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srslyblvck · 8 months ago

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a dare too far, james potter [ Part II ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 5.5k [ a/n: what can i say, i lost track lmao ]

part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR discovery had been a blur of pain and confusion. You had avoided James like the plague, refusing to even look in his direction. Your heart still ached, but your pride and self-respect kept you from falling apart in front of everyone.

It wasn’t long before your friends—Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence—noticed something was wrong. They knew you too well, and your sudden distance from James didn’t go unnoticed. You hadn’t said a word about what had happened, but one afternoon, while you sat with them at lunch, Florence finally broke the silence.

“Y/N,” she began softly, “what happened with James?”

Your fork stilled in your hand, and for a moment, you debated lying. But the weight of it all was too much to bear alone, and with a deep breath, you told them everything. From the dare to your overheard conversation in the library, every heartbreaking detail spilt out. By the time you finished, your friends were fuming.

“He did what?” Archie’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Leonard, usually calm and rational, had gone stiff, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. “He was using you… for a stupid dare? Merlin’s beard…”

Autumn reached across the table to grasp your hand, her face a mix of empathy and fury. “That—that is despicable.”

Florence was quieter, but her steely expression said it all. She had always been protective of you, and seeing you hurt had ignited something fierce within her.

Archie was the first to stand, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Where’s Potter and his pack of idiots?”

You shook your head, reaching out to stop him. “Archie, please—don’t do anything. It’s not worth it.”

But Archie’s mind was made up. “Not worth it? He messed with your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. That’s more than worth it.”

Leonard and Autumn exchanged a glance, and Leonard stood as well, his usually calm face clouded with anger. “He’s not getting away with this.”

“I don’t want you to fight—” you tried again, but Archie had already turned to leave, his face set in grim determination.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with anger. “But I’m not letting this slide.”

Before you could say another word, Archie and the others were already storming out of the Great Hall, leaving you behind. A heavy sense of dread settled over you as you watched them go.

Archie didn’t need long to find them. James and his friends were walking through the hallway just outside the Great Hall, laughing about something Sirius had said, completely unaware of the storm heading their way.

Without warning, Archie charged forward, grabbing James by the front of his robes and slamming him into the stone wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the hallway, silencing the students nearby who had been watching.

James let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, Archie’s fist connected with his jaw in a solid punch. James staggered against the wall, his hand flying to his face as he winced in pain.

“You think you can just mess with her like that?” Archie growled, pinning James to the wall again, his face inches from his. “You think you can just play with her feelings and walk away without a scratch?”

James blinked, still reeling from the punch, but when he met Archie’s eyes, there was no deflection or defense in his gaze. There was only guilt. “Archie, wait—”

“No, you don’t get to explain!” Archie spat, shoving him harder against the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? You broke her!”

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes flashing angrily. “Oi, get your hands off him—”

But Leonard blocked Sirius’s path, his expression dark and uncharacteristically cold. “Back off, Black. He had this coming.”

“Look, mate, we didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sirius said, trying to reason with Leonard, though his voice lacked sincerity. “It was just a stupid joke.”

Autumn, standing beside Florence, scoffed. “A joke? You think it’s a joke to toy with someone’s feelings? You think it’s funny to break someone’s heart?”

Remus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Archie. James didn’t mean—”

But Archie wasn’t listening. “I don’t care what he meant! He knew what he was doing. You all did. You think you can just play with people’s lives because you’re the Marauders, huh? Because you’re so damn popular?”

James, his cheek red from the punch, swallowed hard. “Archie… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Archie snapped, pushing James harder against the wall. “You knew what you were doing. You used her for a dare—you made her believe she could trust you. That she could actually care about you. And you did it for what? A joke? To get Evans jealous?”

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. Guilt twisted in his gut, more painful than any punch could have been. He had no defense. No excuse.

“I didn’t mean to—” James started, but Archie cut him off, his voice growing colder.

“You did mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing. You toyed with her feelings and now you’re going to pay for it.”

James felt the weight of Archie’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—but that didn’t change the fact that he had.

Before the situation could escalate any further, the sharp, familiar voice of Professor McGonagall sliced through the crowd.

“Mr. Hatcher! Mr. Potter!”

Professor McGonagall strode into the hallway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. James was pinned against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, Archie’s fist still clenched tightly in his robes.

“Step away from him, Mr. Hatcher,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Archie hesitated for only a moment before letting go of James with a sharp shove, stepping back but not taking his eyes off him.

McGonagall’s stern gaze moved between the two boys. “Would someone care to explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Archie’s jaw was still clenched, his fists balled at his sides, and James simply wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes cast downward. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

Seeing that no one was going to speak, McGonagall sighed, her lips thinning into a tight line. “Very well,” she said, her voice icy. “Since neither of you seem inclined to explain, you will both serve detention. One week. Starting tomorrow.”

James nodded, knowing he deserved far worse. Archie, however, still seemed on edge, his glare burning into James even as he stepped back.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Now, all of you—back to class. This nonsense is over.”

The gathered students began to disperse, and McGonagall gave one last stern look at both boys before turning and walking away, her robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Archie took a step closer to James, his voice low but dripping with contempt. “Stay away from her, Potter. If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure that punch is the least of your worries.”

Without another word, Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence walked away, leaving James standing in the hallway, bruised and guilty.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. But James just stood there, his back still against the wall, staring after Archie as the weight of his actions pressed down on him.

He had ruined everything.

The following days were unbearable. Everywhere James went, he could feel the tension. Students whispered about him as he passed, and the disapproving stares of his classmates burned into his back. But none of that hurt more than seeing you.

You had become a ghost in his world. You still smiled softly at your friends, still went to class like normal, but you never once looked his way. It was as if he no longer existed to you. And James hated himself for it.

It took him a while, but eventually, he gathered the courage to try and make things right. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But he had to try.

One afternoon, James found you in the library, sitting alone at one of the tables near the back. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. You were reading, your eyes scanning the page with an intensity that told him you were trying to ignore him even before he said anything.

“Y/N,” James said quietly, standing a few feet away from you.

You didn’t look up. “What do you want, James?”

He swallowed hard. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

You sighed, closing your book but still refusing to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

James flinched at the coldness in your voice, but he forced himself to continue. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve messed up in a way that I’ll never be able to fix, but… I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, but your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the book in your lap.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice sincere. “It started as something stupid—something I regret more than you’ll ever know. I’ve thought about it every day since then. And I hate myself for it.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression filled with sadness and anger. “You didn’t think about how much it would hurt me, did you? You didn’t care that I might actually fall for you. That I might trust you.”

James shook his head. “I did care. I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I’m sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to break your heart.”

James swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I know. I’ll never be able to take back what I did, but… I want to make it right. Somehow.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice soft. “I don’t know if you can.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. James stood there, hoping for a sign, a flicker of something that would let him know he wasn’t too late. But you simply looked back down at your book, your walls firmly back in place.

James left the library that day feeling more hopeless than ever. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Over the next few days, he tried—small acts of kindness that he hoped would show you he was serious about making amends. He held doors open for you, left small notes of apology on your desk, and even helped you with your Potions homework from afar, making sure you had all the right ingredients laid out. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. He just wanted you to know he cared.

When you walked into class, your desk would be cleared of stray ink stains. A forgotten book would find its way back into your bag, or a note of apology would be slipped into your books. At first, you tried to ignore it all, but eventually, it became impossible to pretend you didn’t notice his efforts.

Despite everything, there was a part of you that still cared for James, a part of you that hated how much you missed the way things had been before the truth came out. It was that small part of you that made it harder to ignore him.

But you tried. You tried not to care. You tried to remind yourself of the hurt, the betrayal. You didn’t want to forgive him… but some days, you found yourself softening, despite everything.

James made sure to keep his distance, always careful to avoid Archie and the rest of your friends. If Archie found out that James was still trying to win back your trust, he’d make sure James regretted it. But James wasn’t doing this for anyone else anymore—not for Sirius, not for Lily. He was doing it for you, hoping that, one day, you might believe in him again.

It was a long process, and you weren’t ready to forgive him completely. But little by little, you began to see glimpses of the James Potter who wasn’t just a reckless boy trying to win a dare. He was something more than that—someone who was genuinely sorry for what he had done.

You still weren’t sure if you could ever fully trust him again. But maybe, just maybe, you could start to forgive him. One small step at a time.

It was a cool, crisp afternoon at Hogwarts, the autumn air biting softly at your skin as you climbed up the empty Quidditch stands. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice a while ago, leaving the pitch quiet, save for the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. You liked coming here after everyone had gone—there was a peace to the open sky and the vastness of the field that made everything else feel distant.

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and settled into one of the seats, letting your eyes wander over the golden leaves scattered across the pitch. For a while, you just sat there, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I sit?” James stood at the edge of the row, his broomstick in hand, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. His messy hair was windswept from practice, and there was a tentative smile on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be near you.

Your heart gave a small jolt. You weren’t used to him being this hesitant around you. “Sure,” you replied softly, gesturing to the spot beside you.

He sat down carefully, leaving a bit of space between you, though the air around him still felt warm and familiar. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, both staring out at the empty field. The awkwardness between you was palpable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was more like the calm after a storm, when everything is still fragile, but quiet.

“You used to come to all our games,” James said after a while, his voice low, as though he was afraid of breaking the peace.

“I still do,” you replied, not looking at him. “I just... sit further back now.”

James winced, but nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Haven’t seen you up close in a while.”

You glanced at him then, catching the way his eyes softened as he looked out at the field. The cocky confidence he’d worn like armor for so long was missing. In its place was something quieter, more genuine.

“I don’t blame you for keeping your distance,” he continued. “I deserve it.”

You hugged your knees closer to your chest, not responding at first. There was still an ache in your heart whenever you thought about what had happened, but the anger was flickering.

“Why do you care so much now?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. “Why are you trying so hard?”

James turned to you, his hazel eyes full of sincerity. “Because I care about you. Really care about you. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurt. Not anymore.”

The openness in his voice took you by surprise. You had seen James like this before, but only in fleeting moments. Now, it felt like the bravado had peeled away, leaving someone real beneath the surface.

“You weren’t like this before,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.” James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought I had to be... I don’t know, bigger than life all the time. Like I had to prove something to everyone, especially myself. I’m not proud of that. But you’ve always been real with me, and I wasn’t real with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight of betrayal as strongly. You felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me all at once,” James added, his voice softer now. “But I want to show you that I can be better, for you."

You looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “It’s just... hard. Trust doesn’t come back that easily, James.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little rough. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and you could see how much he meant it. There was no smirk, no playful grin—just James, raw and honest. The boy who had been careless with your heart was trying to make amends, and for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you found yourself smiling softly at the familiar sight. “You’ve got ink on your face,” you said, pointing to a smudge near his temple.

James blinked, touching his face with a confused frown. “What—oh.” He chuckled lightly, his expression sheepish. “I guess I got a bit too into planning out that Transfiguration essay.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, the sound surprising both of you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls you’d built up.

James seemed to catch the change in your mood and his smile widened, though he didn’t press you further. He leaned back in the seat, his gaze shifting back to the field. “You ever flown before?”

“Once,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not really a fan of heights.”

James grinned, the old spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Well, if you ever feel like giving it another go, I’m pretty good at keeping people safe on a broom.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like an old friendship slowly knitting itself back together. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for now, sitting here with James felt... nice.

And maybe that was enough for today.

It had taken weeks to come to a decision. Every day, you had wrestled with the memory of what James had done, how he had played with your heart like it was a game. But, as time went on, you couldn't ignore the fact that James had been trying, truly trying, to make things right. You could see it in the way he no longer sought attention, the way he was quietly helping without expecting anything in return.

Forgiveness was hard, but holding onto anger was harder. And you were tired—tired of the pain, tired of feeling like you were carrying a weight that wouldn’t let go. So, with shaky hands and a racing heart, you left a note on James’s desk:

Meet me by the Black Lake at sunset.

You didn’t write more, unsure how you would feel when the moment came. All you knew was that you had to give him—and yourself—a chance.

When James found the note, his heart nearly stopped. He read it over and over, as if afraid it might disappear before his eyes. You wanted to meet him. His mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through his head—was this the moment he had been waiting for? Or was it a final goodbye?

His hands trembled as he pocketed the note, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickered in his chest.

As sunset approached, James made his way to the Black Lake, his nerves twisting with every step. And there you were, standing by the water’s edge, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the gentle ripples on the surface.

James’s heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful in the fading light, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, gathering the courage to approach.

Finally, he took a breath and stepped forward. “Y/N.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, he could see the conflict in your gaze—the hurt that still lingered, but also the kindness that had always been part of you.

You took a deep breath, glancing out at the lake before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking a lot, James. About everything. About how much I was hurt… but also about how you’ve changed.”

James stayed silent, afraid to interrupt, afraid to break the fragile moment you were sharing.

“I’m might be angry,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I don’t want to hold onto that forever. I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”

James looked down, his heart heavy with the guilt of everything he had put you through. “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I swear, Y/N, I would do anything to fix this.”

You turned to face him fully, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if things will ever be the same, James. But I want to try. I want to give you a chance… to prove that this isn’t just another game.”

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… you’re giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes. But it’s not going to be easy, James. Trust takes time to rebuild.”

For a moment, James stood frozen, processing your words. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, and careful, like he was afraid you might pull away. He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“I swear to you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth trusting. I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his hands on your cheeks grounding you as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the truth in his words, the genuine regret and longing behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the tension between you melted away. When you opened your eyes again, James was still watching you, his gaze filled with hope and affection.

For a moment, everything felt right. You were standing by the lake, the world around you peaceful and quiet, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to feel that flicker of warmth you had tried so hard to ignore.

But just as you thought things might finally fall into place, a voice cut through the serene air like a blade.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart dropped as you turned to see Archie storming toward you, his face twisted in anger. He had seen you together. James dropped his hands from your face, stepping back, but Archie was already closing the distance between you.

“Y/N, get out of the way,” Archie growled, his eyes locked on James. “I’m not letting him get away with this again.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Potter,” Archie growled, his fists clenched as he glared at James. “What did I tell you? You think you can just worm your way back into her life after what you did?”

James didn’t fight back, his hands raised in defense. “Archie, I swear, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“Not trying to hurt her?” Archie spat, his voice rising. “You’ve already done enough damage!”

“Archie, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them before Archie could throw a punch. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him back. “Please, just listen to me.”

Archie looked down at you, his face still twisted with anger. “Y/N, why are you defending him? After everything he did?”

“I know what he did,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “But he’s changed, Archie. He’s been trying—really trying—to make things right.”

Archie shook his head, his fists still balled. “And you believe him? After all that?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on Archie’s. “Yes. I believe him. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

Archie’s jaw clenched, his fists still balled at his sides. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he breaks your heart all over again?”

You shook your head, your voice steady. “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

For a long moment, Archie said nothing, his chest rising and falling with deep, angry breaths. He looked between you and James, his jaw tight, clearly torn between wanting to protect you and the growing frustration of watching you forgive James.

Finally, Archie exhaled sharply, stepping back and dropping his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“I know,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Archie gave James one last threatening glare before turning back to you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you said, looking back at James, who stood there, relief flooding his features. “I will be.”

Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to walk away, muttering something under his breath about "keeping an eye on Potter." As he disappeared into the distance, you turned back to James, who was still watching you with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

“Thank you,” James said softly, stepping closer to you once more. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence calming the nervous flutter in your chest. “Just don’t make me regret it, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. And this time, you believed him.

It had been a few days since the Black Lake, since that quiet moment where you'd taken the first step toward forgiving James. You hadn’t fully worked through everything yet, but the weight on your chest had lightened, if only slightly. James, true to his word, had been patient. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding more than you were ready to give.

One evening, after dinner, you found yourself sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the warmth while trying to focus on your Herbology notes. You had just managed to start working through a particularly tricky chapter when a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

You looked up and saw James standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression almost shy. It was a look you were still getting used to—the quiet James, the one without the cocky grin and the easy swagger. The one who didn’t assume you’d always want to talk to him.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile.

He rocked slightly on his heels, glancing around the common room before returning his gaze to you. “I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go for a walk?”

A walk? It seemed harmless enough. And you had to admit, the idea of stepping out into the cool night air sounded appealing after being cooped up with your books for hours.

You nodded, closing your notes. “Sure.”

James blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But he quickly recovered, grinning in that soft, hopeful way he had started to smile recently. “Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging closed behind you as the castle corridors opened up before you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, your footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

The evening was quiet, with most students settling in for the night. When you reached the castle doors, James paused, opening one of them and holding it for you. The cold air rushed in, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and earth. You stepped outside, feeling the refreshing chill against your skin, and James fell into step beside you as you wandered down the path that led toward the Black Lake.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze made the night feel alive with gentle magic. It was peaceful here, under the sky, with the world around you so calm.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, glancing over at you. “Being able to just… be with you.”

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight softened his features. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were now earnest, searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed these moments, before everything had fallen apart—when James was just a boy who made you laugh, who listened to you, who made you feel seen.

James smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin—it was softer, more thoughtful. “I know things aren’t the same,” he said, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe as you both walked. “And I know I’ve got a long way to go before… before you can really trust me again. But I’m going to keep trying. Every day, I’m going to keep trying.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart swell—this wasn’t the cocky, arrogant James who once thought he could charm his way through life. This was the James who was willing to work for it, who understood that he had to earn your trust back, one small step at a time.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your gaze drifting over the calm surface of the lake. “I really do.”

For a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was nice—just walking together, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You weren’t sure what it was, but something about this moment felt right. Maybe you weren’t fully healed yet, but you were beginning to believe that healing was possible.

After a few more minutes of walking, James stopped, turning to face you with a look of hesitant curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not bad, I promise. I just… I was wondering if—if maybe you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. He had asked it so simply, without any of his usual flair. It wasn’t a demand or an assumption. It was just a question—a genuine one, filled with hope but no expectation.

“You don’t have to say yes,” James added quickly, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I know things are still… complicated. But I’d love to spend some time with you outside of… all this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t sure if you were ready for anything that felt like a date—not yet. But Hogsmeade was harmless, wasn’t it? A day out, something simple, something that could help rebuild the trust you were slowly finding again.

After a moment, you nodded. “Sure,”

James’ face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where this new path with James would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth finding out.

As you continued walking beside him, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the path, you realized that this moment, right here, was a beginning. Not a fresh start, but a continuation—something that had been broken but was slowly, carefully, being put back together.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust James again.

One small step at a time.

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theprongspotter · 9 months ago

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Update - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 28 - 480 words

“So…” Barty drawls out, smirking from where he’s lounging in between Evan’s legs on the dormitory floor, his back resting comfortably against Evan’s chest.

Regulus, who had just sat cross-legged on his bed, quirks a brow. “So?”

Barty sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes as if he’s been burdened with the most tedious task. “Merlin, do I have to force this information out of you? I swear I will.”

Regulus narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What information?”

Barty’s smirk widens, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Is his dick as big as we thought it was?” he asks, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Regulus flushes a deep crimson, nearly choking on air. “Barty, I’m not telling you that! I’m not telling any of you that!”

“You’re our friend, you’re supposed to tell us this stuff,” Barty insists, feigning hurt. “You said you’d update us!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think that you’d be asking for inches!” Regulus retorts, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Besides, who even said we fucked?”

Evan, who’s been silently enjoying the exchange, grins wickedly from behind Barty. “Mate, you look thoroughly dicked down.”

Regulus scowls, his embarrassment boiling over into frustration, and he hurls a pillow at Evan’s face. Evan catches it with a laugh, the force barely making him flinch, clearly unfazed by Regulus’ flustered reaction. Barty leans forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity and amusement.

“Well?” Barty presses, inching closer as if Regulus is about to reveal the world’s biggest secret.

Regulus groans, burying his face in his hands as if he could will himself to disappear. His voice comes out muffled but audible enough for his eager friends to catch every word. “Even bigger.”

For a moment, there's stunned silence as the words sink in. Then, as if on cue, Barty and Evan burst into loud, raucous laughter, whooping and hollering like they've just won the lottery. Barty practically doubles over, clutching his sides, while Evan punches the air in triumph.

“Go, Reggie!” Evan cheers, his grin practically splitting his face, the teasing laced with genuine pride. “Knew you had it in you!”

Regulus groans again, this time louder, and falls back onto his bed, wishing the mattress would just swallow him whole. Barty, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, crawls onto the bed beside him and slings an arm over Regulus’ chest, still chuckling.

“You’ve made us proud, mate,” Barty says, voice dripping with mock solemnity. “Really, you’ve exceeded all expectations.”

Regulus can’t help the small laugh that escapes him, despite his mortification. “You two are the worst,” he mutters, but the warmth in his voice betrays his fondness for their ridiculousness.

“And you love us for it,” Evan quips, flopping down next to Regulus on the other side, effectively trapping him between the two.

“Unfortunately,” Regulus sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips as Barty and Evan grin at him.

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marcskywalker · 11 months ago

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alright alright

Merlin has made a habit of laying protective charms and spells on Arthur's armor. The man is a big liability (king or not, Merlin will say it as it is). Running into danger head first, without thought or concern, is his top favorite activity.

It's what makes Arthur Arthur; his courage in the face of death.

So yes, it's become a necessity for Merlin to charm his armor for strength and endurance.

He decides to charm the King's new set of armors in his royal chamber in the middle of the day, while Arthur is away presumably listening to another one of mind numbingly boring reports from his knights.

What is a safer place for Merlin other than this room? Where else can he walk in as he pleases? Move about as he pleases? Leave a mess, jest around, lock the door and loiter as he pleases?

Within these walls, no one would dare to question him.

The King's trust is loud enough.

So, Merlin lays out all the metal on the floor and begins. He holds the cold, sharp chestpiece in his hand. Imagines Arthur under it; Arthur's beating heart and his warm, soft, breakable skin.

His magic flows out of him without command or permission, desperate to erase all the images of his mortal king bleeding and weak.

Oh, protectors of Earth and Magic! Cradle him as you would cradle your son.

His eyes are ember, words still on his lips, the shimmer of magic over the metal, when door swings open.

"Leon is one of my oldest and closest friends, but by Gods he makes me miserable," Arthur lets out a long breath, as if to blow out all the air in his body, looking right at Merlin as he does so.

The gold finally fades from his eyes but Merlin is frozen in place, his bones and breath refusing to move, watching Arthur's face scrunch in confusion, a myriad of feelings flashing through his face before settling on stern eyes and pursed lips.

"Mingling with the druids a lot now, are we?"

"Arthur, I-"

"I know, I know!" he sighs, commanding his face to neutrality, stepping over Merlin and metal towards his desk, "They are my people, too. You're allowed to trade and learn from each other."

Despite his resigned tone, Merlin knows how hard Arthur has worked to ensure a place for Druids in Camelot. Writing in stone, clear as day, that he is more than his father's son; he has claimed them as citizens of Camelot, opening the doors to courts and trade and provisions equally for all in the Kingdom.

Watching Arthur grow into the prophesied will be Merlin's greatest pride. Even if magic is still prohibited to practice under the law, magic users aren't hunted like animals for existing. And Merlin has all the faith in his King that when the time is right, he will bring magic back into the land. Until then, he's happy to live in half shadows.

"I'm allowed to learn magic?" he can't help the skepticism and shock bleed into his tone.

"Well, no! I'm not allowing you for anything, Merlin. But I'm not stupid enough to believe that that's about to stop you."

"So," he draws out the word, unsure of how to step out of the conversation. Unsure if he should even be stepping out of the conversation. "I can learn more magic?"

"You know how I feel about this. The price I have- we have had to pay for it. If you still find yourself curious, do what-" gestures to the laid out armor on the ground, "-ever this is. I only ask that you be careful."

"I'm enchanting it. To keep you safe."

"In exchange for what, Merlin?"

"Nothing-", Merlin loses his grip on the conversation faced with the frightened heartbreak on Arthur's face; the courageous bones bending in unfamiliar ways. "I swear. Nothing. It's not any big magic. The druids do it all the time, we won't have to pay a price for this, Arthur."

"We'll see."

#clearing out my drafts and ya-#merthur #arthur pendragon #merlin #bbc merlin #this is how I think arthur would've reacted to merlin doing magic #automatically assuming that it's the first time merlin has done it cause ~merlin can't keep a secret from me~

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ghostedgwen · 25 days ago

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come one, come all | r.black [part one]

note : yaaaay finally something for reggy! took this plot from a fic I posted on wattpad that is currently on hiatus, idk if I'll continue it in all honesty but I'll just steal the plot for a bit for this fic, if all goes well I might just abandon the fic on wp and settle with this as a mini series? we'll see~

warning/s : pureblood shit, angst, brewing war on the horizon, dark themes, arranged marriages, grief and death of parents, themes of abuse and manipulation, last name given | words : 3.8k

After the sudden death of your parents, you’re thrust into the darkest corners of the pureblood world—grieving, cornered, and helpless. As the precious heiress of the Greengrass name, you're offered as a pawn in an arranged engagement to none other than Sirius Black, the rebellious heir of a family you want nothing to do with.

You weren't sure what to make of it - your life changed so much in just a matter of a week, and everything you’d learned to love had crumbled to the ground.

It's almost funny how one's world can turn upside-down and flip sideways in such a short amount of time. Had it not been happening to you, you might’ve even laughed.

But alas, you were unfortunate enough to be hand - picked by life and thrown into the unknown. Life had been good. Even with danger lurking around every corner, you were happy - with your family.

"My, such an unfortunate situation indeed." The woman’s bony fingers caressed your cheek lightly. You knew there was no affection behind it - only calculation.

You kept your eyes ahead, staring past the sea of adults draped in dark robes. They were all looking at you like some sort of strange artifact. Something to be evaluated.

To be honest, it felt like you were being auctioned off. Their greedy eyes made your skin crawl.

They were assessing you - searching for flaws, imperfections. You saw the collective nods when they found none. Not in your appearance. Not in your name. Not in your blood.

"But the Greengrasses did well bringing you up - such fine pedigree, this one." A man with platinum blond hair spoke, his icy blue eyes fixed on you, and you held his gaze without flinching.

You were raised well, that much was true. And you knew better than to appear weak in front of people like them. You knew what they were capable of.

You knew exactly who they were.

"No need to be shy now. Introduce yourself and present yourself properly to the Dark Lord."

Merlin.

Alarms shrieked in your mind - red and loud and blinding.

You were only fifteen. There was no way life should be this cruel already. Don’t you deserve a little more time?

The adults parted, and standing a few feet away was a man - no, something more. The most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Despite the wicked glint in his red eyes, he was mesmerizing.

Your breath caught. You looked into the eyes of the devil and questioned everything.

Should you lift your chin and speak with pride? Or drop to your knees and cry like a child?

No. That wasn’t an option.

You were a pureblood. An heiress. Crying would make you prey.

"I greet the Dark Lord," you said, bowing your head and lowering yourself into a slight curtsy before rising again. Chin high, lips smirking - though they trembled. "I am the daughter of the late Vienna and Heathe Greengrass."

He raised a brow, and silence fell between you.

You waited - timing was everything.

"And like my father and mother before me, I dedicate my loyalty to the Dark Lord."

His face shifted, the edges of his mouth curling into a smile. Amusement sparkled in his gaze.

You exhaled quietly.

You survived.

For now.

The adults around you murmured with approval. Nods exchanged. Satisfied smiles.

You masked your shock when Walburga Black stepped forward, giving the Dark Lord a respectful bow without even glancing at you.

"My Lord, let me take the girl in. The Greengrasses were among the purest of the pure. Such a fine lineage. Their legacy has always impressed the Noble House of Black." She paused, almost smiling.

Your throat tightened. Adoption by the Blacks? Things could always be worse - but you knew how that family operated.

You’d heard the stories.

"I guarantee she’d make a perfect wife for my son."

Ice filled your veins. A wife?

You thought you’d be taken in as a ward.

Not sold off like livestock.

You opened your mouth to protest - but bit your tongue. You knew where you were standing.

"Please indulge me, oh Dark Lord. She would be a fine addition to our family tree. They shall produce pure heirs."

You were standing before the darkest of the dark. Purists. Supremacists. Monsters who would spill blood for the sake of their beliefs.

And you?

You were an orphan. A mere child, left alone. They worshipped your bloodline, and they would eat you alive if you didn’t play your role to perfection.

"And what do you say to that, girl?" the Dark Lord asked.

You raised your head and looked directly at Walburga. Her stare was like a blade - sharp, cold, calculating.

You gave a cold smile in return. One pureblood to another.

"I’d be honoured to be a part of the Noble House of Black."

You almost vomited from the lie.

The Black estate was just as you imagined. Cold. Dark. Timeless.

You arrived by apparition, Walburga’s hand resting gently on the small of your back.

You doubted she’d be half as gentle if you weren’t a Greengrass. You’d heard the things she’d done to Muggleborns. Half-bloods. And even those Pure of blood that sympathized with the lot.

You weren’t eager to see that side of her up close.

The house reeked of history and prestige. The kind that’s soaked in blood and had you not known its history, you would've adored the decor.

Gold-framed portraits lined the walls. You scanned them, and your gaze landed on the boy sprawled on a couch. He rose as soon as he saw you.

Regulus Black.

Walburga clapped her hands, summoning a house-elf in an instant. He bowed low. You remained quiet, pretending not to notice the glances Regulus kept sneaking your way.

You already knew who your fiancé was. You were in the same year as Sirius Black. Walburga hadn’t even looked Regulus’s way when she mentioned a betrothal.

Sirius Black.

Gryffindor’s pride. The infamous Marauder. The rebel.

You’d seen him. Loud. Charismatic. Annoying. His group caused chaos on a weekly basis.

You'd kept your distance. Slytherins were frequent targets. And now you’d be his fiancée. Just your bloody luck, eh?

"Kreacher, make tonight’s dinner extra special. We have an important guest and an even more important announcement," Walburga said, and the elf disappeared with a nod.

She turned to Regulus. "Tell your brother to prepare for dinner. He is expected to behave."

Then she turned to you, smiling. "This is the Greengrass girl. I trust you know her from school, Regulus?"

You turned to him. It was like looking at a younger Sirius. Long black hair, stormy grey eyes. An exact replica but also - he felt awfully different, the aura they exude couldn't be more different.

"Regulus Black. A pleasure to meet someone of such high status." He extended his hand.

You took it with a calculated smile. Walburga beamed from the corner of your eye.

Would you be here if you weren’t a Greengrass? If you were a Weasley, or a Potter? Would they have thrown you to the wolves instead?

"Pleased to formally meet you. I look forward to dinner."

You didn’t.

Your bedroom was huge but suffocating. The wallpaper was dark, the bedding darker still.

You wasted no time. Taking down the portraits without a care of being questioned, surely they'll understand if a girl wants privacy. You didn’t want their eyes on you.

Your trunk was filled with clothes that clashed against the gloom. Bold, bright pieces that looked out of place in a home like this - you wonder if you should change your wardrobe to be seen less in this gloomy decor.

You placed a single photo - your family - on the nightstand.

It didn’t feel real.

They were so young. So powerful. And so very dead.

They adored you. Their world revolved around you, and you around them.

Now?

Now it was just you.

"Oh, Mother… Father…" you whispered, brushing a tear away. "I’m to be married to a stranger. How unbecoming of your daughter."

A knock at the door made you turn your head swiftly. You opened it hesitantly to find the house elf bowing his head low to greet you.

"Dinner is ready, miss Greengrass. Kreacher will escort you."

You nodded, glanced in the mirror. Hair neat. Face composed. Perfect.

You had to be perfect.

“There she is,” Orion Black greeted you with a wide smile. He motioned to the seat waiting at the long, elegant table.

Every chair was filled. Even Lucius Malfoy was here, sitting beside his fiancée.

You took your seat - next to Regulus, directly across from Sirius.

Lovely.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed locking in on you. You felt the weight of his stare but pointedly ignored it.

"Our important guest is Greengrass?" he asked, his tone edged.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss," Malfoy interrupted, cutting in smoothly. "Such fine wizards they were."

You didn’t respond. Just stared at your plate as you willed yourself not to lose focus. It's one thing to have your parents die, it's another to be adopted so suddenly by another family and bethrothed to a stranger who you knew would hate your guts.

None of them mourned your parents. Not really. They mourned the bloodline. The power that they could've used in their fight, not the people they were and the parents they had been - only you truly mourned them.

Food appeared on the table, but your stomach twisted. You forced yourself to sip water. Again and again, tearing into the meat to separate it into bite-size pieces but never actually putting one in your mouth.

Regulus’s elbow brushed yours occasionally, snapping you from your daze. But reality was no comfort.

And Sirius - Sirius kept glaring. Like he could burn through you with his eyes alone.

To him, you were just another Slytherin. Another arranged name in a family tree, another evil snake that wanted to rid the world of people that he surrounded himself with - just another purist like his entire family.

Let him think that.

Dinner dragged on with you just playing with your food and taking sips of water, if the boy next to you noticed - he did not say anything as he kept stealing glances that you always caught. At least he was subtle about it, the older brother was shameless in outright glaring at you from across the table.

And then - Walburga placed down her cutlery.

"Now, for the announcement- " she grinned so widely, one you could almost paint as sweet had it not been for the wicked glare in her crazy eyes. She turned to Sirius, as if to mock him, "Am pleased to inform you all that my son, Sirius, will be betrothed to our dear guest and they shall make beautiful pureblood heirs!"

You didn’t need to look. You felt the full force of Sirius Black’s hatred crashing over you like a tidal wave. You could try and come up for air but the waves kept coming and coming until you eventually lost all your power - left to swallow the water and let it fill your lungs.

If looks could kill - you'd already be buried.

You manage to sit still with a blank expression as he continues to direct that angry glare toward you. The heir to the Black name in all his Gryffindor and rebelious glory, deciding you were the enemy. As if you were the one who made the announcement—why are you taking the heat for something you had no part in?

You don’t look away. You raise a brow instead, and that small, subtle act seems to provoke him more than anything. His fist slams onto the table, cutting off the cheers and applause ringing in the air.

"Welcome to the family, Greengrass," Bellatrix grins from across the table. You don’t bother forcing a smile. You turn back toward him, who looks about five seconds away from exploding, somehow - you delighted in the sight.

You can't outright show your distaste for this whole arrangement, but he can - and you were counting on it. He will do his very best to defy his family and this marriage, and you were hoping for it.

You shall live vicariously through one Sirius Black who never hesitated, never held back.

"Why the sudden engagement, Mother?" he asks, voice tight. His eyes flick from her to you, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

What - does he think you planned this?

As if you’re some lovesick little fourth-year who begged for this. You’d rather saw off your fingers and feed them to a thestral than claim to fancy him. Which, for the record, you absolutely do not.

"And why not? The Greengrasses are exceptional, pure-blooded wizards." That came from his father, whose sharp eyes cut toward his son. The heir’s scowl disappears quickly - much toi your dismay - he’s learned how to hide behind masks when facing that man. "You are to wed before returning to Hogwarts."

Your jaw went slack at that, your mask dropping for the quickest moment - had it not been for Regulus nudging you, you pursed your lips tight.

Even Malfoy and his betrothed aren’t getting married that quickly. This is madness.

You clear your throat. "Might I make a request?"

His mother looks toward you with interest. You avoid the boy’s gaze altogether - you already know he's trying to burn holes through your skull with a glare and you couldn't care less about what he thinks of you this very moment.

"Would it be possible to push the date back - a year? I am still in mourning. I would like time to study what it means to be a proper wife, to ensure I do not bring shame to the Noble House of Black."

Her smile stays in place. Even through the absurdity, you think you’ve played your cards well. The excuse is believable enough. A year might be enough time to figure out how to get out of this mess. Or rather - for Sirius Black to get out of this mess.

"I don’t see why not," she replies, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. You see how he tenses beneath her touch. And guilt stirs in your chest, unwelcome and heavy.

This must be hard for him too - being forced into an engagement with a Slytherin his parents adore and he clearly resents. The perfect pureblood heiress to wed the pureblood heir from the noble house of Black, just the imagination alone could make a purist cheer gleefully.

But if it were up to you, you wouldn’t even be here.

"Then it is settled. You two shall marry by the end of your sixth year."

You survive dinner.

Somehow.

Today has been a string of horrors. You’ve never longed for rest as desperately as you do now. Normally, you'd be restless, your mind buzzing with ways to fill your time - but tonight, all you want is peace.

You've had a long day.

You met him face-to-face.

Until now, he'd only existed in whispers. The man didn't disappoint. His beauty was eerie, and the darkness around him clung to every inch of the room. You could feel it in your bones.

And now - just when you reach your bedroom door - "We need to talk."

Bloody hell. You turn to face him, already recognizing the voice. He's already leaning against the frame like he's been waiting. You spin back to the door, reaching for the knob. His body shifts to block it.

A defeated sigh escapes you.

"I'm tired. Move."

He doesn't.

You’re not sure how much longer you can play nice, but every nerve in your body is frayed, and his presence is only adding to the chaos.

"I said we need to talk."

You spin back toward him, meeting his eyes with the nastiest look you can summon. "And I said I’m tired."

A silent battle begins - gazes locked, neither of you blinking - until he steps aside.

Your victory is short-lived. He follows you inside and locks the door behind him.

You roll your eyes. "They're in the trunk." He’s looking for the paintings, of course.

You sit at the vanity and begin pulling out the pins from your hair. He stays there - silent and still - watching. His gaze follows your movements. You meet his eyes through the mirror and sigh.

"You came into my room to talk. So talk."

He hesitates. More than once. Lips parting but no words came, you sat rather patiently watching him through the reflection.

"I’m now engaged to you," he finally says.

"I was there when it was announced." you reply in a sarcastic tone.

"You don’t seem surprised."

He steps closer, confusion plain across his annoyingly attractive face. It’s a shame. He’s beautiful, but you’re not foolish enough to let that change anything. You did not fancy him in any way, he was far from your type.

"I’m not surprised." you confirm.

"Was it your idea?"

That pulls a laugh from you. Genuinely, a sound that has not escaped you since - since your parents died, what a talent these Marauders have. "You flatter yourself too much, Black."

You shake your head, still smiling. "Is that all? Because I need to sleep. So, if you don’t mind. . ."

You stand, grabbing his arm, and drag him toward the door. He resists just enough to be a nuisance - his hand flies out to block the doorway. Stopping you from throwing him out like intended.

"I can tell you don’t like me. So why didn’t you say ‘no’?"

You pause. He says it like it was easy. Like all you had to do was shake your head and walk away and they would've let you.

The noble Gryffindor heir. The rebel. The Black who runs toward the fire while the rest of them stoke it. The heir to the pureblood lineage who prided themselves in their prejudice, yet he surrounds himself with muggleborns and traitors alike.

And you? You’re the villain. The obedient little snake who didn’t speak up, who sat quietly while they decided both your fates.

"You’re asking a stupid question," you reply.

Then you kick the back of his knee, watch him wobble, and shove him out of the room.

He stares back at you like you’ve just slapped him.

You give him a pointed look. "I’m sure there’s a brain under that gorgeous hair. Use it."

You try to shut the door, but he stops it with his hand. You fought against the urge to actually slap him in the face just to finally end this day. You let the last bit of your patience run - watching him.

"Greengrass."

He says it like a warning.

You could laugh. He thinks you’ll flinch? After today?

"I gave you a year to find a way out of this," you tell him coldly. "Goodnight, Black."

Then the door slams in his face.

You change into your nightgown, collapse onto the bed, and curl toward the picture on your nightstand. A little girl in braids stood smiling in front of a couple that appeared much older - a perfect mix of their feature, the girl was. So happy despite the fact she was missing a very obvious front tooth.

Sleep is fleeting.

You only got two hours at best from how your shoulders felt heavy - like it wasn't your own.

The rest of the time is spent staring at the ceiling, replaying memories of your old life.

You used to sit on your mother’s lap while your father read aloud by the fire. The house was peaceful and quiet, it was just the three of you while the elves worked in the kitchens and the gardens. Life was perfect.

They believed in purity. They supported the Dark Lord.

They weren’t good people, you knew that much - you never brought into the blood purity nonsense but they did - so you knew deep down that they weren't good people.

But they were good parents.

They never forced their beliefs on you. They encouraged you to explore. To question. They didn’t mind when you played with Muggle children or devoured books on Muggle science, they wanted you to form your own beliefs even if it strayed from theirs.

They supported you.

And then Dragon Pox took them.

A disease no powerful wizard had ever found a cure for. Not even the purest of bloods could escape it. How funny.

You leave your room quietly and wander the halls, hoping to find the kitchen. Instead, you find a shadowed figure in the living room. You attempted to flee as to not meet anyone in the dead of night but -

"Greengrass?"

You pause.

Regulus Black.

You hadn’t seen him there. He has a way of disappearing into his surroundings. In the dim light, his eyes nearly glow. They're the exact same as Sirius' but his appeared colder and deeper - like one could get lost in the depths of them.

"Black," you reply. "I was looking for the kitchen."

He nods slowly, walking closer. When he steps into the light, you see the robe over his pajamas. A book in hand. He must’ve been reading, you neglect to check which book it was.

"I can take you."

You nod. "I’d appreciate that."

You trail behind him, memorizing the turns as you go. He leads you into the kitchen without a word, and you’re relieved to find it empty.

You only wanted water. But even that feels like too much. You don’t want anyone seeing how hollow you’ve become. An entire day dancing around dark wizards and barely two hours of shuteye.

"Here we are."

You linger near the sink. He stands nearby. Watching.

You raise a brow. "You can go back now. I’ll be fine."

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then says, "I’ll escort you back. In case you get lost again."

Thoughtful. But not necessary.

He seems to sense your resistance and turns to leave. You stop him without thinking.

"Didn’t you say you’d escort me back?"

He looks surprised. Then smiles faintly.

You realize you’re still holding his arm. You let go quickly, turn your back, and finally pour yourself a glass of water.

Each motion feels heavy, like your body wanted nothing more than to collapse on itself but you willed with all your might to keep going.

You drink slowly, the silence thick between you.

"I’ll go back now," you say quietly, setting the glass down.

He walks ahead, and you follow. Eyes on his shoes as you didn't feel like watching the back of his head - it's too identical to Sirius and you fear you'd smack it if your control leaves you. You nearly bump into him when he stops outside your room.

You open the door, facing him. "Thank you, Black."

"Might be hard to know who you’re talking to in this house if you stick to last names."

You say nothing. You’re not ready to use names. But the way he talked was unlike you expected, he always seemed so reserved and always kept to himself, you didn't think he had it in him to ask you to be comfortable.

"You’re welcome, Greengrass."

You nod and begin to close the door when he speaks again.

"And I’m sorry," he says softly. "About your parents."

You can’t speak. So you shut the door instead.

And fall onto the bed with your eyes wide open and lips parted slightly from utter shock.

It’s the first time anyone’s said that and actually meant it.

to be continued . . .

part two masterlist

#marauders #marauders era #regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus blakc imagine #sirius black #slytherin #slytherin reader

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jamilelucato · 5 months ago

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Secrets We Keep - 2 [F.W.]

Secrets We Keep Masterlist

Pairing: Fred Weasley x [y/n] Malfoy

Summary: After a chance encounter late at night, the lines between enemy and ally blur, and the walls she's built to protect herself start to crack. With new alliances and unexpected emotions, [Y/N] must face the truth of who she is—while fighting to keep her family's secrets buried.

Warning: Mentions of dark magic, family drama, mild angst, cursing.

A/N: Inspired by the song Bad Idea from the musical Waitress, this part dives deeper into [y/n]'s inner turmoil and the evolving tension between her and Fred. It's the kiss chapter, if anyone's wondering. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. 😊

PART TWO

For Merlin’s sake, she was nearly eighteen—a woman on the verge of adulthood. Soon enough, she would be the unmarried Malfoy maiden paraded before society and married off to whatever young, noble man her parents deemed worthy. The thought of such a future—of tying herself to a stranger—was unbearable. Yet, in a twisted way, it symbolized her transition into the poised, proper woman her family expected. And women, real women, didn’t cry like this. Not with swollen eyes, blotchy cheeks, and sobs so intense that their throats ached.

This? This was pathetic.

She caught her reflection in the polished surface of a large silver candelabra positioned at her shoulder height in the anteroom between the staircase to Dumbledore’s office and the corridor leading to the other professors' offices. The distorted image of herself was unflattering, but she didn’t look away.

Her nightly walks had become routine, the castle, her endless labyrinth. It had to be her eighth or ninth night sneaking out of her dormitory to wander, using the chill of the stone corridors and the physical exhaustion of climbing staircases to numb her swirling emotions. She had started in the dungeons, but as usual, her legs had carried her upward, far away from her house and its suffocating sense of belonging she no longer felt.

She didn’t hate the girls she shared a room with. If anything, she admired how easy they made everything seem—laughing, gossiping, exchanging hair-care charms and giggling over their shared crushes. [Y/N] liked them, maybe even more than she was willing to admit. But lately, she’d been walking on eggshells, keeping her distance, terrified that the truth might slip out if she let her guard down.

The truth that her family’s pristine image hid a rotting core. The truth that her father—her family—served the Dark Lord.

That night, as every night, she yearned for someone to confide in. Not just anyone, though. Someone who could take her secret and shield her from the crushing weight of it. Someone who wouldn’t gasp in horror at the revelation or, worse, nod in understanding.

And if that was too much to hope for, she at least wanted someone who could distract her—a group of friends who wouldn’t talk about family heirlooms, pure-blood pride, or valuable objects passed down through generations. She wanted to forget.

But forgetting wasn’t so simple. And so she walked, and cried, and loathed herself for both.

With only the magic light cast by her wand as company, she decided to rest in the anteroom. Surely, Dumbledore wouldn’t be working hours in his office? It was almost three in the morning. Not a soul in the castle was awake. Well, perhaps the owls.

[Y/N] let out a shuddering breath. She brushed the tears from her cheeks with a shaky hand, trying to pull herself together.

At night, when no one was watching, the disgusted sneer she had perfected—the one she had stolen from her father’s own expression—faded away. What replaced it was someone softer. Someone vulnerable. Someone who wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the act.

But whether it was a laugh of fate or an unfortunate stroke of luck, she was not alone. She was not the only one awake.

There were few professors’ offices up there. Some kept the empty rooms near their classrooms as a personal choice. Professor Snape, for example, kept himself housed in the dungeons, like the natural-born Slytherin he was.

But there was one unfortunate pink one, who had little to none panther-like appearance, who chose one of the offices upstairs, and [y/n] suspected that the choice was made to stay close to Dumbledore.

Of course, Dolores Umbridge was not the topic. She was not the one who slipped out the front door of her office, at three in the morning.

No, the figure was not the notorious pink one. It was an equally famous red.

Fred Bloody Weasley. Of all the people to run into at three in the morning, it had to be him.

[Y/N] swallowed hard, her sobs lodging in her throat as her eyes darted around, frantically searching for a hiding place. The anteroom was painfully bare—no tapestries, no curtains, no alcoves to disappear into. Her wand was still clutched tightly in her hand, the faint light she had conjured snuffed out instantly. She sat there on the cold floor, heart pounding in her chest, hoping against hope that the darkness would be enough to conceal her.

But it wasn’t.

The soft glow of the candelabra she had forgotten about betrayed her position. Its flickering light wasn’t strong, but it was enough.

Fred didn’t call out, didn’t ask who was there—he wasn’t stupid. Instead, he leaned casually against the wall, squinting in the dim light. His steps were slow, deliberate, the faint creak of his trainers against the stone the only sound in the otherwise silent corridor.

As he approached, [Y/N] froze. She considered her options—she could lie, she could feign illness, or she could stay silent and pray he’d leave her be. But none of those seemed convincing, not when he was already this close.

The moment stretched unbearably, the soft flicker of the candelabra casting shifting shadows across Fred’s face. His expression wasn’t mocking or mischievous as it usually was; it was curious, maybe even cautious, as though he wasn’t sure if he should even be intruding.

Finally, he stopped just a few feet away, tilting his head to the side as he stared down at her. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he asked quietly, his voice devoid of the usual playful lilt.

[Y/N] blinked, thrown by his tone. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it.

Fred didn’t wait for an answer. He crouched down, careful to keep some distance between them, his movements deliberate and non-threatening. “You, uh… want me to leave?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

It wasn’t a demand or a joke. It was a question, simple and honest, and for a moment, [Y/N] didn’t know how to respond. She was used to taunts, pranks, and snide remarks from Fred and George—this wasn’t in the play book.

She shook her head, surprising even herself.

Fred’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but close enough. “Alright then,” he said, easing himself down to sit on the floor across from her, his back against the wall.

They sat there in silence, the candelabra’s flame dancing between them. It wasn’t comforting, exactly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. For once, neither of them had to say a word.

[Y/N] sat still for a moment, the silence between them pressing in. Her chest felt tight, and she knew she had to say something—anything—to break it. But the weight of everything she had just been feeling still lingered, her tears still fresh in her memory. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

“Did you plant a bomb in the pink bitch's office?”

Fred’s lips twitched at the corners, a hint of a smile pulling at them, though his eyes remained thoughtful. ��Something like that,” he replied, his tone just as dry and amused as ever.

For a fleeting moment, [Y/N] allowed a smile to tug at her own lips, though it was short-lived. The act of smiling hurt—her cheeks were still sore from the hours of crying, swollen and tender.

With a steely look, she fixed her gaze on him. “If you tell anyone you saw me here, I will unleash Cruciatus curses on you until you turn into a house elf,” she warned, her voice cold and resolute.

Fred raised an eyebrow, as if the threat didn’t quite have the desired effect. But there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, the tension in his posture betraying him. “I’d say the same, you know,” he replied, a wry smile spreading across his face. “I’m at risk here too.”

The grin he wore was playful, but there was something deeper now, a shared understanding that hadn’t been there before.

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced around, noticing the absence of his twin. “Where’s George?” she snapped.

Fred shrugged nonchalantly, his smile widening as he leaned back against the wall. “Snape’s,” he answered, his eyes twinkling mischievously. And then he flashed her a full, genuine grin—something so real that it was almost disarming.

[Y/N] wasn’t sure what to make of this—this strange, unspoken understanding, the rare glimpse into the Weasley twins' world, or the fact that, at that moment, they were both, in their own ways, in the same boat.

She took a long, careful moment to look at Fred, really look at him, taking in every detail. His arms, strong and defined; his broad shoulders, relaxed against the wall; the easy confidence in his posture, the way his hair, though tousled, seemed to fall just right. And his eyes—holding the weight of things he hadn’t yet spoken aloud.

But then her gaze lowered, to his lips. Slightly parted. Expectation? Or something else? Her mind swirled, as she felt a strange knot form in her stomach.

His cheeks were red—why were his cheeks red?

Her eyes flicked back to his, meeting the depth of his gaze again. Now, those eyes were darker, almost black—sombre. What did that mean? What was he thinking?

For a moment, she wrestled with the urge to speak—to break the tension. But the salty sting of the tears she hadn’t fully wiped away still lingered, and she knew, somehow, that he was still watching her with that quiet curiosity. Her secret—her family’s dark secret—loomed over her, suffocating in its weight. It was so improper here, in this quiet moment between them. She could feel it pressing against her chest, a constant reminder of the chasm between her and everyone else.

And then, before she could think better of it, she moved. A quick, impulsive gesture. Jump or be caught.

So jump it was. Her lips met his.

It was simply a fleeting touch, a soft peck. But in that brief moment, something sparked between them, an electric current that both startled and thrilled her. As soon as the kiss happened, she pulled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Fred’s eyes fluttered open, and it took a moment for him to register what had just happened.

[Y/N] let out a sound, half-frightened, half-embarrassed. What was she frightened of? The kiss? Of herself?

Before she could make sense of anything, her face burned with mortification. She jumped up from the spot, suddenly self-conscious of the awkwardness that now clung to her like a second skin. Her robes caught at her ankles as she moved, making her stumble, but she regained her footing quickly. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, but one thing was certain: she had kissed Fred Weasley!

And to make matters worse, she’d done it like a child—impulsive, messy, and utterly unprepared.

THAT SAME NIGHT, MINUTES LATER

The grand prank—meticulously crafted to ruin every single porcelain plate adorned with kitten designs in Dolores Umbridge's office—was perfectly in place. The setup was flawless, engineered so that when the door was opened, the catastrophe would appear to be the result of her own careless actions. Floors below, an equally devious scheme was undoubtedly in motion. George Weasley, with his skilled hands and sharp wit, would be putting the finishing touches on the trap in Severus Snape's office.

But Fred wasn’t moving.

He remained seated in the same spot where he had stumbled upon the tearful Slytherin minutes earlier. His usually restless energy seemed to have deserted him, leaving him uncharacteristically still. The echoes of what had just happened—her tears, her vulnerability, and then that—played over and over in his mind.

Fred Weasley had been on the receiving end of many things in his life—laughs, hexes, detentions—but a kiss like that? Never.

The kiss wasn’t grand or dramatic; it wasn’t even what one might call proper. It had been fleeting, a brush of lips, but it left behind a current of something he couldn’t quite name. Her lips had been soft, warm, and trembling, and the brief touch carried a weight that Fred hadn’t expected. A weight that didn’t feel like just a kiss—it felt like a moment she’d decided on, maybe even fought herself over, before finally letting go.

And then she’d run.

Fred leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the dim ceiling above him. His mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He hadn’t had time to react, hadn’t said a single word before she’d disappeared. And now he was sitting here, replaying it all like a scene in one of those overly dramatic wizarding plays his mum occasionally dragged them to during Christmas holidays.

He let out a long, frustrated breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else.

Fred Weasley didn’t do confusion. His life was simple. He didn’t dwell on things, and he certainly didn’t let people catch him off guard. Yet here he was, sitting in a dark hallway, absolutely baffled by a girl who, only hours ago, he would have described as Malfoy—the snooty one.

But now?

Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes had looked—red-rimmed and puffy, but with a defiance that reminded him of storm clouds. Or the way her voice had wavered when she spoke, like she was fighting a battle he couldn’t see. And then there was that kiss…

Fred groaned and pushed himself off the floor, finally forcing himself to move. George would be wondering what was taking so long, and the last thing Fred needed was his twin’s sharp tongue picking apart his distracted state.

As he made his way toward the stairwell, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. That fleeting kiss had opened a door he wasn’t sure he wanted to close. Or maybe, just perhaps, it wasn’t a door he could close even if he wanted to.

TWO DAYS LATER

She’d had enough. A Howler? A Howler, of all things?

Lucius Malfoy, with all his pomp and self-righteousness, had dared to send her a Howler. At least he hadn’t been cruel enough to have it delivered in the Great Hall, where every student would have had front-row seats to her humiliation. No, the family’s sleek black owl, as dark as the night itself, had waited for the moon’s ascent to deliver its cargo—a Howler bound with a green ribbon and sealed with silver wax.

[Y/N] untied the parcel with trembling fingers, her stomach sinking as the seal cracked open. Her father’s voice erupted in a cold, measured monotone that somehow managed to be worse than screams.

“Your brother has reported your carelessness, your lack of decorum,” Lucius began, each word razor-sharp. “Wandering the halls inappropriately dressed, conducting yourself without purpose. If this behaviour affects your grades, young lady, I will have no choice but to petition your professors for additional coursework. I understand that Miss Umbridge did not award you full marks on a recent essay—an embarrassing lapse. I had assumed it to be an anomaly. Let us ensure it remains so.

“The Carrow family,” he continued, his tone heavy with meaning, “has expressed interest in you. Do not disappoint us.”

And that was that. No shouting. No dramatic crescendos. Just cold, calculated disapproval, delivered through the most theatrical medium possible.

When the Howler finished, it hovered for a moment, as if daring her to respond, before folding in on itself and dropping neatly to the floor. She stared at the scraps for a long moment, her chest tight with suppressed fury.

The Carrow family!

She hadn’t even had her formal debut yet, and already she’d been practically auctioned off to the highest bidder. She didn’t need to dredge her memory for details. If Lucius Malfoy had deemed the Carrows suitable, it was because their son—no doubt a fledgling Death Eater—ticked all the right boxes. Bloodline. Wealth. Loyalty to the Dark Lord.

[Y/N] clenched her fists, the fragile parchment crumpling further in her hands. For the first time, she didn’t cry. She didn’t allow herself the luxury. Instead, she tore the Howler into pieces, her movements swift and brutal, and flung the scraps onto the grass.

She was outside, near the rear entrance to the castle that overlooked the path to the Quidditch pitch. The cool night air brushed against her face, doing little to calm the storm raging within her.

With an almost defiant tilt of her chin, she looked up at the moon, searching the vast expanse of stars for some semblance of guidance. But they offered none. The stars twinkled indifferently, as though mocking her plight.

She clenched her jaw, breathing heavily through her nose as her thoughts spiralled. She was to be married off, shackled to some boy her father had deemed suitable, and inevitably inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters. It was a future she neither chose nor wanted.

How foolish she had been to ever think she had a choice. She never had. Not even as a child.

She’d been moulded from infancy—wrapped in long-sleeved dresses to exude the “Malfoy class,” her hair half-tied to frame the pale perfection of her lineage. A silent doll, a perfect reflection of her family’s ideals. While Draco’s fiery stubbornness earned him their father’s reprimands—or their mother’s smothering, silencing embraces—she had learned early to keep her mouth shut. To think before speaking. Or, more often, to simply not speak at all.

And for what?

The letter had shattered any lingering illusions of solidarity within her family. Draco, her own brother, had reported her. For wandering the halls aimlessly, for her clothing being “too casual”—petty, trivial things. She could have laughed at the absurdity of it all if it didn’t sting so much.

He was no naïve boy any more, she realised bitterly. At some point, he’d shifted from the irritating, idealistic little brother into a perfect disciple of their father’s will. The baby Malfoy had become something else entirely—someone she could no longer trust.

And yet, if he only knew what she had truly done.

The thought struck her with the force of a thunderclap. Two nights ago. The moonlight. The candlelit corridor. Fred Weasley.

She shivered, though not from the cool night air. If Draco—or worse, Lucius—had any inkling of what had transpired, she doubted even the long arm of her mother’s influence could shield her from the consequences.

But then, almost as suddenly as her panic had risen, it ebbed away, leaving something else in its place. Something sharp and hot and utterly wicked.

She let out a short, incredulous laugh, low and quiet, as if afraid the stars might overhear. How deliciously ironic that, in a world where every choice had been made for her, she had snatched a moment of her own. She had crossed every line her family had so carefully drawn.

She felt it again now—that reckless, impish surge, as though Peeves himself had passed straight through her, cackling as he went. It made her feel… alive. For once, she had done something utterly and completely her own. Something wrong. Something unforgivable.

It was a tiny spark of rebellion that flickered in her chest, and it dared grow.

The castle at night was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, the ancient walls cool and unyielding under [Y/N]’s palms as she steadied herself against one of them. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breaths quick and shallow. She didn’t stop to think—thinking was dangerous, thinking would unravel her resolve. She needed to act before she lost the reckless courage surging through her veins.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as she broke into a run. The portraits she passed muttered in disapproval, their drowsy protests lost on her. She couldn’t stop now. Not when the fire in her chest begged for fuel. It was dangerous and foolish, and exactly what she needed.

Her mind raced alongside her feet. The memory of Fred Weasley, his smirk, his laugh, the way his lips had felt brushing against hers—it burned like a secret brand. The thought clawed at her now, relentless and consuming. She wanted more. She needed to find him. [y/n] needed to know if this feeling—this chaos, this rebellion—was real, and to confirm it was her choice, once. Her heartbeat thudded against her ribs, faster and louder, like a drum urging her forward. Let’s make mistakes, it seemed to whisper.

Her breath hitched as she skidded to a halt, stooping to rest her hands on her knees. A judgmental portrait loomed nearby, its painted gaze following her with disdain.

“So what?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the silence. “It’ll be my mistake to make. Mine.”

The portrait shrugged indifferently, its expression unreadable, and she straightened, a renewed defiance lifting her chin.

Elsewhere in the castle, Fred wandered aimlessly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The corridors stretched endlessly, cold and quiet, as his thoughts circled like vultures. He was haunted by a memory. A devastating one.

Two nights ago, everything had changed. Her lips, soft and unexpected against his, had been like a spark in the dark. He’d told himself it was nothing—a mistake, a lapse in judgment. But the memory wouldn’t fade. It gnawed at him, twisting and reshaping itself until it was no longer something he could dismiss.

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered under his breath. A Malfoy. Of all people. His mind conjured images of her family—their sneers, their disdain, the way they would look at him like dirt under their boots. And yet, when he thought of her, all he could see was the defiance in her eyes, the vulnerability that lurked just beneath.

He leaned against the wall, his forehead pressing into the cool stone. He shouldn’t want this. Fred shouldn’t want her. And yet, the thought of kissing her again refused to leave him. Not a hesitant peck this time, but something real, something that would sweep them both away. The very idea made him wince with self-loathing. A good bad idea, his thoughts taunted him. Make worse what’s already pretty bad.

Back again on the grass ground, where she had begun, [y/n] found herself facing the entrance of the Quidditch pitch, the vast expanse of grass stretching out before her. The cold air bit at her skin, bringing a clarity she didn’t want. She doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. The fire inside her dimmed, replaced by the creeping chill of doubt.

She straightened slowly, the stars above fading as the first blush of dawn crept over the horizon. The soft light turned the castle into a silhouette, a towering reminder of everything she was running from. Her heart, which had been racing moments ago, began to sink. She shook her head, her lips pressing into a bitter line.

This was madness. Utter madness. She was a Malfoy. He was a Weasley. Their worlds didn’t just clash; they were built on opposing foundations, destined to crumble if they ever truly met. Her brother’s face flashed in her mind, followed by her father’s cold disapproval. She knew exactly what they would say if they found out.

“Poor idea,” she murmured to herself, the words soft and scathing. “Me and you.”

Her shoulders sagged as the weight of it all pressed down on her. She turned slowly, intending to head back to the castle, to bury herself in the lies and expectations that had shaped her life. It was safer that way. Smarter. It was the only way to survive. Time to let this thing go, she thought, her steps faltering. It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn’t it, though?

Elsewhere, Fred’s pace quickened suddenly, his body moving before his mind could catch up. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t stop. His feet pounded against the stone floors, his breath coming in short bursts. The castle seemed to pull him forward, its twisting corridors narrowing until he could feel the weight of dawn pressing against the walls.

He didn’t want to find her. That was what he told himself. But the truth gnawed at him, sharp and insistent. He needed to see her, needed to know if she felt it too—that spark, that chaos. He had to know if it had meant something, or if he was just a fool chasing shadows.

As he neared the Quidditch pitch, the cool air hit him like a wave, clearing his head just enough for him to curse his own stupidity. But then he saw her.

[y/n] Malfoy stood in the grass, the faint glow of dawn outlining her figure. Her hair was tousled by the breeze, her arms wrapped around herself as though to ward off the chill. She looked fragile against the vast sky, but there was a strength in her stance that made his breath catch.

He stopped, his chest heaving as their eyes met.

Neither spoke. Neither moved.

The sun lingered just below the horizon, as if hesitant to interrupt the stillness, granting them the fragile, fleeting privacy of the in-between hours.

Fred saw her first. And yet, the strike of it—the sheer improbability of her standing there—was just as breathtaking to her.

Had he been looking for her? Had he felt it too, the same turmoil of rebellion, of need, of something greater than them both? [y/n] didn’t know. She had no answers to her spiralling questions, and for once, she didn’t care. She would have to ask him herself.

Her breathing steadied as a newfound calm settled over her. Slowly, deliberately, she took her first steps toward him. Fred, who had been running so fast mere moments ago, now stood frozen in place, rooted to the spot as he watched her approach. His gaze dropped to her feet—delicate steps in dark blue slippers—carrying her closer, closer.

To him.

He could hardly believe it. Fred had been so certain she would avoid him forever after that stolen, fleeting kiss in the shadows. But the horizon was brightening, and so was she.

[y/n] Malfoy wasn’t hiding any more.

Fred let her close the gap between them on her own because part of him still doubted that whatever she was going to do next would be good for him.

“You kissed me,” he said, as if it was the only thing he could say to her.

“Yes,” she agreed—well, she really had.

“And then you avoided me,” he added, the words tinged with an unintended cruelty. He didn't mean to push her away, not when all he wanted was to bring her closer. But Fred Weasley was clumsy with feelings, and he hated how his tongue betrayed him.

[y/n] didn’t flinch. She doubted anything Fred said could push her away. “I did,” she admitted, her tone softer now, her head tipping slightly to one side, almost in resignation. “That part was intentional.”

Fred frowned, his chest tightening. “Let me guess. Because, bam—I'm a Weasley. That reality hit you, didn’t it?” He tried to sound casual, but the words escaped him too fast, and he felt ridiculous as soon as they hung in the air.

But [y/n] wasn’t offended. Her retort came swiftly: “And I'm a Malfoy, dear Weasley. What does that mean, really?”

His gaze faltered, his brows knitting together as her words settled in.

“It's too early for us to be defined by names like that,” she continued, a faint smile teasing her lips. She crossed her fingers and stretched her arms out in front of her, like a child trying to reach the sky. “I’m just [y/n]. For a few more days, I’m still seventeen. And you? Who are you?”

Fred blinked at her, unsure of what to say. The silence lingered, stretching just long enough for doubt to creep in. Was he really not going to get it? Her head tilted slightly in question, but her disappointment didn’t last long.

Fred closed the gap between them. His hands found her waist with a determination that surprised even him. Before either of them could think too much, her face tilted forward, meeting him halfway. The kiss was easy—natural.

And [y/n] didn’t pull back. Her breath caught against his lips for only a moment before she parted them, inviting him closer. When his tongue brushed hers, her hands rose to his shoulders, fingers tracing the curve of muscle, grounding herself in the sensation.

This was a kiss. Deep and unrelenting, it was more than skin meeting skin; it was a convergence of need and affection. She pressed herself against him, craving the connection, wanting to lose herself in the solidness of Fred Weasley.

Fred matched her intensity, his hands moving from her waist to her back, then higher, threading into her hair. He marvelled at the soft, silver strands as they slipped through his fingers, untangling the remnants of her earlier rush. At that moment, [y/n] let him have her—her posture, her defences, all of it.

For Fred, the sensation was everything.

But, like all good things in life, the moment had to end. Eventually, they pulled apart—but [y/n] remained in his arms, her warmth still pressed against him.

“I'm Fred,” he said, a little breathless but smiling anyway, the mischievous glint in his eyes softening. “George’s twin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, [y/n].”

It was beautiful. That was [y/n]’s first thought. The way he said her name, the way he looked at her—it was like she was the only person in the world. But then the second thought came. Slowly, her hands fell away from his face, where they had been cradling him just moments before.

It felt like a fantasy. Too good to be true. And even if it was true, it felt too good to be hers.

The moment passed. Fred noticed the change instantly. Her body tensed in his arms, her back straightened like a shield raising itself, and even the silver strands of her hair, which he had so joyfully tousled, seemed to settle back into a pristine, unyielding order.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low with concern.

“Nothing’s changed,” she replied, her words carrying a quiet sadness. It seeped into her voice, her expression, even the hesitant way she pulled his hands away from her waist.

Fred’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean, [y/n]?”

She hesitated, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. “I thought it would change,” she admitted, guilt creeping into her tone. Her voice broke just slightly as she added, “I thought this would be enough to save…”

“Save what?” Fred pressed gently, his voice filled with care, though worry was starting to edge into it.

Save me, she finished in her mind, but the words never made it past her lips. She looked away, stepping out of his hold. Now, without his embrace to shelter her, the towering silhouette of the castle loomed around them. Hogwarts now felt more like a reminder of the person she was supposed to be.

And how she had failed everyone.

A tear slipped from her right eye before she could stop it. Damn it. She brushed at her face with a trembling hand, but Fred had already seen. Fred noticed everything about her, and this was no exception.

Something was very wrong.

Wasn’t she the one who had invited him to be someone new? To shed the weight of expectations? Then why did it feel like she was slipping back into the role of the Malfoy daughter—the person she so desperately wanted to leave behind?

“You’re not making sense,” Fred said, his voice tinged with both confusion and concern. The whiplash of her emotions was challenging to follow, and it worried him.

“I’m not,” she admitted bitterly, frustration bubbling over. She took a step back, then another, as if physical distance might make her words sting less. “I never am.” She paused, swallowing hard before adding, “I’m sorry, Fred. I thought... I thought this kiss would be enough.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and the weight of her thoughts dragged her down. What kind of fool am I?

A kiss wouldn’t save her. This wasn’t a fairytale. A true love’s kiss wouldn’t wake her from the life already spiralling out of control, unravelling like a story written by someone else’s hand. What power did Fred have against Lucius Malfoy? Against the man who, by now, had likely finalized her engagement to someone hand-picked for status and strategy?

What had she been imagining? That they’d run away together? Into the sunset? And go where? The Burrow? She snorted bitterly at the thought. [y/n] wouldn’t last a day there. She wouldn’t even know how to be in a world so unadorned, so painfully honest.

She wanted to escape her name, her lineage, the weight of expectations that pressed down on her every step. But could she? She couldn’t run from the habits ingrained in her, the luxuries she loved. Her hand unconsciously brushed the soft fur of her robe—an extravagance that cost more galleons than most people earned in a month.

And Merlin helped her, she loved the robe.

Her feet moved before her mind gave the order, pulling her away from him.

“No, not again,” Fred called after her, his voice carrying desperation. He reached out, his fingers just brushing the air near her hand. “Don’t run from me again.”

Her chest was tight, and she was still fighting back the sob that was already breaking free, her breath hitching painfully. “This was a bad idea, Weasley,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, though she knew he could hear her.

She slowed for just a moment, long enough to meet his gaze. His hand was still outstretched, a silent plea hanging between them. Her eyes softened, guilt flickering behind them. “But thank you.”

Then she turned and ran, the moment's weight trailing behind her.

#fred weasley #fred and george #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fic

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theroundbartable · 1 year ago

Text

When Arthur leans that Gwaine is Merlin's best friend -

"Can you imagine? I've known Merlin for far longer than Gwaine!!!! I mean- why Gwaine? Is it his hair? Are they getting drunk together? Are they hooking up? ...."

He swallows down his pride and ask Gwaine about Merlin's interests.

"you make that sound like I was nervous!!! It's not like I don't know Merlin! It's just that he doesn't really talk about himself -"

And Gwaine, knowing how Merlin feels about Arthur-

"what do you mean 'feel'? Merlin isn't mad at me, is He?"

Would like to play wingman. But firstly, Merlin is as much an enigma to him as he is to Arthur, and secondly, Merlin always seems somewhat distracted. So Gwaine gives up and just makes up half the shit he tells Arthur in exchange for free ale.

"I- what the- that little bastard!"

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur hijacked my concept #concept #Arthur #gwaine

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astrxlfinale · 1 month ago

Note

"Y'know," uh oh. It's the other general this time, not Caelus' usual tormentor. Feixiao grins with too-sharp fangs, ears giving a single, amused, evil twitch. "I'd heard from Yukong that there was a strange short-lived fellow with a taste for Foxian women that'd appeared in the Palace of Astrum about two years ago. Maybe the two of you aren't so unalike after all!"

Oh he knows that tone. A tone of a fine general who was laying back into her element, who had her sights honed on the good companion made her newest prey. It was funny how much she can promote a more reactive spark in him. Those golden eyes immediately snapped towards the sight, right into the purview of her radiant jades as it became a moment of exchanged glances. About ten different traps lingered in the very moment, all of them enticing, just aching for that opportunity to let curiosity become the spark upon kindle.

Since when would a Trailblazer turn away from these clearly important, 'diplomatic' matters?

"I know?" It had a touch of feigned innocence, as if it was a careful start to a dance to back away from such matters, an unwise move considering the very nature of the Hunt itself. Caelus would feel the genuine moment shift between them, how those fangs were prideful in being revealed and aimed right towards the very soul in question. The details, how her accounts snapped firm with the memories in his mind, prompting his spine to briefly seize up in a moment of surprise. Mouth briefly agape for one moment

Where in the hell does he even begin with this? Feixiao's very expression had power to it, tied with a brutal charm that could easily bring the 'prey' concept out of any soul she decided. It led to those brazen eyes of Caelus to focus towards the artificial clouds, playing casual while enjoying the idle breeze that caressed a case of goose flesh compared to casual skin. "Isn't-- that a good thing? A stern order tied with cases of a lil fun, things.." Ahem. "Like that should be a lil more.. how ya say it? Not exactly celebrated, but maybe caught as an auspicious sign."

Especially given who in the hell they were talking about!

Who in the hell could resist that natural allure?

Caelus was a soul that wasn't remotely shy in letting inspiration, base needs tied with a wild soul culminate into the storm known as him. Yet, leave it to the Merlin's Claw to transform this into a moment of outright bullying. Of course she'd be that very type! Gumption would right that faltering soul, prompting him back up, doubling the gutsiness to pivot upon a heel, turning towards Feixiao fully, even adding that decisive step to ensure he'd get further into her area of influence.

Those eyes had to be met. Even with that face of his signed with scarlet, and that clear effect upon his soul could practically be tasted upon the air. "All about a matter of good taste, right? Can't help but hope that person in question is living a damn good life, having no shame in what truly makes there heart get set alight. Maybe that should set an example, not the taste in question, but that rawness to be outright."

Goal: Do not proceed to check out Feixiao in this very moment. This was a danger line, the sort of line she'd play jump rope with . Yet the high as hell charm of her confidence was something to be adored all the same.

...

Fuck. He's failing the mission!

@everlastiingiimmortals

#everlastiingiimmortals #| Shuttle Mail #Is it just me #Or is she having a lil fun with this 8|c #Meanwhile Caelus feels both exposed but elated #it's complicated! Don't look at him!!

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almost-correct-quotes · 2 years ago

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before pride month ends anyone wanna be the merlin to my lancelot and tell me your secrets in exchange for me trusting you with my life and risking it for yours without a thought

#bbc merlin #bbc lancelot #lancelot du lac #lancelot #merlance #mercelot #merlin emrys

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jupiterpp · 11 months ago

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CHAPTER FIVE: ODD | 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞. -𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

important note; This is the first time I'm posting my stories on Tumblr. My mother tongue is not English so expect grammatical errors ahead.

word count: 896 words

MASTERLIST | CHAPTERS

We got the highest score at the presentation.

As the announcement rang out that we had achieved the highest score in the class for our presentation, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and relief wash over me. All the hard work and late nights we had put into the project had paid off, and I couldn't be happier.

I exchanged a quick glance with Riddle, and for a brief moment, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he returned to his usual composed demeanor.

"I knew the two of you would be such a good match if you worked together!" Slughorn exclaimed. We were inside his office; he had heard the news and invited me and Riddle for some snacks.

With a smirk, I couldn't resist a sassy response. "Well, Professor, I guess even the most unlikely pairings can work wonders when one-half of the duo isn't too busy being a know-it-all," I said, shooting Riddle a glance.

He shot me a glare.

"Hey, don't give me that look," I retorted, crossing my arms and meeting his gaze head-on. "You know it's true. Maybe if you weren't so quick to dismiss my other ideas, we could have gotten even higher marks."

"I'm impressed that you managed to do your project while on prefect duties, Tom." Said Slughorn taking a sip of his coffee.

Riddle's lips quirked into a smug smile at Slughorn's words. "Well, I'm nothing if not efficient, Professor," he replied smoothly, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Besides, it's all about time management, isn't it?" he grabbed a biscuit from the bowl, and took a bite of it.

"Correct," Slughorn chuckled.

"Must be easy when you have all the time in the world," I mumbled under my breath, rolling my eyes as I stood up to grab a book on Slughorn's shelf.

Riddle's eyes flickered towards me, his expression icy. "Some of us know how to prioritize," he said coolly. "Perhaps you'd do well to learn that skill yourself."

This guy.

"Ah, ah, ah, don't even start here in my office, you two," said Slughorn, waving a hand between us as if shooing away a couple of bickering cats. I huffed and glared at Riddle, grabbing my stuff beside him before walking away.

"Prioritise," I muttered under my breath, mocking his tone. "As if I don't know how to manage my time."

Riddle's voice, low and smooth, cut through my thoughts. "I heard that."

I didn't bother looking up. "Good. It was meant for you."

"Merlin, just go to your next class, both of you." came Slughorn's exasperated voice, and I wasted no time in leaving, shooting Riddle one last annoyed glance before shutting the door.

Another month had gone by and Riddle never fails to piss me off all the time. His lack of empathy and his constant need to be right grated on my nerves more than ever. It seemed like every interaction with him ended in frustration or annoyance, leaving me feeling drained and irritated.

Despite our success in the Defense Against the Dark Arts project, our dynamic hadn't improved. If anything, it had only worsened as time went on.

"Stop doing that." His voice startled me. I glanced at him.

"What?"

"Stop scratching your quill on the table. The ink is going everywhere."

I rolled my eyes at Riddle's interruption, resisting the urge to snap back. "Sorry," I muttered, setting my quill down with more force than necessary. "I'll try to control my penmanship, Your Highness," I added sarcastically.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to give him a piece of my mind. Instead, I forced a tight-lipped smile and turned my attention back to my parchment, trying to block out his presence beside me.

But as the minutes passed, the tension between us only seemed to grow thicker. Every scratch of his quill against parchment grated on my nerves, each word he muttered under his breath felt like a jab at my patience.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I groaned. "Could you be any more annoying?" I muttered, shooting him a glare.

Riddle raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied coolly, not missing a beat in his writing.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. "Honestly, Riddle, if I wanted a lesson in insufferable arrogance, I'd have just read one of your essays."

He looked up at me, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "If you spent half as much time on your studies as you do coming up with these witty remarks, you might actually keep up with me."

I scoffed, feeling my temper flare. "Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with being the best at everything, you might actually have a friend or two."

He paused, his quill hovering over the parchment. For a moment, I thought I'd hit a nerve, but then he shrugged. "I'd rather be right and alone than wrong and surrounded by sycophants."

"Well, congratulations," I said sarcastically rolling my eyes. "You're doing a stellar job at that."

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he regained his composure. "If you have something to say, say it,"

I held his gaze, my own eyes flashing with defiance. "Fine," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "You're-"

He narrowed his eyes at me but paused when he noticed me looking behind him. He turned to see what had caught my attention.

Standing in the doorway was Dennis Bishop, his expression unreadable as he observed the room. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, a mixture of surprise and apprehension flooding through me. What was he doing here?

"Dennis..." I trailed off, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. As soon as Riddle turned around, Dennis yelped and quickly exited the library. I furrowed my brows and stood up, my eyes not leaving Dennis's retreating figure. Riddle shifted his gaze towards me, narrowing his eyes.

"That's it," I said before closing the book. "You're not getting away this time."

"What are you doing, Delcroix?" Riddle called after me, but I ignored him and hurried towards the library exit, determined to catch up with Dennis. As I pushed open the heavy wooden door, the cool corridor air greeted me, sending a shiver down my spine. "Dennis! Wait!" I called out again, hoping he would pause and give me a chance to catch up.

I grumble under my breath before turning around the other corner and constantly bumping into him. He fell onto the ground in such impact and he looked horrified to see me.

"You!" I exclaimed. "Why are you stalking me, Bishop?"

He didn't respond, just whimpered on the floor, covering his head like I was about to hurt him. I was about to say something when I heard footsteps behind me. It was Professor Slughorn, with Riddle following closely behind. The other students were whispering at the sudden commotion, their attention fixed on Bishop and me.

"What's going on here?" Slughorn demanded, his eyes darting between us.

"Professor," I called out. "What the— how did you get here so quick—"

"Bishop? Goodness gracious!" Slughorn exclaimed, kneeling to help Dennis up. Dennis's eyes widened in horror at the sight of Riddle. His breathing became uneven, and he slapped Slughorn's hand away, bolting down the corridor before anyone could react.

"Bishop!" Slughorn yelled before running after him leaving me and Riddle alone in the hallway. I narrowed my eyes before glancing at the boy beside me who was already walking away.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, catching up to him. He gave me a side glance.

"What?"

"Dennis seemed horrified to see you." I crossed my arms at him. "What did you do?"

Riddle shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unreadable. "he's easily spooked," he replied dismissively, his tone cool and collected as always. "It's not my concern."

"You're lying."

"I am not," he sighed as we headed back to the Slytherin dormitories. He gave me a look, rolling his eyes. "Now stop pestering and go over the important stuff we reviewed earlier if you don't want to fail your DADA class."

Oh, right. Despite the success of the project a month ago, I was flunking the tests and Merrythought paired me up with the top of the class, Riddle. Talk about irony. He only agreed because of the twenty points he'd get if I had improved. He was really serious about it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I muttered, feeling annoyed. "I'll go over it, alright? No need to keep reminding me." I said dismissively, earning a glare from him before I walked away, heading to the girl's dormitory.

Days passed in a blur of study sessions and late-night cramming. Riddle's relentless tutoring was intense, but I couldn't deny it was effective. I found myself making progress in subjects I had previously struggled with, thanks to his guidance. I tried to ignore what happened to Bishop the last time I met him. He was acting very weird and stalking me. Despite my efforts to focus solely on my studies, thoughts of Bishop's odd behavior kept creeping into my mind.

and before I knew it, It was already examination day.

I was a bundle of nerves. I'd been studying non-stop, thanks to Riddle's relentless tutoring sessions. The questions seemed tougher than I remembered. Time flew by in a blur of scribbled answers and anxious glances at the clock.

When the examiner finally called time, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding as I handed Professor Merrythought the test paper as the others who were done with the test shuffled around to get their stuff.

"Feels like I flunked big time," I grumbled as I settled between Silvius and Elara in the Great Hall, a plate of food in hand. I huffed and stabbed my food with my fork.

Silvius shot me a sympathetic glance. "Come on, Delacroix don't be so hard on yourself. You probably did better than you think."

I shrugged, not convinced. "Easy for you to say. You didn't have Riddle breathing down your neck the whole time. He was deadly serious getting that twenty points."

Elara nudged my shoulder gently. "You've been putting in the work, that's what counts. And hey, if worst comes to worst, we'll study together for the retake."

I let out a sigh before someone called my name not far from me. A student handed me my test paper and then Silvius's before calling another name.

Silvius's exclamation pulled me from my thoughts. "What the hell—the scores are already out?!"

I glanced over at him, then down at my own paper, my eyes widening in shock. "Oh, wow," I muttered, scarcely able to believe it. "I passed?"

Relief flooded through me, mingled with a sense of accomplishment. Maybe all those late-night study sessions had paid off after all. Elara was given her test paper as well causing her to grin at the sight of her score on the right side of her paper.

"Okay, so all of us passed?" Marcellus nodded before folding his test paper with a smile on his face. "I say we should go to Hogsmeade to celebrate!"

Silvius practically jumped out of his seat, his eyes still glued to the test results. "Seriously, we all passed? That's amazing!" He shoved his paper into his bag, grinning from ear to ear.

"I was so sure I messed up that last section," I mumbled with a raised brow before folding the paper.

"I've been dying for a butterbeer," Augustus exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I could use a break from studying, that's for sure."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on you guys," Elara pulled Silvius back down to his seat. "That's only one subject, we still don't know about the others."

Silvius groaned, slumping back into his chair. "Come on, Elara! Can't we just enjoy this small victory?"

Elara shook her head, her expression serious. "We can't get ahead of ourselves. Let's check the results for the other subjects first. Then we can celebrate properly."

"You're such a killjoy, Right Delacroix?" Silvius looked at me.

"She's not wrong—"

"I am always right. So shut up." Elara glared at Silvius who looked taken aback by her gaze.

The Slytherin common room was cozy, and it brought me comfort every time I stepped inside. The dim lighting cast a warm, inviting glow over the dark green and silver decor, making the room feel like a hidden sanctuary. The soft crackling of the fireplace and the deep, plush armchairs beckoned me to relax and unwind. I loved the way the light from the fire danced on the stone walls, creating shadows that seemed to tell stories of their own.

I sat down on one of the couches near the fireplace, joining my friends. The warmth of the fire immediately enveloped me, and I could feel the day's stress melting away. The soft, flickering light cast a cozy glow over the room, making it feel even more like a sanctuary.

Elara was already there, sprawled comfortably with a book in her lap. She glanced up and gave me a smile. "Hey, finally decided to join us?"

"Have you guys seen my quill? I left it somewhere in the library." I let out a sigh, taking a seat with crossed arms.

"I don't think so. Did you check your bag?"

I shook my head, feeling a pang of annoyance at my forgetfulness. "Yeah, I did. Must have dropped it somewhere while I was studying."

"You should go to check the library. It might still be in there." Marcellus said with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Don't listen to him, you'll only get in trouble."

"Only if you're as obvious as you usually are," Marcellus teased.

"Riddle might have caught me, Marcellus," I said, glancing at him with a small laugh escaping my lips.

"You think Riddle hangs out in the library all night?" Marcellus raised an eyebrow. "He's got better things to do than play hall monitor."

I sighed, knowing he wouldn't let this go. "Alright, fine. But if Riddle catches me, I'm blaming you."

"Don't even," Elara warned and grabbed my wrist when she saw me standing up from my seat. I glance down at her. "You can borrow mine,"

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "That quill is custom-made. I can't just replace it."

"I'll go with you!" Augustus chimed in, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Elara sighed, clearly exasperated. "You three are gonna get into so much trouble."

"Relax, Elara," Augustus said, waving off her concern. "We'll be in and out before anyone notices. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You clearly haven't met Riddle," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I hope you and Marcellus get caught."

'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ೃ⁀➷-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-˚. ೃ⁀➷'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The three of us peeked our heads around the corner of the hallway to see if there was any movement. The coast seemed clear, but the anticipation of getting caught sent shivers down my spine. We exchanged nervous glances before silently agreeing to proceed cautiously.

"Go on in," Agustus whispered beside me as I placed my hand on the wooden door of the library. "Me and Marcellus will be on watch."

I nodded and pushed open the door and stepped inside the dimly lit room. The scent of old books filled my nostrils, and the silence was almost suffocating. I moved quickly, scanning the tables and shelves for any sign of my lost quill.

But even as I searched, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every creak of the floorboards made me jump, and every shadow seemed to move when I wasn't looking. I tried to push aside my paranoia and focus on the task at hand, but the fear lingered in the back of my mind like a dark cloud.

And then, just as I was about to give up hope, I spotted it—a glimmer of silver nestled among a pile of books. Relief flooded through me as I reached out and grabbed my quill, holding it tightly in my hand.

"capture, capture," My heart skipped a beat as I heard the voice, low and ominous, coming from the other side of the bookshelf. With my quill clenched tightly in my hand, I peered around the corner, my pulse racing with a mix of fear and curiosity.

There, standing in the dim light, was Dennis Bishop. His eyes were wide, unseeing, and his lips moved feverishly as he repeated the word over and over again while reading a book, his shaky hands pointed at the words. His once-familiar face was twisted with a manic intensity that sent a chill down my spine.

"She must be," Dennis muttered, his voice strained as if he were running out of breath, despite the fact that he was sitting perfectly still. I was snapped back to reality when the library door opened and closed shut. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly ducked under the nearest table, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

I felt a shifting not far from me, and I turned to see a familiar eye peeking out from underneath the table nearby. Panic surged through me as I realized it was Marcellus, his face twisted with fear.

"What the hell—" I began, but Marcellus cut me off with an urgent whisper.

"[name]!" Marcellus whispered, his eyes darting back and forth at the door and me. "We've been spotted!"

Shit. Great. These idiots, instead of running away and hiding somewhere else, just had to lead whoever was after them straight to me. I gasped as the door opened once again and quickly closed shut. The sound echoed in the quiet library, sending a jolt of fear through me. I glanced around frantically, my heart pounding in my chest, only to find Augustus and Marcellus shuffling under their feet and hiding beside me.

"What the hell are you two doing?" I whispered harshly, glaring at them.

"You fucking idiot, This is your fault, Augustus," Marcellus whispered and harshly nudging him.

"You both are idiots! keep it down or we'll get caught!" I hissed, frustration bubbling inside me as their bickering threatened to draw unwanted attention. We were already in a tight spot, and their squabbling was only making things worse.

My heart skipped a beat as I caught a glimpse of a pair of shoes moving closer, and I immediately recognized the person's body movements. They knew that we were here. Panic surged through me as I realized that we had been discovered, and I knew that we were running out of time to come up with a plan.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I motioned urgently for Augustus and Marcellus to quiet down, my eyes darting around the room in search of any possible escape route. But as I scanned the library, my mind raced with the realization that there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

The footsteps grew louder, each step echoing in the silent library, pounding in my ears like a drumbeat of doom. My heart hammered in my chest, the fear so palpable I could taste it. I felt the cold sweat trickle down my back as I realized we were at the mercy of whoever had found us.

Just as the person was about to come closer to our spot, we held our breaths, the tension so thick it was suffocating. I could see the shadow of their legs cast on the floor, inches away from us. The silence stretched, a taut wire ready to snap. But before they could come any closer, a voice called out, cutting through the air like a knife.

"Riddle," It was Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore," Riddle replied, his voice smooth and composed. I could see his shadow turning around to face Dumbledore.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on your prefect's duties right now?" Dumbledore asked, his tone gentle but firm.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, Professor," said Riddle, putting both his hands behind his back. "I saw two figures sneaking into the library, so I came in hoping to catch them."

Dumbledore paused, considering Riddle's words. "I see," he said slowly. "However, it is rather late. Perhaps it would be more prudent to continue this in the morning."

Riddle hesitated, but his voice remained calm. "Of course, Professor. I'll make sure the library is properly secured before I leave."

"Very well then," Dumbledore said. As they began to walk away, Riddle walking in the other direction away from us, I caught a fleeting glance of Dumbledore's eyes. For a moment, they seemed to flicker in our direction, a knowing glint in their depths. Did he know we were here? It was impossible to tell.

'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ೃ⁀➷-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-˚. ೃ⁀➷'✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

As I settled into my seat in class, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me, the prickling sensation of being watched. Glancing around, I expected my gaze to meet Riddle's, but I caught Bishop's eyes across the room. his expression unreadable as he observed me from across the room. It sent a shiver down my spine, the intensity of his gaze unsettling.

And then, another pair of eyes caught mine.

Finally, when the class was over, I wasted no time in making my way to Dumbledore's office. I needed to talk to him about what I had seen in the library last night. The mysterious girl's unsettling stare and Bishop's presence had left me with too many questions, and I hoped Dumbledore could provide some answers.

"Delacroix? I did not expect you to be here." Dumbledore said his eyes searching mine. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes, Professor," I said swallowing the lump that was forming on my throat. "You see-"

"Is this about the stalker you have?" Said Dumbledore as he approached me. My eyes widened in surprise at his statement, caught off guard by his directness. How did he know? Did Slughorn tell him?

"Yes...How did you know?" I asked.

"Slughorn told me."

"Figured," I muttered under my breath. Of course, Slughorn told him about it. "It was Dennis Bishop. He's been tailing me ever since I set foot in Hogwarts."

He let out a thoughtful hum and turned his back on me, a gesture that caused me to raise a curious brow at his behavior. With measured steps, he walked closer to the window, his gaze fixed on something beyond the glass.

I followed his line of sight and noticed the Quidditch players passing by the window, their figures darting gracefully through the air on their brooms. For a moment, Dumbledore stood in silence, his expression unreadable as he watched the players with a contemplative air.

I cleared my throat, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "Is everything alright, Professor?"

"You know Mrs. Cole from the muggle orphanage, Right?" He asked, not looking at me as he fiddled his fingers behind his back. I furrowed my brows at him.

"I do," I replied cautiously, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

"Mrs. Cole told me back at the orphanage when I came to get Tom," he continued, his voice low and contemplative. "Mrs. Cole takes a summer visit to the seashore with the children from the orphanage and Tom Riddle coerces two of the other kids, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, to go with him into a cave. Mrs. Cole said they were so messed up by whatever happened in there that they became mute."

My eyes widened at Dumbledore's words, a shiver running down my spine. Dennis had seemed perfectly fine the last time we spoke, so whatever had occurred must have happened while I was away in London.

Is this what Mrs. Cole telling me about being cautious around Riddle?

"...Is this why Dennis has been acting like that all this time? Because of Riddle?"

"It's what Mrs. Cole said," Dumbledore said. "It's possible that whatever happened in that cave had a lasting effect on Dennis and Amy."

#harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #voldemort #tom riddle era #hp fandom #tom riddle #albusdumbledore #tom marvolo riddle x reader #the house of gaunt #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst #harry potter fanfiction #time turner

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merlinpride · 2 years ago

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Title: the ordeal of being (but with you)

Author: @slantedknitting

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Mushrooms, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Mushroom Induced Hallucinations, Arthur Pendragon Retursns, Sharing a Bed, Arthur cuts Merlin's Hair, Merlin has PTSD, Merlin has Nightmares, Arthur Comforts Him, Nightmares, Arthur Wants to Live on a Farm, Getting Together

Summary:

Merlin lives alone - if what he’s doing can really be called living. He sleeps, he eats, he whittles. Sometimes he dreams, but he wish he wouldn’t, especially when the line between dreams and the waking world starts to blur.

This isn’t how Merlin wanted to be found by a miraculously returned Arthur, but this is his reality.

Written for @paxopalotls for the Merlin Pride Exchange!

#creation23 #pairing: merthur #type: fic #rating: t

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magicschild · 1 month ago

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Chapter 23

Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

Summary:

Another chapter for our awesome characters to listen to and learn from...

Notes:

BOLD = Bookquotes ITALICS = Parsel UNDERLINE = Younger Version of a Character

"Oh Merlin!" Minerva muttered under her breath, her eyes wide with surprise. There had actually been a dragon!

Quirrell, however, must have been braver... but it didn’t look as though he’d cracked yet.

"That's surprising," Tonks said. "He doesn't seem the sort to stand up to someone as intimidating as Snape."

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside.

"What would you have done if it wasn't?" young Charlie asked.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, unsure of the answer.

Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper.... laughing at Quirrell’s stutter.

"ARGH! I can't believe I did that!" Ron grumbled.

Molly Weasley quickly berated her son, only for him to roll his eyes at her.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Philosopher’s Stone... ‘Ten weeks,’ Hermione snapped. ‘That’s not ages, that’s like a second to Nicolas Flamel.’

"Ten weeks?" Minerva asked, her jaw dropping.

"You are not six hundred years old, Miss Granger," young Filius said.

‘But we’re not six hundred years old,’... I should have started studying a month ago, I don’t know what’s got into me ...’

"A month ago?" Draco asked. "That's not normal."

Draco prided himself on his grades and he'd always done rather well, but eleven weeks focused on revision? He'd have been a nervous wreck. He no longer felt quite so bad that Granger had beaten him in several classes, if that's how hard she had to work to do it. It had nothing to do with his lack of intelligence but rather her utter obsession. Even his parents, who were always encouraging him to study more, looked horrified at the idea of all that revision.

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione.

"Absolutely not!" Minerva said. "We give homework and encourage self study but that level of revision is unhealthy and quite franking counter-productive."

"Indeed. All Miss Granger will accomplish with that amount of revision is a hernia and a trip to the hospital wing," Pomona said.

"I was top of my year!" Hermione countered.

"Not because of your obsessive study habits," Flitwick argued. "You might well have done better if you'd lightened up a little."

Neither Hermione could believe their ears. Were their teachers really encouraging them NOT to study?

They piled so much homework on them... much fun as the Christmas ones.

"That's actually because there are more students staying over Easter," Minerva said. "We give extra homework to keep you all busy. Not to stress you out about exams."

"Especially not in your first year," Severus said.

It was hard to relax with Hermione... practising wand movements.

"You should study away from your friends, if they do not want to study, dear," young Pomona said.

Moaning and yawning... there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

"You should have taken your books outside," Filius said.

"Library books aren't allowed outside apparently," Harry muttered.

Severus felt slightly guilty for that, even if he hadn't done it yet.

"Plus, Hermione refuses to work outside," Ron grumbled.

Harry, who was looking up ‘Dittany’... ‘Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?’

"Ronald, that really isn't any of your business!" Mrs Weasley complained loudly.

Young Ron looked put out. It hadn't been that rude.

Hagrid shuffled into view... ‘Yer not still lookin’ fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?’

"Not suspicious at all, Rubeus," Minerva huffed.

‘Oh, we found out who he is ages ago,’... They’ll think I’ve told yeh –’

"You boys really should be more respectful to Mr Hagrid," Narcissa said softly. "He was a member of the faculty. Even in your first year."

"We sometimes forgot that," Harry admits. "He was our friend."

"That's why its important for educators to instill boundaries with their charges. Unfortunately, that is training that Mr Hagrid was most likely never offered."

‘See you later, then,’... ‘What was he hiding behind his back?’ said Hermione thoughtfully.

"It was none of your business," several of the teachers huffed.

‘Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?’... ‘Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,’ said Harry.

"There better not have been a dragon at Hogwarts," Amelia muttered. "Was anything like that ever reported?"

Kingsley thought back before shaking his head. "No. Nothing at all."

"I know Mr Potter believes that Hagrid has paid for any crimes he may have committed but if he has a dragon on Hogwarts grounds, I will..." She wasn't sure what she'd do. Certainly nothing while she was here in Mother Magic's territory. But when she returned to her own time, there would be hell to pay.

‘But it’s against our laws,’... You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.’

Everyone stared at Ron in shock. "How do you know that?" someone asked.

All the Weasleys pointed at the two Charlies.

‘But there aren’t wild dragons in Britain?’... ‘So what on earth’s Hagrid up to?’ said Hermione.

"Good question," Madam Bones asked, glaring at the half-giant.

When they knocked... It was stiflingly hot inside.

"Oh dear," Minerva whimpered. Lowering her head to her hands. She should have listened.

Even though it was such a warm day... which they refused.

"Sorry, Hagrid," Harry muttered but the half-giant just shrugged his shoulders, waving off Harry's concern.

‘So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin’?’... ‘Number one, I don’ know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could.

"Well, at least you tried, Rubeus," Pomona said gently.

That Stone’s here fer a good reason... Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.’

"A good reason? I've yet to hear one," Moody muttered.

"How about the same way most of the students found out," George said. "By unlocking the door..."

‘Oh, come on, Hagrid... ‘We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.’

"That was very Slytherin of you, Miss Granger," young Lucius said.

Hagrid’s chest swelled... Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he’s not about ter steal it.’

"Yeah, right. Because you've never had anyone betray your trust," Harry muttered.

Harry knew Ron and Hermione... ‘Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,’ said Hagrid proudly.

Hagrid looked ashamed at that. He'd been such a fool. He should never have talked about Fluffy to that bloke in the pub.

‘Well, that’s something,’ ... was a huge, black egg.

"Absolutely not!" Both Mrs Weasleys got to their feet. Quickly followed by all the other mothers in the hospital.

"Why weren't we informed there was a dragon at Hogwarts?" Narcissa demanded.

"We were unaware," Minerva admitted nervously.

‘Ah,’ said Hagrid,... Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.’

"You think?" Charlie laughed. "It's illegal. Of course, he wanted rid."

"Surprised he played cards for it though," young Charlie added. "It would have been worth a pretty penny on the black market."

‘But what are you going to do with it... They’re rare, them.’

"That would work," Charlie admitted, "but its not ideal. It's not their preferred diet. Not to mention, they really need a mother dragon in the first few months."

He looked very pleased with himself,... he stoked the fire.

Several of the teachers looked like they wanted to tell Hermione off for the way she'd spoken to Hagrid but they couldn't help but agree with her.

So now they had something else to worry about... he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Azkaban for sure," Madam Bones said. "Could of got a shortened sentence if he aided an investigation into the person he won it from. But definitely time in Azkaban."

‘Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life... It was driving them mad.

"Miss Granger! You are not responsible for their education," Minerva said crossly.

"But they would never have..." Hermione began.

"So? Then they'd have had to redo the year. That would have been their choice!"

"Besides, hardly anyone actually fails first year," Filius laughed. The idea was ridiculous.

Then, one breakfast time,... go straight down to the hut.

"I would have, if only I'd known," Pomona admitted. "Once in a lifetime event."

Hermione wouldn’t hear of it.... when someone finds out what he’s doing –’

"Miss Granger, you spoil sport!" Severus actually laughed aloud. "And as for Hagrid, you are a student. Your opinion on his personal choices are not appreciated. If you believed Hagrid's choices put yourself or the other students in danger, you should have informed a teacher. Better yet, as you knew he was breaking the law, you were honour bound to report him to the authorities. You do not get to judge his behaviour on one hand, while breaking the law at the same time. Potter was right. You do have double standards."

‘Shut up!’... Harry didn’t like the look on Malfoy’s face at all.

"Why didn't you inform me?" Lucius demanded.

"You'd have gotten rid of the dragon," Draco huffed. "I just wanted to see it."

Ron and Hermione argued... ‘It’s nearly out.’ He ushered them inside.

Everyone sat forward in their seats, eager to hear all about the baby dragon.

The egg was lying on the table... It wasn’t exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella.

"Harry, how could you?" Charlie teased.

Its spiny wings were huge... It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"You're all too close," young Charlie said. "It needs a mother dragon."

‘Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!’ said Hagrid.

"No, Hagrid. She knew you weren't her mother," Charlie said. "She could smell that you were prey."

"Wait! Did you say she?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, when we got her back, we quickly realised that Hagrid hadn't checked her sex. It's fortunate we got her when we did. A rampaging female ridgeback would have been very problematic. They are especially vicious."

‘Hagrid,’... Malfoy had seen the dragon.

"I didn't see much but I did kind of see it hatch," Draco admitted with a grin. "It was amazing."

Something about the smile... trying to reason with him.

"Just report him for having the damn thing already," Moody grumbled.

"We couldn't do that," Harry said.

‘Just let him go,’ Harry urged. ‘Set him free.’

"Bad idea. Really bad idea," young Charlie said. "She'd have made a home for herself in the forest and Hogwarts wouldn't have any game left within six months. Not to mention the danger to the students."

‘I can’t,’... Hagrid hadn’t been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy.

"Did that go unnoticed?" Augusta demanded.

The staff all glanced at one another. Yes, they had completely failed to notice that.

There were empty brandy bottles... ‘He’s lost his marbles,’ Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

No one tried to tell Ron off this time. They all fully agreed with the boy's assessment of the gamekeepers mental faculties.

‘Hagrid,’... ‘Charlie,’ he said.

"You mean it wasn't even Ron that came up with the idea?" Charlie asked, somewhat disappointed. His brother should have immediately realised that he would be able to help.

"And what exactly was your part in this plot, Mr Weasley?" Amelia asked.

"Er... Rescuing a stolen dragon?" Charlie offered.

‘You’re losing it, too,’... then put him back in the wild!’

"Not possible. She wasn't raised in a way that will ever allow her to be released," Charlie said sadly. "Fortunately, she has settled well at the reserve."

"You said stolen?" Moody asked.

"The reserve in France had a break-in a week or so before Hagrid got the dragon."

‘Brilliant!’... send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

"Thank goodness," Andromeda said.

"Just how did you get the dragon out of Hogwarts?" Amelia asked. "I already know the ministry was not informed."

"Er..." Charlie looked apprehensive.

The following week dragged by... ‘It bit me!’ he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief.

"Wait! What?" Both Charlies leaned forward. "You never said anything about being bitten. They're venomous. You need to go to the hospital wing."

"Charlie, I'm fine," Ron laughed. "It happened years ago, remember."

‘I’m not going to be able to hold a quill for a week... When it bit me he told me off for frightening it.

"Mr Hagrid!" Narcissa was shocked. "Your first priority should be your students. He's an eleven year old boy that you have endangered and you blamed him?"

Hagrid looked down. He hadn't really thought about it being dangerous.

And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby.’... Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

"No ministry authorisation then," Madam Bones said, shaking her head. "I don't know who to be angrier with. Mr Hagrid for harbouring an illegal dragon, the headmaster for being unaware - most likely due to his own mismanagement of the school wards -, the other teachers for not noticing what their students were doing, or you Mr Weasley for involving your younger brother in smuggling an XXXXX creature across several countries."

"We didn't have much time," Charlie said. "And I was still new to the reserve. I was still learning. Obviously, I'd never do that now."

"You had enough time to file the proper paperwork," Madam Bones insisted.

"Hagrid would have gotten..." Hermione started.

"Mr Hagrid would have probably gotten away with it, if it was clear that he'd been involved in your plan to have the dragon rescued by one of the dragon reserves. Especially as a gamekeeper, it could have been argued he was providing it with safekeeping until help could come. All he would have needed was a good lawyer."

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower... I think the Cloak’s big enough to cover two of us and Norbert.’

"This is ridiculous and unnecessary," Madam Bones argued.

It was a mark of how bad the last week... would she recognise a dragon bite?

"I'm a mediwitch," Poppy grumbled. "Of course, I would. I could also tell you which breed of dragon bit you."

"Did you inform his head of house?" Bones asked.

"I..." She hesitated. She didn't want to blame Minerva but the woman was just too busy. She'd certainly tried to inform the head of house and failed miserably.

By the afternoon, though, he had no choice... he’s going to know we’re getting rid of Norbert.’

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody growled.

Harry and Hermione didn’t get a chance to answer... And we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn’t know about that.’

"True," Sirius admitted. So long as they stayed under the cloak, they shouldn't be caught. He almost wished there had been a dragon during his own time at Hogwarts.

They found Fang... nothin’ I can’t handle.’

"Right... Sure..." Charlie laughed. "I'm sorry to say this Hagrid but you were sinking and fast."

When they told him... he’s only a baby, after all.’

"Not true. Dragons grow quickly." Young Charlie couldn't help but shake his head at Hagrid's comment. "Never underestimate a young dragon."

The baby banged its tail on the wall... ‘An’ I’ve packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely.’

"A teddy bear?" several people asked, gaping at the half giant.

From inside the crate... ‘Mummy will never forget you!’

"You know Hagrid, you'd be welcome to visit her," Charlie said gently.

"Thanks Charlie," Hagrid said with a small smile.

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle... had Malfoy by the ear.

"EXCUSE ME?" Narcissa glowered at the head of gryffindor. "You had him by his what?"

"I have never given consent for my son to be manhandled by the teachers of Hogwarts," Lucius said in a cold voice.

‘Detention!’... I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!’

"That's a reasonable punishment but don't you ever touch my son again," Narcissa said, her eyes dark with anger.

The steep spiral staircase... gone.

"Thank Mother Magic for small mercies," Rockwood said.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase... They’d left the Invisibility Cloak on top of the tower.

"NO!" Sirius shook his head. "Rookie mistake."

"You were doing so well," Remus said with a grin.

"Don't encourage him you two!" Mrs Weasley shrieked.

"Molly, dear," Arthur said soothingly, "I think it might be time for dinner."

Notes:

I'd love to hear your thoughts...

#Harry Potter #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #harry potter fanfiction #characters reading harry potter #master of death harry potter #book 1 harry potter #characters reading harry potter books #sacrificing magic's child #magical culture #hp fanfic

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luvether · 9 months ago

Text

A GUARDIAN OR TWO ੭୧. . . Feixiao entrusts two of her most trusted people to look after you.

jiaoqiu and moze + gn!reader. trio shenanigans, them being overprotective, princess treatment (if you squint so hard), misunderstandings and arguing, attempted assassination, hurt with comfort, platonic-ish dynamic with semi-romantic gestures, the line is very blurry. worldbuilding for Xianzhou Yaoqing. fluff and angst! content. this is written before version 2.5. [6.5k wc]

prequel to much love, your guardians ノ This might be extremely ooc due to the lack of info and interactions of them but honestly this became self-indulgence, was listening to Look after you by the fray.

HAVING THE MERLIN’S CLAW as your older sister is both a blessing and a curse, but it also meant being the weak link, the vulnerable dent on her otherwise iron-clad armor, and having targets on your head on occasions, it’s nothing new in your routine. Compared to Feixiao—the fierce and righteous Madam General—you were more reclusive, colder. You prefer scrolls and parchments over military regiments, you like writing about Feixiao’s military missions instead, taking account of the Verdant Knights’ supplies of weapons, keeping tabs on the IPC’s transfers on technology for combat than being under the honeyed heat training blood, sweat and tears till weary limbs become knotted and hard with purpose.

You were quite literally, the opposite of Feixiao, which sparked heavy rumors of your incompetence in combat.

The Arbiter-General of the Yaoqing born for her military prowess has a sibling who doesn’t even know how to wield a sword.

The lesser one in a Xianzhou ship that prides itself to be the master of its many war achievements.

The nasty conversations are never ending, so to dilute the backhanded comments of people questioning your status and reputation, you direct your focus to dealing with the dirty work, the more complicated, nitty-gritty politics of Xianzhou Yaoqing, the acidic talk about you had lessen since then but taking up the mantle into the political side of everything also makes you susceptible to more external enemies outside of the battlefield. Sometimes, that worries Feixiao.

So it comes as no surprise when she assigns her two most trusted people to watch over you from time to time—the famed Jiaoqiu from the Alchemy Commision and even the Shadow Guard himself, Moze shows up to look after you.

The first encounter between you three was…uncanny and awkward.

It happened just as you were dropping off papers to Feixiao’s office, surprised to see two men as you entered. No wonder why the atmosphere had a hint of spice hanging in the air.

You’ve met Sir Jiaoqiu a handful of times, he is your sister’s doctor after all, but never once have you exchanged more words with him than a quick good day doctor or a thank you for looking after her as usual. He’s still the same gentle-eyed, kind smiling counselor as you’d remember.

Sir Moze on the other hand, was someone you barely saw in person but heard more with words from Feixiao herself. He’s taller than you anticipated, scarier even. He had his arms crossed, back against the farthest wall of the room.

“I believe you’ve heard about Jiaoqiu and Moze, right?”

“From you, yes.” You flicker your gaze wearily at the two. “What of them?”

“How would you like to have these two guard you?” Feixiao is leaning close, chin on her palms, blue eyes twinkling.

If you hadn’t deposited the files on the desk, you would’ve dropped it all on the clean tiles beneath you. “Pardon me, Madam General but,” you’re trying to keep your tone cool, less offensive. “Why?”

“You don’t think I wouldn't find out about the little incident that happened in Verdant Harbor?”

You stiffen then. “That was due to my ignorance, it won’t happen again.”

“An assassination attempt on you is not something that you can just brush off and say, it won’t happen again.” Feixiao frowns, then she gestures to the two again.

“Just until I can properly assign someone reliable to you, these two will look after you when I’m busy.”

“General, but—“

“Your constant refusal to the General’s order makes it seem like you don’t want us around, little scribe.”

From the corner of your eye, Jiaoqiu speaks for the first time today, his syrupy tone brushing the shell of your ear. You hadn’t noticed him getting close, popping his head in front of your face, pink ears perking.

You lean back from his face, exhale. “Sir Jiaoqiu, you are my sister’s companions, not mine.”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t be acquaintances, no?”

“I’m too busy to have guards following me around.” You cross your arms. “I check on Yaoqing’s inventory everyday, write reports the entire afternoon and pay visits to IPC delegates. I don’t want to think about yours and Sir Moze’s well-being while I'm working.”

“You don’t have to.”

From the farthest wall, Moze speaks his opinion on the matter, his deep velvet pupils unmoving on you. “You can completely ignore our existence, for all I care. The General ordered this because your life was threatened, it’s no use arguing over the factuality of the issue at hand.”

His words felt like a stab through your chest, you didn’t expect his voice to be so…gravelly and ice cold. Complaints melt away on your tongue, your slump shoulders show your defeat on the matter, which prompted a smile on Jiaoqiu’s delicate face, peaks of butterscotch eyes grinning at you.

“That’s three against one.”

And that’s how the arrangement started. You had left that office with paper-free hands and two distinguished gentlemen in tow, following your foot falls as you left Feixiao’s great seat. You were almost convinced the two would stay quiet the majority of your journey but not even a minute in, Jiaoqiu pops his head in your view, again.

“So, what’s the schedule for today?” The healer should really refrain from leaning in close to your face when he converses with you. Your tongue is thick with childish rebuttals however you quell it down, pin your shoulders with professionalism, pace your steps faster.

“I have to meet again with an incessant customer in Caelorium Venti Pavilion.”

Jiaoqiu tilts his head again, it’s funny to see his ears tip up or down, matching his emotions—Feixiao’s ears do that too. “Incessant, you say?”

“He’s been complaining about some clauses in our shipment agreement. Some folks from the Artisanship commission and I have been trying to resolve this dispute peacefully but he’s being very difficult. This is our fourth day trying to convince him.”

Pink ears droop, floppy-eared. “I heard about this briefly two days ago, I can’t believe it’s still going.”

“You’d be surprised how relentless some people can be.”

“Do you wish for it to be resolved?” Moze speaks up from your other side.

You turn to him, puzzlement sewn between your brows. “Yes, I’d want this to be done already.” What’s he thinking?

“Then, allow me to handle it swiftly.” What does that even mean?

Jiaoqiu sighs beneath his red fan, a pointed look directed at the taller man. “Is assassination techniques all you think about? I don’t think being aggressive will help our little scribe here.” Being aggressive??

Moze frowns. “And if we don’t do anything, this will still be an issue till tomorrow—“

“No, sir Jiaoqiu is correct. Sir Moze you are prohibited from being violent with any of my clients. You are here to be my bodyguards not paid assassins. I can handle my work on my own.”

Moze’s frown deepens, he mulls over your scolding then nods his head reluctantly, “Very well.”

You sigh, fingers pressing onto your temple. It’s not even a few fifty steps from the office and you’re already having a headache.

The walk towards the destination is filled with Jiaoqiu's chatters on his recent discovery on remedies for stomach ache, you half-listened, he doesn’t seem to mind the lack of response. Moze had disappeared like a wisp of smoke from your side, but you know he was still there somewhere, his heavy foot falls is something he made known to you, a synchronous thud thud thud when your feet hit the cement floor. You thought it was odd to have someone follow you like a shadow. When you reach the Pavilion, you cannot help but sour at the distant arguments already peppering your ears. The healer’s ramble seems to ebb at the disruptions and Moze’s footfalls go silent.

“Seems like they are having an engaging debate.” Jiaoqiu comments at the scene. “Do you deal with this everyday?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Alright then.” Jiaoqiu’s hand lands gently on your back, giving you an encouraging push. “We’ll be here, don’t mind us so go do your work.”

You glance at him, under his red fan he nods at you. You turn without a single word, the more you approach the scene the more the tangle mess of arguments fall upon your ears,

“I told you my decision once and I'll tell it again for the hundredth time but I won’t change my mind nor am I gonna agree with your ridiculous clauses!”

“Sir Zhenye, I understand your concerns. But this clause is for the protection of all shipments, this is a law for Yaoqing, we are in no position to change it even with your demands.”

“Then call your manager!” When your associates sigh, you knew their banter wasn’t going anywhere.

“Mr. Zhenye, this is the only thing we can provide for you and your shipment no matter how much you are displeased with it.”

You see the faces of the Artisanship Associates perk up at your presence, you drag a chair back and take a seat with them.

The man scoffs. “I question the flexibility of Yaoqing’s customer service, you are lacking, I don’t even know why I am still arguing with you on this.”

“But—” You raise a hand at your companions. Yeah, this won’t do. You can sit here and argue all you want, but you have other things to handle.

“Then, I’m sorry our services aren’t to your liking. We may end our discussion here since we cannot seem to come into a mutual agreement, you may take your shipments with you, maybe the other Xianzhou ships will be more to your liking.” You stand. ‘Have a good day—”

“Aren’t you the Merlin’s Claw kin?”

You stop in your tracks, Zhenye crosses his arms, an ireful glance directed at you. “Yeah, I have heard of you. You were once an orphan during one of Yaoqing’s many battles with the Denizens of Abundance. Just because the Merlin’s Claw has found and decided to take you in, you think you have the right to look down on people, huh?”

No, that wasn’t the case. Talks like this have been plentiful, you had gotten used to it by now but you cannot help the crawl of shame flushing through your skin, for him to downplay you and your efforts in front of Artisanship Commision representatives—in front of Feixiao’s two most trusted retainers? How shameful. You wondered what they would think of you, you had failed to convince a customer and now you’re being told off in public, they might think you are unworthy, they might even agree with Zhenye.

“You think you’re someone special?” Zhenye continues the spur, deepening the thorn. “Compared to the Madam General, you are lacking—”

“And our smart little scribe had already ended the discussion a few moments ago. If you continue all this yelling, kind sir, I might report you to the Knights for verbal harassment.” A body reveals itself, blocking you from Zhenye’s view. Jiaoqiu’s closed-eye smile replaced with a malicious look.

“W-who” Zhenye is stunned at the threat. ‘Who are you supposed to be, I am An Zhenye, the son of the famous merchant family An. Who do you think you are to—”

“Then, I might just need to have a word with your family—” Jiaoqiu’s smile is cynical. You divert your attention from the scene when another large palm rests upon your shoulder, you glance sideways and see Moze standing there, his velvet pupils soften under the meek afternoon light.

“you alright?” He flickers his gaze in front where Jiaoqiu is now in a winning argument with a stuttering Zhenye. “It’s gonna be fine now, he’s good at dealing with difficult people as well. That Zhenye will agree with the shipment agreement just like intended, And...”

You watch him pause, you furrow your bows up at him. “And don’t take his words to heart, he’s saying nonsense. The General treasures you the most, she never thought you were anything but.”

A weird feeling tickles your chest. You were fine with the insults, it did not offend you—but those two, they almost defended you in an instant, it’s weird. “Thank you, Sir Moze.”

“Just, call us Jiaoqiu and Moze, sir is too formal for our arrangement.” You hummed at his statement.

The afternoon ended with Zhenye agreeing with the clauses begrudgingly, just like Moze had mentioned. The sky starts to dim when you leave the Pavillion, silence overbearing the cool breeze, the night hue melting on three of your figures as you continue walking.

Someone pats your shoulder, stirring you from your thoughts. Jiaoqiu’s smiling again, back at the Pavillion, it was your first time seeing him look at someone so coldly, it was unbecoming for a doctor but remembering how he had come to your defense renders you speechless.

“Are you hungry?”

“What’s with the question?” There’s an unexplained grin on his face.

“How about you come by my place for dinner? After all, eating a good meal can uplift any type of mood. It would taste even better after a long day’s work.”

You were ready to decline, the words were at the tip of your tongue, however Jiaoqiu adds. “The General mentions how you’d usually eat your meals alone, that won’t do, you cannot object to this.”

You turn to look at Moze, silently praying he would help you, his countenance suggests that he spends his free time lonesomely, just like you. He sees you looking at him and immediately says,

“He cooks well.”

That wasn’t what you wanted him to say.

You kick a pebble on the road, grumbling under your breath. But instead of dislike, all you feel was warmth at the invitation to dinner. It has been awhile since you ate around a comfortable crowd.

“Alright.” You finally say. “Only because you helped me today.”

Jiaoqiu laughs, Moze nods his head, and a smile sits on your face for the first time today.

“So, how does it feel to have them as your bodyguards today?” Feixiao raises the question that night, your fingers stop combing through her silver locks, you thought for a while.

“They were okay.”

“Just okay?”

You thought about it, wanted to say something else, dropped it, then you thought about it again, narrowed your eyes, dropped it finally. “Just okay.”

Feixiao’s hair tangles through your fingers softly, ridding her long ponytail and letting her hair scatter down her back, you raise a question of your own, “I wonder how you manage to put up with them.” She almost leans her weight towards you, her blue eyes hiding a gentle smile.

“Why, did Jiaoqiu tease you the whole day?”

“Not really.” You avoid her stare. “He cooked me dinner though.”

She laughs at that. “Well, it’s not easy but I can assure you those guys aren’t bad to be around with.”

“I see.” Your tone sounded doubtful, you didn’t mean for it to sound like that spilling between your tongue, Feixiao picks up on this quickly and her smile falters a little.

“You know it’s my fault that people are talking ill of you,”

Ah, so the news had reached her ears. “I’m guessing Jiaoqiu personally told you?”

“It was Moze, actually.”

“Well, good to know he talks then.”

Feixiao sighs, “The point is, you shouldn’t be subjected to any of these comments and I should’ve paid more attention to it and dealt with it long before, I’m sorry—“

“Stop it sis. Don’t…don’t apologize. It’s fine, it doesn’t bother me as much as you thought it does.” You say. “I didn’t want to bother you with such trivial matters, I can handle things on my own too you know, I’m no longer a little kid.”

A long pause. “I know.”

“You say that but you had assigned two of your trusted retainers to be my bodyguards, you know a simple knight from the Verdant Knight unit will be enough, so why them specifically?”

Feixiao and you had sat in front of each other, your mattress creaking under both your weight, her ears had turned floppy-eared. “You know, you’ve always been so…distant. A part of that is my fault, it must’ve been really lonely for you to rely on yourself for all this time whenever I’m away. I just wanted you to relax for a bit, at least if it’s not only for them, but for me.”

Her hand lands on your shoulder, tugging you to her in a warm embrace. Feixiao kisses your temple. “It’s time to trust others again. And those two can help.”

You have mulled over Feixiao’s words but cannot exactly pinpoint her clear intention. After that, Jiaoqiu and Moze slot into your routine so seamlessly, your lonely afternoon writing reports became lunch breaks eating Jiaoqiu’s cooking with him and Moze. You have grown to get used to Moze’s ebb and flow, his constant appearances and disappearances, materializing from the shadows, his cutthroat quips and acts of service as he sometimes helps you carry around cargo weight for Cycrane shipments or sort papers in your office neatly.

Moze also has the knack for saying profound things related to the methods he was used to,

If there was someone else that spat insults at you, you hear Moze’s “Do you want me to finish him?”

And your constant “No, Moze, we aren’t even sure if what he’s saying is credible or not. Let the Verdant Knights handle this issue.”

His’ “That will take too long to dispatch a set of knights. I can follow him now and verify it myself.”

And finally, your frustrated “Again, no, that’s called stalking—actually you know what, Moze? You’re fired.”

He frowns at your answer, “You cannot fire me, the General was the one that assigned me to you so I go by her orders.” He doesn’t know how to read in between your chides, but you don’t hold that against him.

Aside from pitting with Moze’s stubbornness, Jiaoqiu’s chattering became something you look forward to. On days where you take breaks, you listen as he talks and teaches you about his food discoveries and different alchemical theories, stories he’d exaggerated to garner your attention, medicines he wishes to procure for Feixiao’s illness. He’s passionate about it, you respect that, the admiration almost quickly goes down the drain when you had fallen ill, one time and couldn’t get out of bed.

You remember laying helpless, staring at your ceiling, deciding it was for the best to take a rest instead of going to work with a fever. It will go away in a day, you had gotten used to sleeping off your fevers, and got used to not telling Feixiao of such simple problems. You had closed your eyes, buried your nose into your pillows until you were woken up by the sound of knocking, the stir of movement, the scent of spice and herbs following, Jiaoqiu and Moze came to visit you.

You sat up. “What are you doing in my house?”

“We are your bodyguards, remember?”

“I thought that only applies to following me around when I work?” You push two fingers to your temple, vision spinning and melting colors with one another. “I can take care of personal matters myself…”

When Jiaoqiu reaches you, he touches the back of his ungloved hand to your forehead. His skin is cool against your burning ones.

His ears are perked up, frowning, he asks. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I just caught a fever.” You’re too tired to argue back. Jiaoqiu’s eyes melt like butterscotch under the warm sunlight spilling through your curtains.

“I see.” You watch him stand. “Allow me to use your kitchen then, I'll make you something.”

You could only nod, the pink-haired doctor then beckons Moze to grab him a few more ingredients from the Healer’s Market, with a simple nod the raven-hooded man disappears without another word. The sound of opening cabinets and clattering pots fills your ears as you drift back to sleep, exhaustion finally succumbing to your senses. When you have awakened, you smell something, a deep aroma of mushrooms and soup. You find Jiaoqiu sitting on a chair beside your bedside, you try to find Moze but he’s nowhere to be found.

Jiaoqiu places a hand on your cheek. You had unconsciously leaned against the coolness of his fingers on you. “Your fever didn’t die down, here, drink this medicine I made, it’ll help.”

You take the bowl from him, mushrooms. “Medicine? A broth?”

“Yes, medicine.”

“On whose orders are you demanding this from?”

“I'm a certified doctor, my word is credulous, I can assure you, this medicine is a requirement to alleviate your health.” Jiaoqiu taps your cheek teasingly. “Come on, little scribe, the more you delay it, the more bitter it will be.”

“Fine, fine just stop talking already.” He’s so insufferable, with the insult you cursed in your head you downed the broth, face crumpling, you aren’t fond of mushrooms. Jiaoqiu pats your head for a job well done. Moze arrives after a while, he’s got candies on his hand.

“For you.” He reaches out to take your hand gently, dropping a piece on your open palm. Moze’s fingers are ice-cold, he must’ve stalked off to get the ingredients out in the cold night breeze, you clasped your own fingers with his, simply trying to warm him up, if he noticed your gesture, he didn't question it.

After drinking the medicine, you lay back down with a tired sigh, you feel Moze’s hand on your head now, clumsy fingers combing through your messy bangs and Jiaoqiu pulls the blankets up to your shoulders, his soft coo of goodnight a lullaby in your ears, maybe they’re not as terrible as you initially thought.

The two continue to visit you in your home for the next few days, and the more you feel yourself relaxing within their presence. It didn’t take long but you felt like you were becoming closer with them.

Today, Moze’s the only one that visited. He had mentioned that Jiaoqiu had businesses to tend to with Feixiao. He makes himself comfortable on the chair beside your bed, eyes-closed as you continue to write your reports even when you’re bed-ridden, Moze’s just present in case you needed him to fetch another document or a glass of water.

When the afternoon sun melts through your window, you lowered your pen, letting out a loud sigh as you finished the last sets of papers for today. You spare a look at the man beside you, Moze’s head is tilted back against the wall, peeks of gray hair flopping over the shadow of his eyes, Adam’s apple vulnerable to the warm air and his chest rise and fall to his slumbering breaths. You lean onto your open palm, it’s the first time you’ve noticed how long his lashes are, and even when he’s slumbering he looks so peaceful.

For a moment, curiosity gets the better of you. You shimmy closer, a tender finger brushing through his bangs.

His calloused hand comes up to circle your wrist, stopping your motion, velvet pupils flutter open, steadying on your own. Looking at him closely, you see how his brows crinkle and the peaceful look on his face deepens into his innocent poker face.

“Are you done?” His graveled tone reaches your ears, you settle back and nod your head, gesturing towards the papers on your lap. Moze hums, leans close to gather the papers and sets it back on your desk.

“Here’s your medicine.” Moze comes back with a tray of the familiar looking broth, Your expression changes almost immediately,

You wave your hand. “I’ll take it later.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.” Moze’s lips tip into a frown. “and you didn’t take it.”

I didn’t? “Well, I promise you this time, I’ll take it late—“

“You must take it, little scribe.”

“Just give me a second to…“ He’s already holding the cup in front of you,

“Moze—“

“If you don’t take it now, I’ll tell Jiaoqiu.”

That silences you quickly. After a second, you decide to take the medicine with a grumble, he nods at you in satisfaction.

“Moze, I want to take a walk.” After nibbling another candy from him, you peel the blankets off of your body, setting your bare feet on the cold ground. Moze follows from behind, opening the door for you as you both exit the building. You haven't realized how long you were bedridden with a fever, your bones ached with weight and the breeze kissing your skin tenderly calms you. A tamed sigh escapes through your lips, it was short-lived though, through the canopy on the other hallway, you hear murmurs.

It was a group of people you aren’t familiar with, they must’ve been part of the warrior units and they were talking bad about you,

How you were too weak to the point Feixiao had to call for Jiaoqiu and Moze to ‘babysit’ you, and how an unknown blood like you is unworthy of the attention of the military healer and the shadow guard—You can tell Moze is ready to confront them, his stance dangerous, but you put your hand on his chest, shaking your head.

“It’s no use stopping it, they’ll just continue talking, leave them be.”

Moze grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you closer to him once again after you started your self deprecating statements, you're glad that he did, the action grounded you back from your wallowing thoughts.

“You’re not unworthy of your place here, and you’re not just someone Jiaoqiu and I protect just for the sake of protecting.”

It took twenty seconds at most, staring into those grey-blue eyes of his, dissecting every inch of his expression because you just couldn’t understand. You aren’t convinced still, and maybe that was due to people that had come and gone from your life, the parents that left you during that battle years ago, the parents that protected you which caused them their lives, you cannot unsee how that tragedy unearthed before your eyes.

You don’t need people to protect you, you don’t want to be left alone again, your own problems seem to weigh a lot more on your mind today.

The night is so close to ending, your eyes closed in a peaceful slumber then you hear someone opening your door, a rhythmic type of tap tap tap, a thud thud thud and a thum thum thum of footsteps pepper your ears. Feixiao decides to visit you with her two retainers in tow. She sits on the edge of your bed, reaching out to caress your hair affectionately.

Jiaoqiu and Moze remained by the door, their voices hushed but you can pick them up easily, “It seems like malicious talks have been going on for a very long time, our little scribe just doesn’t say much about it. New rumors have been going around too, ever since our involvement with that merchant in the Pavillion.”

“You should’ve stop them, Moze.” Jiaoqiu chides.

“You don’t think I wanted to?” Moze’s stare is pointed, tone rigid. “They stopped me from doing so.”

There was a silent pause aching through the room after that, Jiaoqiu spoke. “Well, let’s..think about this with our little scribe when we return after a month or two from the Luofu, have you spoken about the Wardance yet, General?”

“I haven’t got the time, but I’ve already chosen a knight to look after them when we leave.”

They’re leaving? Somewhat, a sting pricks your chest. You knew from the very beginning that their duty with you was temporary, a superficial arrangement. Don’t get too attached, they might leave like how your family left you in that battlefield protecting you, how Feixiao had found you and cared for you only to teeter between life and death.

It’s not fair. Why do you feel the need to get close to me if you’re just gonna leave? It’s just not fair.

That night, when you heard them finally leave your room, you had your bed sheets clutched tightly between your fists.

That morning, Jiaoqiu had greeted you, ever so carefree like a chirping morning bird. “You better drink the remedy I have concocted for today, just as you prefer. It's not mushrooms, I used other herb as a substitute to the actual ingredient needed. Now here, don’t refuse it—“

You hum, taking the bowl and downing it in one go, Jiaoqiu watches quietly, a crack of silence filling the air.

“Are you okay?” He places a hand on your forehead, “You’re not feverish, are you dizzy maybe? Stomach ache?”

“It’s nothing.” You stand and Jiaoqiu voices, “Where are you going?”

“I have a lot of work to do, I cannot stay in bed all day.”

“But—“

“I’ll see you when I can, sorry I have to go.” Something changed between you, you’re distant, ice-pricked. Jiaoqiu cannot understand this change.

A few days passed, you focused all your attention with work, work, work and more work. You haven’t seen Jiaoqiu and Moze—pettily and childishly—you’ve been avoiding talking with them for a while now. You need time to think, more time to figure out the ache you feel. It’s not their fault, you are aware of that but you hate the confrontation of knowing what they truly feel and the reality of them not being with you after their duties have been fulfilled, you hate it all. You cannot face them, not like this.

Jiaoqiu and Moze are quick to notice your change in behavior, and you can tell even from a distance that they disliked it, your coldness, your apathy. For the last few days they’ve been trying to corner you, to try to talk, you don’t give it to them. Even with your petty behavior, you weren’t joking when you said you were busy—just like what they had talked about, the upcoming Wardance Ceremony in the Luofu has brought many interstellar travelers from afar, wanting to visit the many Xianzhou ships, you haven’t had time to take a break in a long while.

Only after a week, when you find yourself cracking under the stress of work does the two retainers finally catch you unguarded. You were resting under the sun, back against a wall, your eyes flutter open when you feel a shade from above —Jiaoqiu is standing in front of you, his red fan used to block the sun from your face.

“Too much sun exposure can be unhealthy.” Jiaoqiu’s not smiling, his amber eyes open to see how upset he’s been with your behavior.

You shift. “Thanks.”

Silence.

“You want to talk about it?”

“I…don’t know.” Your hesitation makes him reach out to grab your hand tenderly—too tenderly, enough to make you decompose from its softness. You don’t pull away and the pink-haired man takes a seat beside you.

“Hey.” His ears are downcasted. “What’s on your mind?”

Too many things: anxiety, worry, abandonment. You don’t know how to voice these issues aloud.

“I’m just tired.” Then, you pull away. “You…you can stop doing this, the both of you.”

More silence, this time deafening.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jiaoqiu sounded offended, his brows knitted, you averted your gaze, brushed away his question.

“It means I don’t need you to look after me anymore.”

“Why?”

“I just think—“ don’t get attached. “I don’t need you anymore.”

“It’s not the matter of needing us to look after you or not, this isn’t supposed to be something—“ Jiaoqiu stumbles on his words, he tries to reach for you, stops when he sees the look in your expression, hurt.

Jiaoqiu’s convinced something is on your mind. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” Stop pushing for answers.

“If nothing happened, then why are you being like this?” Stop. “Did someone threaten you perhaps? I—“

Moze materializes from the thin air in dark smoke, hand landing on the doctor’s shoulder firmly. “Hey, Jiao—“

“What, Moze—“

“Just stop already, can’t you see you’re making our litt—“

It’s too loud, stop it.

“Then stop running away and talk to us so we can underst—“

“Aeons.” You finally snapped. “Stop talking to me, why can’t you both just leave me alone?! I don’t need you, so stop talking to me, stop pushing me for answers—!”

You choked, sharp words staggering between the crevices of your teeth. You dare to look up and see their shocked expressions, something bitter cracks in your gut. You didn’t mean to…

You turn to leave, for a split second, Moze reaches for your arm but you were already out of reach. Tears threaten to prick your eyes when you turn a corner, your heart thumping rapidly, you didn’t mean to say that.

The crowd around suddenly overwhelms you, so you stir clear, finding an isolated alley to slip under where you can let the tears roll down your cheek, where you have enough time to think of what just happened.

Pathetic. You can’t even tell them how you truly feel—

Something fleeting from the corner of your eye catches your attention as a cold chill runs through the column of your spine. Something’s wrong. You barely reacted, but you could’ve sworn you saw something flying past your vision, a shadow you don’t recognize. You hear the sound of a blade being cut through the air, slicing the atmosphere, letting your heart fall at the pit of your stomach.

An assassination attempt, at daylight too?

You pivot, you turn around, but the sound of the blade is harsher and you could’ve sworn the assassin was right behind you.

You truly let your guard down this time, you don’t think you have time to dodge the dagger coming your way—

You await for the strike, for the pain to drown you, but instead of something sharp hitting your skin, you feel a pull, your nose buries into a cloth that smelled like spices, protective arms wrapping around you. A pained grunt muffled your ears, your body hit the floor, shouts came second, you snapped your eyes open and saw vanishing smoke and Jiaoqiu’s crumpled expression, his butterscotch eyes flaring as he shouts something to someone before everything goes quiet. You’re clutching him tight but, liquid hits your fingers, curiously you retract your hand to see red.

Blood.

Jiaoqiu’s bleeding.

You haven’t realized how pale you had become until the pink-haired man delicately takes your face between his trembling palms.

“Hey…” He looks in pain. “You cannot give up on us now, we’re your bodyguards after all, aren’t we?”

“Jiao—Jiaoqiu...” Your tone is cut with vulnerability, he wipes the tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to—“

“I know.” His syrupy tone is weak, he winces, then lays his head heavy on your shoulder, nose on the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly likes he’s liquid in your open palm. Shakily, you call out;

“Moze!“ Your scream is desperate, borderline begging, your voice is ringing in your ears when you exclaim again. “Moze, please!“

When you see the swirl of smoke and hear the familiar thump thump thump of footfalls, you cannot be all the more relieved. When Moze appears before you, he was already scraped and bloodied, fear spikes through your chest thinking he was also hurt during the assassination—only a few more seconds later did you realize, it’s not his blood that he’s drenched on, he must’ve dealt with the culprit, Jiaoqiu was the one that shielded you from the attack.

Moze’s chest is heaving, eyes ravenous and crazed. “How, how is he?”

“He’s bleeding so much, I don’t know what to do—“

“We should take him to the Alchemy commission.” Moze’s ruff voice is impatient as he sheaths his blades. “I’ll carry him there, can you get up?”

You nod.

“Good.” He gently pulls Jiaoqiu’s weight off of you, he tosses an arm over his shoulder, lifting him up, “Let’s go, quickly.”

The seconds dragged long, bleeding numbers to minutes till it pools into an hour, then two system hours. Your knuckles are white from how long you’ve had your fingers clasped with one another, you prayed to the Hunt, prayed that he would make it through.

Don’t take him away yet, you prayed to them. Don’t take Jiaoqiu away from Feixiao, from Moze, from me.

You have murmured at least three more prayers before you see Feixiao leaving the room, you jump to your feet, anxious palpitating through your artery.

When she reaches you, she pulls you into a long, tight hug.

You part your lips, terrified. “How is he..?”

“He’s gonna be alright.” You have never let out such a long breath of relief till now. You clutch Feixiao tighter, “Sister?”

“Hm, what is it?”

“This whole thing happened because of my selfishness, it’s all my fault and Jiaoqiu had to get hurt because of this, because of me—“

“Hush, don’t say that now…” her hand rests softly behind your head, caressing through your hair. “They’ll be upset if they hear you now, how about you go inside and tell Jiaoqiu that yourself? I’ll go fetch Moze.”

Sniffling, you nod your head. Feixiao cups your face, pressing her cheek against yours as a form of affection before leaving.

When you step inside, Jiaoqiu’s awake, his ears perk up when he sees you. “You look like you just ran a marathon, little scribe.” He tilts his head, smile on his lips. “Don’t tell me…were you crying this whole time?”

You cannot help but let out a laugh. “You rascal, still have the time to joke around even at a time like this.”

He opens both of his eyes. Suddenly, saddened sincerity crosses his face. “I’m…I’m sorry for yelling at you, back there.”

You meet his gaze. “I should be the one apologizing to you, Jiaoqiu. You got hurt because of me.”

“It was my decision to protect you, don’t take the blame. I don’t know what I would do with myself if you were the one that got hurt.” A tentative pause hangs in the air, then you see him open his arms wide. “Now come here, let me hug you.”

A smile forms on your face, tears heavy in your eyes when Jiaoqiu pulls you to him. “Looks like we all have issues to solve together one step at a time, how does that sound?”

Together, you like that. “Okay.”

“Where’s Moze?” Jiaoqiu asks.

“He had to go talk to the Verdant knights about the whole thing, sister is going over to fetch him.”

“That’s good, when he comes back you should go hug him too.”

This time, you nod your head. Just as promised, Feixiao returns with Moze, there’s an uneasy dent between his brow and he’s in freshly clean clothes. Jiaoqiu nudges and you approach Moze who sends you a puzzled look. You don’t give him time to react, your arms immediately wrap around his torso, you feel him stiffen beneath you.

“…Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, Moze, for being mean to you and Jiaoqiu.”

Moze doesn’t say anything for a long time, but you feel him melt into your embrace, large arms engulfing you wholly, his lips on top of your head, humming gruffly. “Don’t be sorry, you can tell us all about it, yeah?”

Jiaoqiu and Feixiao smile at the scene, and you hum.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Maybe, it’s okay for you to have a guardian or two, even for a short while, you let yourself find comfort to talk to them about your problems.

#⋆ ࣪. 🪐 kou works.#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #moze x reader #jiaoqiu #moze

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rainywerewolfmoon · 1 year ago

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Tales Of Fairyland

Ao3 link here Tales Of Fairyland - Chapter 6 - Princessmh9 - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 6: A Mark of Destiny

{As they walked to the shore Shadow reighed up and neighed loudly as he galloped off with the other horses as out of the waves the sea Unicorns appeared. The sea unicorns emerged gracefully from the sparkling waves; their forms bathed in the ethereal light of the sun. Their sleek bodies glistened with sea spray, and their eyes held the wisdom of the deep. These magnificent creatures were the protectors of the coastal waters, guardians of the balance between land and sea.

Their ivory horns gleamed in the sunlight, a testament to their mystical nature. Each sea unicorn bore a unique pattern of scales that shimmered with iridescent hues, reflecting the colors of the ocean. They moved with a fluid elegance, their hooves barely touching the wet sands as they approached the royal family. Princess Elara, Willow, and Aurora watched in wonder; their eyes filled with awe at the sight of these enchanting beings.

One of the sea unicorns, a regal mare with a silvery mane, stepped forward and bowed her head as a sign of greeting. Her eyes locked onto Elara, and there was an undeniable connection between them, a recognition that went beyond mere words. Titania, with her innate understanding of the mystical, smiled warmly as she approached the sea unicorn. She extended her hand, palm open, and the sea unicorn nuzzled it gently. The touch conveyed a silent message of unity and respect.}

{Titania} Go on Elara. She won't hurt you.

{Elara hesitated for a moment before approaching the sea unicorn with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. She reached out her hand, mirroring Titania’s gesture. The sea unicorn lowered her head to meet Elara's touch, and in that moment, the bond between the land and sea was reaffirmed through the princess. The Unicorn nuzzled her softly as Elara giggled before it touched her with its horn, leaving a mark on her forehead.

The sea unicorn's touch was gentle yet profound, and as its horn graced Elara's forehead, a shimmering mark, like a delicate seafoam pattern, was left in its wake. Elara's eyes widened in awe, and a sense of wonder washed over her. It was a symbol of the connection between land and sea, a reminder of her role as a bridge between these mystical realms. The Kings and Queens exchanged knowing glances, recognizing the significance of the sea unicorn's mark on Elara. It was a symbol of her destiny and the responsibilities she would one day bear as a leader in protecting the balance of Fairyland. Ash and Genevieve beamed at each other as Genevieve kneels down and takes Elara’s hands in hers.}

{Genevieve, her voice soft and filled with maternal pride} Elara, my Little Star. You are destined for greatness. You have the magic of the greatest wizard of all time in you and it's your destiny to carry this legacy. And now it's also your destiny to protect the Mer Kingdoms.

{Elara worried} But what if I am not destined for greatness Mama? It's not like you ever had a mark for destiny.

{Genevieve smiles as she pulls her bell sleeve up to revel the mark of Merlin on her arm.}

{Elara gasps at this.}

{Genevieve} I got this mark when I first accepted my destiny when I first came to Fairyland. It symbolizes the courage and strength that is in me and that is in you as well.

{Elara stared at her mother's mark, her eyes wide with amazement and newfound hope. The symbol of Merlin's legacy on Genevieve's arm filled her with a sense of purpose and reassurance.}

{Ash kneeling down} Elara, my dear, destiny doesn't always announce itself with a mark. Sometimes, it quietly whispers in your heart and guides your actions. Your destiny is not just about the mark on your forehead; it's about the courage, kindness, and wisdom that reside within you. You have already shown these qualities, and they make you destined for greatness.

{Genevieve} We will be with you always Little Star. You are never alone.

{They pull her into a hug as Elara looks up at Lindir and Albina who nod with proud smiles. Elara felt a warm surge of love and support as she embraced her parents. The knowledge that her destiny was not just about a mark but about the qualities she possessed, and the unwavering support of her family filled her with newfound confidence.}

{Genevieve} Kendra will keep an eye on you and Willow and Aurora while we grownups talk ok Little Star?

{Elara} Ok Mama.

{The smile at this as Genevieve and Ash with the Kings and Queens walk to the water's edge.}

{Kendra} Ok your young highness. You may explore and play as much as you can and like. But stay in my eyesight. I hate for something to happen to you three.

{Willow excited} Yes Kendra. Come on sister, Elara let's go play.

{Aurora giggles as she runs after her brother, but Elara stands there looking back at the unicorn who nudges her before turning around and galloping away to join the blessing. Elara felt her eyes switch to Ruby red again for a moment and sighed. The figures that claimed to be her parents would be back tonight and then she would have to make her choice. Stay here with those who she was told kidnapped her when she was a baby or go with those that clam to be her true parents. Suddenly Aurora laughing screams pulled her out of her thoughts. Willow had found a crab and like any young fairy tot he was determined to chase his twin sister about with it.

Elara chuckled as she ran after them ready to try to help Aurora. As she chased after Willow and Aurora, the worries that had plagued her temporarily faded into the background. For now, the joy of their youthful exuberance and the simple pleasure of being together as a family was enough to fill her heart with warmth and momentarily put her concerns aside.}

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

{As the Kings and Queens and Ash and Genevieve wade out into the water the water started to bubble. The mer guards emerged from the bubbling waters, their tails shimmering in various shades of blue and green. They formed a protective barrier around the royals, their expressions serious and determined. The presence of the mer guards served as a reminder of the responsibilities that came with the alliance between Fairyland and the Mer Kingdoms. King Triton and Queen Cora, the rulers of the Mer Kingdoms, approached the royals with warm smiles. Their presence signified the strong bond between the realms of Fairyland and the undersea kingdoms. The merfolk monarchs greeted Oberon, Titania, Lindir, Albina, Ash, and Genevieve with respect and friendship, acknowledging the importance of the alliance they were forming.}

{Triton} My friends. It's good to see you again.

{Oberon} Triton, Cora, the pleasure is ours. Thank you for hosting us in your beautiful realm.

{Cora} The honor is all ours, Oberon. We value the friendship between our realms greatly.

{Genevieve} And we are grateful for your hospitality.

{Lindir} Your underwater city is a marvel to behold.

{Triton} We take great pride in it, Lindir. Now, let us discuss the matters at hand.

{Titania} Indeed. The alliance we are forging today is crucial for the protection of Fairyland.

{Cora} Agreed. The threat from the realm of shadows is still a threat.

{Genevieve} Me and Kendra have looked everywhere for them, but we have found nothing. It's like they have vanished.

{Ash} And their castle isn't where it was last time. It's like it moves.

{Triton} Such elusive foes make it challenging to confront them directly. We must remain vigilant and share any information we gather.

{Oberon} We have also encountered difficulties locating their stronghold. It seems they have the ability to cloak their presence.

{Cora} We shall redouble our efforts to track their movements and uncover their plans.

{Genevieve} Thank you, Cora. Your expertise in navigating the seas may prove invaluable in this search.

{Lindir} We must also ensure the safety of our children, especially Elara. She is a key target for them.

{Titania} Elara's destiny is intertwined with the balance of Fairyland. We will do everything in our power to protect her.

{Triton} You have our support in this matter. The safety of your daughter is of utmost importance to us as well.

{Ash} Thank you, Triton. We appreciate your understanding and assistance in this matter.

{As the discussions continued, the rulers of Fairyland and the Mer Kingdoms strategized and shared their knowledge, determined to face the threats posed by the realm of shadows together.}

{As Kendra watched the meeting from the beach, she kept an eye on the three young royals from the side of her eye. Right now, they were busy trying to see who can splash who the most.}

{Kendra, speaking to herself} Always full of energy and curiosity, those three. They may be young, but they'll grow up to be exceptional leaders, just like their parents.

{She continued to keep a watchful eye on Willow, Aurora, and Elara, ensuring their safety as they explored the beach and played by the water's edge.}

{Elara and the twins spent all day trying to splash each other, exploring the rock pools or trying to escape from Willow when he chased them with a crab or whatever else he had found to cause mischief.}

{Aurora} You are as bad as Puck brother.

{Willow laughed mischievously, the thrill of chasing his sister and Elara evident in his sparkling eyes.}

{Willow} Maybe I am, but that's what makes it fun, right?

{Aurora grinned as she splashed a handful of seawater at him.}

{Aurora} Fun indeed! But you'll have to catch me first!

{The trio of young fairies continued their playful escapades by the shore, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the simple joys of childhood in Fairyland. Elara, caught up in the excitement of the moment, couldn't help but join in the fun. She darted around the rock pools, her laughter mingling with Willow and Aurora's as they played together by the beach.}

{Elara} You won't catch me that easily, Willow!

{Willow chased after her with a grin, the sunlight dancing off his wings as he tried to keep up with Elara.}

{Willow} Oh, we'll see about that, Elara!

{Their voices carried over the waves, blending with the soothing sounds of the ocean as they created cherished memories under the watchful gaze of the sea unicorns and the approving smiles of the elders.}

{Kendra and her guards efficiently set up the campsite, ensuring that it was well-prepared for the night. They built a fire pit, gathered firewood, and set up tents for the royal family and their guests. Elara, Willow, and Aurora watched with curiosity as the camp took shape. Willow was particularly interested in helping, and he eagerly offered a hand to Kendra.}

{Willow} Can I help too, Kendra?

{Kendra smiled at the young prince's enthusiasm.}

{Kendra} Of course, Prince Willow. You can help me gather more firewood. Just be careful not to stray too far from the camp.

{Willow nodded eagerly and set off with Kendra to collect firewood.}

{Aurora turned to Elara with a mischievous grin.}

{Aurora} What do you think, Elara? Should we explore a bit before dinner?

{Elara considered for a moment before nodding.}

{Elara} Alright, but we have to stay close, and we'll need to be back before dark.

{Aurora smiled in delight as she grabbed Elara’s hand and they both ran off towards the cliffs with excitement. Elara and Aurora raced towards the cliffs, their laughter carried away by the sea breeze. As they reached the top, the view was breathtaking. Below them, the waves crashed against the rocks, and the sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky with shades of pink and gold.}

{Aurora} Look at that, Elara! It's like a painting!

{Elara} It's beautiful, Aurora. We're so lucky to be here.

{The two friends sat down, their feet dangling over the edge of the cliff, as they gazed out at the mesmerizing seascape. It was a moment of tranquility amidst the excitement of the day.}

{Aurora} Elara, do you ever wonder what lies beyond the sea?

{Elara} Sometimes, Aurora. There's so much we don't know about this world, and it's fascinating to think about all the places we could explore one day.

{Aurora nodded in agreement, her eyes still fixed on the horizon.}

{Aurora} I hope we have more adventures together, Elara, just like today.

{Elara smiled warmly, her sapphire-blue eyes filled with a sense of wonder and friendship.}

{Elara} Me too, Aurora. Me too.

{Aurora} Has your mother ever taken you to the real world before Elara?

{Elara thought for a moment, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.}

{Elara} Once a star I go with Mama and Papa to a Fairy Ring and we ride up to this place that Mama calls a mansion. My other grandparents and cousins live there. One of my Grandpas doesn't trust Papa.

{Aurora} That sounds exciting, Elara! I've heard of mansions in the real world. So you have other grandparents and cousins besides the ones in the Enchanted Forest?

{Elara} Yes, but it's a bit complicated. My other grandparents and cousins are humans, not fairies. They live in the real world, which is why it's sometimes tricky.

{Aurora} Oh, I see. That must be interesting. Do you like visiting their mansion?

{Elara} It's different from Fairyland, but it can be fun. And I get to see my other family members there, which is nice.

{Aurora} I hope I go to see the Real World one day. Maybe when I am older Mother and Father will let me go.

{Elara} I'm sure they will, Aurora. And when that day comes, we can explore the Real World together, just like we explore Fairyland. It'll be an amazing adventure.}

{The two friends, bound by their dreams and the adventures they shared, continued to play along the cliffs, the evening's magic wrapping around them like a comforting cloak.}

{As Lindir, Albina, Oberon, Titania, Ash and Genevieve said their goodbyes to Triton and Cora they walked back to shore and to the camp. The royal family returned to the campsite, where Kendra and the guards had set up tents and a cozy fire for the night. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink as evening approached.}

{Genevieve, smiling warmly} Thank you, Kendra, for taking care of the children. We appreciate it.

{Kendra, nodding} It's my pleasure, Genevieve. They are wonderful company.

{Ash worried} What about Elara? Was she ok playing today Kendra?

{Kendra, her expression thoughtful} Elara seemed to have a good time, but she had moments where she seemed lost in thought. It's hard to tell if something's bothering her or if she's just going through the typical trials of growing up. But I kept a close eye on her, and she was safe and cheerful most of the time.

{Genevieve} I just wish I know whats going on with her? I feel like I am letting her down as a mother. I feel like I am the worst mother to her if I cant even work out what is wrong with my daughter.

{Titania and Albina look at each other with worry as they rest their hands on Geneveive’s shoulders.}

{Albina} Genevieve you are not the worst mother in the Realms.

{Titania} Every parent faces challenges, and it's natural to worry about your children. But remember, you are a loving and caring mother, and your concern for Elara proves that. We all have our moments of uncertainty, but it doesn't define our ability to be good parents.

{Ash, his voice gentle} We'll figure this out together, Genevieve. We're a family, and we support each other through thick and thin.}

{Genevieve, appreciative} Thank you, all of you. I just want the best for her.}

{Oberon, reassuring} And we'll make sure she has the best, just like we always have.

{Lindir} Besides I couldn’t ask for someone better to be with the wife and mother of my son and granddaughter.

{Genevieve, touched} Your words mean a lot to me, Lindir. I care deeply for your family, and I'll do everything in my power to protect and support them.}

{Titania, smiling} Now, let's get some rest. Tomorrow is another day, and we have a lot to do.

{Albina} Goodnight, everyone.}

{They all exchange goodnight wishes and retire to their respective tents for a night's rest, unaware of the mysterious events unfolding in the shadows around them. Genevieve and Ash open a tent and peered in to check on Elara. Inside the tent, they found Elara sleeping peacefully. Her face was calm, and she appeared relaxed in her slumber.}

{Ash, relieved} She seems to be resting well tonight.

{Genevieve, her worries momentarily eased} Yes, she does. Let's hope she wakes up in a better mood tomorrow.

{They share a quiet moment together before gently leaving the tent, letting their daughter continue her peaceful sleep. As they enter their own tent Genevieve looks at Ash with a soft smile.}

{Ash} What is it love?

{Genevieve} It's just...seeing Elara finally asleep and peaceful gives me hope that whatever is troubling her can be resolved. She's such a strong and kind-hearted girl. I just want her to be happy.

{Ash} We both do, my love. We'll figure this out together, just like we always do.

{They share a tender kiss as they climb into bed and Genevieve rests her head on Ash’s chest as she traced the scar of where he got stabbed on his shoulder from the dagger of Sablethorn.

{Ash} You know, love, that was a close call. If it wasn’t for the love and strength, I have for you and Elara, I wouldn’t be here today.

{Genevieve} I am lucky you saved me that night Ash. I fear if my induced labor went even farther than it was going, I fear not only we would have lost Elara, but I wouldn’t have survived as well.

{Ash} We've been through a lot together, haven't we? But we always come out of it stronger, as a family. Our love has brought us through some tough times, and it will continue to do so. I'll always be here to protect both of you, no matter what challenges we face.

{Genevieve} I know you will, Ash. And I'll always be here by your side, too. We've created a beautiful family, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

{With their hearts full of love and gratitude, they hold each other close and drift into a peaceful slumber, ready to face the adventures of the days to come.}

#the fairyland

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