her, allowing his legs to drape over the side of the ledge as well. "I said there was an injured common welsh green dragon near Hogwarts and would the reserve be interested in taking it."

Juniper makes a clicking noise of frustration. "Yes, you said that bit. But I mean, what exactly did you write? From beginning to end."

Felix raises his eyebrows. "Even if I could remember that, why would it matter?"

"We need to figure out if you might have said something that offended him or that would keep him from writing back right away," Juniper explains curtly. "Did you include a CV or something that he might be checking?"

Felix looks at her blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"You told Kettleburn you were looking for a job for after school! That was the whole premise of the letter."

"Yes, but it was just a cover! I didn't actually ask him for a job!"

“Seriously?" she exclaims, turning to look at him in astonishment.

"Of course not! I'm not actually interested in dragonology."

Juniper laughs mirthlessly, "Oh right. You're just doing this for the house points, I forgot."

Felix bites back a barbed retort. Ever since their conversation in the common room a few days ago, Felix has felt the need to be kinder and more careful around Juniper than he typically is with anyone. For some reason, this new gentler attitude seems to have inspired a reverse effect in Juniper. He's noticed her tone with him has become increasingly caustic and her comments rather more antagonistic than is her want.

Felix makes the effort to keep his voice even as he answers, "I mean, it isn't a career option for me."

"Why not?"

"My parents would never agree to it," he explains patiently.

"Have you asked?" Juniper demands

Felix smooths his hair down distractedly, trying to quell his growing annoyance. "I don't have to. They want me in a prestigious, powerful position. Dragonologist does not meet those qualifications in any way."

Juniper doesn't say anything for a minute, just crosses her arms and kicks petulantly at the earthen wall.

Felix lets out a breath, grateful the topic seems to be exhausted. He watches Sparky watching them, the dragon's long tail flicking back and forth in anticipation. He's about to make another comment on Sparky's need for more substantial meals, when Juniper speaks again, her voice aggressive.

"So what?"

"So...what?" Felix asks, not following.

"So what if that's not what they want for you. Do it anyway. It's clearly what you want, and you're a legal adult. It's not like they can stop you."

Felix is a little taken aback, by her return to this uncomfortable subject and by her cantankerous tone. He shakes his head slightly. "That's not-"

"Aren't you the one who's always on me about not wasting my talent and focusing on my future and not letting my brother ruin things for me?" Juniper interrupts, speaking rapidly

"That's not the same thing," Felix responds, now unable to keep an edge from his own voice.

"Yes it is," she argues belligerently. "You're just blindly following your parents footsteps, like you say I follow my brother's and not considering what's best for you at all."

Felix is too irritated to be gentle with her anymore. "My parents know what's best for me!" he argues.

"Really?" Juniper's tone cuts like a knife. "Your father was a Death Eater, Felix. I don't think I'd consider him an expert on what's best for anybody."

She's gone too far, and she knows it.

Felix watches Juniper's eyes widen as her own words hit her and she covers her mouth with her hand automatically. But he doesn't care. Felix's veins fill with ice and he enters that cold, calculating head-space he goes to when he's absolutely furious. He stares at her, expressionless, unsure if he wants to jinx her or just push her over the ledge into the ditch below.

Juniper can't seem to meet Felix's eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry." Her voice is more equable than it's been all day, but it has no effect on Felix's mood. "What you do with your life... and your family situation, it - it isn't any of my business. Except, that you're my friend and I care about you."

Juniper says this matter-of-factly, and at a different time it might have meant something to Felix to hear it, but he can't feel anything now.

"I just think you need to consider that your parents...they might not have your best interests at heart. Parents are just people too, and they're not infallible. They might have more experience, but they make mistakes and they can do the wrong thing, just like anyone."

"How would you know?" Felix asks cruelly, "You barely have parents."

He knows distantly that he should feel bad at the injured look that crosses her face, but he doesn't.

"That's exactly how I know,”Juniper answers simply. 

It takes all the self-control Felix has to leave their exchange there. He can think of a few more harsh things he'd like to say to her, and wonders heartlessly if he could make her cry. That's something he'd like to see just at present. Instead, Felix stands, drawing himself up to his full height, and adopts his most imperious and disdainful expression.

"Well, you're right about one thing," he announces as he turns his back on her haughtily. "It isn't any of your business."

With that, Felix stalks away leaving Juniper alone with the dragon.

-

Felix and Juniper spend the next few days studiously avoiding one another; no easy feat as they're currently the only two students in their house. The day after their fight, Juniper speaks to Felix just long enough to recuse herself from feeding Sparky, claiming she has business in Hogsmeade. This is fine with Felix as he feels entirely undisposed to talk to her at the present.

That morning, he visits Sparky on his own for the very first time. Felix expects to feel confident and pleased with himself to finally be alone with the dragon. But the forest seems rather too quiet. Sparky keeps attempting to crane his neck over the top of the valley's wall and giving little musical calls. So, Felix doesn't stay long.

Once his fury burns out, Felix feels a little abashed at having allowed a third-year to bait him into a such a ridiculous argument in the first place. As he thinks back over the incident, it's clear to Felix that Juniper was out of sorts from the beginning, and probably trying to pick a fight. And it's not as though he hasn't had his father's Death Eater status thrown in his face many times before, often accompanied by a hex or a curse.

But something about what Juniper said continues to bother Felix. It would be easier to pretend the whole thing never happened if he were entirely convinced her arguments had no merit. But the more he runs her angry words through his head, the more he worries that she may not have been wrong.

It's Christmas Eve before they speak to each other again. Felix has been visiting Sparky in the evenings now that he's there alone. For whatever reason, when left to his own devices, he prefers to do his rule-breaking under cover of darkness.

As he enters the common room, Felix sees Juniper sitting in her favorite spot on the sofa facing the fire, looking subdued. It takes her a minute to notice his presence, and she attempts to pull her face together into her signature grin but it doesn't meet her eyes.

Felix takes the seat on the sofa opposite her. They sit in silence for a long while, not looking at each other.

Finally, Juniper asks, "How's Sparky?"

"A bit bigger. And hungrier," Felix says. After a moment he adds, "I think he misses you."

Juniper lets out a breathy, bitter laugh that doesn't sound like her at all. "I'm sure he doesn't."

Felix has the distinct impression that it isn't Sparky she's thinking about as she says this.

Uncomfortable silence resumes. Felix watches the fire crackle merrily, and little by little, it melts away his remaining frostiness toward Juniper. He's become accustomed to her presence over the last few months, and he has to admit he's grown fond of her, annoying questions and unfortunate rule-breaking habits and all. But Felix has never been close enough to anyone to need to make-up after a fight, and he doesn't know how to go about it.

"Do you wish you were home?" Juniper asks suddenly. "For Christmas, I mean."

Felix thinks this over, relieved to have a semi-neutral subject to talk about. "No, not really. Holidays aren't a particularly grand affair in my family."

Juniper tries to raise her eyebrows. "Is that, like, a posh way of saying you don't celebrate Christmas?"

Her voice is teasing, but good-natured, and Felix tries to smile.

"No, we celebrate. The house elves decorate and there's gifts and Christmas dinner and all, but... it's not... very merry, I guess."

Felix doesn't know how to convey the difference between his family's stiff, traditional holiday that feels more like obligation than indulgence, and the cosy comfort of the Hogwarts Christmas he's experienced for the first time. But Juniper nods as though she somehow understands what he means.

"Does your family-" Felix starts to return the question, then remembers everything he knows about her family and stops awkwardly.

To his surprise, Juniper answers anyway. "We used to. Christmas was always my favorite time of the year. It was the only time we were all together. My parents would be home, because Jacob was home." She smiles wistfully. "And they always had this huge Christmas party, and the house would be beautiful, and everyone was happy and... there." Her voice breaks on the last word.

"Felix," Juniper raises her head to look full at him. Her voice quavers and her eyes are over-bright. "I'm so sorry... about what I said. About your parents. I mean-" She takes a steadying breath and continues, her voice stronger. "Your parents clearly care about you enough to want you to have things like safety and security. And you're right, maybe I just... can't understand that because my own parents...didn't care enough about me to even stick around after Jacob..." She trails away, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Anyway, I'm just...sorry. Please forget what I said."

Felix just nods. He can't say anything.

A memory is resurfacing of a time long ago when he contracted Dragon Pox. When he'd first been informed of the diagnosis, six year old Felix had been excited, the word dragon having only positive associations in his mind. But a few days later, he feels like he's on fire. His skin itches mercilessly, and terrifies him by peeling off in huge, scaly pieces like a snake. It's the last time he can remember vividly crying for his mother, desperately desiring to be held and comforted. But she never comes. It's a house elf that cares for him through the next fortnight. His mother tells him later that his father wouldn't permit it, didn't want to risk spreading the illness. A rational response, seventeen year old Felix understands. But he cannot forget that horrible feeling of utter loneliness that plagued him worse than the pox itself.

Felix hears the distant tolling of the clock tower chiming the hour and realizes it's midnight. Which means it's Christmas Day. He turns to Juniper to wish her a Happy Christmas and finds she's fallen asleep, curled on her side, her head resting against the arm of the sofa.

Felix stands up and walks quietly around to where she's sleeping. He takes a blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it across her, then tiptoes up the stairs to his own dormitory. It's colder here than it was in the common room, the fire in the grate burned down almost to embers. He pulls his Slytherin jumper over his pyjamas before climbing into bed and tugging the blanket up all the way to his chin.

All the thoughts Felix does not want to think are waiting for him as soon as he closes his eyes. He knows now, on a level deeper than the rational, that his parents don't care about him. At least, not the way parents should. They care about him the same way they care about the family manor and the garden, or their dress robes and jewels: as a status symbol, to be kept well and used to impress the people around them. Would his mother comfort her emerald necklace if it was alone, sick, and scared? Would his father ask their prize hippogryph what it's interested in or passionate about, or what it might like to accomplish in the future?

Of course not, thinks Felix sickly, and there's no reason to treat me any differently. I'm a possession, not a person.

Felix sits up, swings his legs over the side of his bed and fumbles for his carpet slippers. He pads back down the stairs to the common room and finds Juniper exactly where he left her. Careful not to wake her, he slides on to the opposite end of the sofa where she's sleeping, tucking his legs up under the blanket. He can just feel her stockinged feet brush against him. The contact is fleeting, buts it's enough to ease a little of the loneliness that throbs through his whole body like a dragon bite.

-

A/N: I would like to apologise for posting such a depressing Christmas chapter. To make up for it, I have also posted a very fluffy little Christmas story starring MC and Merula Snyde, with an epilogue that features Felix and ties in with this story (chronologically, it takes place toward the beginning of this chapter). So if you're choking on angst by the end of this, please go cheer yourself up.

Chapter 8 | Masterpost

[adventuresofamodernscholar]

**Disclosure** I wrote this entire post in order to avoid making my presentation for a conference…and forgot to finish it until about 18 months later. So everything that refers to “this week” or “in a few days” happened over a year ago. I am the world’s worst procrastinator.

  Phew! I am exhausted!

A few weeks ago I decided to quit my day job, so I have been nothing more than a full time graduate student for the past month or so. While I am looking for another (less stressful) job, my days have been pretty unstructured and open; somehow I cannot remember having had a minute of free time this month, though, so maybe I haven’t been as free as I seem to think…. hmm.

Anyway, a big chunk of my time this month has been dedicated to working on building my CV in preparation for applying to PhD programs next summer. I have been studying for my GRE exams, submitting papers and abstracts for publication and conferences, and, of course, I have been working hard on my schoolwork and preparing presentations for conferences for which I have already been accepted.

A few weeks ago I had an opportunity to present virtually at a conference in India, but this past weekend I had my first in-person presentation at an academic conference; it was simultaneously the most exciting and most terrifying moment in my academic career so far. I was so nervous, especially since I had no idea what to expect, what to wear, or how I would be able to afford to go! I spent an unreasonable amount of time delving through obscure sites trying to find some solid information about these conferences, so I wanted to create a helpful post for other young academics with the same questions that I had. I hope this is helpful!

What to Wear

For some reason, this was one of the most stressful parts of my preparations; I had no idea what to wear to an academic conference! I tried searching a variety of websites geared towards academics, but there is almost nothing out there on the subject. Even my trusty friend, Pinterest, had an overwhelmingly diverse array of results for “academic conference outfits” (although there are some cute ideas, hence the link). I did find one very useful piece of advice, though, in the bowels of an internet Q&A page: “don’t be the jerk who shows up in a full suit”.

Considering the fact that I was thinking about splurging on a new suit for this conference, I was beyond grateful for this piece of advice.

Eventually, I settled on a crisp new cardigan, black slacks, and a nice blouse, and I would certainly say that I fit in with what everyone else was wearing. I was actually surprised to see that I was among the better-dressed attendees.

  While at this point I can only speak for my experience at one conference, I can recommend something similar for other first-time conference presenters. You want to look nice and professional, but there is no need to go out and buy a full suit. However, despite the fact that I did see several people wearing more casual outfits, I would not recommend going the t-shirt and jeans route either. As a young academic, you have a lot to prove, and looking professional (but not like you are trying too hard) will really help you to look and feel confident and competent.

*update* as a now-veteran conference attendee (I have attended about a dozen conferences in the past 18 months) I can attest that something business casual, like what I wore to my first conference is perfect. I have seen people wear jeans and a nice shirt to conferences, but I think that this is best left for days when you are simply an audience member, rather than a presenter.

How to Pay

A few weeks ago, when I made the decision to quit my job, I did a quick audit of how much I could expect to spend on the conferences to which I have been accepted (I have a total of 7 within a 9 month period), and I was shocked to see that between travel, hotels, and conference fees, I was looking at several thousands of dollars in expenses. The average academic conference costs about $300 to attend and, apart from the conference that I am attending this weekend in DC, I will need to travel for each conference, staying out of town and/or abroad for several days for each.

I reached out to one of my professors/mentors for advice, and boy am I glad that I did! While his first suggestion (asking the department for funding) was unsuccessful, his second suggestion (taking my request to the Dean of my school) resulted in a huge financial relief. While I will not be able to fully fund my conferences through my school, I will be able to receive significant financial assistance.

Before you begin attending conferences, find out if your program or school is willing and able to financially assist students who are planning to attend conferences. If not (or if you need more assistance than your school provides), you can also apply to a number of scholarships for graduate students, which you can put towards your conference expenses. One of my favorite resources is ScholarshipOwl, but there are plenty of free lists out there with some potentially really helpful scholarships.

What to Bring

Business Cards – If you do not have any yet, have some made ASAP! I did not remember to bring any with me to UF, and I instantly regretted this lapse when I began connecting with other speakers. You will meet so many interesting and important people in your field at these conferences, and you want to make sure that they can contact you (and you them) afterwards. *NOTE* make sure that you collect cards from the people you meet and EMAIL THEM ASAP. You may make some valuable connections and you want to reinforce them before you become just another card in their wallet.

Extra Copies of Your Presentation – I have been using Prezi lately for my presentations and, even though it is a beautiful presentation program, I tend to get very stressed out when it is time to present because, with my free account, I cannot put my presentations on a flashdrive. I am thinking that, as I begin attending more conferences, I may need to shell out and pay for the upgrade that will allow me to save a copy of my presentations separately from the website. All that is to say, if you are smarter than me, you should have multiple copies on hand of your presentation, just in case there is an issue. I recommend, at the very least, emailing yourself a copy and having a copy available on a flashdrive, in case either copy does not work. I also recommend printing several copies of your script (if you are using one), in case one gets lost, damaged, etc. Murphy’s Law.

A Buddy – If possible, it is great to have a buddy there with you when you present, especially if that person is in your field. Not only will their presence help with emotional support as you put yourself out there, but it is also helpful to have someone in the audience who you can rely on to ask a question during the Q&A session. Of course this is not always possible, and only really applies to your first experience to help you through your jitters. I had my boyfriend with me for my first conference and, though I luckily did not need him to fill an awkward silence after my presentation, it was such a comfort to have him there silently cheering me on. When you are putting yourself and your work out there to be judged, it helps to know that someone in the audience believes in you.

What to Expect

I honestly had no idea what to expect before my first conference. My imagination pictured any and every possible scenario, from a huge lecture hall filled with peers, to a tiny classroom with two other people in it. In reality, I found myself in a seminar room with about 20 audience members of various academic backgrounds; about half were PhD students, about a quarter were faculty, and the remainder were a mix of undergraduates and family/friends of presenters.

What really surprised me was the relaxed nature of the conference. There was a set schedule, but everything seemed to be very casual and nonchalant; no one was concerned when the projector issues interrupted the schedule, or when one presenter was late so the schedule had to be moved around. It definitely took the pressure off to realize that the people presenting and listening were just people who were there to learn and teach, without making a show of professional superiority.

How to Prepare

Whatever you do, do not be like me. As I am writing this post, I am supposed to be writing my presentation for my next conference (which is happening less than two days from now), and I am procrastinating like you would not believe. The funny thing is, just a few days ago I was crying and yelling in a hotel room, where I swore that I would never procrastinate again, especially for another presentation. I swear to you, I woke up the morning of my presentation without a finished script, without a finished visual presentation, and without having rehearsed at all. I woke at the crack of dawn to get to work, and finally printed my finalized script about 30 minutes before I needed to leave for the conference. DO NOT DO THIS! I thought that I would learn from my first experience, but I have made this mistake over and over again. While my presentations usually go over well, the stress and anxiety are simply not worth it.

Try to have your presentation 90% prepared a week before the conference. This gives you time to practice, edit, and ask for revisions from your professor(s). Have a prepared script that goes over your research in depth and allow your slideshow to guide your talk. In my experience most presenters read straight from their papers, so while presentation skills are important, it is okay to refer to your paper as needed.

What to Do While You are There

Conferences should be as much (if not more) about learning from others as it is about presenting your own research. I have learned more from attending panels, lectures, and exhibits at conferences than in my 22+ years of schooling. Make sure to go through the conference schedule and circle anything of interest and GO! You will have paid an arm and a leg to attend this conference, so get every learning opportunity that you can out of it.

As I mentioned before, you should also be using this opportunity to network like crazy. I missed many opportunities for this during my first few conferences, but eventually one of my professors instilled in me the importance of forming professional connections outside of my own university. I have met and learned from dozens of grad students, faculty, and researchers, and I have managed to create small opportunities for myself along the way (such as chairing MLA panels and award committees). I have even gotten to squeeze my research into a special edition of a competitive journal coming out in 2020 because I had an opportunity to chat with one of the publishers about my research. Network people!

Finally, take this opportunity to visit the hosting city beyond the conference center walls. I have seen more of the USA in the past 18 months than I had in my past 26 years, and it has been a blast! I took my dad with my to Colorado for the RMMLA conference and we had a week of adventures, I visited Vegas (somewhere I never thought I would go but ended up enjoying), and I got to road trip with my (now) fiance to Florida and visit a great-aunt who I had not seen in 20 years. The world is your oyster and there is more to learn at a conference than what panelists have to say.

  *Note* at this point I have attended about a dozen conferences both in person and virtually.At this point I would say that everything in this post continues to hold true, but I welcome any suggestions for further advice!

How to Survive Your First Academic Conference **Disclosure** I wrote this entire post in order to avoid making my presentation for a conference...and forgot to finish it until about 18 months later.

[fancymuffinparty]

Subtlety

Rating: T

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Momo Yaoyorozu

Summary: For Day Four of BnHA Ship Love Week 2018! Prompt: New Experiences/Kisses

In which Todoroki and Momo keep doing coupley things without realizing it. Until, BAM! They do. (Awesome summary, amirite?)

Word Count: 3258 (buckle up)

A/N: Here’s my second contribution for this event and for this ship! :O I’d like to think this pair would realize their feelings for one another over time, in the subtlest of ways. Anyway, enjoy this fluff!

Todoroki’s in her room again, but they’re merely studying for an upcoming exam, as usual.

There’s classical music streaming from the small speakers at her desk, the soft instrumentals accompanying their academic obligations. Momo casts a cursory glance his way, noticing his pen is about to run out of ink.

She doesn’t say anything, only uses her quirk to create a new one for replacement. She hands it over to him, earning a look of surprise that morphs into gratitude.

“Thanks,” Todoroki says, accepting the pen before moving on to the next equation on his worksheet. The room becomes quiet again, save for the music on a recurring loop.

It’s pleasant. More importantly, it’s a testament to how comfortable they find themselves with one another. There’s no need to fill in the silent gaps with conversation.

Momo definitely prefers it this way. When they’re not exchanging answers or discussing their respective assignments, she gratifies her inquisitive nature and steals furtive glimpses of Todoroki while his head is seemingly buried in schoolwork. She admires the way his hair dangles above his forehead, how it reveals more of his scar than anyone else might be comfortable wearing openly. She imagines what it would feel like to brush her fingers through his hair, what it would feel like to trace the surface of his scar ever so lightly.

Todoroki catches her looking at him, suddenly tilting his head up to meet her gaze. Neither say anything, but the understanding is there. Subtle, but there.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Momo finds herself in U.A.’s infirmary after a particularly strenuous day of training.

She sits up from the small cot, legs dangling over the edge, and massages the bandage over her left arm. Minor nicks and scrapes are speckled along the area in question, but the worst damage incurred was a burn sustained from one of Bakugo’s explosive strikes. Although the mishap had been unintentional, she decides it’s in her best interest to keep about a mile’s distance between them during drills.

After examining the condition of her current bandages, she deduces they need replacement. With her quirk, she produces fresh bandaging material and momentarily sets it aside upon completion. She peels off the old ones, a grimace etched on her face when the singed skin underneath is exposed.  

The burn will require some time to heal, and unfortunately, there’s no specific time frame she can assign to the process. It’s not as painful as before, however, but she presumes the mark will remain visible for at least a week. Collateral damage. Could’ve been worse, though. At least she still has full functionality of her arm.

Before Momo can swap the old bandages for the new ones, the door to the infirmary suddenly opens, and in walks Todoroki, so casual but not at all intrusive. It’s weird. It’s like she has this sixth sense that can detect whenever he’s about to show up.

Or maybe Todoroki just has peculiar timing.

“Hey,” he says softly, situating himself across from her on the opposing cot. “How are you holding up?” He’s a little awkward in his approach, but Momo’s grown accustomed to his occasional eccentricities.

“Better,” she replies. Her voice is tight, the pitch too high. “I was just about to replace these.” She nods at the bandages, averting her gaze because a part of her doesn’t want him to worry. Her hands are about to reach for the material, but she’s stopped.

Todoroki moves himself over, sitting right next to her. He scoots in a little closer, almost asking her permission in the quiet expression he conveys. When Momo makes no objection, he takes the bandages and instructs her to lift her arm.

“Here,” he says. “I can do that for you.”

His hands are gentle yet concise, applying pressure where it’s needed while heeding any potential tenderness and sensitivity. Todoroki’s still working on the task at hand when he speaks again.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless, Yaoyorozu.” It’s more of a demand than a suggestion.

Momo frowns. Technically, she wasn’t the one being reckless. Bakugo and the virtue of self-control have yet to merge together in wholesome unification, and she certainly hadn’t meant to stand anywhere near the crossfire. But she knows Todoroki is merely voicing his concern for her safety in the only way he knows how.

She doesn’t respond until after he’s finished wrapping her arm.

“I’ll be sure to exercise more caution in the future,” she pledges, eyes absentmindedly darting towards his right hand. She’s quick to procure an idea. “Now, help me make an ice-pack.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

The school festival is bustling with crowds, various clusters of students and faculty alike scattered about in proliferating volumes.

Todoroki and Momo gather with a group of fellow classmates, but for reasons beyond basic rationale they stick together. The thought of how close they’re standing next to each other, or even the fact that they’re both wearing blue button-down shirts like it had somehow been telepathically coordinated, never once crosses either of their minds.

After brief deliberation, the group comes to a consensus and convene at a shaved ice stand; the perfect treat for such a warm, sunny day. The line is dauntingly long, and it doesn’t help that Kaminari and Kirishima both take forever and a day to order. On the bright side, Todoroki and Momo are able to bide their time with idle chit-chat.

It’s Izuku’s turn when Momo makes a curious inquiry.

“What are your plans for the summer, Todoroki-san?” she asks. She tries not to sound so overtly proper, but it’s practically force of habit.

Todoroki won’t comment on his affinity for her formal tendencies this time. He’s done so in the past on numerous occasions and each time Momo merely attempts to play it off, a heated blush adorning her face.

Instead, he tilts his head in thought, and replies with the single most important thing on his agenda. “Visit my mother. As often as I can.”

He reverses the question after Izuku’s finished making his purchase. Ochaco’s next in line.

“What about you? You and your family going on vacation somewhere?”

Momo nods. Except, she’s unable to recall whether the destination was France or Italy. In spite of her memory glitch, she opts against sharing that small piece of slightly bourgeois information with him. “Yes, but only for about a week.”

And after that? Well, aside from training, possible internships, studying-

“We should make plans to meet up,” Todoroki proposes amid her contemplation. They’re not looking at each other. It’s almost as though he’s simply talking out loud. Awkward.

Momo fails to suppress the slight trembling of her knees, but she’s able to feign at least some semblance of a composed demeanor. “We should,” she agrees with a feeble nod. “Although with both of our busy schedules, it might be hard to coordinate something.”

Todoroki smirks. Often times, Momo’s Type-A personality gives off the impression that she’s uptight and over-analyzes everything.

He finds it endearing. One of the things he admires most about her.

“We’ll figure something out,” he assures her.

His words offer some consolation but before Momo can say anything more, Ochaco steps aside from the stand and they’re up next in line.

Having stood in line for what felt like an eternity, both know exactly what they want. They go for the same flavor, strawberry, and regroup with everyone else after paying for their respective treats.

While the others are devouring their shaved ice like it’s the end of the world, Momo takes her time and savors every last morsel. She considers herself lucky that Todoroki’s nearby. One of the perks of having him around on this particular occasion is that she can ask him to hold her shaved ice (if perhaps she needs to look for something in her bag or use the restroom) and it’ll stay nice and cold.

By the time both have finished snacking, the realization that the group has abruptly dismantled comes a tad delayed. Midoriya, Ochaco, and Iida had mentioned something earlier about balloon darts, while Kaminari, Jirou, and Kirishima are presumably on the hunt for more food stands.

That leaves Todoroki and Momo alone, once again, in a sea of U.A. students. They contemplate where to go from there.

Momo shares the first thing that comes to mind. “The origami stall seemed promising…”

Todoroki concurs. “We can check it out.”

The only problem is that the origami stall is on the other side of the festival grounds, and the crowd surrounding them has swelled into a massive mob that seemingly barricades any sort of clear path. But Todoroki is confident in his abilities to navigate through the swarm of people.

Momo, on the other hand, would definitely appreciate some guidance.

She doesn’t necessarily ask, nor does Todoroki make an assumption based on her hesitant bearing.

Instead, he wordlessly offers her his hand, nonchalant and obliging. Momo blinks a couple times in acquiescence, accepting the gesture as the perfect solution. She grasps his hand, and he begins hauling them off, piloting through the crowd with resolve. Every now and then, he looks back at her to ensure she’s keeping up just fine, all the while mindful of which turns to take and which ones to avoid.

Successfully following a trajectory devoid of any dead-ends, they eventually make it to the origami stall, unscathed.  

They stay by one another’s side for the rest of the day. Neither seem to notice that their hands are still entwined. Neither seem too keen on letting go.

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“I think we’re going to need more tickets for this one.”

Todoroki counts each ticket, one by one, discovering five more are needed in order for two people to be permitted admission aboard the Ferris wheel.

It’s a cool evening. Twilight has beckoned the stars. Summer vacation ends in less than a week, and therefore Momo had been more than willing to accept his invitation to this ‘End of Summer’ festival on the outskirts of the city. It’s nothing like the school festival, and although the crowds are significantly larger, the food and game stalls are far superior. Not to mention the fact that there’s classic rides- including the ever so popular Ferris wheel.

It’s Momo’s all-time favorite.

They’ve only been waiting for a few minutes, but the news of their shortage indicates they’ll have to go purchase more tickets, thus losing their place in line.

Momo doesn’t mind. “Okay, let’s buy more from the automated ticketing machine.” She shivers a bit after a sudden gust of wind blows past them.

“Are you cold?” Todoroki puts the previous subject on hold to address this far more pressing matter.

“It’s a little chilly, but I’ll be fine,” Momo replies. Before she can revert the discussion back to the insufficient funds in tickets, Todoroki has already shed his jacket.

He drapes it over her, ensuring she’s encircled in its warmth. “You can borrow it for the night.”

“But what about you…?” Momo’s voice trails off, slightly flustered by the gesture. It feels so nice…

Todoroki peers down at his left side. “I got it covered,” he says, not expanding any further than that. He doesn’t exactly need to. “You stay in line and save our spot,” he continues. “I’ll get the rest of the tickets.”

Momo nods in compliance, sliding her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. She watches as he disappears into the crowd, his temporary absence allowing for her to be alone with her inner musings.

She shoves both hands into the pockets of his jacket, startled when her right hand makes contact with a small electronic device. Curious, she pulls it out, eyeing it with intrigue. It’s Todoroki’s phone. Momo stares at it for a few seconds before tapping on the screen. It’s locked- requires a four-digit passcode to access its contents.

She taps her chin in thought. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so nosy, but with the opportunity staring her right in the face, it’s hard not to engage. It’ll help pass the time, she reasons. Her first guess is only logical. His birthday. January 11th… so…

1101

Incorrect

She tries his sister’s birthday, but the result is the same.

Incorrect

After rounding up the usual suspects, Momo briefly ponders a ridiculous suggestion.

Should I try my birthday? she quips internally.

In spite of her doubts, she thumbs over the numbers once more and enters in her own birthdate. September 23rd.

2309

It works.

Momo’s jaw drops like a heavy weight and her eyes widen to their maximum circumference.

She shuts the phone off and repeats her actions, thinking there’s no way it would actually work twice. There’s no way…

When the numbers corresponding with her birthdate work again, she feels her stomach drop.

She’s unsure if she can comprehend the flood of emotions raging throughout her head. Confused. Humored. Flattered. Embarrassed- it’s a mixture of everything all at once.

How long has it been this way? And… More importantly… Why??

If it’s for the same reason his birthday is the passcode for her own phone, then it’s obvious she’s been oblivious to what’s been going on between them.

But Momo immediately snaps out of her inner turmoil/heartfelt realization when she spots Todoroki in the blur of figures ahead, weaving his way back to meet her in the line. She shoves his phone back into the jacket’s pocket and forces a smile, hoping her demeanor doesn’t reflect so much as an ounce of the tension straining her throat.  

Todoroki assumes his position at her side, appearing much too laidback for her liking. “We’re good to go,” he tells her, holding up the acquisition of his reconnaissance. “Looks like we moved up a couple spots.”

Momo nods, trying her hardest not to look him in the eye. “Yeah,” she replies quietly. She clears her throat and speaks up, intent on cherishing the mood. “We’ll be up with the next group.”

The Ferris wheel makes several more rotations before coming to a slow stop. Once all of the previous passengers have vacated their respective gondolas, Todoroki and Momo step forward, handing over the amassed tickets in exchange for entrance. The ride operator gives them the go-ahead, pointing out a vacant gondola. The duo wastes no time heeding his instructions and hop on in, sitting side by side.  

The wheel has yet to turn and Momo can already hear her heart drum in her ears, thumping wildly against her chest. She’d never felt this nervous before around Todoroki. Perhaps she’d felt a bit intimidated by him in the past before she’d really gotten to know him on a more personal level, but never has she felt so on edge. Never has her heart swelled up in such a manner. Never has her stomach felt as though it’d been turned inside out.

These are clearly symptoms of a-

“Yaoyorozu?” Todoroki’s voice breaks her faltering concentration. His question emerges as the Ferris wheel begins to make its first rotation, tilting at a slow and steady pace. It’s clear that he senses something from her. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

Only then does Momo make eye contact again, albeit reluctantly. For one thing, she doesn’t want him to worry about her while she’d merely been lost in her trivial reveries. “N-no,” she mumbles, steeling herself in the confines of his warm jacket. “I mean, heights don’t bother me. The view is the best part.”

What exactly does he detect in her apprehension? Why does the look on his face seem to convey he finds her response dissatisfying?

If he is troubled by her evasiveness, he shows no indication of calling her out on it. Rather, he waits until their gondola is well above the crowd to be both comfortably out of earshot and to make a revelation of sorts.

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” he begins, unintentionally amplifying Momo’s anxiety.

She feels as though she’s internally combusting.

In spite of the chaotic mess that riles her mind, Momo proceeds with, “What is?”

“Being up here,” Todoroki answers. “You were right. The view is amazing.”

Momo should be enjoying the view- but that depends on which view is being addressed in this scenario. Their gondola cranks higher and higher still, offering captivating sights of the city skyline in the distance and the stars twinkling above. They’ve almost reached the highest point but she finds herself wanting only to look at him. All she can think about is how close they are, how their hands are almost touching, how she suddenly feels like she’s suffocating.

No, Momo thinks. I was wrong.

Turns out the view isn’t the best part.

It’s sharing this experience with Todoroki.

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Is it normal to develop feelings for a close friend?

Todoroki mulls over the thought as he walks Momo home one particularly chilly winter evening, simultaneously hoping there’s some sort of self-help guidebook he can examine for research purposes.

How to Deal With Feelings You Have For A Friend… For Dummies.

He’s probably walked down this same sidewalk with her more times than he can count, but somehow it seems as though the scene’s been perfectly set to test a certain theory.

Momo’s talking about something; he’s not entirely sure what though. He only pays attention to fragments of the lopsided conversation. It’s difficult to keep up with what she’s going on about when his mind is centered on how lovely she looks with rosy cheeks and calm half-lidded eyes. Todoroki’s clandestine observation eventually narrows on her lips. Now he’s really curious.

Her lips are a fair shade of pink, and they move in such fascinating patterns that align seamlessly with every syllable of every word that projects from the silky tone of her voice.

He wonders what they feel like; if they’re as soft as they look.

The pair stops just outside the gate to her home, and Momo carries on with the usual ‘goodbyes’ in formulated fashion. But before the words bidding him farewell can leave her mouth, Todoroki leans in and presses a small kiss to her lips.

It surprises her. Catches her off guard. Leaves her utterly stunned.

Todoroki slowly pulls away to see her reaction, unfathomable warmth swelling in his chest. He’s confident his little experiment has produced positive results; revels in the sight of her flushed face and glossy eyes. Still, he decides he must repeat the procedure for greater validity.

Strictly for the sake of his theory.

“How was that?” he asks, brushing over her cheek with his thumb.

Momo’s lips quiver. “I… I don’t know…” she stutters, already tipping her head in preparation for another kiss. “I think we need to do it again.”

To make a well-informed decision, of course.

Todoroki half-smiles, slipping his hands to her waist as she loops her arms around his neck.

The second kiss is slower, deeper. They take their time adjusting with innocent strokes and tentative motions. They’re clearly inexperienced with such intimate gestures, but neither have any qualms exploring these untouched waters together. They pull away in unison only to catch their breaths.

Where to go from here? Who knows. The sensible solution would probably consist of having a completely open and honest discussion about where they stand in this relationship; if they’re more than just friends.

But that can wait for now, as evidenced by the eager expressions they share with one another.

Both are perfectly fine resuming the kiss.

[17mounteens]

Long-lasting (Chan)

Request:

hi! can i request a fluffy (even angsty if u want bc im a sucker for happy endings) chan scenario where ur childhood besties w/ chan, n u develop a crush on him that lasts all the way through primary n high school, even tho they actually kinda started drifting apart in high school. he doesnt even know abt the crush!! but they get to college n she thinks hes forgotten all about her, until they see each other again n u can think of the rest~ im just rly soft for best friend + college au's (cont)

» alcohol warning!!!! drink responsibly if you’re old enough 🙏 I hope this is at least something like you expected, and there is a fair share of angstier bits ;; 💕

» If you’re using the tumblr app and can’t see the scenario, which is under a “keep reading”, please try opening the post in your phone’s internet browser (or a computer)! 💕

» 6,006 words

Your first day of kindergarten had left such a deep impression on you that you could still remember it fairly clearly. You had been almost three, and watching your mother leave had made you cry, which wasn’t exactly rare to happen there. You had stayed by the window for a long time, crying and hoping your mother would come pick you up soon, no matter how much the adults tried to kindly tell you that she would come in the afternoon.

The tears only stopped when your shoulder was tapped and you had turned around to see a boy of your age, smiling brightly.

“Come play with me. My mom left, too, but she’ll come back. Come on.”

And that was how you had met Lee Chan, your future best friend.

None of the first mornings at the kindergarten were easy for you, but Chan made them a lot better by playing with you and making it apparent that he wanted to be your friend. Playing with him made you forget about how much you missed your mother, and because you were new and you got along with him, you wanted to be his friend, too.

Both of your parents picked up on your friendship soon, whether it was because you two were always playing together whenever they picked you up or because you talked so much about each other and how you were friends at home. It didn’t take long for you two to have regular play dates, and you also invited each other to your birthday parties, where you were tightly together, too.

Simply put, you became best friends rather soon and stuck side by side throughout kindergarten and preschool, and would do so for many years to come.

Somewhere during preschool, however, you were surprised to have your mother ask you something that would have you think about everything in a new light.

“So, darling… do you like Chan?”

She had been folding the laundry and sounded casual while asking that, and you turned to look at her in surprise, putting aside the simple children’s book you were reading here and there. “He’s my best friend, of course I like him.”

Your mother had turned to look at you meaningfully, a warm smile on her lips. “I meant as more than a friend. We’ve noticed the way you look at him, and we were just wondering…”

“Who’s we?” you asked, focusing on the less important part rather than the fact that apparently you had a specific way in which you looked at Chan. Had he noticed?

“Your father and I, Chan’s mother, the preschool teacher…” your mother hummed and laughed good-humoredly when you hid your face in the nearest pillow and groaned dramatically. Putting the laundry away, she sat next to you on the couch you were lying on and stroked your back. “Honey, it’s fine, crushes come and go. It’s completely fine.”

Yeah, crushes came and went, but yours stuck with you for the next thirteen years.

After that discussion, you began thinking about it more, and realized that you may or may not have had a small crush on Chan. It was all kinds of pure and innocent - you were only six, after all - but you decided already then that you would never let him know about it.

Your friendship was more important than a flimsy crush that would eventually go away.

…

Time passed, and you and Chan were happy to be in the same class when you entered primary school. The teacher soon figured that you two should not sit next to each other unless they wanted to have you chatting throughout every lesson, but neither of you minded too much: you spent the breaks together, anyway.

As you grew older, you and Chan only got closer, although you also had your fights. Sometimes one of you would feel left out; sometimes he’d get upset after you beat him at a game; sometimes one of you just had a bad day, and sometimes there were simply misunderstandings that you solved fast and continued as though nothing had ever happened. None of the small quarrels tore you apart from each other, and instead brought the two of you closer to one another.

Even your crush on him got stronger as time passed, which wasn’t necessarily what you wanted to happen. You thought he was really cute and cool, and loved seeing him dance as he picked up interest in it. Whenever he was sick, you worried about him, and would help him with schoolwork if he wasn’t fully on track. Naturally he was also incredibly kind to you, being a good-hearted boy who thought of you as one of the most important people in his life, and it made you happy. He never left a favor unreturned, and took similar care of you as you did of him.

Still too pure to think too deep into it, you simply enjoyed the hugs you got from him and gave him, as much as they made you feel butterflies yet were simply an act of friendship to him.

It wasn’t until you entered middle school that you realized that especially with your feelings growing stronger, the one-sided nature of them would eventually hurt you: Chan was starting to get interested in people in a romantic way, and when he first whispered to you that he had a crush on someone, your heart jumped to your throat, only to sink back down when Chan told you who it was on. Naturally, you though, it was not on you.

“That’s nice,” you told him, forcing a smile to your face, and held back a deep sigh when the object of his crush walked past the two of you and you had to witness the smitten look on his face.

“It feels so nice,” Chan sighed dreamily, a serene smile on his face, and turned to you with a wide smile. “I hope you find someone you like soon, too.”

“Sure,” you managed to say despite your heart hurting and wanting to tell him that you had already liked him for seven years.

He tilted his head a little at your ingenuine tone and expression, but was soon distracted by the teacher entering the class. “I’ll talk to you again after the lesson.”

You only nodded, sighing when Chan left to his own seat, and looked at your notebook absentmindedly. Now that you knew who he liked, you couldn’t help but pay attention to how much he looked at them, and you could only wish he would look at you with such a warm, adoring gaze.

In all honesty you had known it was bound to happen sooner or later - with how many confessions he had gotten, you thought it impossible for him to not like someone eventually. For the sake of your own heart, you just hoped that he wouldn’t start dating before you got over your silly little crush.

You got your share of confessions, too, and after turning down one, you had Chan running to you. You were in ninth grade, practically counting days until the summer holidays, after which you’d enter high school.

“Why did you turn him down? He really likes you, and he’s not too bad, either, is he?” he asked, genuinely curious, and got his arm around your shoulders, which made your heart flutter.

“It’s too early to start dating,” you mumbled, avoiding Chan’s gaze, and sighed. “And besides, I like someone else.”

“He must be a lucky guy,” Chan smiled widely and squeezed your shoulder lightly. “You need to tell me who he is sometime.”

“We’ll see,” you said with a small smile, although your heart felt heavy. Even after all those years, you still weren’t ready to tell him - not when you had regular sleepovers and knew practically all of each other’s secrets. It was all too precious to be ruined: by the age of fifteen, you had some knowledge on the possible outcomes of confessing to your friend, and you didn’t want to take chances.

By the time you finally entered high school, you were officially smitten for Chan. Your cheeks would heat up in his presence a lot, and you were getting more and more conscious over the fact that he was attractive and that you really wanted to kiss him.

He had yet to notice anything, and by then you were in too deep to say anything about your crush, either, and instead swallowed any and all bitter feelings inside of you when he found a girl he liked, then loved, and eventually started dating.

Up until then you had been inseparably close, and even when he started dating the girl, you remained fairly close, although you could also feel him growing more distant as he began spending more time with her and less with you, which you also partially blamed on yourself. With the bitter emotions storming inside of you, there had been a few occasions where you had let jealousy have the best of you and had given him a bit of a cold shoulder, which you regretted.

It all lasted for a few months, during which you had gotten closer with your friends in one of the after school clubs you took part in, until one afternoon you saw Chan waiting at the door of the classroom your club was in. Frowning, you grabbed your bag and walked to the door.

“What’s up?” you asked in concern as the two of you began walking home, and Chan remained oddly quiet.

“She broke up with me,” he then said, his eyes aimed at the ground. Your heart dropped at the sight and knowledge, and you pouted a little as Chan sighed, a small, sad smile on his face.

“You’ll be fine,” you said and got your arm around his shoulders, holding him close to you. “You’re so sweet and kind and so cool when you dance; I’m sure there’ll be someone else.”

Sighing, Chan nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

For a few months you got closer again as you helped him mend his broken heart, but eventually, especially during the second year of high school, the two of you began truly drifting apart.

Chan got more active in the dance club, which took a lot of his time, as well as got much closer to the people in it. Adding a new girlfriend to that, there wasn’t too much time for you, although both of you tried to stay close for as long as you could. However, once you started spending more and more time with your other friends, too, it started to feel natural to talk less and less.

For some time you two would still text regularly and talk at school every now and then, but gradually throughout the school year, the two of you went from best friends to near strangers. You were in different classes for your last year of high school, and hardly talked at all during it.

By the summer you hardly even greeted each other, and it tore your heart apart just as much as it did to see him kiss his girlfriend at your graduation with the brightest smile on his face.

Your parents had also taken note of him not coming over, as opposed to him coming over at least once a week for whatever reason, and you had told them with a pained expression that you two weren’t talking anymore.

That summer, both your parents and friends made sure you had a great time, and you found yourself hardly even thinking about Chan with all the trips you went on and great things you did with your friends.

You could only hope college would be good to you, too.

…

Unfortunately you were painfully aware about the fact that Chan would be going to the same college as you, but you found solace in thinking that he’d probably have forgotten about you, as well as the fact that the college had so many students that bumping into him out of all people seemed unlikely.

Once you had first gotten to campus, you got settled in your room, which you were fortunate enough to share with someone you clicked with fairly well, and sighed as you looked out of your window. Your roommate tilted their head.

“Something on your mind?” they asked and got their counterpane out of one of their boxes so that they could put it on their bed.

You pouted a little and turned to look at your roommate. “Just… it’s not too likely to meet someone from your past when there’s so many of us here, right?”

They raised their eyebrows before shrugging with a small smile. “I want to say it isn’t, but the universe has twisted ways.”

“That’s true,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders as you sat down on your bed. “I just want to have a peaceful freshman year.”

Your roommate snorted, at which you pouted.

“Good luck with that.”

Not much later, you were called out for the beginning of orientation, and you decided to stick together at first, although you both had some of your friends from high school join you rather soon. There were a few quicker informative lectures about the college, how it worked and so on, and a few hours later you were more than ready to retreat back to your room with some pamphlets and flyers in your arms.

“Is there still something?” you asked with a sigh, and one of your high school friends hummed as they looked at the timetable.

“A lecture on student services, I think,” they said, and you held back a groan.

Before you were able to say anything else, you heard your name be called.

“Y/N?”

Chills ran down your spine as your feet stopped moving, and your friends turned to look at you in surprise. Slowly, you turned to look at the direction where the familiar voice came from, although it was lower than you remembered.

And there he was: Lee Chan, looking confused and wearing a pair of round glasses that made him all the more adorable.

“Chan..?” you asked with a tilt of your head, frowning, and felt your heart jump to your throat when he melted into a wide smile that left no room for misunderstanding: it was Chan. Turning to your friends, you smiled a little. “I’ll come soon. Save me a seat, okay?”

With that, you walked to Chan, all kinds of emotions storming inside of you: disappointment over how things had gone between the two of you, surprise to see him on the very first day of orientation, happiness over seeing him after a long time, and… something warm in your chest over how lovely his smile still was.

“I saw you were going to enroll here, but I didn’t expect to see you, at least so soon,” Chan said brightly, and you nodded with a small, awkward smile on your face.

“Me neither,” you noted and took a deep breath. “So… how are you and Minkyung?”

His face fell momentarily, but the smile reappeared on his face soon. “Ah, we broke up over the summer. It wasn’t working.”

“I see,” you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart seemed to flutter with some dumb hope.

“What about you? Anything new?” Chan inquired, and you wished you had something interesting to tell him, such as having a hot boyfriend or having done something cool over the summer or just anything.

And yet. “Nothing, really. Same old, same old.”

Chan smiled at you. “Well, now that we’re in college I’m sure there’ll be something. And also… do you want to catch up sometime? Like, properly, over coffee or something?”

“Uh, sure,” you said, slightly dumbfounded as to where it was all coming from, and got a bright smile from him.

“I think we need to go now, but I’ll message you about it later,” he stated and you could only nod as you then began walking to the auditorium your next lecture would be in. Chan stole glances at you, worrying his lower lip between his teeth; he was next to his childhood friend who was once his best friend, yet you now felt like a stranger, and he blamed it on himself. “So… did you have a nice summer?”

“I did, actually,” you said, your smile becoming more genuine and happy as you recalled all the great memories you had made during the few months you had had free. “I travelled quite a bit, and just… did a lot of things, you know.”

“I think I saw some of the photos, yeah,” Chan hummed and gave you a warm smile. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I hope you did, too,” you said right when you reached the auditorium door, which was where you parted your ways as Chan left to look for people he knew and you located your friends, too.

Your roommate nudged you as soon as you had sat down next to them. “Was that the someone from the past?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart.

“Is he your ex or something?” they asked, and you nearly choked on your spit.

“God, no. We… used to be best friends and I used to like him for a long time, it’s a long story,” you mumbled and let out a deep sigh. Your roommate nodded in understanding, and before the person at the very front of the auditorium began talking, told you that they’d be willing to listen if you ever wanted to talk about it.

A few hours later you were finally back to your room, and upon checking your phone, noticed a message from Chan where he asked you if you wanted to grab coffee the next day. Although skeptical, you found yourself agreeing, and so the next day you made your way to one of the cafés on campus, spotting Chan by the door of it.

“Good to see you,” he smiled when he spotted you, and you smiled once you finally reached him.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, and without further ado suggested that you enter the café.

The two of you looked at the menu carefully, and Chan asked you what you were getting. When you answered, he chuckled and looked at you brightly. “Some things don’t change. I remember you getting that pretty much all the time.”

“Why change the order when you’ve found something you like,” you said with a soft chuckle, and Chan agreed. Much to your amusement he ordered his old favorite, too, and soon you were both seated by one of the window tables.

Meeting up with him was just as awkward as you had feared it would be, yet also oddly comfortable. While you hadn’t talked in almost a year, it felt like hardly any time had passed since you last spoke. It was weird and it made you both happy and sad, knowing that you had missed almost a year of time with him.

Almost a year without your best friend.

You caught up pretty extensively and talked about your shared memories, all of which made you feel nostalgic, and for a moment it felt like you were with the 3-year-old you had once become friends with - only, you were both 16 years older.

A few hours later, the two of you walked back to your dorms, talking cheerfully as you did so. When you reached your dorm, Chan turned to you.

“I know I kinda… blew it in high school, but would you like to start seeing more again?” he asked, seemingly hopeful yet nervous about your reply. The next words he practically blurted out. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you mumbled, hardly able to keep a pout off your face, and without thinking about it too much - thinking about your feelings too much - you nodded. “I think it’d be nice to reconnect.”

Even if it meant awakening the warm feelings that were already starting to arise in your chest whenever you saw him smile.

“Great,” Chan grinned at you, and gave you a friendly hug. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah, see you,” you smiled and watched him leave as he continued walking down the road until he reached his dorm. Sighing, you entered yours and made your way to your room, thinking about the decision you had just made.

All you could do was hope you wouldn’t regret it.

After that you and Chan saw each other regularly, regaining the close friendship you once shared, little by little. You were a bit worried to realize that with that, all the adoration and love you felt for him were brought back, too, but you didn’t know how to stop it, and finding someone else didn’t feel right, either, as much as your roommate promised to work as some sort of a matchmaker for you.

No, you’d figure it out yourself eventually.

Time passed, and towards the end of the first semester you and Chan were more or less best friends again, although you were still trying to mend what had been lost and broken between the two of you. You spent a lot of time together and supported each other during whatever slumps occurred, and also went to most of the events and parties together, sometimes with one or two other friends, too.

It made you smile how you got to see him in such new situations: falling asleep on his book in the library, witnessing him dancing wildly at a party after one too many drinks, sneaking him to your dorm room after he had gotten locked out of his own for a reason you weren’t sure you even wanted to know… you treasured every bit of it, and Chan felt the same way about you.

Shortly put, you were both more than happy to be back in each other’s lives.

As the spring semester came near, Chan invited you to yet another party, which felt particularly tempting due to how annoyingly strong your crush on him was getting once again. Sleeping had gotten difficult because you thought about him so much, and you found yourself thinking about him more and more, too, and not completely platonically, either. With how much you wanted to do all kinds of romantic things with him and have him treasure you, you concluded that you were in need of a drink and letting loose; you were in need of forgetting, if only for one night.

As per usual, the two of you went to the party together, and Chan raised his eyebrows when you went directly to the drinks.

“Planning to get wasted today?” he asked jokingly when you poured a drink for yourself, and you nodded determinedly once you raised the cup to your lips.

“Damn straight,” you said with a smile, not in the least correcting Chan when he assumed that the reason lied in the nearing new semester, which only knew stress, deadlines and lacking sleep.

“Good thing you have me taking care of you,” he chuckled and got himself a drink, too and you agreed with him.

Much to your joy the party was incredibly pleasant. You had a good time and were actually able to forget about your feelings for Chan for a moment, and you found out that the party wasn’t too bad even when you were separated from him for a while. You talked with people you hadn’t spoken with before, danced a little and all that, all the while Chan talked with some people, too, while making sure you were okay and not getting into any kind of trouble.

Some hours into the party, Chan blinked in surprise when you suddenly got your arm around his shoulders and leaned against him, your breath smelling faintly of the alcohol you still had in your cup as well as in your body. A smile spread to his lips, and he got his arm around you, too, providing you support. “What’s up?”

“I have to tell you something,” you began with a giggle that he could tell was more hollow than it was meant to be. He raised his eyebrows, and you grinned at him, although it didn’t reach your eyes. “It’s a funny story, really.”

“What is it?” he asked, one of his eyebrows quirked, completely unaware of what you were about to say.

You let out a deep sigh, your face falling a little at that. “I used to have a huge crush on you for a loooong time, you know?”

Chan’s eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise, and he was unable to say anything as his heart jumped to his throat.

“You never noticed it… Maybe I hid it so well? It was funny, honestly… Being your best friend when I just really… loved you,” you said, your words sounding a bit messy, and Chan listened intently, his expression darkening a little when you went on. “All the girls you dated… your broken heart that I had to help you heal…”

“Y/N, stop,” Chan managed to say at last and pulled you a bit closer to him so that he could hug you with one arm. You sighed again, closing your eyes and leaning into him, hardly remembering the cup in your hand.

“You’ve still got such a warm hug,” you sighed, breathing in his scent, and there was something in the situation added to the alcohol in your blood that made you emotional. Sniffling, you took a hold of the back of Chan’s sweater. “...I want to go home.”

As much as he was enjoying the party, his heart was hurting seeing you like that, especially after hearing what you had said, so he nodded without hesitation. “Let’s go.”

Chan walked you to your dorm room and made sure you got to bed well, but when he was about to leave, you took his hand into yours.

“Don’t leave me again,” you mumbled, your eyes already closed, and Chan pouted a little, rubbing the back of your hand gently.

“Do you want me to stay over?” he asked, and you let out a noise he could only take as a positive answer, especially when it was joined with a nod from you.

You let go of his hand and got into a comfortable position under your blanket, and soon you had him lying down next to you, keeping a safe space between the two of you. Chan sighed as he looked at you, a put on his face, and stroked your arm slowly through the blanket you had over yourself.

“I’ve made you go through a lot, haven’t I?” he asked rhetorically, his voice small, and smiled a little with a sad hint to it. “I’ll try to make up for it. I’m sorry.”

The next morning you, much to your own surprise, woke up with Chan by your side. You frowned, trying to remember what had happened the previous night, but it was all so blurry and the headache was killing you, so all you could do was hope you hadn’t said or done anything dumb, although being in your own bed fully clothed gave you a lot of hope.

Somewhat able to scramble over Chan, you got out of bed and into the bathroom, taking note of the empty bed of your roommate’s on the way. Figuring that they’d gotten some other place to sleep at the night before, you instead focused on how the night had been for you while brushing your teeth and washing your face.

Clearly you had been with Chan the whole evening, which wasn’t much of a surprise since you were close again, but besides that it all was a blur. Only your gut feeling told you that there was a good reason for him to have slept next to you.

Even after you had freshened up a little, you remained seated on your toilet, trying to will your body to feel less nauseous while also avoiding having to talk with Chan, who you hoped was still sleeping.

Your hopes turned into dust when you could hear a knock on the bathroom door, followed by a low, groggy voice. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, just give me a second,” you rushed to answer, and you hated the way your heart was hammering in your chest. As if you weren’t feeling bad enough already.

“Okay,” Chan replied, after which you figured he left the door.

Sighing, you massaged your temples. Whether it was the hangover or just a general arising of old emotions, you suddenly felt as much like a mess as you had in high school when you were trying to deal with the unrequited feelings you held for the boy that was now sitting on your bed.

“I’m stronger now,” you mumbled to yourself and finally stood up and got out of the bathroom, building up your courage so that you could look at Chan and actually talk with him.

He smiled up at you, his hair a bit of a mess. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you mumbled with a small smile, too, and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door. Clearing your throat, you began fiddling with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “So… what happened last night?”

You could see Chan’s expression change for a moment before he sighed and gave you a soft yet sad smile. “You kind of… opened up, I guess.”

Feeling your eyes widen, you then winced and covered your face with your hand. “About..?”

Chan pouted and stood up so that he could walk to you. “About you, me, us… I had no idea you liked me.”

Your heart felt like it could’ve burst out of anxiety, and breathing felt challenging, too. Chan looked at you in concern and slowly placed his hands on your shoulders, only pulling you into a hug when you didn’t show a sign of not wanting it.

“It’s really nothing,” you mumbled, clinging onto Chan as you hid your face in his shoulder. Tears were stinging in your eyes, and a part of you hated just how comforting his hug was, even as you braced yourself for yet another rejection, this time a direct one.

“It’s not nothing,” Chan said, audibly pouting, and stroked your back soothingly. “I could tell you’ve been hurting, you know. And I’m sorry. For that, and for letting us drift apart, and…”

“It takes two to drift apart,” you reminded him with a sniffle, and got a quiet hum from him.

“I guess. I just… I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered, holding you close as he sighed. “I’m sorry for being blind.”

Holding the back of his sweater in your fists, you shook your head. “It’s fine, I was doing my best to hide it anyway… I played myself.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Chan said quietly, and you slowly lifted your face, looking at him with a small frown, your eyes glistening with tears. He gave you a small, sad smile and dried some of the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ve been blind to my own feelings.”

Unable to say anything, all you could do was stare into his eyes as you tried to figure out if he was saying what you thought he was saying, and you could hear your heartbeat.

Melting into a wide smile, Chan caressed your cheeks. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently, Y/N, and I think I…”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” you whispered, your eyes watering with fresh tears, and Chan shook his head, his eyes glistening a little, too.

“...like you. I like you.”

His voice was so steady and his gaze was so warm that your knees nearly gave in, and you weren’t sure if you still believed your ears.

Lee Chan, who you had liked since preschool, liked you?

A smile spread to your lips as you sniffled and placed your hands on top of his on your cheeks. “Really? Even though I’m… me? Despite all the unflattering situations you’ve seen me in?”

“Because you’re you,” Chan laughed, the grin on his face widening at your latter remark. “Besides, most of those unflattering situations were in kindergarten.”

“My point exactly,” you choked out and let out a quiet laugh. “We’ve known each other for so long, it’s crazy.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m crazy about you,” Chan blurted out and blushed a little. “I mean--”

“Smooth,” you smiled at him, and Chan held back a groan before looking into your eyes shyly, lowering his hands from your cheeks and taking your hands into his.

“How do you feel about me now, though?” he asked quietly, biting on his lower lip as he waited for your reply.

“Right now you’re not helping my hangover, but,” you began, taking a break as you grinned widely, “I still like you, you dummy.”

Chan let out a sigh of relief and hugged you tightly, only to pull back soon afterwards. “You’re hungover?”

“Yep,” you nodded with a meek smile, and got a chuckle from Chan.

“Get in bed, I’ll go grab us something to eat and be right back.”

You did just that and watched him curiously as he put his jacket on and turned to look at you with a bright smile on his face before leaving your room.

There was comfort in the knowledge that he would be back, and once he did return, the two of you ate eagerly, after which you talked a little about how you felt about each other and how you would continue.

Little by little your relationship grew more romantic in nature - neither of you rushed anything, and instead let it all happen naturally as days passed. You’d start holding hands, hug more, cuddle…

And, a few weeks later, you shared your first kiss, which was everything yet nothing like you had imagined, but only in a good way.

You had been on your bed, you with one of your coursebooks on your lap and Chan was playing a video game on his portable console, and after finishing another stage, he had turned to you, about to ask something. You had turned to him at the same time, and your lips brushed against each other’s, which made your eyes widen.

Melting into a smile, you had then placed your hand on his leg and given him a proper kiss, to which he replied with a similar wide, happy smile, cupping your cheek with his hand.

Slowly, you pulled back, the brightest smile on your face. “So, what were you about to say?”

“I forgot,” Chan snorted, and you gave him a gentle nudge, at which he laughed.

Whatever he was about to ask you never came back to him, but instead you shared a few more light kisses before attempting to focus on what you were doing again, which proved out to be impossible to the point where you ushered Chan out of your room, laughing.

“I’ll leave with one condition,” he said with a laugh when he was standing in the hallway and you were by your door.

Quirking your eyebrow knowingly, you grinned. “One more kiss?”

“Exactly,” Chan smiled and pulled you in for a kiss that nearly had you melting and reconsidering your decision to study rather than spend time with him - only the importance of the course helped you remain strong.

Meanwhile, Chan left with a grin on his face, and once you returned to your bed, you were met with two messages showing on your phone screen.

14:02 I could tell you wanted me to stay. Study well, I won’t kiss you again unless your exam goes well! 14:03 ...We both know that’s a lie, but I still want you to do well! I love you 💕

Admin Scooter

[wazafam]

Rory and Jess might be the most controversial relationship in Gilmore Girls - some fans love Jess's intelligence and bad boy ways, and others think that he was just flat-out terrible for Rory and should have been ditched on the double. He remains controversial right through to the Year In The Life revival, where he reappears and makes fans wonder if he's still in love with Rory, and with good reason.

RELATED: Gilmore Girls: 10 Most Confusing Things About Rory

At the end of the day, Rory and Jess were incredibly important to each other, and they always will be - and that's something that any fan of the couple can get behind. From his time as a reluctant and angry teen to a successful author, Rory and Jess will always be there for each other, and fans of the couple will love these episodes.

Updated May 7, 2020, by Rose Moore: Fans are still hoping that a second season of Gilmore Girls: A Year In The Life could be forthcoming - and while there are no official plans, there are some hints that a sequel is on the way. If it does, a huge hope for Rory and Jess fans is that there will be more between the two as adults, as they were only given a few scenes in the revival, and those scenes suggested that Jess still has some feelings for his high school sweetheart. In the meantime, though, there are some great episodes for fans of the couple to rewatch. 

15 The Bracebridge Dinner (S2 Ep10)

This isn't the first time that Rory meets Jess, but it's the time that really points toward what is waiting for them... and for her and Dean. In this episode, Lorelai has a huge dinner planned, which is canceled because of a snowstorm. She ends up inviting the townspeople to the event instead (seeing as everything is already arranged), and when the dinner ends in a sleigh ride, Rory ends up sharing a carriage with Jess. It's romantic enough there, but Jess pushes Rory to really think about her relationship with Dean - and everyone knows what is coming.

14 A Tisket, A Tasket (S2, Ep 13)

Stars Hollow has all kinds of ridiculous and adorable traditions, and this episode focuses on one of them - the picnic basket auction. Here, Jess decides to outbid Dean for Rory's basket, although tradition would dictate that Rory's beau take the honor. It stokes the resentment between Jess and Dean, for one thing, but it also creates space for Rory and Jess to spend some time together, and realize just how much they have in common.

13 There's The Rub (S2, Ep16)

Jess proves his literary chops in this episode, where Rory tells Dean that she wants to spend time alone, only for him to catch her with Jess and Paris. Of course, she originally did want to spend that time by herself, and she didn't invite either Paris or Jess over, they just kind of (individually) showed up. But it's a great one for Jess fans, as it shows that he has the ability to connect with Rory and Paris on an intellectual level - something that Dean fails to do.

12 Teach Me Tonight (S2, Ep19)

Despite Jess's intelligence, he struggles with schoolwork (out of boredom and a lack of motivation, largely). Luke, however, thinks that he needs tutoring, and this is where Rory comes in. Of course, their 'tutoring' really just gives them more time together, a deeper connection, and pushes Rory to realize how much she cares.

RELATED: Gilmore Girls: The 5 Most (& 5 Least) Realistic Storylines

This is especially clear in 'Teach Me Tonight', when they go for a drive together, and Rory wants to keep driving rather than going back to study. Of course, every fan knows how badly that goes, when they end up in an accident.

11 Lorelai's Graduation Day (S2, Ep21)

Some of the best episodes for Rory and Jess are some of the worst for Rory and Lorelai - and this is definitely one of the worst for that, as Rory misses her mother's graduation because she's playing hooky with Jess in NYC. Of course, as much as this was a terrible-daughter moment, it was a seriously romantic day for Jess and Rory, as they wander Manhattan and flirt all day.

10 I Can't Get Started (S2, Ep22)

This is one of the big ones for Rory/Jess fans - as after a whole lot of build up, the two finally kiss! Of course, it's not quite as romantic as it should be, given that the kiss comes at Sookie's wedding, which Rory is attending with Dean. However, when Jess asks to come back to Stars Hollow, and then this happens, everyone knows that Rory and Dean are on their last legs.

9 Eight O Clock At The Oasis (S3, Ep5)

Dean and Rory are still together at this point, but it's obvious that they are on the way out, and that Rory and Jess are going to be the next cute couple of Stars Hollow. The episodes in between their kiss at Sookie's wedding and them actually getting together are packed with great moments of chemistry, but this is a particularly noteworthy one. Rory gets caught dealing with a broken sprinkler, and Jess ends up coming by to fix it... but, as they stand together soaking wet, Rory tells him that Dean is on the way to help her himself. Showing remarkable consideration for their relationship, Jess turns the sprinkler back on, and walks away... leaving Rory (and fans) gazing after him.

8 Let The Games Begin (S3, Ep8)

It's taken far too many episodes since that first kiss at Sookie's wedding, but Rory and Jess are now together - and they are absolutely adorable. Between dealing with Luke and Lorelai's reactions to their own first moments as a couple, this is a thoroughly heartwarming episode... even if it does have its moments of awkward teen love. Still, at this point, everything is exciting and new for the two of them, and it's a great episode to revisit that new love feeling.

7 Face Off (S3, Ep15)

This may not be a favorite, because most of the episode is spent with Jesse not treating Rory wonderfully, but it is an important one - and has a great ending. The focus of the episode is Rory and her inability to call Jess to make plans, but her fury with his casual 'maybe we'll do something' attitude that ends up with her home alone.

RELATED: Gilmore Girls: The Main Characters, Ranked Worst To Best Character Arc

Throw in some Dean-with-a-new-girlfriend, and it seems like Rory and Jess are on the rocks... until he shows her how much he cares, and they get a sweet moment in the end.

6 Happy Birthday Baby (S3, Ep 18)

Having worked out their issues from Face Off, by this point in the series, Rory and Jess are happily, totally in love. Their relationship is often complicated, with as much time spent apart as together (far more time spent apart, in fact), but this is an episode that really shows how good they were. In it, Rory is making plans for university, and Jess is being 100% supportive. He is planning how they will stay in touch, thinking about visits, and showing her that he has every faith that they will stay together after she has gone to Yale. It's just a shame that this didn't actually happen.

5 Nag Hammadi is Where They Found the Gnostic Gospels (S4, Ep13)

Another slightly sad episode for Jess and Rory, as they've broken up at this point - but again, a big one. This is the episode where Jess, after all his time with Rory, and then his time apart from Rory (and his horrifying exit from Stars Hollow), finally tells her that he loves her. Sure, he then drives off, and this is after a day of running around avoid each other, but it's still a big moment.

4 Last Week Fights, This Week Tights (S4, Ep 21)

Rory and Jess may not actually get back together in the original series, but this is a moment that they could have done - and some might argue that they should have! Jess, after being away for quite some time, is back for his Mom's wedding - and he has started to grow up. This is also a great episode for Jess and Luke, as Jess acknowledges everything Luke did, and really thanks him for it. It also could have been a great one for Jess and Rory, as Jess heads to Yale and asks Rory to come back to New York with him. There's no way of knowing if they may have worked out had she taken him up on the offer, though, because she turns him down.

3 Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out (S6, Ep8)

This isn't the most romantic episode for Jess and Rory, but it's one that shows just how their relationship grows (and gives every reunion fan hope for the two of them!). At this point, Rory has dropped out of Yale and is living with her grandparents and not talking to her mother, so when Jess returns to see her, he is understandably surprised. And when she learns that he has written a book and generally got his life together, she starts to question her own choices. In many ways, it's Jess, and the moment that he calls her out on her current situation, that gets Rory to head back home and get back to what she really wants. What fan doesn't love Jess for that?

2 The Real Paul Anka (S6 Ep 18)

True Rory and Jess fans are still hoping for a second revival and a chance for these two crazy kids, but in the original series, this is the last big Rory and Jess moment - and it's a doozy. In 'The Real Paul Anka', Rory is still furious with Logan for sleeping around when they were broken up, and when he heads out with the Life and Death Brigade, she heads out to Jess's publishing house event. Unsurprisingly, they have all kinds of chemistry, and when Jess asks if everything is 'fixed' and she says it is, he kisses her! Which would be amazing, except of course, she is cheating on Logan, and gets upset and confesses everything. Poor Jess... but what a final kiss!

1 A Year In The Life: Summer

By the revival, it seems that Rory and Jess are almost completely out of each other's lives - Rory is dating someone else (who she routinely forgets about) and having an affair with Logan in London, but when Jess comes back to town in the summer, there's still chemistry between them. They also still make perfect sense together. Jess is now matured, and is still helping inspire Rory, as he is the one who plants the idea of writing a book in her head. At the end of the revival, Jess tells Luke that he's completely over Rory, of course, but the way he looks at her says otherwise.

NEXT: Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life: 10 Questions Fans Still Have About The Characters

Gilmore Girls: 15 Best Episodes To Rewatch If You Miss Rory and Jess from https://ift.tt/2WJkvVi

[unabashedly-here]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

You absolutely hated the idea of getting a tutor when you didn’t even need it. Your grades were excelling in the challenging environment, yet the teacher decided to act presumptively and assign you with a tutor, who happened to be the best in the class.

It was Peter Parker, someone you’d probably not notice if he wasn’t your tutor. After meeting him, he was almost inserted into your life and you welcomed him. If it weren’t for the stupid tutoring sessions your teacher made you do. You scowled at the book the two of you were looking at. “This is pointless. I have an A in all my classes!”

Peter smiled crookedly at you before looking back down to his book and mentioning in a casual tone, “You transferred to a completely different school in sophomore year. Not to mention, this school is for geniuses. Most transfers need a tutor.”

Glancing up at him, you added stubbornly, “I’m not a normal transfer.”

“Can’t say you are, Y/N Y/L/N,” Peter responded with a small smirk as he continued to talk about Computer Science. So, you weren’t a fan of people knowing who exactly you were. It’s not like any of your records said anything about your last name being Stark, and that means you weren’t technically lying about your father.

Withholding information isn’t lying. You just wanted a normal high school experience and, although you mended things with your dad, you didn’t want people to think that he got you into the school so you couldn’t handle it. Yes, he got you into the school, but that was just a stepping stone. You were trying your hardest to absorb all the information being thrown at you.

Not to mention the tensions at the Avengers Compound. Due to Sokovia and recent government problems, the team was rather split over the issue. You didn’t want the government to control the Avengers, but you knew the civilian deaths were a serious issue with Tony. Besides, he was set on keeping you out of the conflict itself. It still hurt to see the team you loved so much falling apart.

Yet another thing to worry about is Peter. He’s been very tired lately and he’s been trying to blame it on the schoolwork and late nights. What Peter doesn’t know is that sometimes, if his sleeve is rolled up slightly, you’ll see occasional bruises and cuts. You immediately thought that he got himself involved in something that he shouldn’t be involved in, but you dismissed the idea.

It’s Peter after all. He couldn’t have gotten in that much trouble. He was just a sweet, albeit slightly dorky, guy. There are so many things he could do, but Peter knows when to avoid a bad situation. That’s how he managed to stop the major bullying from Flash.

Little did you know, Peter was looking at you and noticing how tired you seemed. After the tutoring session, he asked if you were okay. Since you couldn’t tell him that the stress of civil war was keeping you up, you simply smiled and stated, “I’ve just been worried lately. You know, because of all the crime lately.”

Concern flashed through his eyes and Peter wondered, “Has something happened?”

“No, not at all. I’m just a bit nervous.”

You began to walk away, but Peter stopped you and said, “I could walk you home.” He wanted to stop by as Spiderman and keep an eye out, but he had no idea where you lived.

Raising your eyebrow, you simply declined, “No thanks. I’m waiting for my dad anyway. Besides, I don’t want you staying up late tonight because of homework.” To hide your obvious lie, you said the last part as if you were a worried mother.

“Thanks, Mom,” he teased before continuing, “Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N!” You were surprised that he just dropped the conversation, but shrugged it off and continued to walk.

Peter almost ran home so he could get his schoolwork done before his night roaming began. His mind went over the conversation with you. He was still concerned over you losing sleep and decided to see if he could find your address off the school directory.

It hadn’t been updated yet, so you weren’t there. Peter hesitated until he finally just typed your name into a search bar. Yes, he knew that this was slightly creepy, but it was good intentions, right?

Not much came up for your name. Miscellaneous things appeared like some awards you won at your old school. It wasn’t until he stumbled on an article that had recanted its statement. There were some photos of you, leaving what was Stark Towers. No one had any idea why you were there. Tony Stark had replied to the author that your mother was a friend of his and he had given you a summer internship.

You knew Tony Stark? Peter’s eyes widened and his mind raced. Why hadn’t you told him? You knew how much Peter looked up to Tony Stark. Maybe he could casually bring it up in conversation. He groaned slightly to himself, realizing he’d have to explain how he had stumbled upon an obscure article about you. That would seem creepy probably.

Groaning again, he closed the browser and shut his laptop. Of course he found out something about you, but Peter had no idea where you lived. All dreams of protecting you dissipated and reality came crashing back. You’d never like him. You’re just hanging out with him because Peter’s your tutor and one of the only people you knew at Midtown.

When the battle between Avengers was inevitable, you almost shut down in on yourself. Peter was extremely worried for you. Was the transition to Midtown hard? Your grades weren't suffering, so it couldn't be that bad. You told him a bit about your old school, and never in a nostalgic way.

Maybe it was personal? It shocked Peter at how little he knew about you. Sure, you met Peter that year, but it's been a while since you first met him. He would have thought to at least know what your family was like. Some little comment about your mother or father.

You said nothing about your family. Maybe it was a family issue. He stared at you as you did your work. Peter was supposed to be tutoring, but he was too distracted by the dark circles under your eyes, signifying a consistent poor sleep schedule, something Peter knew all too well. He would look over at you from time to time, wishing he could do something.

The Avengers Compound seemed practically empty without everyone there. Wanda was shipped off to another compound, where Steve and Clint broke her out. Natasha stayed, but seemed distant as well. You silently did your homework on the counter in the kitchen when Tony walked in. He paused at your appearance. The Accords and everything had distracted him from your wellbeing. You obviously looked stressed over the upcoming battle.

He cleared his throat. You looked over your shoulder quickly, relaxing when you saw Tony. Walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder, Tony said in a reassuring tone, “You’re keeping up with the work perfectly. Once you’re done your homework, I want you in bed asleep.”

Simply nodding, you noticed his car keys in his hands and asked, “Are you going somewhere, Dad?”

“Recruiting the new Spider-kid,” he answered nonchalantly, “I’ll just pick up some dinner afterwards so don’t wait up.” Tony left you all by your lonesome, so you turned on some music while you did your homework.

About thirty minutes later, you felt your phone buzz on the table. Seeing it was Peter, you looked at it, not expecting much. It read, “Hey, I’m going to need you to collect my homework for the next few days.”

“Why?” you responded.

“I got an internship for Tony Stark!” You looked at the text in shock when another text came through from Peter. “By the way, anything you want to tell me?”

A strangled noise escaped from your mouth as the realization set in. FRIDAY immediately powered up and the voice resonated from the ceiling, “Miss Stark, I am unaware of that sound. Is everything okay?”

“He’s Spiderman!” you yelled at the AI.

“I am confused,” FRIDAY continued, “Is there a spider in the room?”