#miles looks like hes about to snog him senseless stop

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

could we take a moment to appreciate my favourite tags out of context (all to do with milex cause guys. its me.)

(please feel free to reblog with your own ahh!!)

[stars-a-n-d-scars]

10 Days of Summer - Chapter 1

Hi so no one was really seeing this over on ao3 and I worked really hard on it, so I decided to give it a shot over here. The next 9 chapters will be coming soon, so follow me or the tag to see them!

- Mia x

*

It was the hottest summer Buckinghamshire had ever seen. The rolling fields were dusted with the final remnants of spring, as the less-resilient plants wilted and those suited to the sweltering conditions flourished. The sun sat high in the sky for so long that one began to wonder if the night would ever come. Of course, it always did, but was rarely accompanied by any sort of liberation from the fervor.

The only relief to be gleaned from the unnerving sensation of being cooked in your own skin could be found in the cool waters of a large, clear lake that sat beside a homely manor, nestled in the hills of the county. Hidden beneath the outstretched branches of various trees, the lake had been subject to many a morning swim or late-night gathering over the years. It was here, in fact, that the four marauders could be found, on the hottest day of August, 1975.

With Euphemia and Fleamont gone to France for the summer, the boys had taken the opportunity to spend their last 2 weeks at the Potter estate. Of course, James’ parents had been reluctant to let the boys stay there without a set of rules, and so they created a long list of guidelines, all of which the marauders had plans to break before their return to Hogwarts on the 1st of September. It had already been four blissful days of this, and they still had 10 to go when we join the group.

Sprawled in their various positions around the lake, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were all basking the shade of the trees, simply taking in this pocket of bliss they had found in a world that was becoming increasingly more war-like with each passing second. The sun was shining overhead and they were with each other. And in that moment, that was all they needed.

The silence was broken with a loud splash, followed by an indignant “OI!” Remus clambered out of the water and up the bank, his eyes fixed on is assailant, vengeance in his expression.

“You fucking moron! I was reading! You could have thrown any one of them into the lake! Merlin knows a good dip would’ve done Peter some good, but no! You had to choose me!” His outburst was cut short when he got close enough to take in Sirius’ expression. His face, far from showing any signs of regret, instead bore his signature Sirius Black smirk. One corner of his mouth was upturned, his nose scrunched in a way that suggested both innocence and the opposite. It was an expression that, on anyone else, would have looked out-of-place and frankly stupid, but that befitted Sirius’ features perfectly. Remus had often marveled at how it drew out his devilishly handsome side.

Having lost his train of thought completely, his wand limp in his hand, Remus decided the best thing to do was to go and find a nice warm patch of sun in which to dry off. Sirius, however, had other plans. Remus had barely taken two steps toward his towel before he was grabbed around the waist and thrown, for the second time that day, headfirst into the water.

Sinking was an enjoyable feeling. Down there, in the water, nothing could hurt you. It was all up to you. Sound became nothing but a detached concept, and time joined it in its alienation. You could sink forever, simply being engulfed by the soft waves of the water, and emerge not a second later. Remus did just that. As his head broke the surface, spluttering, he lashed out wildly and managed to grab hold of an ankle. Pulling hard, the owner of said ankle tumbled into the lake next to him, and Remus soon found himself floating, face to face, with Sirius, once again bearing that ridiculous grin.

As both of the boys tried to catch their breath, time stopped. And it was just them. Remus and Sirius, Sirius and Remus. Floating in that never-ending pool of possibilities. Breaths became heavy as an invisible force seemed to draw them closer, closer.

Their noses were nearly touching now Remus could see every detail of Sirius’ eyes from here. He could almost pinpoint the exact place where blue leaked into grey, which leaked into black. It was strange, really, how anyone’s eyes could be so captivating. Almost a point of curiosity. Eyes had a purpose. They captured light, which was then translated into information, which was then processed by the brain to take in the person’s surroundings. So why did all logic defy Sirius’ eyes to be so beautiful? They had no reason to be. It wasn’t to make it easier to see. It wasn’t to draw in a mate (because merlin, he needed no help with that), so why? Their breath mingled in the moist summer air, their lips inches apart. It was taking every ounce of restraint that Remus had in his not to close the gap and snog his best mate senseless, but then again, that was the norm when you were secretly in love with your best friend.

The tensions was shattered by the snap of a book closing.

“Alright, boys, I’m bored”, James announced, stowing Quidditch Through the Ages in the small bag he had brought down from the house. The boys sprung apart, all nervous coughing and straightening of hair. Remus hurriedly turned his back on his – what, crush? It was more than that. But he knew one thing for certain; now was not the time to figure it out. This was what he told himself as he climbed up the bank and rolled out onto the grass.

In an attempt to restore himself to his former state of nonchalance, Remus rolled his eyes sarcastically (quite successfully, given the situation he was actually thinking about).

“You’re reading that book again? You’ve barely taken your hands off of it all summer!”, he said, pulling Sirius up the bank after him (and definitely not thinking about the sensation of his friend’s warm, wet hand in his).

Sirius grinned. “Aw, lay off him Rem. This is the first year Lily had gotten him a birthday present. Honestly, I would be concerned if he read it any less than a thousand times.”

This comment was met with a playful shove from James, but the lovesick boy couldn’t hide his grin at the recollection of Lily’s favor. James shook the memory from his mind (with difficulty, it seemed).

“I’m bored. Let’s go to town, grab a milkshake or something.”

Sirius, always keen for an outing to the muggle town that was located less than a kilometer from the Potters’ house, agreed almost immediately. Peter followed suit at the mention of food, and began rummaging in his pocket for the stash of muggle money his parents had granted him for the holiday. Remus was somewhat more reluctant.

“I don’t know guys. It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t really want to go walking around a strange village in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not a strange village, Rem! Jamie grew up here!” (The use of the less-than-favorable nickname earned Sirius yet another shove). “Plus… there’s an antiques store. And last time I was there the owner said they’d be getting a new stock of books in this summer.”

“You know me too well”, Remus caved, and packed up his stuff. They went and dropped off their things at the main house, got changed into some town-going clothes and headed for the road that led down into the charming muggle settlement of Padbury.

**

It really was a lovely little town. Old cottages with thatched roofs skirted the border, with carefully-trimmed gardens of heather and honeysuckle. A beautiful old church sat in the town center, with a clock tower and a bell that frankly, shouldn’t still be operational, given it’s age. But, as many things in the town of Padbury, it seemed to be denied the effects of the passage of time, and instead chimed beautiful notes out over the countryside every hour.

The main road took the boys right into the middle of the town, where a collection of stores seemed to be waiting for them. The town square had everything, ranging from mechanics to diners, from supermarkets to florists. And, nestled in between a non-descript restaurant and a lavender-adorned wall, was a beautiful little antique store. Remus made a beeline for it, but was stopped in his tracks by James’ hand on his wrist.

“Come on Remus. Let’s go check out that comic-book store first! I love muggle comics, they’re so corny…”

Remus sighed, knowing that very few people could ever change his friend’s mind, and began to follow him across the street. But fortunately, Sirius was one of the people capable of performing that miraculous feat, and, in that moment, happened to be on Remus’ side.

“C’mon James. Remy doesn’t want to spend hours with you oggling at randos in spandex and getting inspiration for your next move at Evans. You take Pete over to the comic-book store, and Remus and I will go to the antiques shop.” Sirius shot a smile Remus’ way, which managed to both make his heart beat a million miles a second and stop it altogether.

James scoffed. “What do you want with an antique shop?”

“I have to get something for Reggie’s birthday, and he loves old dusty books and things. Plus, I have no desire to spend any amount of time dicussing whether or not Lily would think it was funny if you dressed up as Superman for halloween.”

Without giving James a chance to retort, Sirius dragged Remus back across the street and into the antique store before he even had a chance to register what was going on.

The second they entered the store, the rest of the world fell away. Somehow, the noise of the bustling street outside was silenced, and the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of an ancient grandfather clock that stood in the corner. Remus revolved on the spot, taking in every inch of the sequestered nook that they had just stumbled upon. Ornate carvings of all sorts sat in the windows, varying from animals to sprawling, intricate landscapes. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, each a moment of time, perfectly captured and eternalised on canvas. Furniture, bits and pieces and other oddments that had washed up in this place over the years were scattered haphazardly around the room, making for a display of authenticity that, although was now mostly gone from the world, seemed to have survived in this tiny corner of the English countryside. And the books. Oh, the books. They lined ever wall, and were stacked 10 high on shelves. Strewn and slid into every nook and cranny where they would fit. Not in any way categorized, but instead exactly where they were always meant to be. Delicate printings of Jules Verne, Ernest Hemmingway and even Shakespeare were mixed in with books as common as The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Remus closed his eyes and breathed. He breathed in the smell of dust and time. He breathed in the taste of the years these books had seen, the years he might catch a glimpse of between their pages. Be breathed because here, he could.

A soft hand rested on his shoulder and an even softer voice pulled him, somewhat reluctantly, from his reverie.

“Rem?”

Remus opened his eyes. It was Sirius. God, it was always Sirius.

“I’m going to look over here for something for Reggie”, he gestured to the carvings in the windows. “You take your time, okay? We have all day. Hell, we have all summer.”

Remus could do no more than nod as the comfortable weight on his shoulder lifted and he found himself alone again.

**

An hour and a half later, the boys exited the store with more books than anyone could possibly read, and two small, hollow carved flowers that Sirius had plans to enchant so that he could send his brother messages by placing a note inside his, and having it be transported to Regulus’.

They met up with James and Peter in the diner, and ordered four caramel milkshakes. When they came, Sirius whipped out his flask and added a little ‘extra flavour’, as he liked to call it. When the boys had finished their concoctions, they started to head home. However, it was quickly discovered that with the combined weight of Remus’ books, Sirius’ wooden flowers and James’ numerous gifts that he had gotten for Lily (“Maybe we should have gone with him, you know, for impulse control…”), it was going to be all but impossible to walk back to the manor. And so was hatched what was simultaneously the best and worst idea any of the marauders ever had. To rent a motorbike.

All they had to do was walk down to the mechanic down the street and rent one of the bikes they had going. They would only need it for a day, and would bring it back tomorrow. And so, the combined riches of James and Sirius making cost something of a trivial topic, the plan was enacted. The books were placed in a basket on the front, which was lowered so that Sirius could see. James’ takings from the trip were strapped (with slightly excessive security methods) to the back, and the flowers were placed in the side bags. After a few failed attempts at getting the bike started and close calls for the wooden ornaments, Sirius managed to be riding along next to the other boys at a steady pace. It took them no more than 20 minutes to get back home, at which point it occurred to them all that they were wizards, and could have easily bewitched all of the objects to float along beside them as they walked.

The boys ended the night collapsed around the living room fire. James charmed it so that it kept them cool, rather than warm, and Sirius entertained himself by making multi-coloured rainbows blossom from his wand. In the firelight, he looked over at Remus and smiled. Not a smirk, not a grin, a smile. And that smile what all it took for Remus to realise that he was totally and completely done-for. He was in love.

As Sirius went back to blowing bubbles, Remus began to drift off to sleep. The last coherent thought that entered his mind that night was this:

Merlin, it’s going to be a long 10 days.

*

I hope you liked it!!!

[acnelli]

Bearded Glory

I finally found the time to put my one-shots on Tumblr too. I wrote this one for @hillyminne who organised and still organises these lovely hangouts. Here’s the masterpost with all the fun and lovely things which had been created as a thank you for Hilly <3 I would also like to thank @manny-bgm and @abradystrix for beta-reading and Brit-picking this story. You might detect some things inspired by Hilly’s art and @rijsamurai‘s Auror Ron.

When Ron came back from Auror training, Hermione found herself being quite fond of a certain change in Ron's appearance.

This story is also available on FFN and AO3.

Two bloody years finally over, Ron thought, as he robbed through thick, cold mud, already able to make out the finish line, which should be not even a mile away, according to Ron’s calculations.

Through the splashing and gurgling of their muddy underground, Ron could make out Harry’s heavy breathing and the occasional swear word from somewhere behind him. “Just one more mile, mate.”, Ron shouted, craning his neck towards his friend, almost hitting his head on a tree trunk above him. “One mile and we’re done with this shite.” Harry didn’t bother to answer as he was quite busy to ignore the burn in his lungs.

As Ron reached the end of their last obstacle, he leaped up from the ground, trying to get a footing with all the muddy water in his shoes. Not an easy task, since the ground was slippery and a fountain of water made its way down from his hair and drenched clothes. Careful to not lose his trainers, he ran towards the finish line with wobbly legs and what seemed to be a thousand tiny needles attacking his lungs. With a slight jump, and something between a groan and a cry of relief, he finally made it, immediately breaking down onto the ground.

“Well done, my boys.”, a chipper female voice broke through Ron’s awareness, though it honestly surprised him he heard it in the first place, considering he was wheezing his lungs out.

“Elly…please.”, Harry groaned, who must have collapsed beside him just a few seconds ago. Ron couldn’t tell for sure though, since he still tried not to pass out. “I…Just go away.”, his best mate demanded between heavy breaths. Ron only gave an agreeing grunt. Elly, their mentor and trainer for the last two years of Auror training, just laughed, kneeling between Harry and Ron, smiling down at them.

“You did it.”, she sang completely out of tune, while giving both men what probably should’ve been an encouraging pat on the knee. Although Ron and Harry yelped in pain from this pat on their scraped skin, and were still being unable to move a muscle, Elly stood up, clapped her hands and demanded of them to stand up.

“We just have an hour until you leave for home, and you will certainly not take this Portkey until I have a proper picture with my two accomplishments,” the young witch stated, hands on her hips, but still that annoying smirk in place.

Ron and Harry knew better than to argue with her about that. Truth be told, they didn’t have a problem with this particular picture, since they both wanted to have a reminder of the day that marked the ending of both the most annoying, but also the greatest two years of their lives.

“Alright, alright.”, Ron sighed, trying to muster up the little energy he got left to stand up, reaching his hand out to Harry, who did the same. With the two men standing in an upright position again, Elly gave them both one of her famous bear hugs, while telling her trainees how proud she was of them. Despite the still aching muscles and side stiches from hell, they returned the hug in earnest, while only just realizing that this was the start of a whole new adventure.

“We could’ve never done this without you.”, Ron smiled at Elly. “But you surely could’ve warned us about this last run, as you liked to call it. Honestly, we could’ve died or something.”

“You Gryffindors sure have a tendency to exaggerate, haven’t you?”

“I rather think you Hufflepuffs have a tendency to underplay,” Harry countered, cleaning his glasses.

“Said it before and I’ll say it again, you Hufflepuffs are barmy,” Ron said with a playful voice. “Before you drag us off to brag about us, where are the showers, woman?”

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

After taking a well-deserved shower, Harry and Ron changed into their formal Auror robes. And not their everyday work attire either, but the fancy black robes, which Elly insisted them on wearing. The two friends were both secretly happy to parade these around, since they looked bloody good in them.

Two years of Auror training lay behind them, and Ron was torn between feeling relieved and strangely sad. Those last four months happened to be their final Boot Camp, as Elly liked to call it, which mainly consisted of training for their Auror test. Due to the painful shortage of staff in the Auror Office, their training got shortened to two years, making it much more intense as a result. This last run though wasn’t part of the test, but nothing less than an Auror training tradition, so of course, it had to be done, much to the young men’s dismay.

“I have to admit…I kind of like this.”, Ron mused, running his hand over his beard, as he watched his reflection in one of the mirrors of the changing room.

“Suits you quite well, mate.”, Harry said, as he closed the last silver button on his cloak.

Neither of them had bothered to properly shave this last four months. Their days usually consisted of waking up, training and learning all day, and sleeping as soon their heads hit the pillow. As a result, they both looked quite wild in the end, hair and beard much longer than usual. Of course, Elly wouldn’t have any of this, so she had given Ron and Harry a complete make-over the day before their test, ignoring their protests all together. As it turned out, she happened to be quite talented with beauty charms, so they didn’t exactly hate the way they looked now. Even though Ron usually never let his facial hair grow beyond some three-day stubble, Elly surprised him with only trimming his unruly beard, leaving it just well-groomed.

“Come on, let’s get this picture, and then we can finally leave for good.” Harry suggested. So, they both gathered their wands and made their way towards the rest of their group.

After what seemed to be a thousand blinding flashes, Elly had been satisfied with the result, promising them to send copies of the pictures as soon as possible.

Harry and Ron were ready to take the Portkey home, saying goodbye to everyone and promising to make it on time for the official festivities next weekend.

In all the hustle to get the Portkey on time, Ron completely missed the mischievous glint in Harry’s eyes.

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

Hermione tried not to stare. Actually, she figured that she never tried harder to not look at Ron. Of course, she failed spectacularly.

Harry, you sneaky little monster., Hermione thought, sending one of her death glares his way, which he successfully didn’t notice all evening.

That bloody picture was my undoing, really. And Harry is well aware of that, isn’t he?

Around midday, a couple of hours before Ron and Harry came back from their last day of Auror training, Harry’s owl Athena arrived at her parents’ home, delivering a small envelope. After taking the letter, she fed the exhausted bird some treats, and let her relax in her room for a while. She came all the way from the Isle of Skye after all.

What was so important that Harry couldn’t tell her in person tonight? As she opened the white envelope, there was just a single photograph falling out. She picked it up from the floor, reading the note on the back of it first.

Dear Hermione,

thought you might appreciate this picture Elly took of Ron, minutes before his wandless magic demonstration. Honestly, look at him Hermione…you got some fine ginger snack coming back to you.

See you later,

 Harry

As she turned over the picture, she couldn’t help but agree. Ron clearly hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared that Elly took pictures of him, as he looked concentrated and nervous. His eyebrows knit, and eyes slightly narrowed, he held up his right hand, obviously practicing the lightning charm, as lightning bolts evolved from his half-closed fist.

This alone could’ve resulted in Hermione starring at this picture forever, but what really got her obsessing over it, had been Ron’s beard.

Ron with a beard. An actual beard. And by all that’s holy, he looked so incredibly good with it.

Merlin, she already had been more than a little frustrated the last four months, not being able to see him. Of course, this hadn’t been the first time they were separated for so long, but this last training session sure felt torturously like forever. Seeing a bearded Ron, illuminated by lightning, looking highly dangerous, made her want to take Ron right up to Grimmauld Place, skipping the dinner Mrs. Weasley was hosting tonight, and just snog him senseless. Naturally this wasn’t possible, so here she was, trying to get her thoughts under control.

Hermione swore to herself to never talk to Harry again about Ron, drunk or otherwise.

 Just before Harry and Ron were leaving for Auror training, the three of them met up with the old D.A. members. While Ron still had been busy with one of Seamus’ famous drinking games, being the only one of the Trio to still keep up with it, Hermione confided in Harry that she wished for Ron to grow a beard.

“I love his stubble, but I’m sure he would look quite sexy with his beard a little longer.”, she had told Harry.

He looked at her funny for a second, before breaking out in a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”, she asked angrily, since Harry seemed to be unable to stop.

After several minutes of Harry trying to control himself, and Hermione getting more and more annoyed, Harry was able to speak again. “You know, I just had that thought.”, he whispered, clearly still trying not to laugh. “Since you obviously have a thing for bearded men, I wonder how you could control yourself around Hagrid.” Another fit of laughter broke out, but it didn’t stop him from wheezing out “Or Dumbledore.” That was Harry’s undoing then, because after that, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore, and already got himself a nasty side stich from all the laughing.

Needless to say, that Hermione ended this conversation right then and there.

Of course, Harry hadn’t forgotten about Hermione’s little confession, and decided to send her a tease right before she would see Ron again.

Would it be too obvious to pretend a stomach ache at this point?

As Hermione mused about the possibilities to sneak away with Ron, she stole another glance at him, only to discover that brilliant blue eyes stared right back at her. His eyes happened to have this certain glint, which always meant he was up to something. Hermione sincerely hoped it would include leaving early tonight.

After what seemed like forever, Ron finally beat Ginny in a mean game of Wizard’s Chess.

Although still being quite impatient to get home, Hermione put the time to good use in unashamedly ogling Ron, her former intends not to stare long forgotten.

“Finally, some decent competition again. I got bored out of my mind only playing against Harry and Elly the last four months”, Ron said while pulling Hermione onto his lap. He loosely slang an arm around her waist, and Hermione immediately leaned into him, feeling all warm and cosy as she started to trace his brain scars with her fingers. Merlin, she really missed him.

“I’m still better than Elly though”, Harry pointed out, helping Ginny to put the chess set away. “So, I guess Ginny and I call it a night then. Are you sure your bed is large enough for the both of us?”

“I admit that you got yourself some fine definition being away, but you didn’t exactly gain a ton of muscle, Harry. You’ll fit”, Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, which Harry answered with an eyeroll.

“Maybe that had been the polite way to say you got fat over the last couple of months.”, Ron offered Ginny another explanation, earning himself a blow to his shoulder.

“You better stop being cheeky, if you want Grimmauld Place to yourself tonight.”, his sister countered.

“Wait, what?”, Hermione asked Harry. “You’re not staying at Grimmauld Place?”

“Nope. Ginny and I are kipping at the Burrow tonight. The house is all yours, under the condition to have it to ourselves tomorrow.”, Harry clarified.

Hermione couldn’t hold back her grin as she looked up at Ron. These are fantastic news.

“That’s very…considerate of you, thank you.”, Hermione smiled at Ginny and Harry, which made Ron bark out a laugh.

“Yes, thank you Harry.”, the red-head said. “As you did this out of pure nobleness and chivalry, and certainly not because you lost to me tossing a coin.”

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

“So…after you won the house for us, what are your plans?”, Hermione murmured between kisses, her hands busy with Ron’s beard.

Ron gave her his trademark lopsided grin as he hoisted Hermione up in his arms, eliciting a surprised squeal from her.

“Well, what do you think about a long, nice bath for a start?”, Ron asked while carrying her up the flights towards the bathroom. “It had been an awful long time since we had one together.”

“True that. As long as it doesn’t make us too drowsy for some…night-time activities.”

“You know, it’s adorable that proper Ms. Granger still can’t say bad words.”, Ron laughed, kissing her reddening cheek.

“I can say bad words, you just wait.” Hermione tried to put up a glare, but failed due to the smile she just couldn’t put off her face.

“I’ll take you up on it.”, Ron said, sitting her down on the edge of the bathtub. With a flick of his wand he began to fill the tub with hot, soapy water, which gave the room a rich scent of pine needles and something delicious Hermione couldn’t quite place.

A few minutes later, she leaned against Ron’s chest, completely relaxed and ridiculously happy. Hermione enjoyed the vibration of his chest as they talked about Hermione’s last project at work and about Ron’s plans regarding the Auror department. Every now and then, Hermione reached up to stroke his beard, and if Ron noticed her sudden interest with his gin and cheeks, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Alright, enough about work. This is supposed to be romantic.”, Ron laughed, slightly tightening his grip around her middle. “Should’ve lit some candles.”

Hermione giggled as she wiggled out a little of Ron’s embrace to grab her wand, intending to light the chandelier behind them. Just as she freed her wand from the pile of clothes beside the bathtub though, something else fell out.

“Oi, that’s me!” Ron quickly snatched the picture up from the ground and settled back into his prior position in the bathtub. Hermione tried to hide her blush behind her hair, as Ron read Harry’s note on the back of the photo. Something between smugness and embarrassment appeared on his face, and the longer he looked at Hermione, the more it seems to become smugness.

“Do you like my beard, Hermione?”, Ron asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, as he put his arms around her again, pulling her against his chest.

“I might have told Harry that a beard would look good on you.”, Hermione sighed, and forgot about her embarrassment, when Ron started to kiss the side of her neck. “And he obviously didn’t forget about it.”

Ron caressed her cheek to turn her head towards him. He gave her a long, heated kiss that left Hermione breathless, before retreating again, looking at her with a huge grin on his freckled face. Before Hermione could snog the smug grin away, Ron had to say one more thing.

“Well, feel free to enjoy it. All this Bearded Glory.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

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

A/N: I’ll be having the time of my life on a beach by the time these chapters get posted but hopefully I’ll have wifi so pls do try to leave a comment! -Danny

Words: 3,904

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘Exile’ -by Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver

Chapter Nineteen: The Wounded Trio.

Erick was still out of it by the time it was Ron's birthday, although he would speak in his sleep.

Pomfrey told her that sometimes people just fell into a deep unconscious state after a grave traumatic experience. He was almost ready to leave the hospital wing, but he was keeping himself senseless.

Mel tried really hard not to resent him. She wanted the conscious part of him to remember he had someone in the real world he could rely on, that she was still waiting for him and that he had to fight, at least to be able to speak about what had been going on that year.

Gifts would appear on his nightstand daily: notes of encouragement, sweets, all anonymous. She knew they had to come from Slytherins who weren't ready to step into the spotlight, Mel was happy with the support they were showing anyway.

Daphne would visit only when no one was paying attention, both girls had thought that his rivalry with Faustus and Griffin was nothing to worry about, but Lucas Darcy, one of the few Slytherins that attended the D.A. meetings, told Daphne that Griffin and Faustus were doing everything to keep Erick miserable and scared, but he'd been impossible to intimidate, and they had gotten tired.

Mel didn't understand why he'd hid this from her, she thought that Erick trusted her, that after their talk in Grimmauld Place he was determined to be more open about his problems... Apparently, she'd been wrong.

She had to keep going, if not for herself, at least for her mother, who would send her letters with Reggie's pictures as a way to cheer her up. Harry was a great help during those days too, keeping her busy with Occlumency and his lessons to ground himself. Hermione and Ron were still fighting and Ron was almost always snogging Lavender, it almost felt like the old days, Harry wouldn't nag her with questions about Erick, or even ask her to speak, and in return, she let him read his potions book as much as he pleased, as well as the Marauders' Map.

Harry knew it was completely selfish of him to enjoy his time with Mel. He knew it was wrong, that Mel was miserable—Erick was her boyfriend, not him! He could claim that he was mad on her behalf, but he knew he was angry at the fact that he couldn't express out loud what he was thinking: If it weren't for Erick, right now they'd be strolling around the castle hand in hand... but that wasn't true either. They couldn't be together if they wanted to keep the lifeline, and keeping it was far more important than his feelings.

That morning though, Harry's mind was miles away from her. They ran into each other as she was walking down the stairs.

"Morning," He said gravely. "We have a problem."

"What now?" Mel groaned.

Harry signed towards Ron, who quickly caught up with them with a weird expression on his face.

"Hi!" He beamed. "Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane!"

Mel stared at the boys. "What?"

"I forgot I still had the chocolate cauldrons Romilda gave me—I was looking for the map and I threw them out of my trunk, Ron must've thought they had fallen from his pile of presents..."

"Oh," Mel looked back at her friend and her expression grew worried. "Oh, no..."

"Now he wants to marry Romilda," Harry wasn't smiling, but his eyes were bright with amusement.

"And, er... where are you taking him?"

"Stop talking and walk!" Ron whined.

Harry obliged, but seized Mel by the arm gently so she would walk with them.

"I'm taking him to meet Romilda," He explained. "She's with Slughorn, taking extra lessons..."

"Right!" Mel looked ahead, her voice trembling. "You should fix your hair, Won-Won, you don't want to meet her looking like a madman."

Ron hastily tried to brush his hair with both hands, Harry snorted lowering his gaze to his feet and shaking his head.

"You're late, Won-Won!" Lavender greeted them at the door. "I've got you a birthday—"

"Leave me alone," said Ron, pushing her aside. "Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane."

Harry and Mel tried to apologize to Lavender, but they were too distracted to stop and talk. When they reached Slughorn's office, they discovered a very sleepy-looking professor.

"Children... This is very early for a call... I generally sleep late on a Saturday..."

"Professor, we're really sorry to disturb you," said Harry, "but my friend Ron's swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn't make him an antidote, could you? I'd take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, you know... awkward questions..."

"I'd have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, expert potioneers like you two?" asked Slughorn.

"It was too sudden," Mel prompted, used to come up with tales on the spot. "We thought he was ill and we were halfway to the infirmary when he started to ramble about this girl... We don't want to make things worse..."

"I can't see her, guys—is he hiding her?" Ron complained.

"Was this potion within date?" Slughorn asked, adopting a more serious tone. "They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept."

"That would explain a lot," Harry grunted, he was firmly gripping Ron with both arms trying to keep him from running into the office. "It's his birthday, Professor..."

"Oh, all right, come in, then, come in," said Slughorn. "I've got the necessary here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote..."

Ron stormed into the room and fell over, he quickly stood up and seized Harry by the neck whispering frantically.

"She didn't see that, did she?"

"She's not here yet," Harry pushed him away hastily.

"That's good — How do I look?"

"Very handsome," Slughorn replied brightly, he had a cup of something already, Mel hadn't even seen him move. "Now drink that up, it's a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when she arrives, you know."

"Brilliant," said Ron, taking it all down in one long gulp.

He stood there excitedly for at least ten seconds, then his face changed and his eyes widened in shock.

"Back to normal, then?" Harry smiled. "Thanks a lot, Professor."

"Don't mention it, m'boy, don't mention it," Ron sat down heavily, pushing his hair back in distress. "Pick-me-up, that's what he needs, I've got butterbeer, I've got wine, I've got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead... hmm... meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas... ah, well... He can't miss what he's never had! Why don't we open it now and celebrate Mr Weasley's birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love..."

Mel softly rubbed Ron's back while Slughorn poured the drinks, she stood up to grab hers.

"There you are then," said Slughorn. "Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph —"

"Ron —" whispered Harry.

Mel raised her cup and smelled it, she tensed.

"— and may you have many more —"

"Don't drink it!"

But Ron had drunk half of the cup already.

"Ron!" Harry called when their friend fell to the floor. "Professor! Do something!"

"What — but —" Slughorn flushed.

Mel fell to her knees and turned Ron to his side.

"IT'S POISON!"

Harry moved faster than she'd ever seen him move, he opened Slughorn's case and searched through it desperately while Mel did her best to keep Ron from choking.

"HURRY!"

"FOUND IT!" Harry shouted and threw the bezoar, Mel caught it.

Harry kneeled next to her to keep Ron from moving while she forced Ron's mouth open and pushed the stone as deep as she was able down his throat.

Ron violently spasmed one more time, took a staggering breath, then stopped moving.

Now two of the people she loved most in the world were in the hospital wing.

Fred and George had travelled to surprise Ron for his birthday, instead came to the awful news of their younger brother almost dying. To top it all, they also found an inert and terribly beaten Erick. They offered to fight every seventh-year Slytherin; but her boyfriend was still out cold and Mel was growing more and more worried without having to think about more fights. If he continued like this, Madam Pomfrey told her, he would have to be sent to St. Mungo's.

The girl wrote a letter to his cousin after a long night of deliberation. Joseph visited, he was helping Madame Maxime ever since he'd graduated, they were the Order's agents in France. When he found out Mel was dating Erick, Jo said he'd suspected he would end up loving her, he'd never been close to any person the way he was with her.

That's the word he used. Love.

Mel didn't think Erick loved her, if he did, he would've been honest. He would wake up. It was unfair, of course, Mel knew he was feeling alone even though he was surrounded by friendly faces. He was new to a life she had known for years, she could only imagine how stressful it must have felt for him. That one talk they'd had years ago as a terrible echo of what she'd decided to ignore:

"I know you want to see it as this endless world of possibilities, that if we try hard enough and live our lives how we want to, no one can hurt us—but is not like that... not for the most of us."

She'd refused to believe him, but it was hard not to now, staring at his unconscious form. People could hurt you if they wanted to, even if you were unafraid of living your truth.

She was making daily visits to the Hospital wing along with Harry and Hermione, who'd finally made peace with Ron. It was good having her old group of friends reinstated, most of all the fact that Harry and she were once again the best friends they used to be, rarely you'd see one without the other, and Mel fell into a comfortable routine by his side.

However, she made a point to spend most of their time accompanied by either Ron or Hermione, she didn't want to get too comfortable around him, she knew that was a dangerous thing to do. Harry took the hint and started to leave her alone during her visits to Erick, and Ron would take naps during those to give her more privacy.

She knew that Cormac and Lavender would stalk Harry with questions, the first one about Quidditch and the latter desperate to hear Ron's opinions of her. Cormac was a terrible teammate, and when she and Harry made their way towards the field on the morning of their match against Hufflepuff, Mel tried to convince Harry to knock McLaggen off his broom.

They ran into Malfoy, who was accompanied by two young girls.

"Where're you going?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Potter," Malfoy scoffed. "You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for 'the Chosen Captain' — 'the Boy Who Scored' — whatever they call you these days."

The students walked past them, Malfoy hadn't even tried to insult Mel. Both stood there, and she could see Harry's mind struggling to move on.

"We'll deal with that later," She said, seizing his arm and pulling him along. "C'mon, lots of people are counting on us today."

The girl needed something good in her life after all the stress, maybe throwing bludgers to the opposite team would make things better.

"Where have you been?"

"We met Malfoy..."

"So?" Ginny raised a brow.

"So I wanted to know how come he's up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here..."

"Does it matter right now?"

"Well, I'm not likely to find out, am I?" Harry frowned. "Come on then!"

Ginny gave her a questioning look to which she responded with a shrug.

"Tricky conditions!" McLaggen said once they were all out. "Dumbledore, Peakes, you'll want to fly out of the sun, so they don't see you coming—"

"I'm the Captain, McLaggen, shut up giving them instructions," Harry scolded him. "Just get up by the goalposts!" Once he left, he turned to Mel and Jimmy.  "Make sure you do fly out of the sun..."

"Sure thing, Captain," Mel grinned.

Luna Lovegood was that day's commentator.

"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle... He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he's playing them — oh, look, he's lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she's very nice..."

"Oi! Peakes!" Mel yelled, "Five galleons say you don't get to throw Smith off his broom!"

She wasn't being serious, but Smith was close enough to hear her and she couldn't resist. Peakes grinned at her and winked at Zach sort of devilish, the boy looked extremely disgruntled, but he refused to respond to Mel's threat.

"...but now that big Hufflepuff player's got the Quaffle from her, I can't remember his name, it's something like Bibble — no, Buggins —"

"It's Cadwallader!" answered Professor McGonagall.

McLaggen missed the Quaffle by a large difference, he was too busy yelling at Ginny for dropping it.

"McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you're supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!" Harry yelled.

"You're not setting a great example!" McLaggen responded rudely.

"And Harry Potter's now having an argument with his Keeper... I don't think that'll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse..."

McLaggen did not stop, though.

"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" Professor McGonagall shouted into the megaphone, for Luna was too distracted by the shapes of the clouds.

"Is it, already? Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."

Peakes was looking at Cormac with a murderous glare, Mel tightened her grip on her own bat and attempted to move towards them, but Harry got there faster.

"Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goalposts!"

Cormac swung the bat the moment a bludger approached him... and it crashed directly against Harry's head. The boy fell off his broom, Jimmy and Mel flew towards him in no time.

Mel wrapped her arms around his middle and guided him to the ground, her heart was pounding as well as the side of her head, Harry was bleeding profusely.

"No no no..." She muttered, pushing Harry's hair out of the way and staining her fingers with blood. "You'll be okay, Glasses, please be okay..."

Some seventh-year Gryffindors took him away, he was left unconscious and the possibility of him not waking up just like Erick made her lose her temper.

The game ended in a flash of red, all she remembered was throwing bludgers around with deadly aim, but without Harry, they were fated to lose, and so they did... by two hundred and sixty points. She didn't notice, but dark, thin lines started to creep up her forearms as she landed on solid ground, her anger increasing with every step she took.

"I suppose you'll be happy, Melissa," Cormac scowled when he noticed Mel was approaching. "Your friend —"

She drew out her wand and with a swift and enraged flicker, glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then she petrified him. No one dared to move as she got closer, every student was staring with wide eyes. She kicked his stiff body and McLaggen fell backwards, Mel crouched next to him and whispered in a low growl:

"Look at you, McGill," She tilted her head. "Finally, a position that suits you..."

"Miss Dumbledore!" McGonagall rushed up to her, looking aghast. "What have you done?"

"A favour to humankind, Professor," The girl responded, standing up so they could talk face-to-face.

"Unpetrify him right now!"

"Is it most necessary?"

"Miss Dumbledore!"

Mel lazily flicked her wand, Cormac stood up and gesticulated wildly demanding to speak, several students laughed.

"Remove all the spells at once!" McGonagall demanded. "Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor!"

"Mackintosh has been rude and disdainful towards the whole team for days, I think it's better if we leave him this way—"

"Detention, Miss Dumbledore!"

Mel swore under her breath, with a snap of her fingers Cormac's mouth started to function normally again. He gasped dramatically and glared at her ready to lash out, but she was having none of it.

"One more word, Carol, and I promise I won't need magic to silence you for good."

She hadn't been able to use her magic this way in months, but the thought of yet another one of her friends in the hospital wing had caused her to snap out of it. Cormac decided it was wiser to just let it pass. Ginny was cackling a few feet ahead, McGonagall took her directly to detention.

Dumbledore wouldn't be pleased about this for sure, but she didn't care. Her mind would go back to Erick, drowned in the stress of his own quest for perfection.

Hours after the game, when she was finally allowed to leave (McGonagall made her write 'I won't treat my teammates like puppets' until her parchment was full on both sides) she went to the hospital wing.

"I don't want to stay here overnight," Harry's voice was the first thing she heard, knowing he was awake quickly improved her mood. "I want to find McLaggen and kill him!"

"I'm afraid that would come under the heading of 'overexertion,'" Madam Pomfrey responded. "You will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the headmaster."

"D'you know how much we lost by?"

"Well, yeah I do," said Ron softly. "Final score was three hundred and twenty to sixty."

"Brilliant. Really brilliant!" He was fuming. "When I get hold of McLaggen —"

"You don't want to get hold of him, he's the size of a troll. Personally, I think there's a lot to be said for hexing him with that toenail thing of the Prince's. Anyway, the rest of the team might've dealt with him before you get out of here, they're not happy..."

"Right you are, my King," Mel casually walked up to them.

"There you are!" Ron said brightly. "How was detention?"

"Detention?" Harry frowned, his head was tightly wrapped in bandages. "What happened?"

"I attacked McLaggen," She sat on his bed, then added gravely: "Once the game ended, of course, I would never disobey a direct order from my Captain. I petrified him."

"Really?"

"She did!" Ron laughed. "Called him wrong names the whole time, kicked him to the ground — Ginny said it was beautiful."

"I can accept Melody," She explained. "But I draw the line at Melissa."

The boys laughed, Harry seemed much lighter now that he knew Mel had taken care of Cormac.

"I could hear the match commentary from here," said Ron, still grinning. "I hope Luna always commentates from now on..."

"So the whole team came to check on you?"

"Nah, only Ginny," Ron responded. "She reckons you two only just arrived on time for the match. How come? You left here early enough."

"Oh... Yeah... well, we saw Malfoy sneaking off with a couple of girls who didn't look like they wanted to be with him, and that's the second time he's made sure he isn't down on the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school; he skipped the last match too, remember? Wish I'd followed him now, the match was such a fiasco..."

"Don't be stupid, you couldn't have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you're the Captain!"

"Besides, it was only a fiasco after you left, we would've won if it weren't for McDonald..."

"I want to know what he's up to. And don't tell me it's all in my head, not after what I overheard between him and Snape —"

"I never said it was all in your head, but there's no rule saying only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place! You're getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. I mean, thinking about missing a match just to follow him..."

"I want to catch him at it! I mean, where's he going when he disappears off the map?"

"I dunno... Hogsmeade?" Ron yawned.

"I've never seen him going along any of the secret passageways on the map. I thought they were being watched now anyway?"

Mel and Ron shrugged, the three of them fell into contemplative silence, although Ron looked positively asleep after ten minutes.

"I wish I could've seen you attacking McLaggen," Harry mumbled after a while.

"I was too immature, I shouldn't have done that," She sighed. "Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it, though."

Harry smiled a little, then he lowered his head in defeat.

"Hey," She squeezed his hand. "We'll find out what Malfoy's planning, don't let it consume you."

"I'm not—"

"You said I needed a break from my studies and I listened. I'm asking you to do the same... I know what stress can do to people," She looked at Erick, her throat tightening at the sight. "I don't want you to leave me as well..."

Harry's eyes lingered on her face, his hand closed tightly around her bloodstained fingers.

"Mel..." He gulped. "I..."

The faintest groan was heard on the bed next to Harry's. Mel bolted upright, her head turning towards the large figure laying there.

"Erick?" She asked, holding her breath.

She didn't want to get excited, false alarms had occurred before. Harry was looking intently as well, they exchanged a look and Mel crawled towards the left side of his mattress so she could face the Slytherin.

She stood up and slowly sat down on Erick's bed, she said his name again, almost like a plea, and his head moved towards the sound.

"You better wake up for good this time," She grabbed his hand, the fingertips of her free hand grazed the side of his face. "Squeeze my hand if you hear me..."

He didn't move.

"Do anything..." She begged.

"Mel," Harry started carefully, "he's just—"

"Hang..." Erick replied with the groggiest of voices. "Hang on a moment, Princess... I'll dance on top of a table if you want—as soon as the room stops moving..."

"Erick!" She got closer to his face and cupped his cheeks gently. "You're back!"

"I never left," He replied, moving a little without opening his eyes. "Dear Merlin, I feel like I'm made of cardboard..."

"That's what happens when you sleep for too long, mate," Harry replied, staring at him with as much relief as her.

At the sound of his voice, Erick moved his head to the right and opened his eyes a little.

"Harry," He squinted. "Is that Ron behind you?"

As a reply, Ron snored loudly. Erick looked up at Mel and hissed in pain, she noticed his eyes were bloodshot, but she was pleased to see them anyway.

"Hey," He groaned, one hand rubbing his sore neck. "Am I dreaming?"

Her only answer was weak a laugh, thick tears fell down her face as she leaned forward to kiss him.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha ​ ​​​ ​​​​​​​​@vampiregirl1797 ​ ​​ ​​​​​​​@siriuslysirius1107 ​ ​​​​​ ​​@stardusthigh ​ ​​ ​​​​​​​ @mikariell95 ​ ​​ ​​​​​@vernon-dursley ​ ​​ ​​​​​​​​@thesuitelifeofafangirl ​ ​​ ​​​​​​​@tomshollandz ​ ​​ ​​​ @reverse-hxlland ​ ​​ ​​​​@hamiltonwc ​ ​​ ​​​​​​@omiwashere ​ ​​ ​​​​​​@t-rexs-world ​ ​​ ​​​​​​@21bruhs ​ ​​ ​​​​​​​@i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee ​ ​​ ​​@thelastpyle ​ ​​ ​​​​​​@cedricisnotdead ​ @aconfusedslytherin ​ ​​@greengarsstuff ​@talksoprettyjjx​

[cocoapeach1]

Spiritmates (M): chapter 1 (zuko x reader)

Summary: You have a supernatural and rare bond with the Fire nation heir that is beyond anything you’ve ever known... only neither you or he knows it yet. His mission to capture the avatar is the exact opposite to yours - to help them. You’ll do whatever it takes. But so will he.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

FF Page

~

The meeting

The tension was unbearable, thicker than the clouds in the night sky, and suffocating like a tight dress. No one could sleep knowing that the biggest fleet of fire nation ships was sitting right on their doorstep. Not with anxiety gripping their hearts with an ironclad fist. It’s why she went out - just to get air, she said, but even though she tried not to, she worried.

Quietly slipping through the unguarded corridors, the young, skillful woman made her way to one of her favourite places in the whole of the Northern Water Tribe. It was a small courtyard located near the edge of the island that wasn’t grand or fancy but that was why she liked it. It meant that few knew it existed so in a way, she had privacy.

The thing is, she felt odd coming to her courtyard tonight. And not because less than a mile away fire nation soldiers were waiting to attack her. Something felt… different.

The young woman felt her heart begin to race, and almost as if she had no control, she began moving faster and faster. It felt like a powerful force was dragging her towards the courtyard. Her breath started to come in little pants but she wasn’t tired. Instead, she was wide awake and full of energy and something else she couldn’t put her finger on.

But it was at full speed she raced around bends, took two steps at a time on stairs and sprinted to her courtyard.

What is happening? she thought to herself. I can’t stop running!

With dread, she realised she was fast approaching the courtyard and willed herself to at least slow down so she could pull herself together. Her wish was more than granted and she abruptly stopped at an archway.

~

You gripped an ice rail tightly, gulping in air. You felt strangely familiar yet didn’t have a clue about what was going on at the same time. Strange. Neither were you panicking like you thought you would be. Why?

What on earth was th- Wait.

Snapping your head up, any rational thoughts vanished - you were focused on another archway directly opposite you. It was pitch black except for the brilliant glow of the moon.

Someone’s coming.

Eyes widening, your body pulled itself upright, watching a figure in the distance coming towards you. It was tall and agile, had dark hair peeking out from its hood, details becoming more apparent as it quickly approached you, gold eyes locked onto your (color) ones.

With each passing second, it drew nearer to the arch, nearer to you. You let out a small gasp sensing your legs starting to weaken, the limbs feeling like jelly.

And in a flash, it was stood at the archway, hungry eyes searching yours, its chest was heaving for breath.

It was in the next few passing moments that you realised it was a young man. Very handsome, too except for the prominent red scar that marred his features, the cuts, and bruises that dotted his face here and there.

Unconsciously you continued to take notes on his appearance until, suddenly, something clicked inside of you and you melted.

In a wink you found yourself in his arms, his lips crashing down onto yours, sparks of arousal rippled through your body to your toes. You let out a small, surprised gasp. His lips were so soft.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t even exchanged words of hello or who are you to this stranger. It didn’t matter because it felt right. You were right where you should be. And it was at that moment, you realised - he’s mine.

~

Zuko didn’t know what had come over him when he had started running. He was in enemy territory and knew when it was the right time to trust his instincts. Something told him that time was now.

He wasn’t sure where he was going either but somehow his body knew exactly where to go - what alleyways to take and what bridges to cross. That was what worried him. How?

His feet moved of their own accord and the rest of him followed blind, deeper and deeper into the ice kingdom.

Turning around a corner, a long stretch of ice ended with a little archway. Zuko spotted a figure in the distance and sprinted towards it, heart thumping erratically.

And it was too soon he found himself at the arch, watching the young woman scan his figure before they pounced on each other in the middle of the courtyard, eagerly snogging the other’s face off.

It was no secret Zuko had spent a large chunk of his teenage years on a ship, away from most human contact except for his ship men and his uncle. He didn’t even have time for guy friends let alone girls. He had more pressing things to think about, then.

He knew she had seen his scar - how could she have missed it? - but if it bothered her, she didn’t show it. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t believe it, so accustomed to seeing pity or disgust or even rage in some person’s eyes if they passed him.

Be as that may, all thoughts of his vanished the moment the petite woman pushed his hood off, carded her pretty fingers in his ponytail, and pulled, moaning ardently into his mouth. He groaned, feeling the blood rush straight to his cock. Fuck.

It wasn’t long before his hands began to wander, finding themselves under her butt and effortlessly hoisting her up to his waist. She placed her hands on the back of his neck, her fingers immediately tangling themselves in the hair there. Her legs wrapped themselves snugly around his hips, putting her hot core in contact with his rapidly hardening erection.

She moaned hungrily into his mouth and bit his lower lip, silently asking for entry.

Her request was granted.

~

Your tongue battled for dominance against his, twisting and turning, dipping and swerving, performing one of the oldest dances of all time.

He gripped your ass hard, causing your eyes to roll back in raw pleasure. You felt your pussy muscles spasm and quiver in pure delight but you didn’t let that throw you off.

Fine, you thought. Two can play that game.

With a smirk on your lips, you rolled your hips slowly and seductively against his, feeling his manhood bulging through the layers of clothing. He instantly broke the kiss and threw his head back to let out the most animalistic growl you had ever heard a human make. Fuck.

~

Naughty little minx, he thought as he eventually brought his head level with hers. She made quite a sight, lips swollen with hazy, darkened (colour) eyes.

She blushed when her eyes focused and their eyes made contact, momentarily looking down before gazing back determinedly into his orbs.

She’s beautiful, Zuko thought, and couldn’t stop himself from meeting her lips with his once more.

~

After a much slower but equally delicious kiss, the young man was the one to pull away.

I have so many questions.

“What’s your name? Who are you?” You whisper. “You’re not from the tribe, are you?”

He stared at you for a long moment and you were worried that maybe he didn’t speak at all until he said…

“You’re right, I’m not from here.”

His voice. It was so husky- Focus.

“Then where?” you asked, desperately hoping he wouldn’t say what you feared he would.

But the signs were there. The burn surrounding his left eye sported the type of licks only fire could give. His hairstyle was nothing similar to the ones they had here. Lastly, there was the fact that you had never seen him before. Surely if you had such a connection like this it would be impossible for you not to meet him sooner.

Connection.

You couldn’t help but squirm slightly, remembering that his rock hard cock was pressed more than comfortably against your pussy.

He raised a brow at your newfound embarrassment and finally set you down onto your own two feet.

“I’m sure you already know - or have at least guessed anyway.”

“…Fire Nation?”

He gave a quick nod before glancing away from you, seemingly confused about whether he should be ashamed or proud.

“Look-“

“It’s okay-”

Silence.

“You go,” the young man offered and you nodded.

“It’s okay that you’re... from the fire nation. We can’t help who our parents are - who they may have become,” His eyes widened in amazement at your words but you continued. “I’m not some street lady, I wasn’t brought up like that. I don’t- I would never grab some stranger and- and-“

“Kiss them senseless?”

“Exactly!”

He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“And I don’t do that to girls either.”

You giggled and he smiled in return, satisfied that he made you laugh.

“What I’m trying to say is, I feel a pull towards you. The thought of me being away from you now is-“ you took a breath. “It’s terrifying.”

The young man’s eyes widened again.

“I’m confused,” you admitted.

“I think I know how you feel. When I was running, I felt like I had no control over my legs, they just kept moving.”

“That... that happened to me too.”

“So something else- bigger than us is doing this?”

You sigh, feeling a headache coming on.

“I guess so.”

“We need to find out what this is then,” he said, seriously. “And I think I know who might be able to tell us.”

“Who?”

“My uncle. I don’t tell him often but... he’s quite wise. Smart, too.”

You beamed, glad to sort this out.

“Your uncle it is, then.”

An awkward pause ensued, both of you feeling tense knowing that a battle was about to commence soon.

“I’m (y/n),” you blurted, blushing when he gave you an amused look.

“Zuko,” he said, holding his hand out towards you.

Screw that, you thought and you pushed his hand away to wrap your arms around him instead, hugging him tightly.

He stiffened in your embrace, clearly not anticipating the affection before relaxing and encircling his arms around you.

How would you even get to him in the first place? Would he even be alive after the battle? Would you be returning home soon?

You didn’t even know.

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Okay before any of you say anything... I'm sorry for taking so long!

This story has just been my baby for so long and I was so scared to mess it up in the last few chapter so I'm sorry sorry sorry! Also I have such a big audience with so many people that are enjoying this story that I don't want to disappoint ANY of you!

So sorry for being a chicken and not posting this earlier <3

Also! I'm sorry if I haven't been answering your comments but the response to this thing has been phenomenal and right now I have about 441 notifs on my inbox so yeah that might take a while to come back to you! However, know that I love and appreciate every single one of you and your comments, some of them have even made me cry!

The taglist goes as follows: : @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls, @hersked

❤︎

By the time night falls, the house is full of people. Brian realises that half of Roger’s family looks a lot like the blonde, which means that he is now the only brunette in a house of seemingly perfect blue-eyed, blonde, angels. The only one other person who is not blonde is little Anthony, who is currently gurgling in Brian’s lap while munching a cookie his mother had given him.

He wished he could give the kid much more attention than what he was getting at the moment. However, Roger’s family was very interested in the guitarist at the moment, leaving him unable to play with the toddler.  

“So you placed an ad? In Tinder?” Oliver, Roger’s twenty-something-year-old cousin asked, and Brian scrunched his nose up.

“It was hardly an ad,” Roger interrupted, “that would imply that Brian offered to pay me anything.”

The whole family laughed, and the blush Brian was sporting spread from his face to his neck, “Not something I’m proud about now that time has passed.”

Winniefred wiped the corners of her eyes and smiled at Brian, “Don’t be ashamed, darling. It has to be the cutest story I’ve ever heard.”

Most of the family members agreed, and as Roger sat down beside him, the conversation focus changed from Brian to the stories of the rest of the family members. His boyfriend snuggled up to Brian’s side, “I think they like you a lot.”

Brian smiled, “Good, that’s good. I was scared shitless that they would think I was annoying or something similar.”

“I don’t think anyone could find you annoying.”

“You say that now,” Brian mumbled, placing a kiss of Roger’s hairline, “wait until we get back to the studio.”

The blonde laughed and agreed with Brian almost immediately. The guitarist let the conversation of the rest of the family wash over their silence. He admired the way that they had made Brian feel more than included in the few hours that they had spent together. From the moment that Roger’s cousin Charlie and his wife Rose had arrived. To the moment that Roger’s grandparents had smiled at Brian and enveloped him in a warm hug.

He hadn’t told Roger yet, but he had been scared that his family wouldn’t welcome him in, not because of his personality, but because he was a man. He knew that his own family wouldn’t be as accepting as Roger’s. That his grandparents would refuse to meet the blonde and that his parents would be rather adamant that this was only a fling. That Roger should enjoy Brian while he found a suitable wife and fell in love, really in love.

“What are you thinking about, Brimi?”

Brian turned towards Roger and found that the blonde was looking at him with wide and inquisitive eyes and his usual pout. He wanted to kiss the blonde senseless, but held himself back for the time being, “Thank you for bringing me to meet your family.”

“Of course,” Roger said, “I think it was time, I’m not planning on letting you go for a while.”

Brian blushed again, “Really?”

Roger didn’t answer, but instead looked around his family and met his mother’s eyes.

“I’m going to take Brian to my spot.” Several wolf whistles rang around the room, and Roger rolled his eyes, “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I want to show him the stars.”

It was only after several lewd comments and a few minutes of laughter that he finally managed to follow the blonde out of the house. The English countryside was breathtaking at night.

The air smelled of sweet Night-Blooming Jasmine, the breeze was soft, ruffling both of their hairs gently, and the chill that set all across the countryside seeped into their bones. Fireflies buzzed all around them, making the ground seem like an extension of the night sky.

The Taylor property seemed to extend for miles. Hills of green grass and tall trees which seemed to blend into the darkness of the night littered the place, making it look like something out of a movie rather than real life.

Roger grabbed his hand so that the taller man wouldn’t get lost in the darkness. The blonde seemed to know the terrain so well that he didn’t need the light of the sun to guide his way, “My cousins and I used to play every night out in the open. I don’t know how none of us ended up with a broken bone.”

Brian chuckled, “A miracle.”

“Now I can walk through this place without tripping, but there used to be a time in which my knees were always scrapped.”

The taller man looked around once again, taking in the view, “It’s quite beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” Roger said, “just wait until we get to the seaside.”

As Roger promised, the seaside was breathtaking, to say the least. The coast extended as far as the eye could see, bringing in the salty air and the soft rumbling of breaking waves. The sand was thick, sticking to the side of Brian’s shoes and even managing to get inside his socks.

Roger dragged him to a place on the beach where they could see everything from the old farmhouse to the farthest point in the coastline and made them sit down. But most definitely, the most beautiful part of the whole ordeal was the stars.

They were scattered across the night sky, lighting up the place and making the most beautiful sight Brian had ever seen. He had never seen as many stars as he saw now, and the mere thought of how many more he could see if he were farther away from the city left him breathless.

He could see everything from Orion to Aquila, even bits of the Milky Way if he strained his eyes hard enough. He wanted to thank the younger man, but he couldn’t find the voice to do so. It was… well, Brian didn’t have the words to describe how he felt as he watched the night sky.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Roger’s voice sounded quiet in the vastness of the night.

“I haven’t seen anything like it,” Brian whispered back, “Ever. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

The blonde chuckled, “I knew you’d appreciate it. Not many like the place as much as I do.”

Brian frowned, looking down at the younger man and trying to make out his features in the dark, “Who wouldn’t like this?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

Silence washed over them, the wordless spaces being filled by the soft sound of the breaking waves and the faint whistling of the air. At some point his best friend curled around him, tucking his head into the crook of the guitarist’s neck and nuzzling into his soft hair.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding.”

Brian turned to look at the mass of blonde hair, “About what.”

Roger turned towards him, and in their proximity, Brian could make out his features entirely, “About wanting to keep you for a long, long, time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a short silence in which Brian tried to map the entirety of Roger’s face in the dim light of the stars. His boyfriend looked so incredibly pretty that for a second, he missed what Roger was saying, however when his brain finally caught up, his breath was stolen from his lungs.

“I’m also not kidding when I say that I’m more than ready to start everything I have been stalling.”

Brian blinked twice, “You mean—?”

“Yes,” Roger said, “I mean Kissing, snogging, groping, even— well, everything we haven’t been doing for the past eight months.”

Brian leaned back out of Roger’s, admittedly crappy, eyesight, “Okay, not that I’m not extremely excited for this new development but, you have to remember that this will be my first kiss ever.

“Well, unless you count that one time after our date at the restaurant, which was not really a kiss since it lasted about one second, and you didn’t even fully kiss my mouth but just the corner of it. So I’m sorry if the kiss is sloppy, or too slow or—”

Roger placed a finger against the guitarist’s lips, making him stop his adorable rambling, “Can I kiss you now?”

Brian's eyes widened, then he slowly nodded, too stunned to say anything. The blonde slowly lowered his finger and looked into Brian’s eyes. Needless to say, they were both terrified.

Roger took a deep breath, willing his beating heart to stop beating so wildly while Brian tried to swallow down his rising panic. The blonde leaned forward, and the guitarist closed his eyes, waiting for what was about to come, but Roger hesitated a few centimetres away from the other man’s face.

The stars shone down from the bright night sky, the waves crashed into the seashore making a soft, rumbling, back noise, the wind whistled softly as it passed between the countless blades of grass and tree branches, and Roger pressed their lips together.

❤︎

I hope you enjoyed that! Next chapter will be picking up right where we left off!

Big thanks to my lovely beta Rose, I love you a lot darling!

Comments, Kudos, and Feedback is always appreciated.

[thenovelartist]

The Love Dare, chapter 13

~ AO3 ~ Fanfiction ~ Support me on Ko-Fi ~

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Day 32

Their alarm didn’t go off. It wasn’t like Marinette had meetings she had to be at or Adrien had training to attend.

But Marinette had meeting she had to be at and Adrien had training to attend.

Their Love Dare time was very unfortunately scrapped.

“Tonight,” Adrien promised, pulling her in.

“Toni—”

Adrien smashed his lips on hers before she could finish.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.” He kissed her other cheek. “I love you.” Her nose. “I love you.” Her lips again.

She grabbed his cheeks, pushing him away. “I love you, too, kitty.”

He grinned, stole one last searing kiss from her, then ran out the door.

“Tikki,” Marinette said, looking at the door with a dazed look. Her heart was roaring and her head was surprisingly light, curtesy of that last kiss. “Please pinch me if I get distracted on the road.”

Tikki rolled her eyes. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on!”

That snapped Marinette out of her stupor. “Right! Let’s get going!”

…

“I have to say, Marinette,” Tikki commented during lunch, “you and Adrien have come a very long way in a short amount of time.”

Marinette smiled fondly. “Yeah. We have, haven’t we?”

“It’s really good. And I’m so proud of you and how far you have come. You stepped up to be the bigger person, and look where that’s gotten you.”

She felt warm and happy, but mostly, she felt thankful. “No, I owe it all to you. You were the one who made me do the Love Dare to Adrien. And you kept me on top of it. Thank you, Tikki.”

The kwami smiled. “You were the one who was willing enough to do it. I just offered a little guidance.”

“Still,” Marinette argued. “Thank you, Tikki.”

Tikki floated down to rest in Marinette’s hand. “You’re welcome.”

Marinette brought the kwami up to her face, pressing Tikki against her cheek in the best imitation of a hug she could give.

“So,” Tikki began. “I know you and Adrien are adamant about your Love Dare time together. However, I actually would like to warn you of this love dare beforehand.”

Marinette frowned. “Why? What is it?”

“Nothing bad,” Tikki assured. “I just thought you might like to prepare for it before tonight.”

Despite her brow being furrowed in confusion, Marinette reached for her journal and opened it to the right page. “Okay,”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Love meets sexual needs.”

Marinette froze. Oh. That’s why Tikki wanted to warn her.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked. “Something wrong?”

Marinette bit her lip. “No,” she said, answering honestly. “I… it’s just…” Her voice drifted off, uncertain how to finish that sentence. Really, Marinette found nothing wrong with the dare. It mostly just caught her off guard. “Most of these dares have been about non-intimate things so…”

The smile Tikki gave her was full of understanding. “Marinette, you and Adrien are husband and wife. I’m not saying sex is all there is to a marriage, but it is an important part of it because it creates a bond, one that runs very deep. It brings a couple together in unity. And you and Adrien could use a little of that.”

Certain her face was pink at the thought, Marinette took a couple steadying breaths. It wasn’t like the thought of sex was embarrassing; she’d been married for years for heaven’s sake. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized the really couldn’t remember the last time she and Adrien had been intimate.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t wanted him over the past handful of days. Between Adrien recovering from his back injury and Marinette having to monitor an emergency of a rack of destroyed clothes that were supposed to be for a photoshoot, then Adrien’s training running late and Marinette training the new hires, the last couple days had been jam packed with back to back events. All Marinette had to say was thank goodness for their Love Dare time in the mornings as well as their renewed bond that lead to constant texts and phone calls throughout the day.

“I’m not letting us break again,” Adrien had insisted, seeing as he was the one who initiated most of the calls. “And that means making an effort to reach out to you every day since home time is pretty minimal right now.”

“Tonight,” Tikki said, calling Marinette back to reality from her thoughts, “Adrien will be home after all the after-school classes are done at the academy. And you don’t have anything left to deal with here. The girls can handle the minor things.”

“True,” Marinette said.

“You’ll be off at a decent time today. Before him,” Tikki encouraged.

Marinette looked at Tikki, who was giving her a knowing look. Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, Marinette had to huff a laugh. “I can’t believe this,” Marinette mumbled, though her lips were quirked up in a smile. “A kwami invading my sex life.”

“Oh, Marinette,” Tikki cooed with a smile that was definitely dangerous. “I’ve been around a long time. Trust me, I know quite a bit more than you think I do, and I’d be more than happy to pass on that knowledge.”

Instantly, a bright red color flooded Marinette’s face, extending down her neck to her burning chest. “Tikki!”

…

Adrien was more than excited to rush home. He’d been staring at his journal all day, anxious and ready to hear the day’s love dare.

“I could just tell you now,” Plagg said for the umpteenth time on the car ride home.

“Plagg, I told you, I do this with Marinette. That’s the point of it. Being together for each lesson.”

“I’ll bet Tikki already told Marinette.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If you knew the dare—”

“I’m not going to hear it.”

Adrien pulled into the driveway of the house. “Well, kid, your funeral.”

Before Adrien could ask Plagg what he meant by that, the kwami phased out of the car and into the house. Shaking his head, Adrien grabbed his bag from the back seat and began heading inside. He tossed open the door, then tossed it shut behind him. And immediately froze where he stood.

Because directly in his line of sight was Marinette sitting on the counter in… well… definitely not what she went to work in that day.

Her grin was nothing short of cattish. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

He dropped his bag.

She giggled. Slowly, she uncrossed her stocking-covered legs. Something jingled, though just where that was coming from was beyond him. She strutted up to him, hips swinging and smile growing. His heart was positively pounding inside his chest as his mind registered one thing: there wasn’t going to be sleep happening tonight.

And just where was that jingling coming from because that was going to kill him.

Then he realized that he’d find out soon enough because there was no way his hands were going to be off her body for long.

She stopped directly in front of him, standing on her tip-toes as she leaned close. “Did you have a good day?”

His mind was slow on the go. His day. His day was good. No, his day was frigging fantastic. “I come home to my wife modeling a pin-up pose on the kitchen counter in the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever seen in my life. If you’re expecting me to say my day was terrible, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

She giggled, then swung around in a circle that drew so much attention to…

Heck, he was drooling over her entire body.

“You really like it?” she asked, striking another pose.

He was going to die. Positively keel over right then and there. His wife was decked out in a Chat Noir themed outfit, his colors and paw print symbol stamped all over her like a brand. Marinette in Chat Noir anything sparked a possessive streak a mile wide in him.

And Marinette knew it.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Now, why would I do that?” Marinette coyly asked, leaning forward on her toes. The moment her hands hit his chest, it was over. He shoved her back into the closest wall he could find.

She grinned, her eyes full of fire. “Did I strike a possessive nerve, mon chaton?”

He growled. “You’re in so much trouble, purrrincess.”

Her grin only widened. Her hot little hands weaseled under his shirt, and he was free of it seconds later.

Getting a grip on her thighs—his hands hit something round and hard on her garters, meaning he found the jingle bells. Score!—he hoisted her up around his hips, still pressing her against the wall before smashing his lips to hers.

She eagerly responded, grabbing at his hair and cradling his cheeks.

“I love you,” she managed to say between kisses.

“I love you,” he quickly responded. “I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Grabbing a fist full of hair, she kissed him hard and long before pulling back just enough to whisper. “I love you, too. So, so much. Forever.”

After a few more steamy kisses, she wiggled her way out of his grasp, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hall toward the master bedroom. The urge to press her up against the wall again and positively snog her senseless was strong, but she beat him to the opportunity, side-stepping his movements and swinging him around.

But Adrien couldn’t register how she managed to pull it off when his brain was fried over the fact there was a smoking hot woman with a blazing fire in her eyes pressing him firmly against the wall.

He shook his head. How’d he get so lucky to be this woman’s husband? Because he didn’t know.

Shaking her head, she playfully tsked him. “You’re good, but I’m better.”

We’ll see about that. The tango of mouths and dance of hands began not even a second after that fleeting thought.

Somewhere in his mind, he realized they should be making their way toward the bedroom because while he’d happily love his wife into oblivion anywhere, maybe the bed was the best option. He took a step, something hit his shoulder.

Crash!

The duo jumped apart, hearts pounding for a whole new reason now, and stared at the floor that was now riddled with broken glass and a busted picture frame.

“You broke it!”

“I broke it?” Adrien countered.

“Yeah,” Marinette scolded with a smile. “Now there’s glass all our hallway. What are you going to do about it, kitty?”

He stared at her, then at the glass, then back at her.

He smiled.

“Save the princess!” he shouted. He grabbed her knees and hoisted her over his shoulder, garnering a squeal of laughter out of her that rung through the house.

“Adrien! Put me down!”

But he could hear the smile on her face as he carefully stepped over the broken glass. “Not until I assure the princess is safe,” he insisted, his grin growing wider by the second. “Tis my job as her loyal knight to ensure her safety from shards of glass.”

Her laughter rendered her useless to respond.

He marched into the bedroom, positioned himself at the foot of the bed, then swung her back over his shoulder so she collided with the mattress.

He never let go of her legs as he watched her, her head tossed back as she shrieked with laughter. Honestly, he missed that so much, that unbridled joy of hers.

Seeing it again sent warm fuzzies pulsing through him.

But her laughter was also contagious. He couldn’t help but chuckle along.

Gradually, their laughter slowed and their eyes locked once again. Adrien let go of her knees and shifted to hover directly above her. She draped her arms over his neck, and he felt like he could fly right then and there.

“I can’t believe we almost got rid of us,” she whispered.

His gut sank like a stone, and he grew sick at the thought. They really almost had. He had tossed his ring at her. She almost didn’t do the love dare. He almost didn’t respond.

“We would have been miserable,” Adrien said. “We might have each woken up one day and realized what we lost.”

Marinette nodded. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Neither do I,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to hers. “So let’s not. I think we have better things to do tonight. What do you say Mrs. Agreste?”

Her grip on him tightened, and she shot him a smile that was so warm it could melt him into a puddle. “I think,” she said. “That tonight, we stay under house Agreste.”

His heart beat wildly. “I knew you always liked my puns.”

…

Plagg and Tikki looked over the very dead picture frame on the floor in the hallway.

“I know that I helped them with chores before,” Plagg commented. “But I’m not cleaning that up.”

“I think they can deal with it in the morning,” Tikki agreed. “Right now, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Count me in, Tikki.”

[janeofcakes]

Chapter 74

*** Brief mention of non-con immediately after the second asterisks. And torture. My poor John.***

(Irene Adler walks into her study for a file she needs to carry out a very sensitive business matter. What she finds instead is a very quiet, very sexy Sherlock Holmes holding said file. She enters the room with a smile on her face that is somewhere between pleasant surprise and annoyance, closing the door behind and taking a few steps forward. She strikes a pose with a hand on her hip and raises a brow.)

I: Sherlock Holmes. How do you always find me?

S: Homing device. I planted it on you long ago. (He gives her his exaggerated friendly smile.) I would’ve thought that was rather obvious.

I: (unamused) Cute. What do you want?

(She casually walk to the bar and pour herself a drink.)

S: I think you know.

I: (pouring a whiskey with her back to him) I can’t help you with James Moriarty.

(Sherlock cocks a brow and narrows his eyes. She turns around to face him, leaning her hips on the bar, and taking a sip from the short glass.)

S: Can’t or won’t?

I: (with a tight smile) The last time I helped you, Jim paid me a visit and gave me something to remind me why no one crosses him.

S: Surely you don’t bend to his will.

I: No, I don’t, but I have a significant interest in preserving my life. And I have officially retired. (with a condescending smile) Again. It’s no secret that I don’t mind your company, but you really need to stop visiting.

S: (straightening to his full height) I am sorry if my appearances cause you any inconvenience, but there is nothing in this world that will stop me from getting John Watson away from Moriarty. He is my life.

I: How long has he been missing?

S: Just over six weeks.

I: (near spitting the whiskey right out of her mouth with laughter) He’s not yours anymore. He belongs to Jim Moriarty now and he’ll make his mark to prove it.

(She places her drink on the bar and toes off one of her startlingly sharp stilettos. Sherlock furrows his brow in thought. She can’t possibly know about the word Moriarty scrawled on John’s arm. She raises her eyes to meet his and twists her foot so he can see its sole. The detective’s eyes widen. The letters JM have been burned into the skin.

She turns her foot again and slips it back in the pump, grabbing her whiskey while she does it and speaking before Sherlock can say a word.)

I: It was a fairly minor transgression as Jim saw it, so he didn’t kill me. (She sips from the glass casually.) You’ll be lucky to get John back without one of these, or much worse. You’ll be lucky to get John back at all.

(Sherlock doesn’t reply, but looks at her somberly.

I: I can’t help you, Sherlock. I’m sorry. I only wish I could. (She takes another drink.) I hope you find John. I really do. He doesn’t like me, but he’s a good man and he loves you.

(She walks toward him to stop just outside of his personal space and takes the file from his hand. Looking up into his silver eyes, she stares him down with an unparalleled intensity.)

I: Maybe you should travel once he’s safe. Relax a little. You could even marry. Mycroft must have a private island full of prickly pears somewhere.

S: (raising a brow) Perhaps.

(They scan one another’s eyes for a few seconds longer than is normal, then Sherlock steps back and strides to the door. He opens it to leave, but stops and looks back.)

S: Thank you.

I: Ciao.

(And he’s gone.)

***

(Sherlock hails a cab and quietly pieces together Irene’s clues as he travels to Baker Street. He also pulls his mobile from his coat pocket to summon Greg and Molly with a text. Once he has finished, he looks out the window restlessly. It is covered with drips and streams of water from the heavy rain of London. Sherlock watches as it falls on the pavement and the people who hurry though the city upon it. What is it like where John is? What has Moriarty done to him? Has he burned him like Irene? What will it mean if he has?

Sherlock is lost in thought when the cab stops and only emerges from his mind palace when the cabbie prompts him. He pays, gets out of the car, and walks to the door of 221. He pauses, his eyes falling to the knob. God, how he wishes John was inside waiting for him. Sitting in his chair with a newspaper in his hands and his feet propped up, legs stretched in between their two chairs. Sherlock would cross the room and look at him haughtily, but only for show. John would know in an instant that Sherlock actually wanted to sit on his lap and snog him senseless. He would slowly close the paper and make a smart comment, and then Sherlock would pounce.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Sherlock unlocks the door and takes the stairs two at a time. Once he is inside the flat, he strides through to the dining table, grabbing his laptop along the way, and placing it on the table. After a few minutes of expeditious typing, he hears the footfalls of Greg Lestrade on the stairs up to the flat. Sherlock glances his way as he enters the room and stops next to the detective. Greg looks over his shoulder to see a map of the Mediterranean just before Sherlock zooms in on Italy and the surrounding area.)

G: (referring to his text) What makes you think he’s in Italy?

S: I did not say Italy. He’s not in Italy itself. Too obvious. (to himself) Somewhere close.

G: Sherlock, do you have any idea how many countries are around Italy?

S: (shortly) Yes, I do know and, even if I didn’t, I am looking at a map of the area now.

G: Right, right. I only meant we have to narrow the field a bit.

S: (glaring at him and snapping) Haven’t we had this conversation before?

(They stare at one another for a few seconds and then hear the front door to the flat open and close. Molly’s footstep echo as she nearly runs down the hall and rushes into the room.)

MH: Have you found John? Where is he?!

G: Italy.

S: (returning his attention to the map and mumbling) An island.

MH: What - Sicily?

(Greg shrugs in annoyance. She turns her eyes to Sherlock, whose are eyes are roving over the laptop’s screen.)

S: A private island. It has to be private. (He is almost whispering now, eyes scanning carefully.) In the Aeolian Islands.

MH: The Aeolians? How can you be sure?

S: Prickly pears are native only to the Americas, but have been introduced to many areas with arid conditions. It has to be an area in which Italian is spoken or she wouldn’t have said ciao. While a word or phrase from a foreign language suits her personality, she does not make it a part of her speech, thus making it purposeful. (Molly exchanges a confused look with Greg while Sherlock continues whispering.) She made reference to a private island. A private island, a private… It’s uncharted. Damn it!

(He pushes himself away from the table and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Resting his palms on the top of his head, he looks up at the ceiling and lets out an angry breath.)

MH: Just who have you been talking to about this?

S: (ignoring the question) Even on the most current maps, there is nothing. There has to be some way to find it.

G: What about Mycroft? Would he be able to find out anything about it?

S: Possibly.

(Sherlock lets his arms drop to his sides and stalks away from the table. As he nears the fireplace, meeting the eyes of the skull on the mantle, he twirls around and points at the other two, an idea on his lips.)

MH: What is it, Sherlock? Where is he?

(Before he can answer, Sherlock’s mobile sounds, but he ignores it and begins rattling off deductions. Greg listens intently and Molly means to do the same, but her eyes fall to the mobile on the table. She darts forward and grabs it, then takes a few steps and thrusts it at Sherlock.)

MH: Look! Will you shut up and look!

(Sherlock glares at the woman with every intention of loosing his tongue in full fury, but remains silent when he reads the call’s origin. He steps closer and takes the phone from Molly’s hand, reading Italy as it flashes and sounds again. Looking at the other two, he hastily swipes his finger over the screen and puts it to his ear.)

S: John?

(There is a long pause. He can hear someone breathing and listens carefully for any other sound, anything that could clue him in to where the caller is. He hears a sharp inhale of breath.)

MM: Sherlock Holmes?

S: Who is this?

MM: A friend of John’s.

S: (trying to remain calm) Where is he?

MM: On a private island.

S: In the Aeolians.

MM: (obviously startled) Yes. How did you…

S: Where is it? It’s uncharted.

MM: Five miles northeast of Filicudi.

(She gives him the coordinates before he can even ask and he commits them to memory in a split-second. He wants to ask who she is, how she knows John, if he has been injured, but she cuts him off uttering one last word before ending the call.)

MM: Hurry.

***

(John squeezes his eyes tightly shut and prays it will end soon. Every time since the incident at Parliament has been more and more violent. John has not seen Mary since he gave her Sherlock’s surname. He has, however, had Jim as a near constant companion. John tries to keep from suspecting her, but cannot shake the feeling that Mary may actually be working with Jim after all. Why would she disappear at precisely this moment when he has the most hope of escape? He tries to convince himself it is only because Jim has not left his side, but his wherewithal is getting thin. Jim’s presence and torture and assaults are quickly becoming too much to bear.

Jim snaps his hips again and again, grunting and shuddering.)

JM: Look at me, John. Look at me!

(He presses a hand on John’s ribs hard, forcing John to open his eyes and meet his own. It pushes Jim right over the edge, crying out and coming into John. John scrunches up his face in pain and stares at Jim, hating every fiber of his being. His hands are fists at his sides. He wants to hit him. God, how he wants to get his hands around Jim’s throat, but no word from him means Sherlock’s death and John will not allow that. Whatever he must endure, he will not allow Sherlock to be hurt.

Jim moans loudly.)

JM: Tell me you love me. (He presses harder on John’s ribs when he doesn’t answer.) Say you love me!

J: (through clenched teeth) No.

(Jim presses his lips to John’s and bites. He pulls back with a mad grin on his face and wipes blood from his mouth. Then, very unexpectedly, he sits up and leaps off the bed. Finally free, John closes his eyes in anguish and rolls onto his side, his arms wrapped around his aching ribs. It takes a full minute before he realizes he is whispering desperately.)

J: I’m sorry, Sherlock. I’m sorry.

(Suddenly Jim is back, tossing pants and pajama bottoms at John. He has put on jeans and a t-shirt that reads “You should see me in a crown”.)

JM: Put these on.

(John reaches for the clothing and slowly pulls them on, pain shooting through his body with every movement. He falls back onto the bed as soon as he finishes and stares up at the ceiling, breathing hard. Every breath burns and pain radiates up his left side. He clenches his teeth and traces his fingers along his ribs cage, searching for the broken ones, certain he’ll find at least one.

Meanwhile, Jim climbs back on the bed and straddles John’s waist, pinning him down again. He takes advantage of John’s search to wield a knife he collected in the kitchen and slashes John’s right shoulder. Taken completely off-guard, John cries out in pain and grabs at the wound. Jim snatches at John’s arms and pins them down at his sides beneath his knees. John grunts in pain and anger, knowing full well Jim can only manage it because of John’s injuries, which is exactly why he has them. Jim is smart and has no problem using pain to give him the advantage.

John looks up at his captor with furious eyes and sees a spray of his own blood across Jim’s white tee. Jim is still wearing that mad smile. He places the point of the knife in the center of the deep slash with extreme care and begins pushing in slowly, his black eyes staring down at John. John’s eyes go wide, his mouth open and gasping. He strains against Jim’s body and clamps his mouth shut, barely able to swallow his screams.)

JM: Say you love me. (John can only shake his head.) Say it, John.

(He pushes the knife deeper.)

J: (whispering) No.

(Jim pulls the blade up a bit and then thrusts it deeper. John screams.)

JM: SAY IT!

(John struggles and only increases the pain, unintentionally forcing the knife in further. He swallows hard and tries to quiet his mind, pull himself together. Licking his lips, he chokes out the words.)

J: Why do you want me to say things I’ll never mean?

JM: Because one day, you will. (He leans in close and pushes at the knife as he goes. John’s face crumples. Tears he can’t stop fall from his eyes when he closes them.) Say it, John, or I’ll bring Sherlock here and flay him while you watch.

(John’s eyes fly open to stare at Jim in fear. His mouth falls open. Completely gutted, John blinks his eyes a few times, tears falling from both and running down his cheeks.)

J: (quietly) I love you.

(Jim closes his eyes and sighs.)

JM: See, that wasn’t so hard. (kissing John) I love you too.

(Jim sits up again and slowly draws the blade from John’s shoulder. John’s body tenses and shudders. As soon as the knife is no longer embedded in John’s skin, Jim holds it to his throat, tucked neatly under John’s chin in a silent reminder not to move. He reaches for the table beside the bed and comes back with a folded up cloth he pushes against John’s shoulder to stop the bleeding.)

JM: Just stay still, love. We wouldn’t want this bleeding to get out of control. (After a minute or two of inane conversation, Jim clicks his tongue.) Hm. This isn’t helping at all, but don’t worry. I have a better plan.

(He pulls the knife away from John’s throat and clamps his left hand down on it to hold the man still. John follows the blade with his eyes as it hovers over his face and to the bedside table. Jim lays down the knife and flicks on a handheld butane torch that sits on the table. It springs to life, the open flame dancing before their eyes. Jim picks up the knife again and puts the blade directly in the flame, heating it to a dangerous degree.

John’s eyes widen in panic. There is only one thing Jim could have planned for that blade and the fresh wound on John’s shoulder. He twists under Jim’s body, but only succeeds in causing more blood to ooze from his shoulder.)

J: Jesus! NO!

(Jim speaks thoughtfully as he watches the sharp metal heat up, turning it periodically and grinning maniacally. John continues to struggle, damning himself for being so weak, half wondering if Jim has drugged him as well with just this situation in mind.)

JM: You know, I haven’t been devoting the time to you that I should. My plans for the Ice Man would’ve worked if you had been ready to distract Sherlock for me.

(John takes his eyes off the blade to glare at Jim. He bites out his next words, his voice so low and full of hate that he doesn’t sound like himself to even his own ears.)

J: I will never be under your control.

JM: Really, John, aren’t you already?

J: You will never turn me against Sherlock.

JM: (smiling) We’ll see about that, love. I’ve bent stronger men than you to my will. (He removes the knife from the torch and brings it close to John’s cheek.) Don’t worry, love. It will only hurt for a minute.

J: God, no! NO!

(The moment the metal touches his skin, John’s world blanks into nothing but white, hot pain radiating through his body. His vision blurs with tears flooding his eyes and he hears a distant voice screaming unintelligible words. A few more seconds go by before he realizes it’s his own voice and he’s begging. Begging Jim to stop. Begging Sherlock to find him. Begging for it to be over.

As Jim slowly moves the knife over the length of the slash, John’s mind snaps back to reality. He renews his struggle, thrashing around as best he can. He can tell he’s accomplishing nothing, only tiring himself, but he has to do something, anything he can to resist.)

J: God, stop. Just stop!

JM: (stopping for a moment to heat the blade again and answering in his sing-song voice) You’re only making it take longer. Just calm down, love.

J: No! Jim...AH!!

(John clenches his jaw and groans as Jim begins again, tracing over where he has already cauterized to make sure he made a good pass.

When he completes his work, Jim takes the knife from John’s skin and admires his handiwork. John looks up to see Jim smiling in pride. He glances at his own shoulder, at the line of burned skin, red and bloody. Jim leans down, getting right up into his business, and devours John’s neck. He bites and mouths and licks, finally finishing with a long lick up John’s jaw to his ear.)

JM: (whispering) You are so delicious. When I’m finished with you, you will BEG me to make you come. (licking his ear) And you will rue the day you met Sherlock Holmes.

(He sits up again and grins, looking more insane by the minute. John watches as he returns the blade to the torch. Jim is watching too. His eyes dance as knife burns.)

JM: I know what you’re thinking, but this is the perfect time to put my real mark on you, love. (He meets John’s eyes.) I did your arm, but this is my signature, my brand. No one will ever question whether or not you belong to me again. (He leans down close to John’s face and kisses his mouth, biting harshly at his bottom lip.) Are you ready, love? I promise I’ll be gentle.

J: FUCK OFF!!

(Trying desperately not to panic, John does the only thing he can think of and headbutts Jim. The man reels back, giving John the opportunity to push him off his body and to the floor. Ignoring the pain and exhaustion, John scrambles to his feet and runs as fast as he can.

He flings open the door to his room and dashes down the stairs. He nearly tumbles down them, he is moving so quickly, and throws himself out the front door. Once he is outside, John runs and runs and runs without looking back. He knows there’s nowhere to go, but still, he’ll never stop running. Or so he thinks...

In a few minutes, he finds himself at the same cliff he nearly stepped off of two months earlier and he is suddenly still as stone. John steps to the edge and looks down into the waves crashing on the rocks below. This is his only escape. The only way he can get away from Jim. The only way. John steps even closer to the edge and feels his body sway as the wind blows around it. The world stops. All he can hear, all he can feel, is the wind and it beckons to him, pulls him toward the cliff’s edge and the waves below.)

Voice: John, stop.

(John closes his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek. That voice sounded deep and silky. It pulls him back from the brink and he is almost convinced it was the one man who could actually stop him. But, when he turns to face its source, Jim is the only man he sees. John’s face falls and he clutches at his ribs with his left hand, his right shoulder too sore to move his arm.)

JM: Come back to the house, love.

J: (shaking his head) No.

(Jim starts toward him slowly, pulling a gun from his pocket and training it on John.)

JM: That wasn’t a request. Go back to the house.

J: (laughing defiantly) Or what? You’ll shoot me? Be my guest. I’d rather die. (Jim fires and the bullet whizzes passed John’s ear. He doesn’t so much as flinch.) I won’t be turned against my friends. Against Sherlock. He’s my life. I’ve been dead here without him.

(John squares his shoulders and lets his hands fall to his sides. Jim cocks a brow, a look of panic flashes through his eyes. John takes a deep, cleansing breath and speaks in a low and dangerous voice.)

J: I will die before I EVER set foot in that house again.

(Jim raises his arm so the gun is even with his shoulder, still pointing at John. His eyes are dark and angry, his hair whipping in the wind.)

JM: Get. In. The. House.

(John shakes his head and starts taking a step back, but stops and turns his head in shock as a helicopter flies quickly toward them. It flies overhead as they both watch and hovers twenty feet from the cliff. Jim curses loudly when he sees who is inside it.)

JM: GOD DAMN IT!

M: (voice echoing loudly through the air) James Moriarty. Put down the gun and step away from John Watson.

(John turns back to face Jim, already knowing exactly what the man will do and what he will say.)

JM: I won’t say no one can have you if I can’t. But I sure as hell won’t let him have you either.

(John braces himself. Jim squeezes the trigger. Sherlock appears out of nowhere and throws his body at Jim, launching them both off the cliff and into the rocky waters below.)

J: SHERLOCK!

(Without hesitation, John leaps off the cliff after the detective.

Mycroft sighs and watches him disappear into the swirling water from his perch in the chopper.)

M: Shit.

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Wednesday 14 September 1994 - by Alinda

Wednesday 14 September 1994

Dear mom and dad,

The week after the Quidditch world cup was a bit weird. Draco wrote to me to tell me that Tonks had to go into the Ministry every day and that all kinds of weird rumours were going around about what happened that night. And Rita Seeker, a reporter for the daily prophet has been coming up with all kinds of dirt about the ministry, like that a woman that works there, Bertha Hopkins, has gone missing. Sirius was really worried about it all and wrote a lot of letters and kept mumbling that the signs were bad.

At the end of the week, I met up again with Draco at Diagon Alley to get our school supplies. The day started with Draco’s mother taking us to Madam Malkin’s Robe shop to get dress robes. We need them this year and I didn’t have any, and Draco grew out all of his. I’ve gotten some bottle green once that bring out the colour of my eyes according to Draco. His are black velvet with a high collar. I joked they made him look a little like a vicar, but they do look good on him. And the fabric is so soft. Draco laughed at me when I couldn’t stop petting his new robes while Madam Malkin was fitting them on us.

The rest of the day we spend by picking up our books, making sure our potion ingredients stock was complete, getting new quills and eating ice cream. We had a lot of fun and Draco’s mother was very kind. The only downside was that she would hit our hands every time we linked them together. She said we should not show our love so easily in public, that it could hurt us. Draco later told me that she was afraid it would hurt the Malfoy name, disgrace it if the world would find out that the only Malfoy heir was bent.

We met up with our friends at the train station and got a compartment that would fit all of us. Hermione, Luna and Daphne talked about girl stuff while we analysed the Quidditch game. Blaise, Greg and Draco all agreed that I would be able to do the Wronski Feint even better than Krum. It was horrible weather outside and I’d curled against Draco’s side, his arm was around me while I looked outside once the conversations had winded down. Blaise and Luna had disappeared, probably off somewhere snogging, Hermione and Draco were both reading the standard book of spells, grade 4, Daphne had the Witch Weekly in front of her and Greg just stared out of the window like me. And then Nott and Crabbe decided to ruin our afternoon by showing up and making sick jokes about me and Draco. They talked about entering something and winning fame and money, but none of us knew what they were on about. Nott went on that Draco most really have lost the grace of his father if he didn’t know. This saddened Draco, he tried not to show it, but I know it still hurts him that his father pretends like he doesn’t exist when he’s at home.

At the welcome feast, Hermione and Luna had to part with us to go sit at their own house tables for the rest of the evening. Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean greeted us when they came into the Great Hall, soaked because Peeves had been throwing water balloons in the entrance hall. But their state was better than the first years who looked like they had swum across the lake instead of sailed. The hat sang a song about the founders and then the first years were sorted. I seemed to go on forever and Greg was complaining that he was hungry and that the hat should hurry up.

Dinner was good and we were all in a happy mood until Headmaster Dumbledore gave the direst news of the evening. There will be no Quidditch Cup this year! No flying on brooms and practice twice a week with our team members. We looked at Adrian and Miles and they looked just as shocked as us, unable to believe that we won’t be continuing our winning streak this year. I was looking forward to it, seeing how well Draco would do as our new captain now that Marcus had left.

Headmaster Dumbledore started to explain why when the doors of the Great Hall banged open. A man walked in and we all watched him take his seat at the staff table. His face was unlike any I’d ever seen. He had scars everywhere, his mouth looked like a diagonal gash and a large chunk of his nose was missing. But it was his eyes that scared me the most. One was small, dark and beady. But the other was large, round and a vivid electric blue. It moved around ceaselessly, without blinking, and rolled up, down and from side to side. He was introduced as our new defence against the dark arts teacher, Professor Moody. I tell more about him later and why I don’t like him one tiny bit.

Once Professor Moody was seated Headmaster Dumbledore continued to explain why there won’t be a Quidditch Cup this year. It seems that our school is hosting the TriWizard Tournament this year. Students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will join us this year for this tournament. It’s a competition between the three schools that was stopped when the death toll mounted too high. Each school gets one champion to represent them. Don’t worry, I won’t be able to try (not that I want too) or Draco either (who’s still kind of keen on it) because there is an age limitation. You need to be off age to compete. Adrian and Miles both are going to try to get in.

After the feast, we made it upstairs and Draco got into bed with me. Blaise said he was going to find out a way to get in even though he isn’t even seventeen and Draco said he would join him. I fell asleep that night, dreaming of Draco holding up a big cup, being the TriWizard champion, and smiling down at me saying he couldn’t have done it without me.

Post the first morning at Hogwarts was strange. Usually, it’s Draco that gets post. His mom always sends him care packages filled with sweets and cakes. At least she did for the last three years. But on our first day, there was no post for Draco, not even a letter to explain why his mother hadn’t sent him any sweets. But there was post for me, the one than never got any letters. Sirius writes to me often and it’s nice to read about his efforts to further fix up our house. He said Remus has brought him a box filled with old photos from when they went to Hogwarts and he looks forward to showing them to me. He even included a photo of you two smiling at each other as teenagers. I put the photo up on the wall next to my bed, next to the drawing of me and Draco that hangs there.

That morning we had Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. During Herbology I could see that Draco was still upset that his mother hadn’t written to him, so in between our classes, I pulled Draco behind one of the greenhouses and kissed him senseless. It helped put a smile back on his face and I had been wanting to do that ever since we got back at school. I’ve missed Draco during summer break, more than I can admit. Sometimes it feels like I’m incomplete when he’s not around. Is it supposed to feel this intense when you are in love? I don’t think Blaise and Luna are this obsessed with being together all the time as Draco and I. And Hermione wasn’t like this when she was with Ron. Sometimes I’m scared that Draco and I are to close, but then he smiles at me and everything feels right and I can’t help but smile back.

Care of Magical Creatures was, how to call it, I think interesting is the best word. Hagrid has bred Blast-Ended Skrewts. They look like deformed, shell-less lobsters and are horribly pale and slimy-looking. They have no visible heads and legs stick out in very odd places. And the smell is like smelling rotting fish. OH and every now and then, sparks fly out of the end of a skrewt, making it propel forward. We had to feed them that first lesson, which was kind of hard since they didn’t seem to have any mouths. Draco didn’t like them at all, since they could burn, sting and bite all at once. And I had no idea how to make it so that these creatures sounded useful or less scary for him. So I just let him hover behind me while I tried to feed them.

After lunch we had division, and Professor Trelawney didn’t waste any time to predict my oncoming doom. I have again difficult times ahead of me. I’d almost fallen asleep in her class, my head resting on Draco’s shoulder when Professor Trelawney made me pay attention and said I was clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn. Draco laughed next to me, but the professor paid him no attention and went on, saying I was born in midwinter. I corrected her and said I was born in July and by then Draco had to hide behind me to hide his laughing.

That evening during dinner Draco and I got into a fight. Blaise was coming up with all kinds of ways to get passed the age restrictions for the TriWizard tournament and I’m not even sure anymore what happened but it ended with me and Draco shouting at each other. I think I said something nasty about Draco’s parents and he got really upset saying he didn’t want to see me anymore. I yelled back that he didn’t need to and turned around to leave. Blaise later said that Draco was crying by the time I had turned my back and reached out his arm to grab me, to stop me. But before he could reach me there was a loud bang and someone roaring: ‘Oh no you don’t laddie!’. I turned around to see Professor Moody walking towards us, his wand pointing right at a pure white ferret that was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, right where Draco had been standing. Draco was nowhere to be seen. I took me two seconds to realise what had happened. Professor Moody had turned Draco in a ferret.

I screamed at the professor to turn him back, but the professor just asked me if Draco got me. I didn’t understand and stated again that he should turn Draco back to himself. Draco, as a ferret, ran towards me and I knelt down to pick him up, but the professor pointed his wand at Draco again and he flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor and then bounced upward once more. I screamed for the professor to stop, to leave Draco alone, that he didn’t do anything, that it was just a silly fight, that I love him and that Draco didn’t try to attack me. Only the professor didn’t seem to hear me and just made Draco bounce higher and higher. He was squealing in pain and I didn’t know what to do to stop the professor from hurting Draco.

It was Professor McGonagall that stopped him in the end. She came into the hall, took one look at the scene and asked professor Moody if the ferret was a student. When he said yes, she took out her wand and turned Draco back to himself. He fell to the floor, his braided hair all messed up and his face pink and filled with tears. I don’t really know what happened next with the professors, I just hurried towards Draco and took him in my arms and told him I love him and that I was sorry. He said he was sorry too and we kissed briefly. Then Moody appeared next to us and told Draco that he would keep an eye on Draco, that he should tell his father that he’s keeping an eye on his son and that next time he tried to hurt me he won’t get off this easy.

As you can understand, most of the Slytherin and Gryffindor fourth year didn’t like Professor Moody that much after this incident. I even went to Professor Snape to complain about it. He said he would have a word with the headmaster about professor Moody his actions. It was clear that Professor Snape also doesn’t think very highly about Professor Moody. He told me to come to him straight away if the professor would again hurt Draco in any way.

And I’m glad Professor Snape is on our side with this because things only got worse during our first DADA lesson. We made sure we were on time to be able to get a seat at the back of the class. Blaise and Greg took the seats in front of us and Hermione and Daphne were in front of that. Neville and Ron took the seats next to Hermione and Seamus and Dean were in front of them. It was no surprise that the other Slytherin students (Nott, Crabbe, Pansy and Millie) had already taken up the other seats at the back of the class. It was well discussed in the Slytherin common room that Moody had it in for our house. None of us wanted to be up and close to him during lessons.

When Professor Moody came into the classroom he told us to put our books away and started to explain curses to us. Talked about how we needed to see the curses that could be done to us to learn how to defend ourself against them. He asked us if we knew which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law. None of the Slytherins rose their hands, but some of the Gryffindors did. Moody pointed out Ron, asked him if he was Arthur Weasley’s son and smiled at Ron. Ron named the Imperius Curse. Moody said that most student in our class would know about it since a lot of their parents apparently were victim to it. Then he took out a spider and put the curse on it, he made it do funny things at first and most students started to laugh. Until he explained that he now had total control over the spider and that he could make it do terrible things to itself, like jump out of the window or drown itself. And then the trouble really started. He talked about that years back a lot of witches and wizards were being controlled by the Imperius Curse and that this made it impossible for the Ministry to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. He continued on with saying that he knows who’s parents were not under its control, even though they had claimed to be. He walked right up to me and Draco and looked at Draco and said: ‘Most of them should be in Azkaban, but somehow they are still free and respected. Don’t think you will get any freebies in my class. Most of you will fail my class, I’m sure of it. Most of all you, Mr Malfoy. You don’t fool me with, just like your father wasn’t able to fool me.’

After that, he moved on to the second curse, the Cruciatus Curse, which Neville had mentioned. Moody enlarged the next spider and then muttered Crucio. The spider’s legs bent in upon its body, it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. And over time the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently. It was then that Hermione shouted at Moody to stop it. I looked at her and saw she wasn’t looking at the spider but at Neville, who’s hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white. Later Ron told us that Neville’s eyes had been wide and horrified. Moody shook his head and stopped the curse and put that spider away. Moody said that this curse was once very popular too, that Mr Malfoy’s aunt liked performing it and that he hoped that he could teach young Mr Malfoy one day how it feels. I hated the way Moody was picking on Draco, but I didn’t know what to do against it.

And I didn’t really have the strength to do so after the final curse that Moody showed us. The last and worst, Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse, was performed right in front of us. There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound. Instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but dead. I just looked at the spider, remembering the green lights in my nightmares, the screams of you mother to plead for my life. I heard that Moody said that I was the only one to ever survive it and Draco took my hand in his, made me unclench my fists and stroked his thumb over my hand. I was aware that everyone had turned around to look at me, but all I could think about was that this is how you died. Had you been unmarked too? Was all you had seen a flash of green light and did you only hear a rush of speeding death before all life was wiped from your bodies?

Later, Blaise let us read over his notes about how Moody had gone on and on about constant vigilance and the Unforgivable Curses. I hadn’t heard anything after the little demonstration of the Avada Kedavra curse. Nobody had really liked the lesson. It wasn’t entertaining at all like the Ravenclaws had said it would be. It had been torture, for me, for Draco and for Neville. Hermione and Ron shielded him when we left the lesson, he still looked pale and upset. We were on our way towards them to ask if he was alright when Moody passed us and heard him speak to Neville in a lower and gentler growl than we’ve heard of him before and told Neville to come up to his office for a cup of tea. And then he turned towards me and asked me if I was alright. I spit at him that I was and turned to leave. Like I would want to have tea with him while he does nothing but talk about Draco like he’s the Dark Lord himself. I really hate that man and wished he never had become our DADA teacher. He’s ruining my favourite subject.

But that wasn’t the most surprising thing that happened that afternoon. Once Moody had taken Neville to his office, Ron and Hermione walked back to the Great Hall together and talked during a rushed dinner. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, seeing Hermione smile at Ron. But then she hurried off, back to the library that she had been visiting a lot these last couple of days, leaving Ron to just stare at the doors where she had disappeared through.

Later that night, Draco told me why Neville had been so upset and why Moody had mentioned Draco’s aunt. His mother’s oldest sister is in Azkaban for torturing Neville his parents, and her favourite curse to use was the Cruciatus. Draco isn’t sure what happened to Neville’s parents, but we all know that he’s being raised by his grandmother, so it can’t be anything good. Draco told me that his aunt Bella and uncle Rodolphus were loyal followers of the Dark Lord. That they still are if he has to believe the stories his father told him when he was younger.

But enough heavy stuff and talks about dead parents. I need to tell you about Hermione and her obsession with house-elves rights. She has gotten all upset about the house-elves. When she found out that they work without getting paid, or getting sick leave and pensions, she stopped eating for a while. She said it was slave labour. Draco dismissed her at first, said she shouldn’t be so silly and so Muggle-born (I’m so proud that he never slips up anymore or even has to think about it, but just says Muggle-born instead of Mudblood as he used to). I told him that I get why Hermione is upset, that I can see why it might not be fair on the elves that we use them like that. Draco said that they liked it, that it was their place. I throw back at him that I pretended to like it when my aunt and uncle used me as their slave, just to make sure they didn’t find another reason to hate me. That shut Draco up and we had a long talk about how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia used to treat me. Draco still thinks that is different from the situation with the elves, but he at least doesn’t dis Hermione anymore when she starts with her S.P.E.W. talk.

S.P.E.W. is the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, an organisation Hermione has started this year. She told us all about it during our first joined homework session in the Great Hall on Saturday. She explained to us that Elf enslavement goes back centuries and that the short term aims of the organisation are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. The long term aims are to change the law about non-wand use and getting an elf into the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It cost two sickles to join and until now I think Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna and I are the only members. And Ron only joined because he wants to get back together with Hermione, Neville joined because he’s Ron’s best friend and I joined because Hermione is mine. Only Luna has joined because she thinks it’s a good idea. None of the Slytherins want to join in, saying that he elves like to do their jobs and that they are treated fairly. Hermione is upset about it, but I told her that it’s just that they are used to have elves serve them, that it is how they’ve grown up. I said that maybe over time they would see that they deserve better treatment, but that we have to educate them first.

And as you might understand, that was my biggest mistake of the year. Never tell Hermione she needs to teach people. She’s started to put together a plan to show our friends that house-elves are mistreated and that thinks need to change.

I told Sirius what Hermione was up to and he wrote back to wish her good luck with trying to accomplish the impossible. I also wrote to him about Moody and his mistreatment of Draco. I know Sirius doesn’t really like the fact that Draco and I are together, but he said that I should tell him when Moody goes too far. And that he would write Moody to ask him to tone it down a little, to not think that my friends are the same as their parents. It’s nice to see Sirius look out for me and Draco. I’d never known how good it is to have an adult that will always be on my side, no matter what happens. So thank you for making him my godfather and making sure I’d have someone now that both of you are gone.

I love you and I miss you.

Harry James Potter