#most of the time went into quidditch research rather than writing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magicalforcesau · 3 years ago

Text

Letters (part 2)

As Obi-Wan and Satine continue their written correspondence in the back half of their Hogwarts career, their bond strengthens to the point where it might not strictly be platonic.

ao3 link

Fifth Year Summer

Dear Ben,

I GOT MY MENTORSHIP REQUEST APPROVED! I’m going to be a peer mentor this upcoming year! Oh, I know this is going to be another responsibility when we’re already saddling quite a bit with OWLS and our duties as prefects. While it was your initial idea to join, I have no regrets. If I’m to influence the minds of thousands from the Ministry, it will do me good to have practice on a smaller and more impressionable scale. Besides, far too many first years are led astray in my opinion. Having firm and caring guidance will be most beneficial.

I hope you can write to me with the same news, even if I still believe you are pushing yourself far too hard. Just please consider your own mental health for this upcoming term. You’re already wound tighter than anyone I know. I would truly not like to partake in the bets that Fives and Echo make behind your back about when your head will explode. I believe either myself or Cody would win. We know you best.

Speaking of being wound tight, I have been dedicating my summer to the practice of enchanting muggle objects as per our homework assignments. Turns out, it truly is not that difficult. I’ve been careful not to alter anything that would come into contact with other muggles, but I look forward to showing you the results of some of my recreations. Between you and me, I’ve been constructing some that were not on the instructed list.

You’re not technically a prefect yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi, so don’t even think about making a wise remark about how you could see me in trouble.

Yours Truly,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I, too, just received confirmation that I’m to mentor a first year this upcoming school year! Regardless of your speculation and wariness, I stand by my decision. We will be kept busy, but idle minds mean time wasted. If you hadn’t agreed on principle, I don’t believe you would have signed up right behind me. As for my extracurricular activities, pretending as though I am not stressed in the slightest about the prospect of the coming year is futile, but I hope to work through it and to become a better student as a result of it. My father has relented on training by Quidditch form. There are bigger things to worry about such as OWLS, which is why I’m to be locked in all summer. No complaints there- I’d much rather read.

Speaking of reading, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books you snuck into my trunk. Yes, I found them and they were quite a welcome surprise. A bit of relaxing education is just what the doctor ordered. Not literally, because I loathe visiting my family’s practitioner. He takes the term “witch doctor” to new levels and I will leave it at that.

You’ve always been far better at charming objects than I ever have. To be fair, I still don’t have a full understanding of what certain muggle objects actually do, but I’ve got most of the list marked off by this point. While I promise not to report you for deliberate rule breaking, I do admire your gumption. I hope you’ll one day let me see what you’ve crafted. You know I adore learning the novelties of the muggle world. I believe last we spoke, you were telling me about ‘computers’.

As always, I’d love to know more. You have a manner of speaking that simply can’t go unnoticed, at least not to me.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Fifth Year- Winter

Dear Satine,

I apologize if this owl reaches you at an indecent hour. I know how you are about your beauty sleep. It’s been strange being back home, even if for a couple of weeks. It’s only made me realize just how unreal this year has been in terms of excitement and mystery. Though I do not blame the boy for any of it, I won’t lie that it was a much quieter school without Anakin Skywalker present. I wouldn’t change any of it, of course. I believe I am making a difference in working with him. He has a bright mind, if he chooses to use it.

I still can’t get the vision of him foaming at the mouth on the floor out of my head. There’s no doubt that someone has it in for him. I can only imagine who. While eccentric, Anakin is still just a child. He’s harmless.

At risk of drastically changing the subject- my true reason for writing was to thank you again for the watch. My parents have ingrained in me the importance of writing thank you notes regardless of the nature of the gift. However, this might be the first time the sentiment has felt important in action. It may sound ungrateful, but a boy can only receive so many tie clips before he starts to sound a bit robotic in his delivery.

However, please note that every word I say, I mean through my very bones. I hope you didn’t take my silence at receiving it to be anything less than breathlessness. You always keep me guessing, Satine Kryze, and I would have you no different. I am still in awe every time I catch a gander at my wrist.

You did a marvelous job in transfixing and refurbishing it. Seriously, it is of no wonder that Charms comes easier to you than it does to me. Had I not known otherwise; I would have assumed this watch was always crafted with the intention of being magical. Even if it were just a standard watch, it would still have meant more to me than anything I’ve received simply because it came from you. My friend. I’m not sure I deserve it.

I suppose I’ve no excuse for fear of being late any longer, now do I?

It’s never coming off!

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

I’m no longer, by any means, insinuating that the boy is trouble. Or more accurately, I don’t believe he’s cognizant of these omens. What concerns me, is Qui-Gon seems to believe that a dark time is upon us. He won’t share his suspicions outright, but I can tell just by how he talks to Anakin with a certain level of wonder and curiosity. Surely, you see it too.

Even still, I say, when school starts up, we try and start our own investigation- off the books and away from Anakin, of course. We needn’t worry him more than he already is. Perhaps while Gryffindor has the field for Quidditch practice we can better research. There’s been too many strange occurrences this year for it to all be coincidental. I’d argue this is the tipping point.

We can further discuss a game plan back at school, but at risk of hurting feelings and potentially endangering lives, we should keep this between us.

I am, however, glad to hear you enjoyed the watch ♥

Yours,

Satine

Sixth Year- Summer

Dear Satine,

I received my OWLS results today as I’m sure you did the same. I wanted you to hear from me, personally, that I am, in fact, alive and well despite what I received as scores. I’m surprised at how alive and how well, quite actually.

For some context- I received all O’s in everything… With the exception of Arithmancy- of which I got an E. I’m not positive where exactly I went wrong in studying for it. I don’t recall the exam being particularly difficult. It’s never been a prized subject of mine as you well know, but I’ve always delivered nothing less than near-perfect marks.

My parents took the news surprisingly well. As opposed to blaming me for slacking off or being distracted by frivolous things such as friends… They were in support of me. In fact, they’re positive that the school is deliberately discriminating against me. I think it might have to do with the recent revelation regarding Anakin being the chosen one. They’ve been much kinder to me and the choices I’ve made as a result of my association with him. Where they believed I was wasting my time, I apparently “saw” what they couldn’t- even if my decision to mentor Anakin had absolutely nothing to do with the matter.

I still have not yet mentioned my pursuit of becoming an Auror. You have to space this kind of news out when you can. They’ve supported me on this, but I’m not sure they’d take that in stride. My parents have been itching to have me become a lawyer or a politician for as long as I can remember.

How were your scores? I’m sure you did brilliantly. I should know, I studied alongside you during all of this madness. I’m eager to properly celebrate with you when we next meet. My mother asked me where I’d gotten the watch the other day and I exclaimed that the brightest witch of my age crafted it for me personally… She assumed it was Ventress, but you’ve always thrived in the chaos of being underestimated, now haven’t you? I will never make that mistake.

Truly,

Ben

Dear Ben,

Don’t you ever scare me with such a dramatic introduction ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, assuming you’d gone and failed your OWLS in a fit of insanity. Given how unusual our fifth year was, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it had another anomaly to toss our way. I thought I was going to have to portkey to you and shake the living daylights out of you for being so foolish.

You landed on your feet, as you always do and seem to make it look incredibly easy to those that do not know any better. We’re matching, actually, except my E was in DADA- likely during the practical session when I wouldn’t cast that Sectumsempra spell. To have us perform such an act on a defenseless animal is cruel (even if it was a spider), particularly in the name of ‘testing’. If they must endorse the epidemic of violence, can they not simply provide test dummies?

I’m actually surprised I scored that high, since the instructor looked at me like I had ten heads. I spoke to Cody today. He passed, despite how hard he doubted himself. We both knew that he would do fine, of course.

Ventress has been around a lot more frequently, hasn’t she? I know that she’s been quite displaced ever since Dooku’s outing. She’s quite smug and entitled for someone who hardly does anything aside from being an errand girl to a Sith terror. I’m sure she’ll be continuing her tricks this year. To think your family thinks you could be as shrewd and awful as her.

How is Anakin this summer? I contemplated sending him an owl just to see how he was processing the more recent revelations, but it would most likely sound more from the heart if it came from you. You were truly excellent with him this year, if I hadn’t already mentioned it. I know I convinced you to break away from the status quo and lean into your desires to become an auror, but you’ve got a real knack for teaching and seeing the best in people. It’s truly one of your best traits. That, and the fact that regardless how much of a mess you are, you always manage to look pristine from head to toe.

Actually, that last bit is borderline infuriating. I hope to see you before the summer lets out. I understand why that might be difficult, but it seems with your parents’ investment in Anakin, you might have a valid reason to be away from the homestead more often. If you understand what I’m saying.

Best,

Satine

Sixth Year- Winter

{A draft from the desk of Obi-Wan Kenobi}

[Boldened text in parenthesis] = out loud thoughts

Dear Satine,

How do I say this without sounding like a damn fool? You kissed me!

It’s been brought to my attention by literally everyone that we have a certain noticeable chemistry. [Why am I saying what everyone else thinks when I should be saying what I think?] Usually, when we are together, we argue. A lot. Sometimes, I’m surprised we haven’t strangled each other yet by how heated some of our debates become. You have this ability to get under my skin in a way that no one else possesses. Truthfully, I love [Too strong! Don’t go scaring her off now] truly appreciate that about you.

But there are times when I get this feeling… And it’s come on more and more the longer I know you… Like we could get beyond the possible strangulation phase and onto something… Better. [What is wrong with me?] You challenge me and I think sometimes I’m able to challenge you as well. I think having people in your life that push you to be the best you can be is a sign of true companionship friendship. You’ve become a constant in my life that I wouldn’t shake even if I could. Looking back, it’s only natural for me to grow feelings for you.

Where I tried to convince myself those feelings were simply an intense comradery, I cannot deny that I do not notice how the light casts on Cody’s hair or linger on him as he walks away [Blast that makes me sound like a pervert] wonder what his hand would feel like in mine. My heart doesn’t quicken if Cody touches my shoulder or laughs at one of my jokes. Cody doesn’t sit incredibly close to me at the dining hall, but if he did, I would be more confused than completely entranced. Cody is my other best friend, but my entire day is not made or broken by seeing him smile.

I wouldn’t be jealous if the seventh year boys decided to notice that Cody was beautiful.

And you are disarmingly beautiful, but I’ve always known that, even if I try to ignore it.

You can imagine how terrifying all of this is to realize at the remarkable hour of 3 in the morning- a mere 3 hours after you decided to kiss me under the mistletoe. How am I supposed to think of anything else now or ever again? Which leads me to think [Don’t be presumptuous] wonder… If you share these feelings. And if you do, we’ve got quite a predicament there. Because if I could blissfully convinced myself that we could never be, I’d be able to bury that deep within me, but even the idea of hope that you could see me in that light… I fear that would be all too tempting. The evidence says that you might. You’ve always been a better investigator than myself, but I can’t shake this feeling that we have these spellbound moments where everything slows down. And it’s just you and me. During those moments, everything is alright.

Usually, when I’m troubled as I am now, I do not hesitate to reach out to you. You’re my co-conspirator, my fellow prefect, my best friend. However, given the situation, that’s not very easy to do. Even if Qui-Gon speaks of it like it is . I wish it were, because now all I can imagine is the mark you’ve left with your kiss. It’s the same sort of feeling I get every time I touch the face of the watch you gifted me last year.

Should I ever muster up the courage to send this letter to you, which I definitely shouldn’t, because you deserve the sort of man that would bare his heart in person, please understand that while I’ve dedicated my life to studying magical text, I’m not nearly as well-versed in the subject of love. Since I’m so certain you’ll never read this, there’s no point in denying that it’s anything less than love.

Love,

Ben

Seventh Year- Summer

Dear Ben,

I wanted to ensure that you were on the road of being okay, all things considering. I tried to wait to give you space, but I couldn’t make it more than a week without knowing you weren’t going mad locked up in that house of yours. I’m not even positive you’ll write me back, which is infuriating, but understanding since Qui-Gon’s passing is not one to be taken lightly by anyone, but especially you. I wish I could alleviate the pain you must be feeling in any way.

I’m relieved just a little bit, knowing that Anakin is in your care. It was very surprising of your parents to offer him refuge, as he’s currently got no one else to possibly lean on. Hopefully the two of you can find some solace in each other during these difficult times. I care for both of you very much and my heart aches knowing I am virtually helpless in making this any better. I know you are likely placing an immense amount of pressure on yourself to distract you from addressing your own mentor’s death, but while your parents might encourage this behavior, it’s not a true way of coping. You need to let someone in.

Stay safe. Do not hesitate to reach out (no matter how cliché that sounds). Even if you talk to Cody instead, that’s fine. Just… Don’t lock yourself in that head of yours and go rogue. I’d miss you far too much.

With Love,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I’m not okay, but I’ll have to be soon. Anakin is safe and on the same boat. I’ll write later with a real reply. I’m not quite in the spirit right now. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t gone completely mad in absence.

~Obi-Wan

Dear Satine,

I’m sorry to be writing to you so late in “true” reply. I’ve been quite busy with Anakin this summer. It has been helpful having someone else around. While a gray cloud still seems to follow him around, I’d say he’s faring better than expected. It’s alarming how resilient the boy is, but also incredibly depressing that it needs to be that way. We’ve discussed the matter of Qui-Gon’s death a couple of times. While you won’t like this, I think there is some closure to knowing that Anakin’s attacker, who became Qui-Gon’s murderer, is dead.

Meanwhile, I must confess that it still haunts me every night. I haven’t said anything to Anakin, because like you rightfully assumed, I’m not about to unload that burden onto him. He feels it’s his fault just as much as I do. We’ve taken to playing Quidditch outside. My family owns several acres of land, so we are able to get out of earshot every now and then. Anakin actually gets on quite nicely with my parents, which is a massive relief. Getting back to school for our final year will be a good way to get back into routine. On the other hand, I’m dreading trying to attempt adjusting to a school without Qui-Gon.

I suppose studying my brains out for the NEWTS alongside you will provide for ample distraction. You, alone, are admittedly very distracting. I am referring to your character of course. A general statement.

There’s always Quidditch, unfortunately, which isn’t nearly as fun and carefree as playing with Anakin in the yard. Despite how massively competitive he is? He’s just turned 13 and he’s loads better than me already. I still hate the flying aspect.

I’m writing you, of course, because we just got notified that I’m to be the Head Boy to your Head Girl. This incredibly tragic time has truly made me appreciate the people I have in my life. You are, without a doubt, shining at the top of that metaphorical list in bold and underlined print. I wouldn’t be Head Boy had it not been for you.

A lot has changed thus far, Satine, and I’m growing tired of being afraid. Life is too short and it’s always going to throw negatives at us- some that are absolutely debilitating. However, there is always the light, which has made me think that perhaps this year, some changes don’t have to be bad. There are many things I’d like to discuss with you, in person. Because this sort of conversation should be the kind that happens face-to-face.

Would you like to meet before school?

Truly Yours,

Ben

#obitine #Obi-Wan Kenobi #satine kryze #the clone wars #star wars #hpau #magical forces au #fragments of the garden

5 notes · View notes

whenihaveyouromione · 4 years ago

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 24

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account whenihaveyou.romione

A/N: The wiggentree is believed to protect from dark magical creatures, which I thought fit perfectly in an office that — despite Hermione’s efforts — are not yet accustomed to treating creatures as equals. I thought it was ironic and fitting for this chapter.

---------

Chapter 24

“Are you sure you don’t want to take this mission?” Harry asked, waving the sign up sheet in front of Ron. “It’ll be the easiest one, because there’ll be no one about to cause too much trouble.”

“Not likely,” Ron said, pushing the sheet away. “I’ll wait for the one that comes after Christmas. I’d much rather spend Christmas at the Burrow, and with Hermione, than in some run down inn in the middle of who knows where. Ginny won’t be happy when she finds out you’ve signed up to be away for Christmas, by the way.”

“Ginny will be away for Christmas,” Harry said. “Which is why I thought I’d do it.”

“Where will Ginny be?” Ron asked, surprised, as that was the first he’d heard of it.

“Training,” Harry said, shrugging. “Apparently all the new Harpies recruits are being put to the test over the Christmas break. She couldn’t even get the day off to Apparate home.”

“Huh,” Ron said, “life of a professional Quidditch player.”

“So it seems,” Harry said. “Though, thankfully, not quite professional yet.”

Ron, who had felt mildly put out when Ginny had told him she’d been offered a spot in the squad of the Holyhead Harpies, had taken some time to get used to the idea of his sister potentially becoming a professional Quidditch player in the next few months. He was proud of her, of course, but also, he wouldn’t have minded such a job — though, in reality, if he couldn’t perform well in front of the Hogwarts students, he doubted a larger crowd of fans would be any better.

But being in the team had come at a price of being forced to stay in Holyhead more than she could be at home. Sometimes, she’d be away for a week at a time, a fate which Ron sympathised with Harry over from when Hermione had gone to Australia.

“She’s home tonight, though?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, for the next few days,” Harry said. “Then she’s gone again.”

“Honestly, I thought that if Ginny wasn’t going to be home, you might want to spend some time with Teddy — and Andromeda. Mum would still love to have you, too, you know.”

Harry grimaced.

“Yeah… I’ll be seeing Teddy a little before Christmas. Spending a day with him… on my own this time. Completely on my own.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ron said. “He loves you.”

Harry laughed. “I wouldn’t say that, but it’s getting easier each time.”

“Except for the time he completely destroyed your living room, right?”

On one of the times Teddy had visited Harry — the now walking and running small child had gotten into everything that was in the Grimmauld place sitting room. He’d tore out books from bookshelves and ripped up some pages, knocked off empty vases and pulled down the few photos Harry had put up. Ron, who’d witnessed the event, had called Teddy a terror. Hermione had said it was normal for that age.

Harry shook his head at the memory. He’d had all visits with Teddy under the supervision of Andromeda since then.

Ron nodded. “Well, speaking of homes, I better go and drag Hermione from the office to make sure she actually leaves it today. Did you know she didn’t get home until one this morning? Apparently she was working so intently on one of these laws she’s been tasked to write that she lost track of time. She’s not eating properly either, forgoing meals to continue working.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “Well, that’s Hermione, isn’t it? Prioritising work above all else. Do you not remember exam time?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, “but she’s going to wear herself out if she keeps going. We haven’t had a proper conversation in about a week, because she gets home, goes straight to bed, then gets up at a ridiculous hour to head back in. Then, she skips her lunch breaks. She’s mad.”

Harry smiled. “Ah well, good luck tonight then. See you on Monday. Hopefully Hermione has a good rest over the weekend.”

“Ha!” Ron said. “Try telling her that.”

He gave Harry another wave, who’d just finished packing up his own stuff, and headed down the corridor from the Auror office.

The first missions for the trainees were coming up — experiencing time away, on a job. It wasn’t a planned job, and they didn’t yet know where they’d be going, as the Aurors were hoping something would eventuate in that time frame.

There would be one over Christmas (good character building, they said, for when they actually become Aurors and get unexpectedly called away from their loved ones) or one just after New Years.

Ron had chosen the one after New Years, with Neville, while Harry had elected for the Christmas one. He was mad, Ron reasoned. Who would willingly go away for Christmas?

He reached the lift, and instead of going to the atrium and to the fireplaces, he went to the level that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was on. Most people headed in the opposite direction to him, with it being slightly after five and keen to get home. But Ron knew that he’d find Hermione hunched over at her desk still, scribbling away at the SPEW law she was working on.

Honestly, he didn’t know why she needed to do so much work for it. She had done much of the research back in her fourth year, but apparently much more than her fifteen year old had managed now needed to be done. Apparently, the long term goal was to banish house-elf enslavement altogether, but for the time being, the law was to have better control over the families house-elves were assigned to. And in the case of generational ownership, she sought to abolish that immediately.

Since August, when she’d started her job, Ron had spent countless evenings listening to her talk about it over dinner, and weekends sitting with her as she pored over books to gather her information. He’d been keen to begin with, but the novelty of it had soon worn off — especially when his own workload increased as he reached the halfway point of his second year of training.

Now, he just wanted her to come home and eat something with him — or, as things currently were, eat anything at all.

He pushed open the Magical Being office, unsurprised to see most desks empty. But over in the corner, by a wiggentree (the irony, Ron thought with a smile), sat Hermione. She didn’t even look up as Ron approached, but continued to scribble on a lengthy roll of parchment, her hand darting backwards and forwards quickly.

“Hey,” Ron said, drawing up a chair to sit opposite her. “It’s past five. You’ve got to come home.”

“I’ve just got to finish this,” Hermione said, not looking up from her work. “You can go. I may be a while.”

“Yeah, you said that last night,” Ron said, “and remind me again when you got home.”

“I lost track of time,” Hermione told him absently. She paused, her brows knitting together for a moment, and then started writing again, just as quick as before.

“Did you eat today?” Ron asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“So, no.”

“I’m far too busy. The workload is increasing each day. But I promise that once I get home, I’ll eat enough to make up for the meals I skipped today.” She paused, still not looking at him. “You can go,” she said again.

“Nope,” Ron said, “I won’t leave until you’re done, which is now.” He removed the quill from her grasp, but she’d not been expecting it, and the ink dragged across her page, leaving a smear across her freshly written notes.

“Ron!” Hermione cried, taking out her wand to remove the smudge. “Can you not do that?” She snatched the quill back, finally looking up at him.

“I want you to come home,” Ron said, a little defensive now. “You can’t stay here all night again. It isn’t healthy.”

“I’ve got so much to do, and it won’t get done —”

“You’re always going to have work to do,” Ron told her as she returned her gaze to the parchment. “And you’re the most organised person I know, so if I can balance my workload each day, then you can, too.”

“Yes, but I have far more than you do, Ron. You’re just a trainee, so you have the qualified —”

“Just a trainee?” Ron asked, a pang of something unpleasant creeping up on him now. “Is that how you see what I do, is it?”

Sighing, Hermione placed her quill down and looked up. She looked so tired, a little stressed — Ron had a feeling that not all of it was caused by her work.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, though she didn’t sound all that apologetic. “I just meant… well, an Auror — qualified or in training — is a lot more physical. You do more hands-on things, you’re out and about, so you’re not going to have as much desk work to do. It’s the nature of the job.”

Ron stared at her for a moment, not quite sure he was hearing what she was saying. It wasn’t even what she was saying, but how. She spoke as if what she was doing was far more important — something that had never happened before. She’d always encouraged him, supported him in his journey to become an Auror.

“An Auror is one of the most skilled positions in the magical world —”

“Ron, I know that —”

“Some didn’t even make it to the second year of training —”

“Ron, I didn’t mean… listen, I’m just really tired, and I really need to get this done. Can you just… leave me alone so I can finish it? I’ll be home as soon as I do, but the longer you’re here, the less I get finished.”

“Last week you were asking for my help,” Ron told her, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

Hermione said nothing. For a moment, they looked at each other, then another moment later, Hermione looked back down at her work.

Ron waited a little longer, watching from the other side of her desk, but it became clear very quickly that she had no intention in having a change of heart.

Annoyed, upset, and a little angry, Ron jumped to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He watched her for a moment longer before saying, “I’ll see you at home, then. Whenever that will be.”

He marched to the door, but just as he went to swing it open, the magically coloured work timetable that appeared in every office, caught his eye. As they drew to the end of October, offices were beginning to plan for the holiday period.

He paused, reading through the timetable. “I see you’re working Christmas,” he said, not at all kindly.

Hermione gave a start, apparently having not realised he was still there.

“Oh, yes… they needed someone for a few hours in the evening. I said I could do it.”

Ron glared at the timetable for another moment, and then without a word to Hermione, he left. He didn’t go to the atrium, though, but returned to the Auror office, which was now empty.

Locating the sign-up sheets for the missions pinned on the noticeboard, Ron erased his name from the New Years one with his wand and scribbled his name on the Christmas one instead.

If Hermione didn’t think it important enough to take the Christmas break off, then neither did he. If she thought working during a time they were supposed to spend together was a better option, then he’d do the same. He didn’t care. It was only Christmas.

But even as he left, this time definitely returning to the atrium, a feeling of regret began to creep over him. They’d fought last Christmas because of something very similar, and he’d vowed to make sure it never happened again. But they were two months away from their second Christmas together, and already he was consumed with bitterness.

And now he’d just signed the holidays away to boot.

8 notes · View notes

fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

Text

Oh So Many Years Ch. 8 - Carry On

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Confessions made and forgiveness gave.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 7

And after all's been said and done Who said it best, were you the one? Let's just forget, leave it behind And carry on

It was nearly two weeks till the first challenge and approximately a week and a half since Harry humiliated Hermione in the Great Hall. Hermione felt an overwhelming sickness as the first challenge grew nearer. She told herself not to worry, but she couldn’t help it. Worrying about Harry Potter’s well-being was second nature to her. Ronald, on the other hand, was the least of her priorities. In fact, she did her best to avoid the ginger boy as best she could, possessing no real desire to talk to him. Not until he sorted out his attitude. But still he was constantly trying to talk to her – trying to get her to send Harry messages for him or just plain berating her for ignoring him. Luckily, avoidance was easy as she found herself buried with work and didn’t see any hope of free time until the coming Sunday. Her work, it seemed, had increased even more as the teachers prepared them for their O.W.L.s the coming year. That, added with her increased research into magical creature rights and all the previous Triwizard Tournament challenges, made Hermione an incredibly busy young woman.

Hermione made her way through the aisles of the library only to see, much to her annoyance, Viktor Krum seated at her table. Again. It seemed he was making a habit of always being in her way, and while she had been polite about it initially, Hermione had reached her limit. Marching up to the table, she waited for him to notice her presence. However, the large and looming boy never so much as looked up from his book. After a few more moments, Hermione finally cleared her throat. Much to her relief, the sound caught his ear and Krum turned his head, looking up at her with a questioning and unwavering gaze. Reaching deep within herself, Hermione mustered up all her courage and finally spoke.

“You’re um…you’re in my seat.” Internally she cheered with relief that her voice sounded clear and confident. Krum narrowed his eyes and looked around at the table.

“I see no name,” he replied simply.

“Yes, but you see I’ve been here for four years. I’ve always sat here. No one else sits here,” Hermione explained.

“I am sitting here,” Krum stated challengingly. He really has a way with words, Hermione thought to herself hotly.

“I can see that, and you’ve been sitting here for the past week. It’s been quite the disturbance to my study routine. There are many desks in the library in which you can stake your claim and make your seat but as it has been established, this is my seat and I would very much like it back.” Hermione knew as the words left her mouth that she must sound like an insufferable berk, but as it were, she had been under a fair amount of stress lately and she longed for something familiar. Krum stared at her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before standing.

“I like you. You are strong. You stand up for what you want.” With that the Bulgarian boy picked up his book and stepped aside with a slight bow.

“Your seat,” he stated formally before straightening and disappearing into the rows of books.

“Thank you,” said Hermione completely in shock that her plan had worked.

Letting out a great sigh of relief, she sat down and opened her Charms book. She had only made it two chapters when Frederick Weasley sat down in the seat next to her. She should have known he would find her eventually. Not a day went by that Fred or George, or Fred and George found her somewhere. Whether it was the Great Hall, the common room, the grounds, Hagrid’s hut, or in this case, the library, she always seemed to run into them whether she intended it or not. While the pair were much more engaging that she had previously thought, and while she did enjoy their company, she very quickly realized it was nearly impossible to get any work done with them around. Determined not to break her current study flow, Hermione ignored his presence and hoped he would take out a book and perhaps study himself for once instead of distracting her. For the first few minutes and much to her surprise, it appeared he would do just that. But then the pen tapping began, followed by the popping of his lips, and when neither of those pulled her attention he simply stared at her intensely. The feeling of his gaze locked onto the side of her face was too much to bear.

“What do you want Frederick?” she asked tiredly.

“I didn’t see you at any of the meals today.”

“I’ve been busy. Similar to how I’m busy right now. So, unless you would like to sit and silently work with me, I’m afraid you’ll have to go somewhere else for entertainment today. I have too much work to do.”

“Fine. I’ll work,” said Fred plainly, taking out a notebook riddled with scribbles and drawings. If those were his class notes it was no wonder he and George hadn’t gotten many O.W.L.s, thought Hermione. They were worse than Ron and Harry’s!

Hermione shook her head and returned to her textbook, feeling relieved but a tad skeptical. Never would she imagine Frederick Weasley rolling over in defeat so easily. It was almost disappointing. She found she rather liked Fred and George’s challenging nature. They provided a surprisingly intellectually stimulating conversation. It was refreshing to talk about something other than quidditch, classes, and impending doom. Going back to her chapter on the theory of simple summoning charms, Hermione jotted down notes at the more mentionable and important things to remember. Just as she finished a section on counteractive Fred began mumbling to himself. Hermione glanced up through her lashes at the boy in curiosity and watched as he scribbled something down into his notebook, paused, read over it chewing thumb, mumbled to himself, and then scratched it out. Obviously, the notebook couldn’t be for a class. A diary perhaps? But then, why would he be crossing things out? she pondered. He repeated the cycle – write, pause, chew, mumble, scratch – at least five times before Hermione’s patience ran thin.

“What are you working on?”

“Do you mind, Granger? I’m trying to work. And I have much too much work to do to chit chat with you today. Please find your entertainment elsewhere, thank you,” Fred responded indignantly, lifting his nose into the air. Hermione knew when she was being mocked. Most of the time it set a fire under her seat, but in that moment the most she could muster was a good-natured shake of her head. So, she put her nose back into her book and continued to work. She didn’t make it very far before Fred was mumbling and writing and mumbling and scratching furiously once again.

“Okay, you have to tell me what you’re working on that has you so frustrated. It’s driving me absolutely mad.” Hermione shut her book and stood, rounding the corner of the table towards Fred. Fred closed his notebook and held it behind his back before she could come within a foot of him.

“I don’t have to do anything,” said Fred wiggling his eyebrows playfully at her. Taking it as a challenge, Hermione lunged for the notebook, missing it by an inch as Fred swiped it out of her reach and stood, raising it high above his head.

“Frederick Weasley that is entirely unfair,” Hermione whispered, annoyance laced in her voice as she jumped for the notebook, barely reaching his elbow.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re short.” Fred let out a fake yawn as Hermione continued to try and reach the notebook.

“I am not short! You are simply too tall!” Hermione exclaimed, reaching her breaking point.

“Miss Granger, shouting in the library is prohibited. Five points from Gryffindor and you two can see yourselves out for the day,” whispered Madame Pince harshly from behind her desk.

Hermione stood horrified, staring at Madame Pince. A gentle puff of warm breath fell on her ear as Fred leaned down and whispered, “Did you see the amount of spit that flew out of her mouth when she said ‘points’? Absolutely ghastly.”

Hermione fought to hold in her giggles at Fred’s comment. She barely had enough time to gather her things and leave the library, tall red head in tow, before the two of them doubled over in laughter.

“I can’t believe you got me kicked out of the library!” Hermione scolded once she caught her breath.

“I think you did that all on your own Granger. I was just sitting there minding my own business and you attacked me!”

“Attacked you? You know very well what you were doing Frederick.” She stuck her tongue out at him as they walked down the hall, not at all embarrassed for being childish.

“Careful what you do with that tongue Granger.” Fred winked and Hermione immediately tucked her tongue back into her mouth. Her face heated in a furious blush.

“Well now I have no place to get my work done,” she said, changing the subject quickly. “I guess I can try and make do with the common room…” Hermione pondered the possibility of trying to find a quiet corner where she wouldn’t be bothered by Ron when Fred grabbed her arm and started pulling her down a side corridor.

“Where—?”

“You’ll see,” Fred cut her off. With dizzying twists and turns, Fred pulled her along until finally they were in a part of the castle Hermione did not recognize. They continued further, down corridors and around corners, until they were inside an abandoned classroom. It was relatively small, looking to only have space for no more than fifteen people squished together. On one side, sat a good-sized table and a few comfortable looking armchairs. On the other side of the room was a workbench with a single cauldron and a hodgepodge of potions ingredients and empty vials.

“Ta-da! Do you like it?” Fred asked looking around proudly.

Hermione observed the cobwebs in the corners and layers of dust covering most of the furniture and frowned. “It could use a bit of cleaning up, don’t you think?”

Fred blushed, his ears turning a light shade of pink, and walked over to the workbench. “Well, you know. George and I aren’t much for housekeeping I guess,” said Fred sheepishly as he began to discretely move items around into a neat array. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt over her comment. It had been rude.

“Scourgify.” She flicked her wand, and slowly the dust and cobwebs began to vanish from sight as if an invisible maid had swept through in a fury. She looked back at Fred and smiled, hoping that her faux pas was forgiven. He smiled back.

“So why are we here?” Hermione asked.

“Well, you said you needed a place to work. George and I use this place to work on our inventions. It’s pretty quiet and no one really comes here, at least not for a very long time.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The castle is sure to have a number of old unused classrooms. I read that when Hogwarts was originally built, it was made to house twice as many students as it does now,” she commented, placing her heavy bag into an armchair.

Fred hummed in acknowledgement as he placed his notebook down onto the workbench and opened it to a specific page. Hermione walked over to his side hoping to finally get a glance at the pages, but Fred was too quick, closing it before her eyes could decode the lines and scribbles.

“Oh, come on Granger. You have to be better than that.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just show me!” Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.

Fred mirrored her, crossing his arms as well and responding in a haughty voice, “Because you want to see it.”

“But you owe me! You got me kicked out of the library!”

“Yes, and then I brought you here, Miss Ungrateful—” he leaned forward, looking down at her with an air of amusement “—If you want to see it so badly, then you’ll have to take it from me.”

Hermione scoffed. She knew Fred was just playing a power game. He wanted her to take the notebook. He probably didn’t even have anything written in it. He just wanted her to want it. Then he won. She must have stood there too long, glaring at him while her mind raced over what game he might be playing because he spoke again.

“Come on Granger, too afraid to take me on? Where’s your Gryffindor courage?”

Hermione bristled at the words. Suddenly her heart began to race, and she was no longer in the abandoned classroom, but instead a forest running for her life. Running to protect those around her.

“Granger? Hermione? ‘Mione?” Fred’s voice and a gentle hand on her shoulder, shook her back to the present. She looked up to see Fred staring at her with concern in his eyes. Hermione brushed his hand away and turned on her heel. A wetness ran down her cheeks and she realized, to her mortification, that she was crying. She needed to leave.

“You know what Frederick? I don’t have time for whatever little game you’re trying to play. You were the one that came into the library and you were the one that got us kicked out. I told you I was busy, but did you listen? No—” she was rambling now, she knew it “—instead, you dragged me all the way down here and wasted my time.”

She swung her book bag over her shoulder and stormed towards the door. If she were not mistaken, Fred’s voice called after her, but truthfully, she did not care. Her feet carried her towards the Gryffindor tower.

The next day Hermione still pondered over what happened in the abandoned classroom with Fred. Why had she reacted that way? It was true Fred used the same phrase she said to him that night in the forest but that wasn’t his fault. He certainly wasn’t using it to spite her. Besides, she was getting over it. She hadn’t had a nightmare in nearly two weeks. So why did it affect her so badly? No matter what the answer was, she knew she owed Fred an apology. It was going to be hard; She was still thoroughly embarrassed by her behavior and she would be lucky if Fred even forgave her. Still, she had to try.

She walked out of her double potions class and headed towards the Great Hall to look for Fred. Her stomach grumbled loudly, and she tried to occupy her mind with thoughts of dinner and pudding to quell her nerves. Turning the corner, Hermione noticed a commotion in the hall up ahead. She heard familiar voices and pushed her way to the front of the crowd to find Harry and Draco Malfoy toe to toe, wands raised. Hermione groaned. The last thing Harry needed right now was detention for dueling in the hallways. She watched an evil glint appear in Malfoy’s eyes and had a sinking realization. Without thinking, Hermione dropped her bag and leapt forward, pushing Harry aside as two voices rang out.

“Densaugeo!”

“Furnunculus!”

Hermione hit the ground hard. The cold stone floors scraped her hands as she blinked rapidly. A tangle of robes and curls, she sat up, amazed she was not stunned or incapacitated. In fact, she was completely fine. Her stomach dropped in despair – she hadn’t been quick enough. Malfoy’s spell hit Harry. However, her assumption was made all too soon as a tingling sensation began to fill her mouth. Working her jaw back and forth, she tried to make sense of what was happening. It wasn’t until she ran her tongue across her front teeth that she realized something was unusual about them. Her two front teeth seemed to be…bigger? Perhaps they had always been that size, she hoped desperately. Her hope was short lived. The tingling sensation appeared again and this time her front teeth noticeably increased in size, pushing down on her tongue as they elongated. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. The crowd around them murmured. She looked to Harry sitting next to her on the ground and he stared back at her in horror. A groan from nearby, pulled her attention to Goyle, sitting next to Malfoy, covered in large pus-filled boils. She felt the tingling again and this time, her teeth pushed past her bottom lip, making it impossible to close her mouth. Panic began to set in.

“What…is the meaning of this…?” The droning voice of Professor Snape cut through the crowd and Hermione thought she’d never been happier to hear the dull tone. She scrambled to her feet and ran to him, unable to speak but frantically pointing to her obviously growing teeth.

“What seems to be the…problem, Miss Granger?” he asked her with a bored expression. Hermione looked around the hall in a panic.

From somewhere in the crowd, the voice of Seamus Finnigan piped up, “Can’t you see? Her teeth are huge!”

Professor Snaped sneered down at her, his gaze scrutinizing and unforgiving. “I see no difference from their…usual appearance.”

His cruel words stung her deeply. She felt tears well in her eyes and fled the corridor, making her way to the hospital wing. Hermione had never been more embarrassed in her life.

Madame Pomfrey was undeniably kind when Hermione burst into the hospital wing, her teeth well past her waist at that point. The fix was surprisingly easy – just a quick counter-jinx and shrinking spell. Professor Snape could have done it easily if he didn’t find so much joy in her suffering. Madame Pomfrey had given her a hand mirror to hold as she carefully shrunk her front teeth back to normal size. In a moment of impulse and weakness, fueled by the lingering sting of Professor Snape’s words, Hermione allowed Madame Pomfrey to shrink her teeth past their normal size. Checking her smile in the hand mirror, she was struck by just how much of a difference the slight change in size made to her overall appearance. She’d like to see Professor Snape make fun of her teeth now.

“You’ve had a grueling day dear. Would you like to stay here for a while? I can have dinner brought up and you can head back to your dormitory once you’re finished,” Madame Pomfrey suggested, standing up and tucking her wand back into her robes. Hermione nodded and smiled with a sniff. She leaned back in the bed and went to reach for her bag when she realized she forgot it. Great, what was she supposed to do with her time now? A throat cleared from the entryway and Hermione sat up straight, looking to her left. It was Harry, holding her bag and looking like he regretted showing up at all. Cautiously he approached the bed and set her bag down on the floor next to it.

“I thought I’d bring you your bag,” Harry said lamely.

“Thank you.” Hermione looked down at her hands. They sat there, the silence deafening and uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry.”

“Harry, you don—”

“No—” Harry interrupted her “—I do. I messed up Hermione. You were just trying to be a good friend and-and I wasn’t being a very good friend back.”

Hermione could tell he was struggling to find the right words. Harry had never been particularly articulate.

“It’s okay Harry. I understand.”

“I was a right git though.”

“You were, yes. But like I said, I understand. I just hope we can put this behind us and be friends again?”

“I’d like that.”

Hermione leaned forward and pulled Harry down into a tight hug. After a few moments, they parted, laughing in relief as the tension between them melted away.

“I’m on my way to dinner. Do you want to come?” Harry asked her, standing up. She shook her head.

“Madame Pomfrey is having my dinner sent here. I think I’ll stay for a while and get some work done while I eat. I’ll see you in the common room later.” Hermione reached for her bag, pulling out her Charms book. Harry nodded, saying his goodbyes before exiting the hospital wing. She had only just opened her book when she heard the doors to the hospital wing swing open. Looking to the doors, she saw Frederick Weasley holding a tray of food.

Fred made his way down to the kitchens hoping to get a pre-dinner snack. He figured if his attempted apology to Hermione didn’t go well at dinner, he’d at least have something in his stomach when he was forced to leave the Great Hall to avoid being hexed. As he walked, he thought back to the situation that got him into this mess in the first place. It all started one night after a particularly heated debate over counter curses with Hermione at dinner. George had pulled Fred aside on their way to Gryffindor tower.

“Merlin Freddie! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That Granger was really as smart as they say? I thought that was pretty obvious mate.”

“Yeah. Now I finally understand your recent obsession with her.”

“For the last time, I’m not obsessed with Granger.”

“Whatever mate. Anyway, I knew she was smart, but I never knew how much of an asset she could be for our business!”

“Oh lovely, we’re basing people’s worth on their ability to contribute to our future now?”

“Shove off, I’m being serious! She might be able to fill in the blanks with some of the product ideas you’ve been stuck on.”

“I haven’t been stuck on them. Your ideas are just too bloody complex,” Fred defended himself.

“Freddie, no need to get your knickers in a twist. We both know you’re the brains—though I’d never admit that to anyone else. But you have to admit, things would go a bit smoother if we had a little help from the brightest witch of our age…” George goaded his brother.

“George, it’s brilliant but somehow I doubt she’d be quite keen on the idea of helping us. What makes you think she’d even agree to breaking rules and getting into trouble?” Fred raised an eyebrow, interested in what scheme his brother had concocted this time.

“I’m not saying we go up to her and say, ‘Oi, Granger, fancy breaking some rules, eh?’. I’m just saying, if she happens to take an intellectual interest in what we’re doing then…all the better.”

Fred let the idea marinate in his brain. It was quite brilliant really, but there was one small flaw. “Alright. How do you plan on getting her to volunteer her brainy services?” he asked, looking around to make sure the bushy-haired fourth year wasn’t nearby.

“Well…that’s where you come in.”

“Why do I have to do it? Why can’t you get her to help?”

“She likes you better.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Sure.”

“She doesn’t! You and she get along better.”

“We get along just fine, but she likes you better.”

“You’re mental mate.”

“Sure. Either way, you’re doing it.”

Fred fumed at the inevitable but couldn’t stay angry for long. Not when George’s words kept repeating in his head. Did Hermione truly like him better? Sure, he’d shared a few more moments with her that year than George, but that didn’t mean she liked him better. If anything, they argued more than she and George did. She always had something to say and he could never keep his opinion to himself either. Perhaps they were more similar than he thought. Maybe with the right influence—his and George’s influence – they could mold her into their own, personal mad genius.

“Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t blame me if she doesn’t agree,” said Fred before turning and heading towards Gryffindor tower.

“Oh brother, you really do underestimate your skills.”

“I don’t underestimate my skills Georgie. I underestimate your harebrained ideas.”

Fred put off the attempt to trick Hermione into volunteering her services for a few days. It wasn’t until George threatened to slip Ton-Tongue Toffee into his morning pumpkin juice if he didn’t get a move on, that he started planning how he’d do it. The plan seemed solid, except for Fred’s one small flaw. He never knew when to stop. He just had to give her one more push. Now he just hoped she’d forgive him.

He entered the kitchens, greeting the elves that bowed at his presence. He reached for a meat pie when he noticed Marby, a house elf he was familiar with, placing some stew on a tray.

“Hullo Marby,” he greeted the house elf.

“Hullo Master Weasley!” Marby responded enthusiastically, placing a treacle tart and a cup of pumpkin juice down on the tray.

“Who’s that for?” Fred asked curiously, biting into the meat pie.

“It’s for a Miss Granger, Master Weasley. Madame Pomfrey told Marby specifically to brings it to her!” Marby stated proudly.

Fred choked on his pie. “Madame Pomfrey? Hermione’s in the hospital wing?”

Marby nodded.

“Do you know what for?” He placed his pie down on the nearest counter.

“Marby does not know Master Weasley. Marby only knows to brings the food.”

Fred chewed his thumb. “She likes pumpkin pasties better.”

Marby nodded again and switched the treacle tart for a nearby pasty. She took hold of the tray and made to apparate, but before she could Fred spoke again, “Marby, do you mind if I go with you?”

“Not at all Master Weasley!” She took hold of Fred’s pant leg and suddenly Fred was being pulled by his navel in a sickening spin. They landed with a snap outside the hospital wing and Fred had to take a few deep breaths to keep from puking up the meat pie in his stomach. So that’s apparating, he thought in wonder. While nauseating at first, the rush from it was enough to excite him for his apparition lessons the coming semester. Marby took a step towards the door to go in, but Fred stopped her.

“It’s okay Marby, I’ve got it. I’ll let Hermione know that you made it especially for her.” He took the tray from the small house elf.

“Thank you Master Weasley!” she squeaked before disappearing with a loud crack.

With a deep breath, Fred pushed the heavy doors open and saw Hermione lying on a nearby bed. Unsurprisingly, there was a book in her hands. When the doors shut behind him, the witch turned her head and looked at him in surprise.

“I was in the kitchens when one of the house elves mentioned you were in the hospital. I volunteered to bring you your food. You know, to make sure you weren’t dead or something,” Fred explained with a stiff laugh, walking towards her, and setting the tray on the side table next to her. He scanned her for a moment from head to toe. “Looks like you’ll live.”

His palms felt sweaty and his stomach felt nauseous as he looked over her, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“I’m fine, now. Rogue hex in the hallway.”

Fred winced. “What was it? Bat bogey? Jelly legs?”

“No. Nothing quite that bad, but Madame Pomfrey said I could stay here for a while if I wanted,” Hermione replied. She kept her gaze down, not looking at him. Great, she’s still mad, thought Fred. He sat there uncomfortable, trying to figure out where to start his apology when Hermione surprised him.

“I’m sorry,” she stated, closing her book, and putting it beside her. Fred eyed her, he was sure, with a stupid look on his face.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so upset with you, it’s just that—” Hermione hesitated “—I think I was more upset by what you said than what you did.” She let out a breath, making Fred realize that what she just admitted must have been hard for her to do. Unfortunately, he had no bloody clue what she was talking about.

“What I said?”

“Gryffindor courage?” She said it in such a way, Fred felt as though he should understand the meaning behind her words, but still he felt at a loss. Hermione sighed when he did not reply and placed her hands at her temple in frustration. “You know, the exact thing I said to you that night at the world cup?—” she inhaled deeply “—it’s just…I’ve been having these nightmares you see. Ever since the cup I’ve barely been able to sleep and I guess something about that phrase shook me.”

At her confession, Fred felt a pit open in the bottom of his stomach that he wished would swallow him whole. In truth, he had used the phrase with the world cup in mind. He thought it would get a rise out of her as it did him that night, but he had no idea she’d been dealing with the aftermath of that night still. He felt like a complete and utter arse. Ho was he supposed to fix this?

“Hermione…that night, in the forest, was the most scared I’ve ever been. But what you did was the most courageous thing I’ve ever seen too. Do you think I could have done what you did on my own? Absolutely not!” he exclaimed. She looked at him now, calmer but still wavering. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. You’re more badass than I could ever be. I was just as scared as you were that night, but you were all action. All I can do is…make stupid jokes afterwards and try to forget it all.” The words spilled past his lips, revealing more than he truly liked, but still they were true. He often turned things into jokes that would otherwise be troubling – to take the power it held away from it. He chewed the side of his thumb, thinking about how he probably should have been the one to voluntarily head into danger that night.

“Jokes aren’t all bad. Arguably better than my unhealthier coping mechanisms,” Hermione spoke up, a wry grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Like studying for terms that haven’t even started yet?” Fred suggested, suddenly flushed with the memory of Hermione’s constant studying since the world cup.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Hermione asked, her voice quiet now, barely above a whisper.

“I love secrets,” Fred whispered back, leaning in, and raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

“Ever since I started spending more time with you and George, the nightmares have gotten better. In fact, I don’t have them at all if you two are the last people I talk to before bed.”

Her confession stunned Fred more than any of her others. “Why do you suppose that is?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t really know. Maybe it’s all the light-hearted joking that gets my mind off it.”

The two shared a small smile before Fred swallowed thickly and reached into the pocket of his robes. “Right, well a secret for a secret I suppose—” from the confines of his pocket he pulled the notebook that started this whole mess “—my apology for being an insensitive git.” He placed the notebook on her lap and leaned back, realizing he had become quite close to the girl during their conversation. He practically hovered over her. Hermione took the notebook in her small hands, eyeing him through her lashes before opening it. Fred watched as she scanned the pages, her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes moving back and forth over the words.

“I’ve never seen these potions or spellwork before,” she said, looking at him suspiciously.

“That’s because George and I sort of invented them.” Fred scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

“You came up with these?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“Some of them, yeah. George has a better affinity for Charms work, while I do most of the potions. We both come up with the inventions, but George’s ideas tend to be a bit more extravagant. The more difficult an idea, the more work I usually end up doing. But I don’t mind. It’s like—”

“Solving a puzzle?” Hermione looked at him curiously.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Do they work?” Hermione asked, turning another page to what Fred could see as the ingredients and spell work for Ton-Tongue Toffee.

“Some of them do, like that one. Some of them not yet. We’re still stuck in research and development for most of our products.”

“I could help.”

“What?” Fred asked, caught off guard by her sudden proclamation of interest.

“I mean, only if you want.” Hermione’s cheeks went a slight pink hue under her freckles.

“Are you kidding?—” Fred smiled “—That’d be bloody amazing!”

“Well then, I look forward to working with you.” Hermione sat up straight, handing him his notebook, and taking on a business-like tone. She thrust her right hand out towards him, and Fred gripped it firmly in his, shaking it with exaggerated vigor.

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, Miss Granger.”

Chapter 9 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

#fremione #fanfic #fanfiction #fred x hermione #fred weasley #fred weasley x hermione granger #hermione granger #hermione #harry potter #friends to lovers #slow burn #mutual pining

25 notes · View notes

vtforpedro · 4 years ago

Text

First Line Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. tagged by @curiousartemis thank yoooou. oh boy here we go come rain or come shine (Steve/Bucky) Steve doesn’t know when he started sketching Bucky’s eyes. Maybe that time they were sitting in his bedroom and Steve was leaned back against the wall, his sketch pad on his bony knees, and Bucky was at the end of the bed. Arm on the windowsill, looking out into a hazy morning, smog covering the early sunshine. winter wonderland (Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench) Numbers doesn’t believe in fate, destiny or chance. He doesn’t believe that some things are just meant to be. Fates colliding, destinies intertwining, or, heaven forbid, God’s will. An odd coincidence here and there and being in the right place at the right time, sure, but not that there is anything in this world that’s ever up to a higher power’s influence. sweetheart like you (Credence Barebone/Percival Graves) Credence knows a lot of people. His work lends itself to meeting new people all the time, all over the world, from photographers to agents to makeup artists to fans. There are always new faces in his life, and Credence doesn’t remember most of them because he has a poor memory, but he does remember the people that stand out the most. emotionally yours (Credence/Graves) The summer of 1919 was one of Credence’s best. It was a mere six months after he’d finally escaped the clutches of his mother. He was finished with Ilvermorny and simply hadn’t gone back home but had gone to live with his friend in Upstate New York. love sick (Credence/Graves) If Credence is grateful for anything, he’s grateful for the summer months. He’s twenty-eight years old and working full time in a MACUSA-owned potions brewery. He brews rare potions and aids in research for experimental potions that one day might cure things such as lycanthropy or eradicate dragon pox, so it’s never seen in the world again. under your spell (Credence/Graves) Graves’ department doesn’t often get called in for magical animal activity, whether a death has been involved or not. There are other departments for it, and it’s unusual to get a request for aid from them. But after a third death Upstate in the Debar Mountain Wild Forest in as many days, for what is suspected human activity, the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures asks the Auror department to step in. While they suspect humans are killing witches and wizards, they have never seen anything like it before, only referring to it as werewolf-like but not done by werewolves. bound to lose, bound to win (Credence/Graves) There is no particular just like any other day in the Auror department in MACUSA. Each day can be drastically different than the one before it, from being stuck inside all day with paperwork and meetings, to planning and carrying out raids, to emergencies that take them out into the field unexpectedly. automaton (Credence/Graves) Percival Graves was born in the year 2287, son of a Congressman and robotics designer. His father, Silas Graves, was well known for his harsh politics in an already harsh political climate, in favor of more control over the people the way it used to be, rather than the free society they lived in now. let it be me (Credence/Graves) Credence has been acting since he was fourteen years old. His mother, once he’d hit a six inch growth spurt, decided his face was good enough to try out for commercials or small roles. can’t escape from you (Credence/Graves) Vampires. Credence has known very little else in his life. He vaguely remembers that his mother used to talk about witches when he was young, younger than seven or eight. He didn’t understand then, didn’t understand where witches were or why his mother despised them. maybe you’ll be there (Credence/Graves) It’s a cold day in Stranraer, grey clouds overhead, promising rain this evening. The smell of brine is strong here, as Graves stands on the edge of a pier, leaning against a wooden post and looking out over the sea. as i went out one morning (Credence/Graves) When Graves had been taken out of that hole in the ground, weak and malnourished, near death, he had thought life would never be the same for him. dear landlord (Credence/Graves) Credence has been living in the same apartment for the last three years now. He has two roommates, a couple, the same two who had been happy to have him come in when he was two years into his degree at NYU. The first six months with them had been fine besides some cleanliness issues, but it had all gone downhill after that. At a slow pace but downhill nonetheless, with random parties or smoking enough weed inside the apartment that he’d eventually had to threaten leaving because his clothes were starting to smell like it. Cleanliness also took a nose dive and when one of them lost their job, rent was harder to make every month. had a dream about you, baby (Credence/Graves) Credence is eight years old when he has the first dream. It’s a strange dream, where he appears on a grassy hillside, nothing but miles and miles of rolling hills and lakes laid out before him. There’s a towering oak tree nearby and he sits in its shade and looks at leaves on the ground. let’s stick together (Credence/Graves) Credence has lived in Manhattan for twenty-seven years and though it is the busiest, most populated city in the country, not much happens anymore these days to surprise him. simple twist of fate (Credence/Graves) Credence has known tough times in his life. Living under Ma’s rule until he was thirteen and called CPS himself one night, taken away and thrust into the foster care system without knowing what that really meant for him. see that my grave is kept clean (Credence/Graves) Graves leads a raid in mid-January. It’s bitter and cold, snow piled up over the property of a large manor. It looks abandoned but they’ve known for some time that it isn’t. a sunday kind of love (Credence/Graves) Credence sits in the sprawling cafeteria in MACUSA with a chicken salad sandwich, a cup of fresh fruit, and a glass of pomegranate juice. His hour-long lunch break has just started and he’s glad to get away from Mister Ibex’s office. He likes his boss just fine, but the closer it gets to Quidditch season, the more irate he gets about everyone doing their jobs wrong - except you, Credence, he always adds kindly - and he uses his lunch breaks to escape. nevertheless (i’m in love with you) (Credence/Graves) It’s a week before Halloween in Ilvermorny and the castle already has a colony of live bats living on the ceiling in the Great Hall. Their droppings are thankfully charmed to disappear through a barrier a few feet below them but Percy Graves finds them irritating when they start to fly around in cloud-like formations. ain’t no man righteous, no not one (Credence/Graves) Credence gets the message from a Patronus while he’s sitting in bed, reading a book, to come downstairs because there’s work for him. He watches the raven disappear from the end of his bed and sighs, in relief and resignation both. --- alright!!! so I’ve learned I have a bad habit of starting with one simple line of ~feeling or description~ that’ll be explained in the following paragraphs. but I doubt it’ll change my writing haha it was nice walking through these fics tho. they weren’t posted all that long ago but it gave me The Nostalgia™ kind of glad it wasn’t all just credence/graves tbh but it makes me laugh there’s no bilbs and his dratted dwarf considering I have more fics posted for them than anyone else! but I’m at 79 fics and working on my 80th fic to publish so, oh my god. never thought I’d post this much when I first started writing fic! I feel like I should celebrate or something my fave one has to be the second one, a Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench fic from Fargo season one c: hey you. if you’ve read this far, guess what? you’re officially tagged and I want to see your fics’ first lines pls and thank you c:

#vtforpedro writes #tag game #long post #going from what i know is a super fluffy fic to mcd to fluffy again gives me whiplash

5 notes · View notes

zoyamywife · 4 years ago

Text

(In a world where Dumbles got his ass in gear and killed Voly himself rather than letting teenagers do it. Let’s imagine Peter was caught for being a spy as well)

This is going to be long because I’m procrastinating revision

Lily and James have three, crazy children. Harry grows up being spoilt rotten by his godfather and is a sassy little shit. He’s kind like his mother and father and you bet he turned out to be the most generous person. He always had at least one or two people coming home with him in the summer because their families didn’t want them home.

The second child could have been Harry’s twin until she talked. Unlike her brother she was the most quiet and shy of all the Marauder children. Hazel spent most of her time with her godfather reading books to him when there was a bad moon that left him unable to open his eyes or just generally reading. She was the mastermind behind the pranks Harry pulled to honour his family and never got caught because unlike her brother ‘I have more than one brain cell and I noticed the teacher walking down the corridor’. She was in Slytherin and was loved by everyone because of it. Sirius introduced her to Andromeda her first Christmas home and they got on like a house on fire.

The final Potter child was a shock to the system. With only around a year between the first two Lily and James, in the words of Sirius ‘finally learned the right spells’. Will was a firecracker. The temper of his mother and with the brains to match. Unlike his mother, he had his father’s lack of self control that took them until the day he left for school to try to control. He was the Ravenclaw that always managed to trick the door into letting him in rather than working out the riddle. He played beater and spent hours practicing with his godmother Marlene in the garden (until they broke three windows and were banished to the woods). The one thing that always cheered him up was the cakes Dorcas made, he learned how to make them when he was older and was asked to make the cake for her wedding to Marlene.

Remus and Sirius decided they were going to adopt the twins when they went to meet Lily at St. Mungos after her work in the downstairs research lab finished and saw her sobbing in the lift. She told them of the mother and father who had died after they tried to catch a rouge wizard trying to create new unforgivables. James had caught the man but not before he killed the two, he carried their bodies and saw the photo of the girls in their robes. He’d told Moody and they found the children, waiting with their elderly grandmother anxiously. They couldn’t say no when they saw the hair of the two girls changing to bright yellow when they saw them. They were three at the time, the same age as Hazel yet they were so much different. As they grew so did their unique powers. Remus almost cried when he saw Nymphadora teaching Seren and Morgan how to change their noses. Sirius made sure they still saw their grandmother and that they knew who their parents were. He cried so hard when they called him dad and Remus tad. The Welsh language spoken by their grandmother and Remus slowly becoming part of Sirius’ vocabulary.

Seren was an angel who was always polite and conscience. Her and Hazel often shared books and became friends within moments of meeting. She kept her hair her ‘natural’ dark brown but often changed her eyes to match with whichever family member was taking her out. Morgan was the opposite to her twin. She was so much like Sirius it made Remus question whether she was really his. She was loud and happy, bending the rules but not breaking them. She was helped by her sister to never fully break them and adored her cousins. Her and Seren were inseparable until it came to quidditch. Seren had been convinced to join the Hufflepuff team and was their chaser while Morgan was the Gryffindor chaser.

Those children were happy. They grew up with loving parents and crazy aunts and uncles. They knew love and joy and knew if they got in trouble, they’d probably get a high five.

(Writing this made me consider writing it into a fic.)

3 notes · View notes

minervahopebeyond · 4 years ago

Text

Blood Petals.

Hello, everyone! I had so much fun writing this one!! I really hope you enjoy it as much as I did!!

Ps. I’m sorry if you find any errors (grammar or vocabulary)

Chapter 5: Chess and Quidditch.

The Order of The Phoenix started to do meetings as soon as summer began. For sometime after the department of mysteries they decided to lay low, the attacks were getting worst and Molly Weasley had stated that it made more sense to wait until the kids were done with the school year just for the logistics of it all. Then summer arrived and a lot of people started to come and go from Grimmauld Place all the time. Because of that, Draco quickly realized that he didn’t like Weasley’s mother. And it wasn’t because of the fact that she was a Weasley, shockingly enough, he had proof of that given that he had started to spend a lot of his time with Weasleys in general. The blond boy had actually classified all of the redheads according to the next categories: ‘could had been friends’ , ‘I don’t mind’ , ‘I don’t want them here’.

The Weasley twins were in the first category, it was mostly because they were funny as hell and Draco always thought that, even when they were at school; now they were starting their own business after dropping school: amazing. In the same category, even though it was weird as hell, was Weasley: they spent their time playing chess while the meeting took place and even if they didn’t talk much, Draco noticed that Weasley was awfully forgiving and kind; he felt it was a shame that he treated him as shit for so many years because he genuinely thought they could have been friends at some point if he had acted differently.

On the ‘I don’t mind’ was Arthur Weasley who he didn’t know much but the man was nice to everyone so.. Next in the category was Bill Weasley who Draco thought about putting him in the first one just because he was so good looking, but sadly enough the blond boy didn’t get to talk to him enough to place him in another category than ‘ I don’t mind’.

Ginevra was a curious case because he could place her in all three categories. He liked how witty she was and the whole ‘one of the boys’ vibe she had going on, she also reminded him of Pansy with how much of a bitch she was sometimes and Draco loved that too (and this were all things first category worthy). On the other hand, given the fact that she ignore his existence he would place her in the second one. However, if he only took into account the fact that Potter was spending all his bloody time playing quidditch with her, she would most likely be in the last category.

Molly Weasley was definitely in ‘I don’t want them here’ because of only one reason: she was very mean to Sirius. All the time. And what pissed off Draco the most is that she said mean shit as if they where just passing comments and not hurtful at all. Like ‘That’s because you don’t know what is like to raise a child, dear’ or ‘Harry needs actual bounderies’ or even ‘Harry if you feel uncomfortable here or just want to stay at the burrow you are obviously welcome’. He didn’t like it at all, he didn’t like the passive-aggressive tone she used, he didn’t like how she would just get inside the bloody kitchen to cook without asking for anyone’s permission and he absolutely didn’t like the way that Sirius would talk less at dinner if she was there. So no, he didn’t like Molly Weasley, sue him. And he was almost one-hundred percent sure that Mr. Potter didn’t like her either, because every time she said something shitty he would press his lips to a fine line and raise his eyebrows as if he was saying ‘well, look at the utter bullshit that woman just said’. Of course none of them said a word on the matter, they just made gestures of displeasure in silence.

Weeks were passing by rather quickly between him doing research about the stupid flower disease, flying in the gardens (because now he did have his broom) and the Order meetings. Draco mostly felt as good as ever,all the books he consulted said that this was one of the most painful diseases known to mankind but it didn’t feel like it. Although the thing he felt on the ribs did worried him.

The tickling feeling came and go constantly and every time it happened it was about the prat who lived. Sometimes it would be smooth tickles, mostly if Potter said something in a kind tone to Draco or even when they argued and the dark haired boy would take a sassy attitude... it also had happened when Potter had shook his hand so he guessed that he also would felt it if the boy shown any kind of physical affection (of course he couldn’t prove this because that was the only time that Potter had touched him). Although it was annoying, that kind of tickles, didn’t worry him so much; the ones that worried him were the ‘strong tickles’ as he called them.

The strong tickles were awful and he knew exactly when they happened. It wasn’t in different stuff like the soft ones, no, they would only occurred when he saw Potter with the She-Weasel. It was ridiculous because he heard that she was dating Thomas but he also remembered the awful poem that she did in second year and how she used to look at Potter in the hallways just like he did... Whenever he saw them laughing or flying outside, Draco would feel as if the inside of his ribs had been casted with a tickling charm. It didn’t even make him laugh, he just wanted to scratch himself until his skin hurt instead of the awful feeling he had. That eventful day was an ‘strong tickles’ day.

Weasley has the idea to take the chessboard outside because the summer heat was unbearable and Draco agreed. They were sitting in the garden table, just a few moves inside the game when Potter and Ginevra decided to play a seekers game. He tried to focus on the bloody board but the tickles had started and they were laughing so fucking loudly.

“Doesn’t it bother you that your git of a best friend is flirting with your little sister right in front of you?” He hissed at the redhead. It was a shitty comment to do, as far as Draco could tell Weasley hadn’t catch on in the ridiculous mating ritual that those two were doing. And maybe if they would just snogged it would be more bearable than seeing Potter smile around Grimmauld for two days straight because the She-Weasel made a joke. He saw Potter flying around her just because, with a very attractive smile on his face. The tickles got even worse.

“Ginny would hit me if I said something about them being too close.” He moved his knight “But I don’t like it, no.”

Draco took his bishop and made a small move. He wasn’t actually paying attention.

“Then why don’t you tell him? You are his friend, he should just know.” Weasley smiled at The blond boy and shook his head.

“It’s okay, your little ferret brain should only be concerned in finding your whatever thing.”

Yeah, but that was the problem wasn’t it? He didn’t need to look for it. His thing, his cure was right there and it didn’t matter. Potter never looked at him, ever. He actually checked. His conversation with Sirius and Mr. Potter did a number on him so he started to play this game called ‘Is Harry Potter just straight-passing?’ And the answer was no: Draco had paraded himself shirtless a few times and nothing , he also winked at him and Potter didn’t even blink. It was humiliating.

“I’m going to erase that cute smile from your face, you’ll see.” He never used that tone. The blond boy turned to see Potter. He was pushing back his hair with a gigantic smile on his face, a glint in his eyes behind his glasses. He was really flirting with Ginevra, even if he didn’t know it yet. Draco felt the tickles become more and more severe and when he breathed it tickled even more. Not good. He started drinking a little of his tea.

“No, Harry! You are going to make us fall! And he saw Potter fall with her in his arms, almost as if they were hugging.

Of course Draco started coughing right there. He didn’t get anything out but he couldn’t stop coughing. Weasley offered to get him water but he shook his head and excused himself to get to the bathroom.

He just had to stop the coughing. He started looking for pepper up potion in the bathroom cabinet but he didn’t find any, so he drank a little water from the tap wishing the coughs would go away, it almost had worked but then he remembered the scene in the gardens and it all went to shit. The coughing didn’t seemed to stop. Still no petals. Good. He heard a knock on the door.

“Kid? Are you in there?”

He cleared his throat but when he spoke his voice came out as raspy. “Yeah.”

Mr. Potter didn’t ask if he could come in. The second he heard him he opened the door, got in and then closed it behind him.

“Ron came in the middle of the meeting to say that you started to cough and still hadn’t comeback. Snape was coming to see you but we convinced him not to.” Mr. Potter sat with him on the floor of the bathroom and when he started to cough again, the man started to rub circles on his back until Draco calmed down.

“Is it Ron?” The blond boy looked at him with an utterly confused look. “Oh come on, you know what I’m asking! Is it Ron? “

Draco just bursted laughing and he instantly felt better. This man was asking if he was in love with Weasley .

“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe that somebody just asked me if my secret unrequited love is Weasley” He chuckle then. “No Mr. Potter, really, it’s not him”.

“Shame, you seem to spend a lot of time together. Harry told me you two definitely weren’t like this at Hogwarts... I just thought it could be possible for it to be him.”

Draco smiled at him and shook his head.

“It’s not him, but I’m not telling you what happened, okay? I can’t imagine you or Sirius having the name of the poor boy and not meddling.”

Mr Potter chuckle and helped Draco to get off the floor, muttered something along the lines of ‘of course we’ll meddle’ and got out of the bathroom with him.

When Draco went back to the gardens he only found Weasley. He didn’t dare to ask where was Potter and Ginevra because he feared that the coughs would come back. It was better if didn’t think at all. They started a new game. He was thinking if he should tell him or not, they weren’t actually friends so maybe it would be weird... Fuck it.

“Thanks for getting help, Weasley.”

Ron seemed to had been taken by surprise. He blinked as if he was clearing his head, then he shrugged and smiled a little.

“Don’t worry about it, Malfoy.”

It wasn’t friendship, it was basic human decency but Draco felt good about it still. Maybe he could try to apologize with him in the future. And even if they could never be friends (which Draco would totally understood), it would still be better somehow.

#drarry #fanfic #fanfiction #prongsfoot

21 notes · View notes

taco-taco-belle · 5 years ago

Text

, A crack in the ice Chapter 1

Authors notes

This is my first ever writing piece, I hope you guys enjoy it! As some of you know I am visually impaired, which means I do not read print like a lot of you do, Because of this there will probably be a lot of punctuation errors and I am really sorry about it. I tried my best to remember everything about how print works, and hope you can still enjoy the story! My messages and ask box are always open if any of you want to pop in, and notify me about punctuation mistakes and words that were spelled wrong in my writing, or just to say hi!💜

Summary

Ever since the battle of Hogwarts, and the defeat of you know who along with his death eaters, The Wizarding World has been at peace. Wizards and witches feel secure, and don’t expect any nasty surprises or uprisings in the near future. So what happens when alliances against them form in the most unlikely places, And a new struggle for power begins? Well, the newest generation at Hogwarts is about to find out!

Lucie gave a cat like stretch, and tossed her quill onto the table in front of her. She squinted down at her watch, it was a quarter to midnight, and they had to meet the others in 15 minutes. Lucie Felt the nervous excitement, that always came when she was about to do something she knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing, mixed with exhaustion. It had taken much longer than previously anticipated, to finish her potions essay on the draft of a ternal sleep. Matthew seated beside her wasn’t even halfway through his own essay he kept sneaking glances at Lucie’s when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Christopher was seated in his favorite arm chair by the fire, immersed in one of his well thumbed notebooks.

Christopher usually did not join Lucie, And Matthew when they did school work together, In the Ravenclaw common room. This wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy spending time with his friends, Christopher was very intelligent, and had an amazing memory. this meant that he excelled in all of their classes, and finished assignments incredibly quickly. instead of using his ample amount of free time to socialize with his friends, he spent it on his research. He was fascinated in the ways that everything magical, and non-magical function. None of his friends ever got annoyed at Christopher for this, they knew it was what he enjoyed doing. If it made her cousin happy then Lucie was satisfied.

Lucie scanned the common room. Ravenclaws despite their reputation of put togetherness, And Great organizers were a very untidy bunch. Scraps of parchment, with half thought out calculations, and ideas scribbled on them, Lay strewn across tables, and chairs. Broken quills lay beside chocolate frog wrappers, and empty ink bottles. The mess looked even worse contrasted against the common rooms elegantly arched ceiling covered in constellations, And spotless white bookshelves. She wasn’t judging her fellow comrades housekeeping however, Lucie was making sure everyone else had gone up to bed.

Matthew gave her a teasing grinn, which Lucie ignored. They both knew that the last Ravenclaws, A group of giggling fifth year girls had made their way upstairs, A half an hour ago. Despite this, Lucie had been nervously glancing over her shoulder, every five minutes. The sick feeling at the pit of her stomach had been increasing, as the night wore on. Lucie suffered from terrible nerves, every time they snuck out of Ravenclaw Tower, ever since she was 12 years old. In fact, she suspected they had only intensified throughout the years. Matthew treated the situation as he treated everything else, not very seriously.

He always tried to reassure her, By pointing out the fact, that if they hadn’t gotten caught by now, they probably never would. In response to this, Lucie would always remind him that she was the head girl of Ravenclaw, And Matthew was both there Quidditch team captain, and the Minister of Magic‘s youngest son! So they couldn’t afford, to rely on probably. She would suffer through her nerves, however to be able to spend a few hours spending time with her beloved friends, each week.

“Luce shouldn’t we get going?” Matthew inquired, looking over at her. She nodded, neatly rolling up her essay, and stuffing it inside her school bag along with her quill, And ink bottle. Matthew looked down at his essay, and side dramatically. “I guess I shall have to bring this accursed piece of paper along!” Lucy gave Matthew a questioning look. Shall?, but all she said was “I am sure you can get Daisy to help you.” He made a face at her, and she grinned. They both knew, that he would prefer to work with James, or Thomas. Cordelia was one of Lucie’s favorite people in the world, but even she could admit that Daisy could be a little intimidating at times.

Though Cordelia could be withdrawn at times, she always gave off a quiet aura of confidence and authority. Lucie doubted that her best friend, was even aware of this aspect of her personality. She knew with certainty though, that they played a big role in Cordelia being Quidditch captain, And head girl of Gryffindor house. Whenever Daisy helped Math with his homework, she watched him intently the entire time to make sure he was focused, and didn’t put up with his dramatics. Jamie on the other hand, usually ended up getting into trouble with Matthew, or just doing most of the assignment for him. They were best friends as close as Lucie and Cordelia, and had been best friends before even coming to Hogwarts.

Matthew gave her one of his best winning smiles “ come on Luce help someone in need.” She Scoffed “ oh don’t try that on me Math. I have been immune to your charms since you tried to eat Christopher’s pet ladybug Mr. spots on a dare from my brother when we were eight.” He frowned “ not One of my finest moments. It’s a good thing father stopped me, I’ve heard ladybugs are positively ghastly for one’s complexion!” Lucie wasn’t even going to bother asking, where Matthew had gotten said information. “ Matthew no matter how many times you refer to my father as yours it will not make it true.“ and I still haven’t gotten over Mr. spots you know.” Christopher said quietly from the fire. Lucie laughed, You never knew when Christopher was listening and when he wasn’t. Sometimes she would recount a long story to him, or an explanation of something, before realizing that he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. Christopher wasn’t rude he was just, as his older sister Anna put it off in his own world.

Matthew gave them both Hurt looks “ no respect even from my closest friends!” “ you’ll get respect from me when you finish your essay.” She said, Pointing to the piece of paper on the table in front of him. “ you’ll never get it from me.” Christopher said matter-of-factly, Turning a page of his notebook. Matthew waved his wand, and sent all of his possessions including the much hated essay flying into his bag, in an unorderly jumble.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart, Matthew was as intelligent as all of his fellow Ravenclaw’s. He would just rather do the spells, and potions they were assigned. Then in his words “ wasting hours of my life shut up in Ravenclaw Tower, up to my ears in books, and essays depriving the world of my many talents!” His friends also knew, though he would never admit it that Matthew struggled sometimes under the expectations set for him. His mother Charlotte was the minister of magic, and his older brother Charles had been head boy of Ravenclaw house. Everyone was always watching him, waiting to see if he would be another success of the family, Or a screwup that they were secretly ashamed about. The professors, even treated him differently than the rest of the class sometimes. This caused Matthew to say rude things in class, and act out sometimes. Lucie, And her brother never stayed mad at him for long because of it though, they knew he was just constantly under a lot of stress. Matthew was at his best when he was with his friends.

He looked over at her his dark green eyes reflecting the fire light, as if he knew she had been thinking about him. “ ready to go?“ yep.” She replied, standing up and crossing the dark blue carpeted floor to Christopher, as Matthew bent to retrieve their brooms from their hiding place beneath the table. Beside Matthews chair Oscar wined. Oscar Wilde, was Matthews much adored golden retriever. He had been a present from James, back in their fourth year, for Matthews birthday. Oscar hated it every time they left him at night, he was incredibly loyal to Matthew and his friends. Whenever they were in the common room he would follow Matthew wherever he went. Matthew spoiled Oscar to no end, and loved his dog as much as Oscar loved him. They even bared a resemblance to each other, With the same shaggy golden hair, and green eyes, though Oscars were much lighter than Matthews.

She gave Christopher a gentle tap on his shoulder “ Time to go Kit.” In the space of about a minute, her cousin had slipped back into his own world. He blinked his dark blue eyes up at her, from behind his gold rimmed spectacles. They were the same as Lucie’s father, and aunt Cecily’s. Though their other cousins, Thomas, Barbara, and Eugenia did not share them. he blinked “ is it? Odd how quickly time passes, we were just talking about my poor ladybug Mr. spots.” He glared over at Matthew, who was stroking Oscar’s floppy ears. His own, and Lucie’s brooms on the floor beside them. She didn’t bother telling Christopher that it had only been a minute or so, instead she went to the window, and slid it open. Freezing night air streamed into the room, causing the fire to sputter wildly in it’s grate. Lucie was glad for the cold air, she leaned out the window taking in big lung fulls of it. Enjoying how it helped clear her nerves, and wake her up.

Matthew tide their bags to the back of her broom, with a practiced hand. As Oscar Wilde sat looking up at him with a disgruntled expression. Christopher gave Matthews broom a look that matched Oscars, he despised flying he was the only member of their group that was not on there house quidditch team. He didn’t even own a broom, Christopher said he would prefer to keep his feet on the ground at all times. He usually rode on the back of Matthews broom, and Lucie carried her own, and Matthews school bags on the back of hers. There was usually no need to bring Christophers, since he almost always had all his work complete. Sometimes Lucie would leave some of her work to the last minute on purpose. So she could work on it with Cordelia. Even though they had had this routine in place since their second year at Hogwarts, Christopher still hadn’t adjusted to it.

Matthew and Christopher joined her at the window, as Oscar slunk over dejectedly, to a spot by the fire, no doubt to wait for their return a few hours later. Matthew handed Lucie her broom, it was a bit awkward with the two bags tied to the end of it but, they managed to get it out the window, where it floated there like an odd bird. Matthew performed in over the top bow, and held his hand out for her to take “ my lady your chariot awaits. Lucie rolled her eyes at him, but took his outstretched hand. Usually in the winter months they needed to help each other clamber out of the window, since the sill was usually slick with ice. She climbed up onto the cold slippery stones. The sharp edges of them bit into her knees through her robes. Wincing Lucie began to slide off the ledge, and Matthews warm fingers still clutched tightly in hers, into the still dark Night below.

I really hope you guys liked this! if you could please like, And reblog, And don’t be shy you can leave a note telling me what you liked, and didn��t like about this first chapter. I will try to post the next one as soon as I possibly can, although I don’t know when that will be. I promise the next one will be a lot more interesting, I just needed to put a lot of set up in this first one. I hope you guys are all staying safe and healthy!❤️

42 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

The Ground

My Writing Fandom: Harry Potter Characters: Mrs (Carys) Diggory, Amos Diggory, Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Barnabus Cuffe, Molly Weasley Summary: "Mrs Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears." ("The Beginning", Goblet of Fire pg 716) Notes: Mrs Diggory’s occupation, Welsh background and first name are all liberties taken by myself in the absence of canon information. *Can be read on my AO3 and FFN, links are in bio*

She’d never thought it would be this way. A mother burying her son. Not once the war had ended. How could Cedric be dead in a time of peace? How could she be expected to watch him go into the ground?

Carys remained in a quiet daze several days after the tournament, only emerging in moments of acute grief. She knew young Harry Potter was attempting to be kind when he offered the money, could see the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders, but everything in her had revolted at the idea of putting a price on Cedric’s loss.

The other two champions had visited with them as well, each expressing their sincerest apologies for what had happened. The French girl, Fleur she thought, had even spoken of her plans to remain in England to improve her mastery of the language.

“I weesh I could ‘ave practiced eet with your son. We did not ‘ave nearly enough time to get to know each ozzer.”

The Durmstrang boy had said the same thing. That Cedric had mentioned he played on the school team once, and that he wished he had asked him to fly together sometime. “Potter could have joined us. Made it a Seeker’s tournament.”

Amos had tried to explain what an honor that was, that a professional like Viktor Krum would have liked to play with their boy. All Carys kept hearing was the wasted time, wasted opportunities. She listened to the Headmaster’s speech about friendships forged and thought it couldn’t be further from the truth.

They went home to an empty nest, though not in the way they had thought it might be. Every little thing in the house reminded her of her son. The photos and old drawings on the wall, the Hufflepuff banners, the summer clothes still sitting in his dresser. She couldn’t take two steps without feeling as though she wanted to curl up and vanish.

Amos took some days off to arrange the funeral. She knew she could have done it, should have been helping him, yet she couldn’t think about it without thinking of his body which had been turned over to them only that morning, stiff and cold and eyes wide with shock. He looked the opposite of at peace.

Carys maintained the wake all the same that night, her nostrils filled with the scent of sweet herbs and her tongue coated with sweet wine. Her cousins from Bangor sat with her. Amos came and went; this wasn’t his tradition, and she knew he wasn’t quite sure where he fit. But he let them get on with it.

The girl Cedric had been writing to her about all school year, Cho Chang, came to the funeral. “I hope you don’t mind. Cedric always said he wanted me to meet you. I just… I need to say goodbye.”

“That’s alright, dear,” Carys told her, voice shaking.

“I’m not ready to,” the girl admitted, her eyes screwed up in an effort not to cry which she was soon to lose.

“That’s alright, too. Neither am I,” she confessed. She never would be.

Carys stood by Amos’ side as words were spoken, words she hardly heard. She leant into him so that it looked as though he was supporting her, so that no one would know the shaking of his shoulders was all his own. Amos was proud even through his tears, and he would not want anyone thinking lesser of him, not even in the midst of their great tragedy.

Cedric was laid to rest and soon would be covered over. Separated from them forever. She placed a silver Sickel on the gravedigger’s shovel and tucked her black-gloved hands back into her pockets, trudging down the hill before he was completely swallowed up into the Earth.

The Weasley family’s old owl arrived with gingerbread after. Carys didn’t know where Molly could have learned the custom, but it brought a lump to her throat all the same. Her neighbor of sorts had included a short note offering her deepest condolences and asking to be informed if there was anything to be done.

She asked that an owl be sent rather than a Floo call, which felt odd. Perhaps their funds were low for Floo powder again. Carys wished she could bring herself to care more than just the vague thought she gave it.

She hardly cared for anything. The nature of her research work – magical plants, though in recent years she had branched into cross-breeding with Muggle ones. Only Cedric and Arthur Weasley had ever known, and now only two would keep the secret – had made her already something of a recluse, and now with the time off she retreated further into her shell. Amos returned to work, and they hardly spoke at all when he was home. She didn’t know why. They were husband and wife; they ought to be able to get through this together.

The Weasleys were oddly quiet that summer. Usually she could hear the far-off shouts of the boys through her open kitchen window in the summers. They were always careful not to fly over the trees — she had been sure Molly and Arthur had drilled it into them how important it was not to be seen. She wondered now if they had told the children not to be heard, either. Carys wasn’t sure if she should be offended or grateful; she didn’t know how hearing a bunch of boys having fun at Quidditch might affect her.

When Cedric had gotten old enough to fly on his own, Carys had encouraged him to head over to the Weasleys’ pitch to play with the other children, but Amos had said it just wouldn’t do. Cedric was going to be a Hufflepuff like the two of them, after all, and that Charlie Weasley didn’t need to know his tactics before they ever faced off at school.

It all seemed so silly now. They could’ve all been such friends. What was the point of these competitions in the end? What good had it done?

Perhaps Amos was thinking of the empty pitch, too, for one morning he quietly murmured into the tea she had placed in front of him, “I never should have done it.”

Carys stilled. “Done what?”

“Told him to do it. Encouraged him. He wrote me about the Tournament, you know.” Amos raised his sad eyes to her at last, and there were gray whiskers in his beard she couldn’t remember having been there before. “I told him he’d make a brilliant champion. I should have told him to be safe.”

His voice broke on the last word, and she rushed forward, her own tea forgotten. “You couldn’t have known—”

“Couldn’t I? The stories all said people died in the damned thing. I was just too proud.”

“Of course you were proud. He was- he—” Neither of them were capable of saying his name aloud, she realized with a chill. Another unspeakable name within their walls. “He was the most wonderful boy. Of course you were proud of him. Any father should be proud of his son.”

“I just wish they’d tell us what happened,” he moaned, his head resting in his hands. “There was Dumbledore saying, and then Fudge is telling everyone at work he’s wrong and all those stories about Harry Potter now.” He gestured down at the paper he had spread onto the table. “What if- what if—”

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it,” Carys said, and her husband’s mouth snapped shut. “He brought our son home to us.”

“Yes, but, Carys—”

“Why would he bring back proof of his own crime? And you remember how he looked when he came to see us.”

“Guilty,” Amos pointed out.

“Because he saw it happen.” Again, she thought to herself. Though it wasn’t a guarantee a boy could remember something like that from such a young age. “Because they were becoming friends.”

Cedric had written to her about the younger boy, how he had given up the advantage in the First Task by letting Cedric know about the dragons ahead of time, how Cedric had wanted to repay him, how she shouldn’t mention this to Amos because Amos wouldn’t be able to resist bringing up that old Quidditch match, bless him.

She wished he were here to smile with discomfort as Amos carried proudly on. He would look at her, and she would shake her head just slightly to indicate they ought to just let it be, and they would share a private grin. She could see it so clearly in her mind’s eye, but it would only ever exist in her head now.

“I don’t want to see what they’re saying about that boy,” Carys decided, turning and sweeping from the room.

Amos obliged her, and there were no copies of the Prophet to be found for the next few weeks.

She did her best to keep herself busy the morning of September 1st. Carys felt the emptiness in their lives even more now that they had no reason to go to King’s Cross station. It was meant to be his final year; he should have made Head Boy, should’ve been captaining his team, should’ve been studying for his N.E.W.T.s

She made the trek up to the hill on which they’d buried him. “Oh, Ced,” she whispered to the unmoving stone and the dirt below it. It barely looked fresh anymore. “Everything’s so… so wrong in the world. I don’t think it’ll ever be right again.”

A part of her knew he wouldn’t wish for her to live this way. But she’d never meant to live past her own son. No mother ever did.

The weeks dragged on. She received an invitation from the Bangor cousins to come back home for a while. She said nothing of it to Amos, both wanting him to beg her to stay and tell her to go. It was terrible being in the house, and yet going back to Wales would only mean she was running away. It would poison the good memories of her childhood and the trips she had taken out there bringing Cedric with her as a boy.

He’d still been a boy, of age or not.

It was a late, grey morning when Amos forgot his lunch. Carys noticed with a start that the calendar had already been flipped to October. She hadn’t noticed the days growing shorter. That was a sign, probably, that she’d been tucked away in the house for too long. So she grabbed up the wrapped sandwiches and the apple from the orchard that spanned the hills between their home and the Weasley Burrow and sent herself spinning through the Floo.

It wasn’t strictly regulation for her to go through the Floo, not being an employee herself. But she would be in and out.

Carys rode the lift to Level 4 and got off, making her way through the office with its rows of cubicles. Amos’ was near the end, but two voices caught her attention and she paused.

“...talking about Diggory’s boy like that. He really must be deranged.”

“And Umbridge set him straight?”

“From what I hear. As if Amos needs people speculating about the way his son died. Accidents happen.”

Carys remained rooted to the spot. Accidents? What on Earth was accidental about her son’s murder?

“Carys?”

Amos must have stepped out for some business, for she turned and saw him standing down the aisle, staring at her. Two heads poked out of the cubicle she had stopped near, faces going slack with surprise.

“What are you doing here, love?”

“Lunch.” She held the bag aloft with the mechanical lift of an arm. Her mind was still racing.

Amos hurried to her and took it with a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you. Look, why don’t you head home. We’ll go out somewhere for dinner. Somewhere nice.”

She nodded, not really paying attention, and left the office in a daze. What had she just heard?

Carys had the presence of mind to grab a copy of the Prophet off the stand as she walked back through the Atrium, and the headline made her stomach clench.

High Inquisitor Silences Potter’s Lies

The article went on to detail a verbal altercation between Dolores Umbridge, who appeared to be a teacher as well as whatever a High Inquisitor was, and Harry Potter in which she claimed his account of Cedric’s death was incorrect. Cedric had died in an accident, not been murdered to her view. The Prophet touted her words as fact.

Carys’ calm snapped.

Rather than home, she took another trip in the Floo to the Daily Prophet’s offices, striding into the lobby with her head held high.

“Good day, ma’am, how can I assist you?” The desk witch asked, quailing when Carys slapped the paper down between them.

“You can help me by pointing me towards whoever wrote this tripe. A ‘tragic accident’?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not sure I can help you with that request.”

“Then get me Barnabus Cuffe. He’s in charge, isn’t he? Tell him Mrs. Diggory would like to have some words with him about her son.”

The desk witch’s face paled, and she waved a wand at a little box before speaking into it. “Mr. Cuffe, there is a Mrs. Diggory here to see you.”

By the time Cuffe shuffled out into the lobby, a number of reporters had stuck their heads in and remained there, gawking at her. Carys didn’t care. In fact, she hoped they listened if only to teach them a lesson on printing the truth.

“Mrs. Diggory, what an unexpected surprise. We can head back into my office and—”

“I don’t think we will. This concerns every last person at this paper.” She squared her hips, doing her best to channel Molly the few times she had seen her hard at work disciplining the twins that had been in Cedric’s year. They still were. “I don’t care what you may have heard, I don’t care what you may have been told. If it came from the new teacher or the Minister for Magic himself!”

They all jumped.

She drew in a breath, willing her voice not to shake. “My son was not taken from me by some accident. I did not sit up the whole night before the burial staring at his beautiful face marred by the Killing Curse, for you to print in your rag of a paper that he passed away by some silly mistake! He was murdered. And I’m inclined to believe the witness to that murder.”

Some of the reporters were still gaping at her while others fidgeted or looked away, shamefaced. Cuffe looked at a total loss for words.

“Now maybe that’s too much for you to believe. But if I see my son’s name in print again without my permission, you’ll think of today as a friendly little chat compared to what I will do to protect his legacy. Cedric is not some political plaything. He was a boy. He was my boy, and if no one will help find his killer—” her breath caught and her throat closed up. Her voice sounded strangled and unnatural to her ears. “—then just leave my son alone!”

She left the office in a thunderous silence. It was just as silent at home. In the stillness, she was shocked at a wetness that rolled down her cheek.

A tear. The first she had cried since the night he had died.

Carys let it fall, then another, then a sob was ripped out of her lungs and her throat, unsticking the block that had been in her head and her heart. She sank to her knees, feeling weak and feeling light all at the same time as the weight of it all finally spilled out of her. It was out there, wasn’t just hers to carry anymore.

The sun had set by the time she stood on shaky legs like a newborn foal. Carys staggered to the bedroom throwing things haphazardly into a travel bag. Clothes, toiletries, one of Cedric’s scarves, a bit of dirt summoned from the hill into a pouch — all of it went into one big pile.

“Carys!” Amos’ shout sounded more like a bellow in the midst of her blessedly clear head.

She stepped out into the sitting room. “Yes, Amos?”

“What’s this about you storming the Prophet? I had Fudge in my office this afternoon. Fudge! Seemed to think I couldn’t keep a handle on my hysterical wife— now what’s that?”

She looked down at the bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m leaving.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t known it would be right now, but she supposed that was for the best. “You and the Minister won’t need to worry about your hysterical wife anymore.”

He grimaced. “Carys, you know I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t know what you mean. And you don’t know what I mean. I think we haven’t for a very long time, but without- without Cedric, it’s become all the more apparent.”

He had flinched the way others did when You-Know-Who’s name was spoken. Her son’s killer. Both were forbidden now in this house.

He stared at her, shoulders slowly dragging down. “You really are going?”

“Can you honestly say it would change anything if I didn’t?”

His silence was the answer. Carys walked forward until she drew level with him. She leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Try to be well.”

Two tears slid down his nose as he nodded, and she went past him out the door.

She looked out over the darkened hills of Devon, seeing in her mind’s eye the homes of their neighbors. She thought of Molly and the brothers she had lost to a war they had fought to end, Xeno and the wife who had been taken from him in an accident. Cedric, who had fallen to a spell used in war, but who had not been a fighter. Was there to be more loss in this place?

Carys gripped her wand and turned on the spot, disappearing with a crack! She was squeezed from all sides, there was no room to breathe, and then suddenly there was.

She took a great gulp of the air, felt it settle in her lungs like an old friend. She was home.

It didn’t change any of the facts. She was childless, her marriage had crumbled and the Ministry saw fit to ignore all that pain. But it was time to keep living the way Cedric would have wanted, and she could think of nowhere and no way else to do it. On her own ground.

#hp #harry potter #cedric diggory #amos diggory #cho chang #mrs diggory #carys diggory #molly weasley #my writing

2 notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 5 years ago

Text

THE ROGUE BLUDGER

Clh left me a comment about how they felt about how I portrayed House Elf's, and Sirius' attitude on the matter during the second book. First things first, I've never read JK's opinion on the matter, so if someone would point me to a sight where I could read that I will enjoy it as much as any other HP related thing. Mostly though, I don't see how Sirius' reaction is too far from how Ron acts. I don't mean for Sirius to come across hating the whole species, and his reasons for hating Dobby were pretty justified. You guys have yet to see him around any other elf. Plus the bit where he said his parents hurt Kreacher I don't find too out there, it's not unreasonable to think Sirius has seen them do that to Kreacher for one reason or another. I'll go more into details on this during the fourth book, just felt like addressing that now.

HPHPHP

Remus was happy to read the next chapter, wanting dearly to see if Hermione could pull off such an advanced potion, and ignoring Sirius and James protest as they complained they still didn't get to have their 'Smarts Debate.' Honestly, Hermione would win that easily anyways.

The narration begins by talking about Lockhart's classes, explaining that he hadn't done anything with live animals since the disastrous pixie incident.

"Thank Merlin," Remus huffed, "or something far worse could happen."

Apparently all he had been doing was reading from his books,

"So basically torture sessions, of unrealistic proportions," James summarized.

and acting out the most action packed parts for the class. He always called on Harry to work as his second for these,

"Why?" All five of them groaned.

and Harry had no choice but to do as told. So far he'd played several embarrassing parts,

"Dumb, dumber, and dumbest," Sirius huffed, the more he heard about this guy the more annoying it got!

and today he was being instructed on how to act as a werewolf.

"Did you at least do the thing properly," James asked, while grinning over at Remus who refused to look up, "you know, spout random facts, be a horrible liar-"

"Have a really bad habit for turning red in the face," Sirius added on.

"Knock it off," Remus snapped, still without looking up. Harry and Lily could see why, since the little of his face they could see had long since turned bright red at his friends teasing. Remus knew he would never understand why his friends joked about something like this, it was a serious problem that shouldn't be taken lightly, but he had never stopped them with any real force either. Their joking simply meant they liked him enough to mess with him, something he had never thought possible in his younger years.

Still chuckling at their antics, Harry corrected them, "No, I had 'turned' into an actual werewolf at the time, fur and fangs and stuff."

Remus gave Harry a puzzled look and then read on a bit curiously.

Harry would have refused to do it, if he hadn't had a reason for keeping on Lockhart's good side.

"Did you try refusing to do it the other three times?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Harry muttered, it hadn't worked any of those times though because then Lockhart had launched into a detailed account, reading word for word. Harry had decided to do it simply to make the man shut up. At least playing those dumb roles had made the process go by quicker.

The teacher was currently instructing Harry to give a good long howl, while Lockhart went on about how despite whether the students believe it or not, he'd slammed the werewolf to the floor,

"Actually, I don't believe that," James said, quirking a brow. Had this man ever even seen a fully grown werewolf? They weren't the kind of thing you could 'slam' into the ground without getting your head bit off.

and had used only one hand to hold him down,

"Definitely don't believe that," Sirius cackled.

while pulling out his wand with the other and performing the Homorphus Charm.

"What good would that do?" James asked, "That's a charm used to restore Transfigured objects back to their original form. It's most common use is on Animagus' when they get stuck for some

reason. It wouldn't work on a werewolf though."

"Why do you know that?" Lily asked, noting his 'most common use' mostly.

"We had to learn it," Sirius shrugged, "for all the times we screwed up our Animagus practice. Came in handy a few times afterwards as well."

Then he told Harry to start moaning, as if in pain, and how the werewolf had shrunk back down to its human form.

"And people believed that," Lily scoffed in disgust. "If it was that easy, werewolves wouldn't even be classified as dangerous. They'd be a class three!"

Harry looked puzzled, not understanding the classification thing, but then Remus said bitterly, "I wish it was that easy," and then kept reading before anyone could comment.

Ending his tale with how he'd saved the village from monthly attacks!

"Really, I want to know how his books are sold without being found in the fictional section," James demanded. "People can't really believe he did that!"

Harry shrugged, he had no answer for that, but he certainly didn't believe it.

The class was dismissed and Lockhart took to his feet,

"Wait, he actually slammed you to the ground!" Remus asked, not having interpreted that from his prattling.

Harry nodded, saying, "more like he pushed me, then he waved his wand in my face a lot, but he didn't let the 'crowd' lose full sight of him, he stayed on his knees in front of the desk. I fell back behind the desk, happily out of the way. Only time I can remember not being afraid of someone's wand in my face." He finished grinning wickedly.

and told them their homework was to write a poem of his defeat of the Werewolf. He'd give a signed copy of his autobiography to the best one.

All five of them looked disgusted that this was even counted as a homework assignment, let alone the horrid prize.

Harry wasn't pleased, but he stuck around after class along with his friends, Hermione clutching a piece of paper.

"Oh," James said, "so when Ron said the teacher would have to be really thick, he meant literally."

"Here I thought they were going to try and pull one over on McGonagall," Sirius sounded as surprised as his friend, "now all they have to do is just walk up to him, give him a cheap

compliment, and they'll be done with it."

"I'm kind of disappointed," Remus sighed, "I wanted to see them pull something on McGonagall to."

"That was the most useful thing Lockhart did all year," Harry laughed.

Hermione was blushing and stuttering the whole time she asked him to sign for the book, stating she wanted it for some extra research.

Lily sighed in both disappointment and disgust, saying, "really? She's still star struck?"

"This is the girl that's about to do a sixth year potion?" James asked in disbelief.

Harry shrugged, he had no defense for his friend since he and Ron had seen him as a fraud on the first day.

Lockhart just praised her for having read his book, asking if she'd liked that one the best? Hermione agreed, saying he was very creative indeed when he'd used a tea strainer to catch a ghoul.

"What on earth?" Remus spluttered in disbelief.

"Doesn't Ron have a ghoul in his attic?" James asked, "I think I'd like to borrow that."

"It might not be there yet," Lily reminded them, not necessarily knocking the idea.

"I'd really like to hear that full story," Sirius said eagerly, "if the wizard populace fell for that, maybe I could use it next time I go to the Leaky Cauldron."

Remus snorted in disgust, not doubting his friend would do this one bit.

Lockhart pulled out a huge peacock quill to sign for the note, and misread Ron's look of disgust as one of admiration.

"If it's anything like your look," James said to Harry, "then he's even dafter than I thought, and that's saying something."

Harry broke out of his shock at the remembered peacock quill and chuckled at his dad.

He signed away on the book, then turned to Harry and offered him private lessons as he remembered the first game was to be tomorrow.

"Oh come on!" James and Sirius groaned, not believing for one second that match would get pushed off for two or even three more chapters!

"My Quidditch match was awful," James groaned, "I want another go at reading."

"I haven't gotten one at all," Sirius muttered, sulking.

"How do you keep getting the good chapters!" James demanded.

"Just lucky I guess," he grinned.

Then he boasted that he'd been a Seeker for his house team as well,

"Was he really?" Harry asked in disbelief, not believing much of anything from him anymore.

"If he was," Sirius shrugged, "it wasn't while we were there."

"He'd be ah, a fifth year I think," James said, "so if we just so happened to pop by, we could find out."

saying how he could have played professionally,

"Still doubt that," James scoffed.

but would rather he spend his life fighting against the Dark.

"By entertaining them on their long dreary travels with my absurd stories," Remus kept going as if reading that.

Sirius choked and snatched the book away, then smacked his friend with it saying, "Jerk, don't give me false hope that man grew a brain."

Remus took it back, grinning like a fool before really reading.

He told Harry that he'd be glad to give Harry some pointers, he was always happy to help out less able players.

"Less able my arse!" James howled, "Harry could go and play for England now if he damn well pleased."

"Really James," Lily huffed, "I'm not disagreeing with you, Harry is good, but don't encourage him to drop out of school."

James scowl didn't lessen one bit.

Harry gave some non-articulate answer back as he followed after his friends, Ron was griping that the man hadn't even glanced at the book he was signing for.

"Prat," all five of them muttered.

Concluding that he was brainless. Hermione tried to argue back, saying he was anything but!

"First time Hermione's ever been wrong I think," Lily said sadly.

Harry phased them out as they went down to the library and came across the librarian, Madam Pince, who reminded Harry of an unfriendly vulture.

"I am forever turning to you whenever I want to describe someone," Sirius cackled.

She was clearly suspicious of why they would want this book as she tried to take the note away from Hermione, but she clung to it and mentioned how she'd like to keep the paper.

Lily face palmed, muttering something in disgust under her breath.

The boys simply looked more annoyed by Hermione.

Ron convinced her to give it up, reminding her they could get another signature just as easily, as Lockhart would probably sign anything that stood still too long.

"I believe that," James nodded.

Pince eyed the paper with suspicion, clearly looking for a forgery,

"She can," Remus sighed, "I knew a Ravenclaw who mirror imaged Flitwick's signature once, and when Pince did that, she saw it somehow. Kid had detention for a week straight."

"I wonder if that's some kind of magical ability, or..." Lily trailed off, now looking like she wanted to go up there and ask herself.

"Well, we're planning a trip up to the school, you can ask her then," James said.

but the note worked as she came back several minutes later

"Wow, even she doesn't know where every bloody book is in there. Either that, or she had to go all the way in the back," James laughed.

with their requested book. Hermione took it and stowed it away, and the three exited trying to look as unsuspicious as possible.

"You gotten any better at that?" Remus asked, "because the last time you tried that, Snape took away a book."

Harry shrugged and said, "well, no one took that book away, we made it all the way to Myrtle's bathroom anyways."

The trio headed down to Myrtle's bathroom and began scanning through the book, coming across some truly terrible things.

"Why do potions like that exist?" Harry asked in disgust.

"The one about being turned inside out doesn't have a practical use," Lily shrugged, "it's a threat potion more than anything, sometimes given as punishment for a short period of time."

"The ministry is barmy," Sirius muttered, but Lily was ignoring him, and continuing, "the other about the extra limbs sounds like a transformation potion, though since you didn't say the name of it I can only guess at what she could have been turning into."

Harry nodded, slightly agreeing with Sirius.

Hermione found the potion she was looking for, and went looking through the ingredients she would need. There were illustrations of the effects the potion would have,

"Pleasant," Remus shuddered, knowing very well how painful transforming could be.

and Harry really hoped the looks of pain on those people were being exaggerated.

"Nope," Lily said, "it is not a pleasant process at all."

Harry didn't look very pleased about this.

Hermione mentioned how this was the most complex potion she'd ever seen.

"Well duh," James laughed, "it's a sixth year potion!"

Listing off several of the ingredients that were going to be very hard to come by.

"I hadn't thought of that," Lily agreed, having mostly thought of the act, "where did she plan on getting the ingredients."

"I don't think you're going to like the answer," Harry said nervously, he only had a feeling after all, but it wasn't a good one.

One part mentioning some of the person they were going to change into. Ron seemed particularly grossed out by this, claiming he didn't want to put anything of Crabbe's in him, but Hermione ignored the outburst.

"Err, what did she mean?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't have to be toenails," Lily said quickly, as Harry looked a little queasy at the thought, "hair is most commonly used, but any bit of them like that will do."

Harry still looked a little green, but nodded all the same.

Then Ron pointed out that they weren't getting this stuff from the student's cupboards, they'd have to steal it from Snape himself.

All four adults spluttered in disbelief, though the boys for a completely different reason then Lily.

"That's brilliant!" Sirius cackled, James and Remus nodding right along. It was high time that slimeball knew what it felt like to get his stuff taken. Hell they wouldn't be surprised if Snape hadn't stolen from Slughorn to make some of his potions in school.

Lily on the other hand practically screeched, "You're going to steal from a teacher!"

"Mum-" Harry began, but Lily cut him off saying, "No. Last year you bent the rules around a few times, and nearly got killed. Now, you are breaking them in half, and for what? Because you think that Malfoy did it? Even if he was, and he blabs it to your face, what would you do? Go to Dumbledore without proof? Harry no, this is one thing I will not approve of. That's even assuming a second year can make the Polyjuice Potion correctly, without the lot of you being poisoned or, or worse or..." she stuttered off as she realized Harry was looking beseechingly at her, and the other boys were giving her pitting looks.

Lily sighed deeply, took several deep breaths then continued in far calmer tones, "I'm sorry."

Harry smiled at once, clearly holding no grudge. Lily continued, "It's just, I hate that you feel you have to do all of these things. I wish you had someone there who would tell you these things. I wish..." she trailed off, then put another stern look on her face and finished, "but I did mean it. I disapprove. I do acknowledge though that these are things that have already happened, so I promise I won't yell again." Then she paused, hesitated for a moment, and added, "about this particular thing."

Causing all of her boys to burst out laughing, James saying, "I love your fiery temper." She smiled weakly at them, before waving Remus on. He had to get his breath back a bit, but did indeed still read.

Hermione lost her temper at him, snapping that if they were going to act like babies about this,

"Ooh," Sirius said, going a little wide eyed, "Hermione daring the other's into doing this."

"It was her idea in the first place," Remus reminded him.

"What's gotten into her this year?" James asked, bemused.

"She's a muggle-born," Lily said in exasperation, "of course she'd be the most worried about this."

All four boys turned to her in shock, then blushed slightly. They hadn't forgotten exactly, but Hermione was just so smart it was a little easy to forget.

that she could go put this right back! Ron quickly said that he had no problems with the plan, and Hermione returned to the book. Harry asked how long it would take for the potion to happen,

"Not going to answer that Lily," James asked.

"No," Lily said, "I want to see if Hermione knows first. It'll make me feel better."

Hermione estimated about a month.

Lily nodded, looking a might bit better. Had Hermione tried to rush the potion by any shorter amount of time, she would have been even more worried.

Ron was not pleased with that, stating dozens of people could be hurt by then, but when Hermione glared at him all over again, Ron agreed it was the best they could do.

"Ron's gotten much better at that," Sirius chuckled.

Then Ron turned to Harry and told him it would be far easier on everyone if Harry just knocked Malfoy off his broom tomorrow. The next day came up bright and early, the whole of the Gryffindor team at breakfast not looking very happy.

"It's normal to be nervous before any game," James said bracingly, he still had no doubt in his mind Harry and his team would do brilliantly.

Wood convinced them all to go into the locker room for a pep talk before the game, starting by pointing out that Slytherin had better brooms,

"Chipper as always," Remus laughed lightly.

but his team had better people on their brooms!

"Excellent sentiment though," Sirius beamed.

Pointing out that they had trained harder, in all the weathers, with George muttering in agreement that he hadn't been dry for months.

All five of them laughed at that.

Then Wood turned on Harry, telling him the match would come down to him,

"Ouch," Remus winced, "does he pressure you before every match?"

"Seems like," Harry shrugged, "but I don't mind."

to prove that it took more than a rich father to make it in this game.

'Which he should have anyways' James thought, knowing that wasn't anything of use, but he still wanted to be there for Harry in some way more than a vault.

Finishing with Harry had to get the Snitch, or die trying.

Lily sighed in trepidation, that didn't make her feel any better. She also dearly wanted to comment that this boy took a game far too serious, but didn't want to elicit a joke from Sirius, or even get snapped at for saying this.

She had no idea the boys might have agreed with her in that moment.

Spirits raised, the team went onto the field, and at a blow of the whistle, the fourteen players began.

The three boys looked very excited to hear this. They felt like it had been ages since they got to hear about a good game, which didn't involve worrying about Harry dying in the middle of the

match.

Lily still looked wary, Harry's track record in this game hadn't been that good, but she was willing to relax and hear about this.

Harry was the only one looking on edge. They put this down to the pressure he must be feeling, not knowing why Harry would be rubbing his right arm for some reason.

The Chasers began in earnest while Harry began flying around looking for his ball, when a voice called out calling Harry Scarhead.

"Scarhead," Sirius snorted, "I didn't think his insults could actually get worse."

Malfoy chose that moment to shoot past Harry, clearly showing off the speed of his superior model.

"Most likely," Remus grumbled.

Harry chose not to respond as a Bludger came pelting towards his head, and he had to either duck or get his head knocked off.

Lily shivered in disgust, hating that mental image.

George managed a quick praise to Harry for pulling that off while smashing the Bludger away and sending it towards the opposing team, but the black ball swerved in midair, and came pelting straight back towards Harry.

Remus voice grew very confused at the end of that.

"What?" Sirius asked, sure he had heard wrong.

"Err," James began, but he couldn't think of anything to say really.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Harry sighed, rubbing his right arm.

Lily went a little bug eyed, but Remus now read on quickly, knowing by now Harry's bad feelings were usually not wrong.

Harry moved to avoid it, and this time George swung out with his full strength, knocking the ball off course. The Bludger was back again at once.

"One game!" James cried in fury. "I want one bloody Quidditch game that doesn't make me hate the whole bloody sport!"

"Why. Are. You. Being. Chased. By. A. Bludger." Sirius said slowly and distinctly, like he was trying to stop himself from yelling like James.

"I, I've no idea," Harry said miserably, very much wondering the same thing.

Lily put her face in her hands, wanting dearly to cover her ears as well so she didn't have to hear this.

Remus said, "Okay, I officially hate getting Quidditch chapters. Next time Sirius, I'm just going to give it to you anyways."

Sirius didn't look any kind of happy as his friend began in a wobbling voice, the horrid mental image of Sirius being bludgeoned the most prominent thing in his mind.

This time Harry chose to fly away in earnest, wondering why on earth the Bludger was still tailing him. The point of that ball was to go after all of the players, why was it so focused on him? Harry made a path and spotted Fred, and was able to swerve around him as Fred took his turn and pelted the ball with his bat.

"Thank Merlin for the twins," Sirius sighed, "they seemed to have noticed the problem already."

"Had enough practice," James muttered darkly.

Fred's triumph was short lived, as the Bludger continued going after Harry who chose to fly off again.

"Who could tamper with a thing like that?" Lily moaned, her face still in her hands. "I know those are very powerfully charmed. It would take some real magic to pull this stunt off!"

"Thinking it was Lockhart?" Remus asked weakly, "Are we still wondering if he's faking it? I kind of gave up on that after the 'werewolf' incident."

"No, he's still an idiot in my book until proven otherwise," Sirius sighed miserably, "and there's no way Malfoy, or any student for that matter, could be powerful enough to do this."

Stumped and with no leads who could do this, Remus forced himself to continue.

The weather wasn't helping, as thick raindrops started pelting Harry's glasses.

"You didn't put a Repelling charm on them?" James asked distractedly. "That's like the only charm any player's allowed to use, exclusive to the face only of course. Otherwise the rain will blind you."

"No," Harry said, no one had shown him how to do that, perhaps Wood thought he knew how to anyways.

The commentary was continuing below, as Lee announced Slytherin in the lead.

"Well that's just peachy!" Sirius groaned, not even having wondered about the game anymore now that Harry was in real danger of getting hurt. Again!

Harry became all the more frustrated as he realized the Slytherin's brooms were clearly outmatched his own teams. Fred and George were trying their best to help, constantly circling around Harry and taking turns swinging at the cannonball like object, but Harry reflected he'd never find the Snitch as he couldn't see around their flailing arms.

"I don't care," Lily yelped, "you're much safer being surrounded by them!"

The boys nodded in firm agreement, Remus asking, "why hasn't anyone called a timeout yet? Clearly something's wrong."

Harry sighed in defeat, knowing full well no one called this particular game off.

Fred managed to point out that someone had tampered with the Bludger

"Then why wasn't the game canceled," Lily ground out in frustration.

"Because Quidditch isn't canceled, not for anything," James sighed, for once in his life wishing the opposite.

"But it's obvious something's wrong-" Lily still tried, but was cut off by Sirius reminding, "Same was true of Harry's first game and that broom, and no one called it off then, even if they'd been given the chance. Quidditch just isn't cancelled Lily."

She sighed in disappointment, but stopped arguing the point in favor of hearing how Harry survived this.

in between smacking the ball away from Harry's head again. His twin somehow managed to call a timeout at the same time as stopping the Bludger from an impending attack.

"Props for multitasking," Harry laughed, but he was the only one who did.

The message came through, and the Gryffindors got a quick break as Harry and the two Weasleys made it to the ground while still having to avoid the rogue Bludger.

"Did it follow you onto the ground?" James asked.

"No," Harry said, "but it circled around me, like some bird in the air."

All four of them shivered, hating that mental image, and still unable to come up with a person who could do this.

Wood took the opportunity to begin yelling at the twins, pointing out they were losing,

"That's what he's concerned about!" James yelped.

"I'm really starting to dislike this kid," Sirius growled.

"He didn't notice," Harry said quickly, not liking that mean look that was flickering across their faces.

demanding to know where they'd been as the Slytherins had used the other Bludger to knockout Angelina.

"Saving my son's life," Lily hissed, only slightly forgiving the comment because of what Harry said.

The twins protested they'd been above, saving Harry's head! They quickly explained that something must be wrong with the Bludger, and Harry glanced over to see their timeout was already almost over.

"Did anyone else notice?" Remus asked.

"Not really," Harry sighed, "I think they noticed a bit more after this time out, but no one stops this game."

All of them looked beyond angry.

Harry then told his captain to tell the twins to leave him alone, let him handle the messed up ball on his own, making the crack he wouldn't catch it unless it flew up his sleeve.

"Really!" Sirius yelped, "That's your plan! At least let them pretend to do their job!"

Harry shook his head furiously saying, "No, I could handle it. I did handle it! Mostly," he finished lamely at their astounded looks.

"Harry," James said weakly, "a game isn't worth your head being knocked off."

"I know-" Harry tried to butt in, but Lily interrupted first, "If you do, then why are you so insistent about this?"

"I don't want our team to lose another match." Harry said furiously. "I didn't get a chance at the tournament last year, and if we called a time off it would be over for us again! I handled this just fine and," he sucked in a deep breath as he said with confidence, "I won us the match." Finishing

with a horrible wince of pain for having dared to tempt his memories.

The four of them exchanged unhappy looks, but finally admitted there was nothing for it. If he said he could handle it, who were they to argue?

"Least it would be impressive if you pulled off a Plumpton Pass," Sirius muttered without any real emphasis. All of them knew they weren't going to be happy until this nightmare of a game was over.

Fred snapped that Harry was being an idiot, that Bludger was going to come away with his head.

Remus winced as he read that, not liking that mental image repeated.

The rest of the team tried to protest as well, and George then turned on Wood and told him this was his fault! He'd been the one to tell Harry get the Snitch or die trying, and Harry had taken that too literally!

Sirius pursed his lips, dearly wishing to agree, but knowing it might offend Harry. If the determined look on his face was any indication, he made a good call.

Wood relented, and told Harry he could have it his way. Turning to the twins and telling them to leave Harry be for this game.

James muttered mutinously, knowing full well as team captain himself once, he would never have made that call!

The game resumed, and Harry had to resort to some pretty out there methods of avoiding the weighted ball. As it was heavier then Harry, it couldn't turn as easily, so despite the laughing crowd, Harry managed a couple of goofy spins to keep it away from him for the most part.

"I do not see how this is funny!" Lily snapped in disgust.

he knew he must look very stupid,

"At least you're dodging, who cares how it looks," Sirius muttered.

and he couldn't hover for more than a second for fear of getting hit, which he was reminded of every time his hair was gusted as the Bludger missed again.

All four of them shuddered in disgust again, knowing that wasn't going to get any better no matter how many times it was said.

Malfoy of course took the opportunity to mock Harry, saying he looked like he was training for the ballet,

Sirius was far too keyed up to make a comment on that lame joke.

but Harry hardly cared when he noticed what was hovering above the blondes head. While Malfoy sat there laughing at Harry, Harry had spotted the Snitch.

James smiled meanly, feeling a slight bit better at this jerk who was more than likely going to get his comeuppance, and a face full of Bludger if Harry went for it.

Malfoy clearly hadn't seen it himself he was too busy mocking Harry,

"So we were right," James said, trying vainly to change the subject to happier topics, "he's a

rubbish player."

"I'll bet Harry never loses a match against him," Sirius agreed.

and Harry remained frozen in place as he feared if he went for it Malfoy might notice and grab it first. SMACK!

Remus choked, bug eyed as he spat that out.

Harry was rubbing his right arm in remembered pain and said, "It hurt, I'm not going to say it didn't, but it's just a break. Nothing worse than that."

They nodded, taking a deep breath Remus kept going.

Harry had hovered one moment too long, the Bludger had finally landed a hit, and smashed into Harry's elbow.

'I don't think I want Harry on the Quidditch team anymore' Lily thought sadly, though decided to keep that to herself since she thought the boys might get mad at her.

Actually, the other three boys did agree. Harry didn't seem able to go a single game without something life threatening happening, it made him too easy of a target apparently.

Harry's vision nearly blacked out right then from the pain of a broken arm, but his determination won out even as the Bludger came back around for another hit this time going for his face again,

"It didn't hit," Harry reassured at once, when they all looked ashen.

only one thought firmly seared into his brain, get the Snitch.

"Credit for determination anyways," James sighed.

Ignoring his throbbing limb, Harry steered his broom one handed and went for Malfoy, who froze up in fear as he seemed to think Harry was moving to attack him.

"Not a bad idea," Sirius nodded, using this as a distraction from the idea of Harry's arm dangling useless at his side.

Malfoy flew away, and Harry's free hand closed around the tiny golden ball. Now he was left holding onto his broom with nothing but his knees.

Remus stopped here to shake his head in wonder at his cub. "You can now tell people you can catch a Snitch with one arm tied behind your back," he told him.

Sirius smacked him, hard.

"Ouch, what! You two can makes jokes, but I can't!"

"No," Sirius shrugged, "I just really wanted a reason to smack you back for all the times you've done it to me. Taking away my joke was just a good excuse."

Lily smiled indulgently at them, almost envious of their ability to joke around while being equally as worried. Everyone coped in their own way she supposed.

Now there was nothing stopping Harry's broom from going towards the muddy ground below, which Harry never felt as blackness continued coloring his vision.

"How did that work out for you?" Lily asked uneasily.

"I think I lost conscious for a few seconds," Harry shrugged, "I wake back up and it's still raining on me anyways."

Lily nodded, slightly content with that.

Suddenly there was mud all around him, and Harry was only vaguely aware that he still had the Snitch in hand as he waved it around and claimed that they'd won, before passing out.

"I'm going to laugh if that was all just a dream," James chuckled, his son never ceased to amuse him.

"He's had some vivid dreams before," Sirius agreed.

"Hopefully he'll wake up with a teacher over him, waiting to heal his arm," Lily grumbled, still unpleased with the whole scenario even if her son came away perfectly fine.

Harry came back to quick enough, rain still falling on his face, and gleaming teeth above him.

"Oh no," Remus groaned, planting his forehead against the book in genuine pain at what could possibly happen next.

"I didn't mean him!" Lily yelped, "I meant McGonagall!"

"Next time when you're hoping for something, be name specific," James grumbled.

Harry's very first words were 'not him!' The guy just laughed, saying Harry had no idea what he was saying.

"He knows exactly what he's saying," Sirius growled.

"You never seem to though," Remus huffed.

Sirius gave him a confused look, unsure if his friend was making a joke at him or Lockhart, but Remus wasn't going to answer.

It was Lockhart, standing amongst the crowd of Gryffindors as he soothed Harry that he was going to fix his arm.

"No!" All five of them yelped in real fear.

"That moron can't handle a pixie, I don't want to even think what would happen if he tried that!" Lily hissed.

"With any luck, a puff of smoke will escape," Sirius said, "then he'll make up some lame excuse, and prattle Harry's ear off up to the Hospital wing."

Harry was still rubbing his arm in remembrance, he had a bad feeling about this. He knew one thing, his arm stopped hurting after Lockhart's spell. It wasn't for a good reason though.

Harry tried to say he'd rather keep it as it was,

The three boys chuckled weakly.

but he was in so much pain he couldn't move away. He also heard the distinct noise of a camera going off, and shouted out that he didn't want a picture of this Colin!

"Why would you take a photo of that," Lily asked in disgust.

"Kid's going to make a great photographer one of these days," Remus smiled, "he's certainly not squeamish."

"That wasn't my point," Harry huffed.

Lockhart ignored all of this as he pulled out his wand, and Harry still tried to protest as he said he'd much rather go up to the hospital wing.

"Because he's a pompous, big headed, arrogant-" Sirius began, while Lily finally cut him off saying:

"Sirius, I'm sure you can keep going for a year, but I want to hear this."

Wood had been one of the onlookers this whole time, and chose now to pipe up and say that Harry really should get help from the professional, but then turned and praised Harry for his marvelous catch.

"I really hate agreeing with him," James grumbled, thinking Wood was too happy for the circumstances. You could be happy about winning after all of your players were healed up!

Harry spotted Fred and George a ways out, still fighting with the Bludger and trying to force it back into its crate, but the ball was still fighting back.

"Whoever cursed that thing, I'm going to curse them into oblivion," James vowed.

Harry wondered why his automatic reaction was to correct his Dad. Why would he want to defend whoever did this?

Lockhart was ready now, rolling back his green sleeves,

"Jeez, wonder which team he was supporting," Sirius said vaguely.

and pointing his wand at Harry. There was no more chance to stop him, as Harry began to feel an odd sensation from the tips of his fingers all the way to his shoulder.

"That's not the feeling you should have," Lily said, real fear creeping into her as she wondered what this inept idiot had done to her son.

"Wish it had said the spell he tried," Remus muttered, "because I'd like to use it on him."

"He said Brackium Emendo," Harry offered brightly, knowing full well Lockhart deserved whatever his family was thinking up, though still having an issue with remembering why.

"That's, actually a real spell," Lily said in surprise.

"So why isn't the feeling he's having the right one," James said uneasily.

Lily bit her lip before waving Remus on, trying to figure that out herself.

Harry got the odd sensation that his arm was being deflated.

"Well," Lily began again, thinking out loud now, "I know that if you don't have enough magical ability to perform a spell properly it often does the opposite effect. That's why you don't walk in trying to do seventh year spells," Lily explained that part for Harry's benefit, "so if this dolt hasn't built up enough of an ability to perform this spell correctly..." she trailed off, puzzling, "what would be the opposite of mending broken bones?"

"I don't want to find out," James sighed as Remus read on, now a little curious himself, and having an abundance of faith Madame Pomfrey could fix it if, most likely, Lockhart simply broke

the bone further. Then of course, he'd just have to hurt Lockhart all the more for prolonging Harry's pain.

Harry was to terrified to see what had been done to his arm even as the crowd around him gasped in shock and the mad clicking of a camera doubled up.

"That can't be a good sign," Sirius muttered.

His arm didn't hurt anymore,

Lily perked up in surprise, perhaps Harry just had a unique reaction to the spell?

nor did it feel remotely like his arm.

"Not a good sign at all," James agreed.

Lockhart tried to brush it off as Ron and Hermione approached, saying he'd done all he could and they could take him up to the Hospital now to tidy Harry up.

"Tidy him up?" Remus asked, "What does that even mean?"

"Fix his screw up," Harry muttered.

"You remember what happened?" James asked quickly.

"No," Harry sighed, knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold the memory until the book said it, "but I know it wasn't good."

Harry got unsteadily to his feet, feeling oddly off balance. Sucking in a big breath for fear of what he was going to find, Harry finally glanced down at his arm and nearly blacked out again.

"Did he remove your arm or something!" Lily yelped.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but now that he seemed to actually remember what he saw, he didn't seem able to spit it out.

Remus read quickly now.

Hanging from his shoulder was a loose pile of flesh. His fingers wouldn't move, his wrist wouldn't turn, nothing was happening.

There was a muscle twitching in Sirius' jaw as he finally realized what had happened.

Remus looked like he really was going to pass out.

James and Lily refused to react until Remus flat out read.

Harry realized that Lockhart had not in fact fixed Harry's arm, he'd removed all of the bones in it.

"He's dead," James vowed. "He is officially a dead man. He-" he spluttered out, most likely to outraged to finish his sentence.

"What I find most interesting," Remus said threw gritted teeth, "is how he managed to switch those spells! You're supposed to stop making those kinds of mistakes at fourth year, at the latest!"

"What spell did he actually use?" Harry asked.

"It's called Ossio Dispersimus," James said, "only used in the most severe crisis, when the bones can't be mended for some reason or another, and you have to temporarily take them out."

"So they will grow back," Harry said eagerly, his family didn't seem that concerned about this.

"Oh yes," Lily said at once, "take a bit of Skele-Gro, and your bones will come right back."

Harry nodded, then still deciding he was curious, asked, "How would you switch spells like that?"

"It's a rookie mistake," James snorted, "but something that can happen when you start learning spells, and then counterspells. If you aren't concentrating on the spell you're intending to use, you can accidentally cause another spell to happen."

"I'm not surprised," Sirius huffed, "that idiot can't focus on anything but his reflection. He shouldn't be trying any spells!"

"Just proves his incompetence all the more," Harry shrugged, "not that anyone should have

needed it."

Still furious, but calmed slightly by the subsequent discussion, they were all willing to keep going without shouting death threats, for now.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't pleased. She was yelling at the lot of them for not taking Harry to her the moment this had happened, while tossing Harry some spare pj's and telling him he'd have to stay the night. Harry was relieved when she promised she could fix his arm though. Ron had to help him put his shirt on, trying to stuff the rubber mess into a sleeve.

"Ew," Sirius wrinkled up his nose at the mental image.

Ron was yelling at Hermione that how could she stick up for Lockhart now! Hermione pointed out that anyone could make a mistake,

"I've never heard of anyone doing that after the age of sixteen," Remus sniffed, "by that time, any idiot can master the concept of focusing on one spell at a time."

"Can't believe Hermione is still sticking up for him," Lily sighed.

and reminding that it didn't hurt Harry anymore. Harry huffed that it hardly felt like his arm either as it uselessly flopped around at his side.

"Gross," James grumbled.

Madam Pomfrey came back with a bottle of Skele-Gro, telling Harry to drink it up, and warning Harry that regrowing bones was a terrible process.

Now it was Harry's turn to wrinkle up his nose in disgust at the remembered taste of that.

"What did it taste like?" Sirius asked, he'd never known anyone who had to take it.

"Nothing you'd ever tasted before, or wanted again," Harry grumbled.

The Skele-Gro tasted terrible and left a foul taste as it went down Harry's throat. Madam Pomfrey began heading back to her office once he'd finished, muttering furiously about dangerous sports and inept teachers.

"The worst part is, I can't even argue with her this time," Remus sighed.

Ron tried to look on the bright side by pointing out the look that had been on Malfoy's face when they won the match. Hermione asked how on earth he could have done that to the Bludger, and Harry said they could just add it to their list of questions they'd ask when they took the Polyjuice Potion.

"Sorry Harry," Lily sighed, "I just don't see him being able to do that. Those Bludgers are charmed especially so that they can't be tampered with. No student should be able to get past that."

Harry nodded, agreeing with his mom's opinion even without the feeling's reinforcing that she was right.

Then he hoped it at least tasted better than the Skele-Gro.

"Sadly not," James wrinkled his nose in disgust, "I had to take some once, Auror training protocol and all, and it doesn't matter who you change into. The stuff is awful."

"Gee, thanks dad," Harry said.

The rest of the team showed up then with proper drinks and candies to celebrate Harry's victory, George praising Harry on his win as well and telling Harry how he'd seen the Slytherin Captain yelling at Malfoy for not grabbing at the Snitch right above his head.

"With any luck he'll get kicked off the team!" Sirius said brightly, finally finding something good about this match.

Madam Pomfrey came back around then, kicking every one of them out and saying how Harry needed rest. So Harry had nothing to distract himself from the burning pain that was beginning in his boneless arm.

"Her intentions are good, honestly," Remus sighed, "but if I'm ever told to rest again, I really will smack someone."

James and Sirius exchanged smiles, knowing full well they had never indulged in Pomfrey's rules. They had always used James cloak, and snuck down to see Remus, and they wondered if Ron

and Hermione would do the same.

Harry managed to fall into a fitful sleep, and woke several hours later. At first he thought he'd been awoken by the horrible pain in his arm that felt like he was growing his own splinters.

"Ouch," they all muttered, not liking that description one bit.

Then he realized there was someone on his bedside, patting a sponge against his forehead.

"Hermione?" James asked, sounding more confused than confident.

"Why would she be there?" Lily asked.

"Because these two knuckleheads were thinking Harry's friends would sneak in to see him," Remus offered, "but I think Hermione doing that is a little odd."

"I think it just proves all the more how much she likes Harry," Sirius snipped, giving Harry a look he didn't understand one bit. Of course Hermione liked him, they were friends.

Harry snapped for whoever to stop it, then he recognized Dobby.

"Dobby!" They yelped in surprise. "What's he doing there?" Remus added on.

"What's he doing there?" James repeated when Harry looked uneasily around the room, his dad's voice coming out between gritted teeth as he guessed what Harry was thinking now.

"Ah, why are you asking me," he finally said, "I've no idea."

All four of them grumbled a bit, having a really bad feeling about this. The last time Dobby had been around, it hadn't been very pleasant, and they were just as weary this time.

The house-elf was obviously distraught, watching Harry with tears leaking out of his eyes.

"Wait," Sirius said, "so does that mean, did Dobby have something to do with paralyzing Mrs. Norris?"

"What makes you think that?" James asked.

"He's trying to scare Harry into leaving, I'm wondering if he might have pulled that stunt to keep that going," Sirius shrugged.

"No," Remus said, going a little pale, "but you're on the right track, I think. What if Dobby was trying to scare Harry away from the school because he knew something like this might happen."

"A house-elf knew a cat would be paralyzed?" James asked in disbelief.

"It's not out of the realm of possibilities," Lily agreed with Remus.

"Well then who paralyzed the cat, and is making Harry hear a voice," Sirius asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. They were pretty well into this book by now, and still had no real suspect.

All five of them sighed, letting it go for now.

Dobby was scolding Harry for having come to school, how he was still in danger and why hadn't Harry just given up when he missed the train?

"Well, guess I was right," Remus sighed, not looking very happy.

"Yes, yes, that does tend to happen sometimes," Sirius scoffed.

"Now I just want to know if I was right about why he did," Remus huffed, ignoring Sirius so that he could read.

Harry pushed Dobby's hand, and the sponge, away as he heaved himself upright.

"That's kind of creepy," James muttered, finding it much less endearing than a girl that was a friend of Harry's.

"It's like he adopted Harry," Sirius nodded. "If Dobby didn't have a family of his own, and Harry was of age, Harry could possibly bind Dobby to his family line."

"Is that really how it works?" Lily asked.

"It's more complicated than just saying it," Sirius smirked at her, "but something along those lines."

Lily huffed, unable to decide if he was being sarcastic, and none of the boys were helping.

Harry demanded to know if Dobby had really been the one to block him and Ron!

"How?" Lily asked in disbelief, "Exactly how powerful are house-elves?"

"Very," Sirius said with a straight face, "they're probably the most powerful magical creature that exist, which is why they were enslaved by wizards so many years ago."

"How were they enslaved if they're so powerful?" Harry asked.

"That's a long, really ugly history on the wizard part," Remus said, "we'll try and explain that later."

Harry nodded in content for now.

Dobby agreed it was him. He'd been so stunned to hear that Harry had still made it to school he'd messed up on one of his chores and forced to iron his own hands.

Lily winced in sympathy for the poor thing all over again, though honestly thinking she was still annoyed at him being the cause of all of Harry's problems this year.

Dobby said he didn't care though, saying how he thought it was worth it because surely Harry didn't have another way to get to school.

"Also proves my earlier point," James nodded, "he clearly has no idea how things work if he thought the train was the only way to get to school."

Dobby had been so surprised to hear Harry was at Hogwarts he'd burnt his master's dinner, and received his worst ever thrashing.

Lily's lower lip quivered in real pain for this creature now, saying, "I feel like an arse. How are there not laws in place to prevent this kind of thing?"

"It's not your fault Lily," James said at once, "exactly how many people are involved in that type of thing, and none of them have said a word either."

"Besides," Sirius shrugged, "I doubt there's anything you could do. Pass as many laws as you like, house-elves belong to their owners. You can't control the way they're treated."

Lily fired up at once, snapping, "Like you can't control the way people treat animals, or their own children! There are laws to prevent that kind of abuse! You see house-elves as less than them!"

Sirius' superior look faltered for the first time. He disagreed with nearly every aspect of his parent's life, but the one thing he'd never had a problem with was their treatment of Kreacher. He was a vile thing, hateful and spiteful to the extreme, to him anyways. So whenever he saw him being punished, never bothering to learn the reasons, he'd had no problems. Never having met any other house-elves besides the ones at Hogwarts, who he'd given about as much attention as the ghosts into their free time outside of politely giving him food, he had no reason to think otherwise about the species as a whole.

Dobby certainly hadn't changed his mind so far, he was being an absolute arse trying to keep Harry out of school. Now, at Lily's words, he suddenly thought of Harry at Privet Drive again, no

one taking the time to care what happened to him. Harry had tried comparing his life to Dobby's and Sirius had scoffed at the idea, there couldn't be any similarities, right?

He shook off his feelings and snapped at Remus to keep going, ignoring the curious looks from everyone else at what exactly had him quiet for so long.

Harry was more exasperated than anything as he told Dobby he'd better get lost before he got both arms back, or he'd probably strangle Dobby himself. Dobby said he was used to death threats, he got them frequently enough at home, then he blew his nose on a bit of his pillowcase.

"Wow, I kind of forgive him," Remus said sadly, "this is just sad."

James and Lily both nodded, Sirius crossed his arms and said nothing. Surely the elf was just trying to get Harry to pity him.

Harry asked why Dobby even wore that, and Dobby said it was a mark of being a house-elf, not being allowed to wear clothes. Dobby could only be freed from his slavery if masters gave him clothes, and they were very careful never to pass Dobby so much as a sock.

Harry went a little cross eyed for a moment, hating that feeling of significance that was gone as soon as he tried to understand why.

Dobby changed the subject then, saying he'd been sure his Bludger,

"His Bludger!" Sirius roared, "he tried to break your head open!"

"Sirius, you said you wouldn't add him to your kill list," Harry said weakly, "whatever he did remember? Dobby's got the right intentions...I think."

This calmed the others, slightly. They were still angry, but they had promised not to take it out on Dobby. He must have a reason for this if Harry said so.

Sirius though, was still furious. He'd only agreed to that because he thought Dobby wouldn't make another appearance, that his worst thing he'd done was make Harry's life even more miserable at the Dursley's, more than enough reason to warrant his fury, but he had given Harry the benefit of the doubt in pitying the creature. Besides, it not being his house-elf, he couldn't do anything about it anyways. Now, he was determined to find out whose elf this was, and silently planning on doing something to the stupid little thing. Maybe not kill him, he'd keep that promise, but he would never take anything threatening his godson's life without taking revenge back.

and Harry cut him off in outrage, demanding to know why Dobby wanted him dead! Dobby corrected he didn't want to kill him,

Dobby corrected he didn't want to kill him,

"What did he think was going to happen when he aimed a weighted ball at your head?" Remus demanded.

"Err," Harry said lamely, he had no response for that.

he only wanted to save his life. Better to go home with an injury,

"So he intended to send you home limbless!" James yelped in disgust.

"I don't care what the elf thinks," Lily huffed, "if you couldn't be helped at the school, you would have been sent to Saint Mungo's, healed there, and then come back to school."

"Like Dad said," Harry shrugged, "Dobby doesn't know how this stuff works."

"That's getting old," James muttered.

then to remain at school. Harry snapped that Dobby needed to tell him why Harry was in such danger.

"If he answers that, I actually will forgive him," Remus huffed in agitation. Clearly Dobby knew something he wasn't telling.

Dobby moaned that he still couldn't, but it was dangerous here! Harry was too important to be lost that way, as he still stood for so much good. How his kind had been treated so much better since the fall of You-Know-Who. Something terrible was happening at school now though, and it involved He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Why would that be?" James asked curiously, "people would treat their house-elf's the same without Voldemort being around."

"More of Dobby not having a clue what's going on," Sirius muttered in disgust.

Lily gave him a scathing look. She had thought she'd seen, for just a moment, something pass across his face. Now it was gone, and he looked as surely as any other time elves were mentioned.

Now that the Chamber had been opened again, terrible things were set to happen.

"Once more?" James asked in surprise. "When was it opened before?"

"I've never heard of that," Sirius agreed.

"Wish we had," Remus sighed, "we might have gotten more clues where it is."

"Are you lot crazy?" Lily yelped in disgust, "the 'monster' that's supposedly in there doesn't bother you!"

"Nah," Sirius said, "that's probably just fake, to scare people away from finding it. Slytherin might have hide something really valuable there, and I want to know what."

"So here's hoping Harry might find it," James said, going bright eyed for a moment.

"I want to slap all of you," she sighed, rubbing at her own temple. Harry fought back the urge to agree with his mother.

Dobby froze up as he realized he'd said too much, and he picked up Harry's cup and began cracking himself over the head with it as he scolded himself.

"This elf is weird," James said, "I don't get why that was a secret."

"Well, since we didn't know about it, I'd say it isn't widely known," Sirius shrugged.

"Wonder what happened before," Remus said thoughtfully.

Harry quickly took the cup back and tried to argue that what did this have to do with him? He wasn't even muggle-born, why was he in danger?

"That's another good point," Lily nodded, "his statues, should protect him. Why is Dobby so freaked over Harry in particular?"

"No good reason," Harry sighed.

Dobby pleaded with Harry to stop asking questions, just to please leave. Harry refused, wanting to know who had opened it before, who had done it now? Dobby still insisted he couldn't say.

"So he knows then," Remus said, raising a brow in surprise.

"Geez, I really want to know who Dobby's owner is," Sirius said, ulterior motives aside, he just knew that this elf's owner would somehow be important for Dobby to be knowing all of this.

Dobby froze up then, and Harry heard why. Footsteps were headed up, and Dobby took the chance to disappear again. Harry quickly curled back up in his bed to feign sleep as the door opened.

"Probably for the best," Lily said sadly, "he clearly couldn't tell you anything, or if he let something slip out he beat the crap out of himself."

"Here's hoping he doesn't come back," Sirius muttered.

Dumbledore came in backwards, looking like he was carrying some stone figure by its feet,

Remus stopped right there, glancing up briefly at the others who all looked as scared as he felt.

"A statue," Lily whimpered, "like a human sized statue?"

Harry nodded dumbly, knowing full well he wasn't going to like what Remus was fixing to read.

"Please tell me it was Lockhart," Sirius said weakly.

Remus sucked in a deep breath before reading.

and McGonagall quickly followed with the head. They laid it gently on the nearest bed while McGonagall tore off to go and get Madam Pomfrey. She returned demanding to know what had happened, and Dumbledore explained that Minerva had found him on the stairs.

"Him?" Lily yelped.

"On the stairs?" James said with unease, "It wasn't Ron was it?"

"No," Harry said with confidence.

"Stop interrupting me," Remus huffed, "I want to know who it is."

The married couple went silent at the rebuke.

McGonagall said how she'd found some food next to him, and theorized he had probably been on his way up here to visit Harry.

All five of them shivered in disgust, hoping dearly McGonagall was wrong.

Harry took a chance and glanced over to see it was Colin.

"Bloody hell," Sirius groaned.

"That poor kid," Lily whispered.

"Who would attack him though?" Remus asked, running one hand through his hair in frustration, "everyone hates Mrs. Norris and Filch, but who has a grudge against a first year?"

"Maybe it's random?" James offered.

"Or it really is someone against muggle-borns," Sirius said, fidgeting a bit and hoping he was wrong.

"You still can't tell a muggle-born just by looking at them," James disagreed, "so unless someone knew Colin, that shouldn't matter."

"I still want to know how!" Remus asked when it appeared they still had no new leads on the first question. "The only thing that can petrify people like that is a gorgon. I refuse to believe one is getting in and out of that school without being noticed."

They all sighed as they realized, despite a new victim, they had no more answers than before, and in fact more questions.

"My question is, what's the point?" James grumbled, "this can't all just be to scare the students. There must be an endgame to this."

"Let us know if you figure it out," Harry said miserably.

He was as petrified as Mrs. Norris had been a look of great shock on his face, barely visible underneath the camera he was holding against his eye. McGonagall was muttering in relief that it was just lucky Dumbledore had been on his way to get something to drink.

"I thought Dumbledore said McGonagall found him on the stairs?" Sirius asked, trying to distract himself again, "what, did she really fear she couldn't handle whatever on her own."

"Would you want to handle this on your own?" Remus shuddered.

"Do gorgons eat people or something?" Harry asked.

"They're not known to," Remus shook his head, "they're not categorized as beasts anyways. They haven't been known to make any appearance at any congregation of our kind, so very little is known about their habits."

"They're found in Greece," Sirius added, "there's never even been a sighting of them here."

Dumbledore made to remove his camera, and McGonagall asked hopefully if Colin had somehow managed to get a picture of who'd done this to him.

"Now that's interesting," James said thoughtfully, "has anyone ever brought out muggle things to see what happens when a gorgon stairs at it?"

"Don't even think about it," Lily snapped at once, "I don't even want to think of you lot out there trying those kinds of stunts."

The boys all huffed in annoyance, Sirius saying, "I told you Lily would be a killjoy."

"Be nice," James said at once, "she just means she doesn't want to hear about it, because she wants to come. Isn't that right Lily Flower."

Lily looked to the ceiling, as if praying for patience, and Remus took that as his cue to keep going.

Harry felt like he was going to be sick again, but he was learning to control the feeling the more it went on. It wasn't a gorgon, his instincts were sure of this, but he refused to allow another memory to blast him again. They clearly scared his family, so he would just have to wait and see to find out

what it really was, and in the meantime, ask as many questions as it took to take his mind off this pain.

Dumbledore opened up the camera,

Lily was tempted to point out that under normal circumstances, that would have ruined the film, but this was a magically imbued camera so perhaps there were charms in place to protect this?

Either way she didn't know cameras that well, and didn't want to delay in pointing this out to the others.

but they all yelped in shock with black steam came jetting out of the back of the camera, and Harry could clearly smell melted plastic.

"Well that answers that question," Sirius said, a little disappointed.

"I'm surprised Colin would have still gotten petrified though," Remus said thoughtfully, "after all the only sure fire way to not be hurt by the gorgon's look is to only look at their reflection. I guess looking through a lens wouldn't count."

"Again, something more to test," James grinned.

Lily twitched, and James automatically flinched back like he thought she was going to slap him again. Lily instead smoothed some hair back from her face, exposing a vindictive smile.

McGonagall was stunned as she demanded of Dumbledore what on earth could have done this. Dumbledore simply answered that this confirmed the Chamber was in fact open again.

"How does he work that out?" Lily asked grumpily, more than sick of this whole school being so vague this year.

"I wonder," Remus pondered, having noted something about a monster within the Chamber earlier, it didn't really add up though...

"What are you thinking Moony?" James asked.

He shook himself and said, "let me finish this chapter, it's only a bit left, then I'll explain."

McGonagall asked who,

"That's what we want to know," Lily grumbled.

but Dumbledore corrected it wasn't a who they should be worried about, but how.

"Okay Remus, how?" James demanded.

HPHPHPHP

Actual favorite chapter of this book, I tell even though no one asked.

#Harry Potter #Lily Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #Reading the Books #fanfiction #HP #Chamber of Secrets

1 note · View note

ofwizardsandmen · 5 years ago

Photo

CHRISTMAS SERIES

Keyword being ‘supposed’

This is definitely not how Enzo Saint-Pierre was supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

Characters: Enzo Saint-Pierre, Minah Delacroix, Tara Lee, Mark Yang. Mentions of other minor characters.

Word count: 3,6k

“I can’t believe them” Enzo Saint-Pierre huffed as he flopped on the pink velvet sofa, arms falling limp at his sides and his phone slipping from his hand before falling over a cushion.

Across the room, Enzo’s business partner and close friend, Minah Delacroix, stopped wrapping her brother’s Christmas gift for a short moment and took notice of his sour expression and the way his eyes glared at the device with resentment.

It was the day before Christmas and the friends had been chatting about pointless topics for nearly two hours now. Although the company’s premises had been closed for a few days now, Enzo had forgotten some important documents in his security box and just happened to come across his business partner hiding in her office wrapping gifts and writing cards. For the past weeks, It had been difficult to even see Minah because apparently she was juggling all her duties as a Delacroix, attending parties, planning her own Christmas festivities and buying gifts for her endless list of family members, friends, and business network. Of course, Sienna, her ever-efficient assistant, had been really helpful —Enzo had already received a beautiful set of gold cufflinks with his family crest coat of arms carved by goblins, earlier that day, for example—, but Minah still had some last-minute tasks to fulfill, which explained why they had been chitchatting as she went on with the ever boring task of dictating Christmas messages to her Quick Quotes Quill and wrapping Christmas gifts in an old fashioned way.

Only a few minutes ago laughter filled the room. The friends had been talking about their holiday plans until a call interrupted Enzo from pocking fun at Minah’s choice of words to describe what she would be wearing that night for her one on one Christmas celebrations.

“What happened?” MInah asked. She knew Enzo was never the type to react negatively, choosing to remain blissfully —and even annoyingly— positive even at critical times (a behavior that had almost caused her to attempt murder several times the past year), so his expression made her raise one of her perfect brows. Minah carefully placed Suho’s state of the art quidditch glasses on the table (one of her husband’s most recent tech inventions) and leaned back on the chair.

“Nothing” Enzo deadpanned, but the scowl on his forehead told otherwise.

“Oh, come on, Enzo. The only time I saw you frown like this was when we were invited to the Olivier’s fashion show” Minah walked across the office and took the empty spot beside her friend, sitting cross-legged. “And even then you looked slightly entertained”

“Would you blame me? Maude poured champagne on her hideous white dress. It was hilarious” Enzo smirked playfully at the memory. It never failed to amuse him.

“Then, what’s wrong? Minah insisted, her voice too sweet for Enzo not to detect concern filtering through her tone.

“Just my ever enchanting family,” The man said with a sigh “Cancelling dinner plans at the very last minute because their businesses are more important… businesses being a euphemism for affairs.”

It had never been a secret for Minah that Enzo’s parents’ only kept their marriage to protect their individual interests. Minah and Enzo had bumped with his dad lounging on yachts in the Mediterranean, with entourages of women younger than herself, during their business trips to the south of France and Italy. His mother, on the other hand, had been having an affair with a magizoology researcher for some years now and she never missed the opportunity to run away with him to some exotic place. Of course, Enzo never told her that, Minah had found out everything about it through her uncle, Jerome, who granted was not one to spread gossip but had accidentally spilled the beans when they crossed paths with Madame Huang at a gala from the International Dragon Foundation.

“What?” Minah gaped at that. Enzo had been talking about his plans with his parents for nearly a month and he seemed quite excited about it given the fact he didn’t get to spend time with them very often. It had made Minah question how lonely and in need of love Enzo seemed to be, but she hadn’t said anything about it. Instead, she had witnessed him planing every detail for their Christmas dinner with minute attention. He had bought handmade Italian glasses and hired the executive chef of the trendiest restaurant in London for the occasion. Hell, he had even got her aunt Adelaine to design him a suit although she was as busy as a bee. “I’m so sorry about it. I know you were looking forward to spending time with your parents”

“Nah. It’s ok. It was too good to be true” He attempted to laugh it off, but Minah knew that for some odd reason, Enzo still held some type of respect and affection for his parents. She was still unable to understand his fixation on spending time with them, but she figured out that the situation was far from being “ok”.

“No, it is not. They should’ve canceled before so you could make some arrangements and plan something else” She said scowling and slightly raising her voice.

“I will be fine, Minah. I am going to crash any of the parties I was invited to or drop by to visit some friends” He said, putting emphasis on the last word and winking at Minah afterward.

“No, that doesn’t sound right” Minah protested “Why don’t you come and stay with me and Sungjae. We didn’t really plan anything special” Only once she had already made the offer, Minah realized the mistake she had committed by inviting someone to spend Christmas Eve with her and her husband, without even asking Sungjae first.

“I had no idea you were into threesomes, Min” Enzo joked, eyes flickering in pretended surprise.

Minah slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be ridiculous! Haven’t you told me he third party is always supposed to be a stranger?”

They both laughed at that, but Enzo became serious once again, moving on the sofa to look at Minah in the eyes.

“I really appreciate your offer, but I am pretty sure Sungjae won’t be exactly thrilled to have me there,” He said seriously.

“Oh no, Sungjae is in his Christmas mood, I’m sure he really wouldn’t mind” That last part was a blatant lie, Minah could only imagine Sungjae’s reaction and it was far from what she had described, but Enzo didn’t need to know that.

“Ha. As if” Enzo rolled eyes. “Minah, you’re newlyweds. I seriously appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to feel any better if I have to spend Christmas Eve at your place, knowing that you would very much rather be fucking with your husband than hosting unwanted guests.”

“Wow, what a charmer” Minah replied with a trace of sarcasm. She couldn’t deny that Enzo was completely right, but she was still convinced that she needed to insist. “But Enzo… Christmas has always been about unannounced guests. From day one, that is the whole purpose of the holiday. I mean, take the Wise Men, they just called in unannounced.”

“They brought gold, Minah, of course, Mary and Joseph didn’t mind” Enzo switched his position on the sofa scoffing.

“But still-“ Minah started, but her speech was interrupted before she could say another word.

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to give up Christmas sex only because of me” Enzo stated with a grin, causing Minah to huff “No, but seriously. I’m going to be perfectly fine, Min. I always have a plan B.” The male moved to pat Minah’s hand brotherly “Thanks for caring so much though.”

“Just wanted to give you a Christmas gift” Minah said, a pout forming slightly.

“You already got me these” Enzo said pointing at his wrists, showing off the cufflinks Sienna had delivered to his apartment that morning “Plus, you know I’m not expecting any Christmas miracle or present, Minnie. I’ve been a bad boy all year long” Enzo shrugged, winking for an added effect. “We all know I’d never make it to Santa’s nice list.

________

When Enzo showed up at Tara’s porch, she could barely hide the disappointed look on her face. Although she knew very well that Mark couldn’t make it home for Christmas this year, for some stupid reason she had been expecting it to be him. But then again, why would Mark even ring the bell of their own home? Tara thought to herself that the unreasonable hope she had been harboring inside was clouding her judgment and she felt like facepalming herself.

“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me” Cladded in the most Christmas cliched outfit Tara had ever seen him wear, Enzo smiled widely at her. He didn’t seem the least bit offended by Tara’s reaction, which made her feel even worse and instinctively step to the side for him to walk in.

“I’m sorry, dear.” Tara tiptoed to kiss Enzo’s cheek and give him a quick hug “You just caught me off guard. I thought you were supposed to be home with your parents.”

“Keyword being ‘supposed’” Enzo said, handing Tara what seemed to be a present, wrapped in a silly paper with red-nosed female reindeers wearing hot-pink bows. “As per usual they canceled on me, so I supposed my best friend could use some company” He made a pause to take a brief look around “…Not to mention I could bestow some much needed Christmas spirit in this house.” He added once he realized the house was almost empty, which of course was to be expected given the fact Tara had just moved in there a few weeks ago. Yet, there was something truly depressing about it all. There was no tree, no decorations. Not the least sign of the joyful season.

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t planning anything special, I was expecting tonight to be just me and the Ghost of Christmas Past” Tara joked, noticing the pitiful look on Enzo’s face.

“I thought Mark would be here, that’s why I dressed down” he attempted to mask the question with a ridiculous joke, but Tara’s expression fell anyhow.

“He’s just busy. Apparently, a group is not enough work, so his company planned this whole “supergroup” project and if I haven’t lost track of the date, he must be stuck somewhere between Dallas and Miami right now” Tara forced a smile “But it’s ok.” She took a deep breath that suggested she wasn’t particularly ok. She then went on “I know how important his career is and how hard he’s worked for it, so I’m fine”

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of telling me about it, T. I seriously thought Mark was coming home tonight. If I had known-“

“If you had known, you would’ve tried o drag me to some crazy orgy in Las Vegas or Rome and I don’t know about you, but that’s not exactly what my Christmas spirit dictates me to do,” Tara said with an insincere laugh that made her best friend frown. “Ok, no, it’s just that you seemed so excited to spend time with your parents, I didn’t want to ruin it with my whining.”

“I’m almost offended you think that way, T.” Enzo clicked his tongue reprovingly before sneaking an arm around Tara’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me and we could’ve figured out an escapade to wherever Mark is and surprise him.” Enzo’s eyes lit up as though an idea had suddenly crossed his mind. “In fact, I think we’re still on time for that. Let’s go see Mark, we can Apparate and scare him off. Or we could scare the CEO of his company-“

“We are not going to Apparate in another continent just for Mark to spend his night performing for thousand of crazy women who fantasize about him-“ Tara stopped mid-sentence when she realized the bitterness in her words. “I-“ she let out a sigh, letting realization kick in.

“Wow” Enzo let out a deep breath before going on. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Neither did I” Tara admitted, looking down at her shoes as though she were looking at them for the very first time. “I just-“

“You’re just a human, T. You would like to have Mark all for yourself sometimes, wouldn’t you?” Enzo placed both of his hands on each side of Tara’s arms, making her look up. She hesitated for a second, but then she nodded “And it’s understandable.”

“I would never change the fact Mark is who he is, but sometimes…” Tara trailed off.

“Sometimes you should just let him know the way you feel” Enzo replied simply.

________

Four hours later and after bending several wizarding laws and abusing of their personal connections at the Ministry of Magic, Enzo and Tara dodge a group of overly excited teenagers in Perry Street. As per usual, the street is busy and decorated in a close simulation of a cheerful winter wonderland. There are several muggle tourists taking pictures outside the iconic Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment, but there’s also a growing crowd of young females in the intersection with the 10th. Tara feels her heart pound violently against his chest and Enzo seems to hear it as well judging by the supportive way he laces his fingers with hers.

“Everybody is gonna be ecstatic to see you” Enzo says vehemently, pulling Tara to give her a one-armed hug

But it seems that Enzo is mistaken when Taeyong, Johnny, and Doyoung open the door of the 79th 10th street, looking nothing less than confused.

“What are you even doing here?” Doyoung scowls in puzzlement and asks, looking at Tara as though her presence as equally unexpected as it was unwelcomed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in London?” Yuta joins the other three, panic evident in his voice.

“Keyword being ‘supposed’,” Tara swallows as she stares at the group with a frown.

“Oh God, what’s wrong with everybody today?” Enzo’s upper lip curls up in disgust “Can’t you at least pretend you’re somewhat happy to see us?”

“Is this about to take an unexpected plot twist that shifts this happy Christmas reunion from romance to horror, because I would appreciate it if you just told me if Mark is cheating on me with someone behind that door instead of giving me all these grievous looks”

“Gosh, no, this is definitely not about that” Johnny steps forward, his tall frame towering over Tara. “We’re very happy to see you, but-” He claims vehemently as he offers her a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite accomplish its purpose.

“It’s just that…” Taeyong manages to interrupt “Mark is not here”

“What?”

“He left at dawn” Yuta explains “He wanted to surprise you, but apparently missed the obvious fact you’d want to do exactly the same.”

Before the news can actually down on them, Enzo turns to Tara with rounded eyes and an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry… this was a terrible-”

“It’s ok. We can still make it back to London on time” Tara says, biting the inside of her cheek.

The suggestion makes Taeyong raise a brow skeptically, but Doyoung doesn’t even bother hiding his exasperation.

“Sorry to break it up to you but the flight to London will take you at least 11 hours” he points out, eyes rolling almost involuntarily.

“Not to mention you won’t possibly be able to book a ticket on Christmas Eve” Someone else objects, peeking through the open door.

“Oh, no, Don’t worry, we have connections” Enzo laughs, brushing the comments off with his signature overconfidence “it’ll take us 3 hours tops”

___________

The 14 hours it took Mark Yang to land in London are probably the most anxiety-inducing hours in his life. Considering he gets to spend most of his time on planes with the bunch of dorks his group mates are, that’s saying a lot. But the flight delay, the terrible weather conditions and the overly sensitive travelers trying to make it home for Christmas are the perfect recipe for disaster.

To complete the already disastrous scenario, Mark’s phone decided Christmas Eve was the perfect time of the year to act up and die on him, so by the time he made it out of the airport, he had to gather all his self-control not to snap at an elderly couple who stole the cab he had hailed. And when he finally managed to get in a taxi and everything seemed like it could finally work, the traffic jam and questionable driving style of the driver —who seemed to be lacking in festive spirit and cussed at everybody who tried to get past them— delayed his arrival two additional hours.

When Mark steps into his 19th-century residence in Kensington, where Tara and he had moved in after their engagement, he’s surprised to recognize he still finds the place oddly unfamiliar. It probably is the little time he has spent in it or the heavy Christmas decorations adorning pretty much every inch of surface, but he can’t help but feel an immense amount of guilt. This was supposed to be his and Tara’s first Christmas together after getting engaged and he truly wanted it to be special, but in between his group and solo promotions, multiple interviews and upcoming projects, he had been less than a stellar fiancé.

It’s snowing outside and it’s so cold his teeth start chattering as he makes his way in, the nostalgic scent of pine and sandalwood mingled with that of gingerbread filling his nostrils. Tara has never been particularly into Christmas so the fact everything looks so pristine and festive makes Mark wonder how lonely she had been feeling. Feeling guilt shot through his body once again, Mark’s first instinct is to rush to their room upstairs, but when he slams the door open hoping to wake up Tara, he finds out an empty bed. Sure, Tara had made sure new bed linens graced their bed and to place a bottle of champagne on the side table, but there are no traces of Tara.

Mark tours the house simultaneously looking for his fiancée and discovering how big it is, he finds freshly baked gingerbread cookies in the kitchen and watermelon cut in the perfect shape of stars and his heart clenches painfully. He wishes he could’ve prepared something for Tara other than a lame necklace from Tiffany’s.

The man finally walks into their living room and stops in his tracks as he notices two figures curled up on the burgundy couch. It takes Mark a few seconds to recognize the chiseled features of Enzo Saint Pierre, but what he notices right away is the way his arms are firmly wrapped around Tara and her head resting on his shoulder. Mark stands there not knowing what to do next. He could wake them up, but Tara looks like an angel when she’s sleeping, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. And even if Enzo can be annoying sometimes, he is pretty sure there’s some reasonable explanation as to why he is sleeping in his home on Christmas Eve.

Mark is about to turn around to find a cover for them when Tara faintly calls his name.

“You’re home” she says groggily, eyes half-open

“T…” Mark mutters, not sure of what to say.

“Am I dreaming?” Tara asks and Mark laughs at that.

“No, I’m home,” he says walking up to her.

“We were waiting for you” Tara whispers. She doesn’t move and her voice is barely audible over the sound of logs blazing the fireplace.

“Doesn’t look like it” Mark jokes, taking the empty spot beside Tara and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

“Don’t be silly Mark Yang,” Enzo speaks, eyes still closed. “We’re just tired after a six-hour round up to New York City, so if you appreciate your life, you better let us sleep.” Enzo moves bit tightening his hold on Tara and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You did what…?” Mark asks in disbelief. But what sounded like a truly obnoxious lie from Enzo ends up being confirmed by a nod of Tara’s head.

“Enzo thought it’d be a good idea to surprise you, but when we got there the guys told us you were on your way here” Tara chuckles a bit although the actual experience was not as nearly as amusing as the memory is “Poor Taeyong, I’ve never seen him panic so badly, he was pale when he saw us.”

The three of them burst into laughter, but silence follows afterward. Enzo falls back to sleep, Tara drowsily reaches for her fiancé’s hand and Mark looks completely lost in his own wold. And it can’t be otherwise. Even in the simplest of the situations, it appears to Mark that Tara’s existence is the manifestation of every beautiful thing he’s ever witnessed in life and no words would ever be enough for him to describe the wholesome feeling he gets just by staring at her.

“I’m sorry,” He finally breaks the silence, after minutes of looking at her wordlessly. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long” he adds as he pulls her hand to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles.

Tara hums something incompressible and then untangles herself from Enzo, moving to straddle Mark and giving him a passionate kiss that takes him completely off guard, but he responds to with the same fervor. He holds her waist, pulling her closer to him and preventing her from moving. It seems like a lifetime since he last kissed her, so he doesn’t let go off her easily.

When they pull away minutes later, gasping for air, they look at each other amused.

Tara holds her boyfriend’s face with both hands and giggles happily. “Merry Christmas, Mark”

“Merry Christmas, my love” Mark is about to dive in for another kiss when Enzo lets out a groan.

“This is not how I was supposed to spend Christmas Eve, you two” he complains throwing a cushion at them.

“Keyword being supposed” Tara repeats once again, before pulling Mark in for yet another kiss.

It is definitely not how Enzo Saint Pierre was supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

***

#tara #mark #enzo #story #minah #otp #oc #friends #nct #moodboard

3 notes · View notes

ravenclaw-craftsgirl · 5 years ago

Text

Lilian - Year One

Part 1 Part 2

Rating: G Foreword: This story uses the fanmade idea of Rowan Khanna being the name of Two Twins (The Twin Khannas) Using their middle names to distinguish themselves. Research has been done ahead of time, with certain instances purposely being different.

I will pre-translate all of Lilian’s french for Mobile users!

Here’s the original Google Doc Link for those who enjoy proper formatting

Enjoy!

The train station was near empty. Lilian was worried, seeing as how she carted her steamer trunk all the way here with her whole family. Her Mama and Papa were dressed up, while Uncle Rorick looked more or less the same in his work clothes. Lilian hadn’t even heard of a platform named ‘9 ¾’ before today.

Rorick grinned as he told Lilian’s parents to head through first as he nodded to Abby. She gripped her cart, her two crocodiles Hunin and Munin lifting their heads in excitement for what was about to happen next. Abby placed one foot on the cart, pushing the other to gain speed and zoomed into the pillar. Lilian simply stared in amazement at the sight of her cousin and parents vanishing into a pillar of solid stone. Rorick smiled to her as she turned to him. “Go on lass. Way’s only open fer so long.” Lilian took a deep breath, steadying herself before following in her cousin’s footsteps, so to speak. She planted one foot on her cart and pushed herself forward. She brought her other foot up and closed her eyes, expecting impact with the wall. She only opened her eyes when she finally slowed down, seeing an entirely new station. Her parents simply stood there, beaming with pride as she stepped off of her cart. Lilian was awestruck by the sudden change of scenery. A family with several children, fussing around two boys with bright red hair, a girl with equally outstanding pink hair… A duck? Why was a duck quacking at someone… “Love, it’s rude to stare at an Animagus. Let’s get ya two settled in yer car.” Rorick said as he placed a hand on Lilian’s shoulder. Soon, with everyone's luggage packed away, Parents started to say their farewells as students boarded the train. Lilian’s mama, Amelie, took especially long. “<Make sure to write to us as often as possible, little butterfly. Don't be afraid to ask for help for anything you don't understand. And most importantly, remember what your mom taught you.>”

Lilian nodded, hugging her mother. “<Yes, Mama. I will. How can I forget the greatest teacher of all time?>”

Amelie smiled at her daughter, tears caught in her eyes as she hugged her baby once more before letting Lilian board the train. Lilian sat with Abby in the train car as they started their journey to Hogwarts. “Ye nervous?” Lilian turned to Abby and smiled. “<Immeasurably…>” Abby chuckled. “Don, worry. Ye’ll be fine.”

After about thirty minutes into the train ride, the pair heard a knock at their booth door. They turned to see Harrow and Hubei standing there and waving. The Khanna twins they had met in Diagon Alley. Abby opened the door as they held a small stack of books and a small box with various sweets in it.

“We didn’t know what you two preferred-” Harrow started as he sat by Abby

“-So we got two of everything!” Hubei finished as she sat the box between her and Lilian. The two seemed to be in very good spirits as the train trundled along the tracks. Among the varied books, Lilian saw several interesting titles. Many of them were probably tame to the Khanna’s but Lilian was rather curious about some of them. One especially caught her eye, ‘The tales of Beetle the Bard’. “Pardon, but may I read that?” She asked while pointing at the book.

Harrow was well into a licorice vine, so Hubei obliged Lilian. “It’s a wizarding world classic. Full of fairy tales and such.”

“If ye wanted, I coulda brought my copy, Lil.” Abby said as she quickly snatched up a chocolate frog and popped it in her mouth. “AH GAFF AH GOT ANOTER GILDEROY! Ma luck jus don seem ta pan out, don’t it?” Harrow grinned as he held up his wizarding trading card. “I’ll trade you a Merlin for your Gilderoy. I can never seem to get one of him.” “Ye’ve got a deal, Tree Boy.” Hubei nearly snorted out her drink while Lilian politely covered her mouth while she smiled. Harrow’s face went all shades of red as he sputtered. “OH YEAH! WELL MAYBE I SHOULD KEEP MY MERLIN!”

Abby looked shocked. “NO PLEASE AH SWEAR AHM SORRY PLEASE DON LEAVE ME WITH THE GIT CARD!”

Lilian smiled, enjoying the energy those two had. They’d be partners in crime, most likely. Hubei sat beside Lilian, reading one of her books. The two simply leaned against each other as they read, while Harrow and Abby bickered over Quidditch and trading cards. If Hogwarts had friendly people and good teachers, perhaps Lilian didn’t have anything to fear after all…

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

The group stood in the magnificent great hall of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was simply fantastic, from the magic boats that drove themselves, the towers spiraling above everything else; Simply gorgeous, like something from a storybook. She was nervous, unnerved by how magnificent the castle was. This was supposed to be the school? She knew that wizards were supposed to be grand and magnificent but…

“Lilian Le’Reau.”

Lilian walked towards the podium, nervous, trying to fight back the trepidation and anxiety in her stomach. She sat on the stool, painfully aware of all the eyes focused on her. Were her glasses crooked? Could they tell she was a Muggleborn? She hoped that her shirt wasn’t sloppy… “Hahaha, quite nervous are you?” Lilian flinched, then relaxed… Almost soothed? Was the hat talking to her? “No one else would be talking whilst I’m deliberating, young Le’Reau. Though quite astute to be muggleborn yet notice me. And rather courageous to sit here without knowing what’s ahead. Gryffindor?”

Lilian looked to the Gryffindor table, where Harrow sat beaming with his new housemates as he watched. Lilian smile, but felt a nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

“Cautious and caring eh? Thinking of friends and family alike… Perhaps Hufflepuff would be best?” The hat quizzed, almost curious with her. Lilian looked to the Hufflepuff table. They all looked like nice people, but Lilian could feel a knot in her stomach. While she was able to meet new people, she would rather hide away than just be dumped in with a group of new people. She and the hat then turned to the Slytherin table, seeing so many people scowling and unwelcoming. Lilian finally took a breath, trying to steady herself. “I just want to know what i’m doing. I don’t need fancy titles, I simply want… to know why I'm here…” The Sorting Hat seemed to ponder this, deliberating. Finally it made its decision. “Inquisitive and Creative? Sounds like… RAVENCLAW!” Quite a few of the Ravenclaw students cheered, Hubei among them. Lilian sat beside her friend, much to her relief with everyone welcoming her to her new house. She turned back to the group, watching everyone else getting sorted into various houses.

“Abbigail McKinley.” Lilian turned her attention to the podium where the Sorting Hat was. Abby sat in the chair, but her smile was forced. It was almost as if�� She was upset. Lilian listened and heard much grumbling from the Gryffindor table, as if they were upset or afraid… She didn’t know what was going on. Abby must have been just as nervous as Lilian… “Quick minded and driven? Must be… SLYTHERIN!” Lilian smiled to her cousin, waving as her cousin went to sit at the Slytherin table. Hopefully they would see more of each other over the year, but so long as they tried to hang out every so often, it was fine. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, giving his speech to everyone, new and returning to the school. Lilian looked at him, curious as he finished his address to everyone. Lilian looked to Rowan, confused.

“Who’s Harry Potter?”

#Part 2 #Lilian Le'reau #Abbigail McKinley #Rowan Harrow Khanna #Rowan Hubei Khanna #twin khanna #harry potter hogwarts game #harry potter hogwarts mytery #hphm

1 note · View note

toomanydreamers · 6 years ago

Text

Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices Writing Process

To all of my wonderful, diligent readers: I received quite a few comments on my newest fanfiction Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices requesting requesting that I detail my writing process, something which surprised and, admittedly, frightened me. I don’t pretend to be an author; far from it, really, but I must admit that this fanfiction became a project that grew quite close to my heart, and is one that I’m rather proud of. (Also, if this piece happens to sound really formal, that’s just the way that I speak. My childhood consisted mostly of lessons in elocution and etiquette, learning languages and instruments solely for the purpose of giving my parents yet another thing to boast about. I haven’t fully removed myself from the voice in my head telling me to annunciate more eloquently. I’m slowly getting there, with copious amounts of swearing that still makes me inwardly recoil.)

I suppose it would be best to start with my childhood, now that I consider it, because it was when I was about ten that I initially became enthralled by the Harry Potter novels. Similarly to most Potterheads, I was utterly captivated by the magical world and the characters inhabiting it, but the aspect that spoke volumes to me was the rich sense of humanity permeating through the books. As a character, Hermione was my arrant favourite; I saw myself as a reflection of her, shared her values, her rigid moral compass, and her ambition was something that I greatly admired and aspired to replicate. However, there was another character that resonated with me in an entirely different, yet equally profound way: Draco Malfoy.

As I alluded to above, my upbringing was (and remains to this day) quite constrained, certainly relative to others my age. I went to an exclusively female, Catholic boarding school with astronomical fees. It was highly privileged, and despicable. Though I detested Draco for the bigotry and prejudice he espoused (something that still remains horribly familiar), the Half-Blood Prince spoke of another side to him. It was quite clear that, although the books were written in the omnipresent/Harry’s perspective, Draco was completely disillusioned with the values he had been raised in accordance with. I could relate to that to a point where, although I couldn’t project his particular circumstances on my own life, the feeling of having the barriers I grew up behind torn down reflected my own life.

It was on this basis that I found myself drawn even further into the world, where blood status became a reflection of racism, sexism and other ‘isms’ of indifference and prejudice. Enter Harry Styles who, in this fanfiction, was raised in a world of regret at the defeat of Voldemort. In my mind, he was raised in a climate of thinly-veiled frustration, shame, and determination to reconstruct a presentable, respectable outward image. And Harry, like me, struggles to detach himself from that, when the pampers and privileges and sheer simplicity are sometimes unbearably tempting. The undercurrent of abuse was something I did not suffer, but I think (hope) that it’s palpable in the story from Harry’s reflexive defensiveness.

To the contrary, Louis is extremely perceptive, in a vulnerable position (new school, entirely new situation and thrust into a death-defying tournament), and fearless. He quite quickly comprehends that Harry wears a façade like a crown. This, for me, was crucial. For this relationship to work, I needed there to be a level of detached intimacy, that both of them silently understood their relation to each other, no matter how much Harry resisted.

In terms of plot, I knew from the beginning that I wanted to include a Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire is my favourite book of the series, and I remember adoring the notion of foreign wizarding communities, and the sense of community that was created. Also the theme of isolation was properly compounded in this book, which I adored. I tried to build on this slightly in my fanfiction. Louis being new to the school was a conscious decision on my part. I wanted them to be of age for practical reasons, and if Louis began at Hogwarts at age eleven, he would be popular, well-liked and probably a Quidditch hero, knowing our boy. He would also have no time to pay Harry a second glance, apart from hexing him, perhaps. Harry being a loner in the symbolic sense, rather than the metaphysical one, and Louis being new to the school forced them together. Circumstances dictate everything.

Writing the Triwizard tasks was quite a challenge was quite difficult, but I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. My favourite was the third task, which I’m not going to detail in case someone reading this hasn't read that part yet. I wanted to include certain staple features of their magical education, particularly CoMC, Potions, Flying. I did quite a lot of research to keep things as accurate as possible (and received huge and truly fantastic help from my beta on this part) but also took the liberty of expanding certain aspects too. The most important part was certainly the planning, and making sure that the tasks didn’t seem too convenient. It sounds awfully sadistic, but I wanted to truly test their limits, something that I think was absolutely true of the second task.

I initially included the dragon motif mostly because of the prompt I was given, which asked for Harry to work with dragons, but for anyone who has read the fic you’ll know that it developed into something of far greater significance from there. Since Louis got to see Harry react so comfortably and uninhibitedly very early on certainly gave him something tangible to cling to. This was vital because, without it, Louis would not have been nearly as invested in uncovering more details, nuances and aspects to Harry.

I think I’ve just about covered everything truly prominent, but if anyone has any more questions please don’t hesitate to send me a message or an ask. Thank you for all of your kind comments thus far! ❤️

#anon #toomanytears #tainted saints and velvet vices #fanfiction #writing process #that was actually quite therapeutic #hm #thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos so far!#you're all amazing #larry fics #ao3 larry feed #larry fic rec #larry fic recs #larry fanfiction #harry styles #harry potter

13 notes · View notes

obsidianarchives · 6 years ago

Text

To All The Wizards I've Considered Before: The List

Sharp pain filled Hermione’s throat. Both of her hands gripped the side of the sink, as she shook from the force of her own emotions. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat down, back to its rightful place. The tears streamed down her face, landing with a loud splatter in the sink. Why was he doing this?

Bloodshot, brown eyes looked back at her from the mirror, peeking beneath the mass of dark brown curls on her head. She looked as utterly ridiculous as she felt. She wiped her sleeve roughly across her face, taking slow shuddering breaths like her mother had taught her.

Calm and steady, she thought.

People had teased her for being a “know-it-all” and a “goody-two-shoes” her whole life. Yet, in the first week of Ron and Lavender’s newfound relationship, he had managed to consistently reduce her to tears either by being outright mean to Hermione or plainly ignoring her. This teasing from him shouldn’t be any different than her past school bullies. And yet, it was.

Calm and steady. A boy is not worth crying over.

She repeated this mantra with each breath she took. It was no use. The vision of Ron’s cruel smile swam in her mind.

—

Professor McGonagall had just finished instructing them on the principles of transforming human appearance. She was working diligently to nonverbally lighten her own eyebrows in the mirrors that were conjured before them. She had just given Harry a reproachful look after hearing him muttering the incantation under his breath when she heard a shocked exclamation. The class laughed as everyone observed Ron’s newly acquired handlebar mustache.

I guess he's gotten that attention he apparently wants so badly, Hermione had thought to herself as she laughed with the rest of her peers.

Professor McGonagall, lips pursed in disapproval, removed the mustache with a quick flick of her wand. Ron had turned to glare at her, as if she had been the one to conjure the mustache for him. Hermione had glared right back at him.

It was later in the lesson when everyone had mostly forgotten about Ron’s hefty handlebar mustache that he started in on her once again.

“Now, why is it inadvisable for a witch or wizard to transfigure themselves into an inanimate object?” Professor McGonagall asked the class. The class turned to Hermione expectantly, prepared for her to raise her hand and answer.

“Oh Professor, Professor! Please pick me! Oh please, Professor. However will anyone notice me if I don’t answer this question?” Ron’s mocking high-pitched voice had cut right through her from across the room. He bounced in his seat in a way that, although exaggerated, was not unlike Hermione when she was particularly excited by a subject.

Hermione’s face had grown hot. Lavender and Parvati were cackling while Ron beamed, soaking in the attention. Professor McGonagall’s mouth formed a tight thin line that usually meant trouble. Hermione tore her gaze away and glared down at her notes. Her vision was already blurring. The buzzing in her mind drowned out Professor McGonagall’s response.

“She’s a nightmare, honestly. It’s no wonder no one likes her.”

The memory of those words washed over her like acid on her tongue. After all this time, that’s what they had come back to? Growing up, her Muggle classmates had teased her relentlessly. At Hogwarts, Snape and other Slytherins were arguably just as cruel. Yet, somehow, it was only Ron who could always manage to make her cry. And it was at that last thought that the bell rang. She dashed out of the room, leaving her belongings behind, not sparing Ron another glance.

—

“That’s enough now.”

Her voice reverberated against the wet stone of the empty bathroom. She was at Hogwarts for one reason and one reason only – to get an education. Feeling more centered, she turned the tap to cold. She let the cool water wash over her fingers for a moment before splashing some on her face.

“You know, if you apply the sap of the Gurdyroot plant to your eyes it will decrease swelling and help to ward off Gulping Plimpies,” a dreamy voice said.

Hermione started. “Oh! Hello Luna. How are you?” she said, purposefully not acknowledging whatever nonsense Luna was trying to convey.

“I’m alright.” Her eyes had a faraway look about them as she stared at Hermione with her serene smile. “Why were you crying?”

Luna generally aggravated Hermione with her outlandish poorly researched claims but right now, as she stood there with her golden hair piled on top of her head and mismatched socks, Hermione felt heartened by her presence.

“Ron was teasing me in class today,” she said turning back to her reflection.

“That was very mean of him.”

Hermione’s eyes met Luna’s through the mirror. Although she was odd, she always had a way with words. The frank response quickened the resolve within her even more. “Yes it was, Luna. Yes it was.”

Hermione squared her shoulders. That was enough, indeed. There was a war coming and more importantly, exams. Yet here she was with her eyes bloodshot and still watery over a boy. She would get over Ron, by any means necessary. She knew what she needed to do.

—

The girl’s dormitory was thankfully empty during her free period. Crookshanks looked up lazily from his spot on the windowsill next to her four poster bed. Her book bag gave a very pronounced thunk when she dropped it on the floor. Crookshanks hopped down rubbing himself against her legs.

“Not now, Crookshanks. I’ve got work to do.”

Affronted, Crookshanks stuck his nose in the air and sauntered back to his spot on the windowsill.

Hermione opened the drawer of her bedside table where she kept all of the stationary she generally reserved for letter writing to Viktor and her mother. She pulled out several sheets of parchment with a light floral design printed on it. Now settled on her bed, using her planner as a writing surface, she tapped her quill on her chin.

A crazy idea had taken hold of her as she left Harry – who had waited for her with her things outside – and Luna behind in front of the girl’s restroom. Her feelings for Ron were inadvisable, that much was clear. Ron had never been very considerate, or kind, or thoughtful. Yet her heart still fluttered anytime he leaned over to her, trying to get a peek of her notes. His scent was always so warm, like fresh cotton and pine needles. (She would push him away every time, of course. It wasn’t up to her to pass his N.E.W.T.s for him.)

Being that her feelings were obstinately persisting, she would need to redirect her attention until they went away. This problem was nothing more than a puzzle. And the thing about puzzles is, they can be solved.

Her crazy idea was this: she would come up with a list of boys most objectively compatible with her. Through process of elimination, she would find the boy that was more appropriate for her romantic inclination. In focusing on these facts, her misguided feelings for Ron should dissipate. Lists had never failed her before.

There were many variables to consider: perception, compatibility, and schedule. The list of candidates she managed to come up with from that criteria was comically short. That was sort of the point, though. She needed a logical counterpoint to her feelings for Ron without risking actual romantic entanglement. Dipping a quill into a bottle of jet-black ink, she began writing:

Boys Best Suited for Hermione Granger –

Ronald Weasley

Harry Potter

Ernie Macmillan

Oliver Wood

Dean Thomas

She eyed the coversheet to her new project. A chuckle escaped her, causing Crookshanks to raise his head, eying her warily. Was this too much? Other girls her age didn’t deal with school crushes in such a clinical manner. Girls didn’t deal with a lot of things in the way that she did, she reminded herself.

With the list decided, it was time for the difficult part. She wrote Ronald Weasley on a fresh sheet of parchment. What was it that she liked about Ron? There was the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated during a game of Wizard’s Chess, his ginger hair falling into his eyes. She thought of the way he’d smirk and roll his eyes at her in an endearing way when she would excitedly explain a new fact she’d learned while reading. And then there were his blue eyes that would brighten just so when discussing Quidditch.

Honesty was the only way this was going to work, so she wrote those thoughts down exactly. As for what she disliked about him. There wasn’t much to say.

I can’t seem to stop the feelings I have for you, she wrote. Which is not ideal considering how we stand right now.

There. The ending was honest and to the point. That was Ron’s done and it hadn’t been as hard as she had expected. Rather than finding it emotionally draining to detail the feelings she’d been grappling with for so long, she found it to be rather freeing.

So with that, she moved on to a new sheet of parchment for Harry. His was easy. One line graced his sheet:

While it’s true that we’re compatible on paper – absolutely not. You’re the brother I never had.

Next was Ernie. He was smart and driven for a Hufflepuff. He really valued his studies nearly as much as she did. But he was insufferable. All of which, she wrote exactly on his sheet.

She moved on to Oliver Wood. He no longer attended Hogwarts, however she had always admired him. While it was true she didn't know much about Quidditch, his determination and drive caught her fancy her first two years at Hogwarts. And though she was embarrassed to admit it, she couldn’t deny her appreciation for the male athletic form. He was now playing for Puddlemere United. Something about the memory of his fierce gaze as he studied his play book and his polite greetings in the corridors inclined her to keep his name on the list and finish his sheet.

Giggling as she eyed the last name on her list, she set the final sheet of parchment in front of her. On the surface it was quite silly, but when she thought of it, he was a strong candidate. While Ginny had only broken up with Dean a week ago, in her esteem, this made him an even safer choice for her battle of wills. They had been classmates for six years sure, but his most significant role in her life was that of “Ginny’s boyfriend.” However, you’d have to live in the dungeons to not hear the chatter amongst girls across various houses and grades that surrounded Dean Thomas. He had grown to be quite attractive the past few years. Some girls even argued he was more attractive than Harry Potter.

Hermione coaxed Crookshanks off his windowsill in order to give him a good pet. She thought more about her evaluation of Dean. He was handsome, but it was more than that. They were both Muggle-borns. He was artistic and quite intelligent; the only classes they didn’t share were Muggle Studies and History of Magic. Even she had to admit that was quite a full load compared to most of their peers.

Once she finished Dean’s sheet she laid them out in front of her in order.

“Well what do you think, Crookshanks?”

He appeared to look them over contemplatively from his new spot on her lap.

“It’s just a mental exercise to help me refocus,” she explained as she scratched him behind the ears in the spot she knew he liked.

He mewed in understanding, pushing his head into the scratches. She sighed, feeling a little lighter already from the exercise.

Noise rose from below in the common room. People must be coming up for the evening to put away their school things. Lavender and Parvati would be up soon. She gathered the pages and slipped them into her bag amongst her other essays and projects. Though there were a couple of candidates she was certain were already ruled out, she would take notes for the next couple of weeks to whittle the list down further. It was a simple enough plan.

After she changed into more comfortable clothes, she headed out the girls dormitory with Crookshanks at her heels. She glanced back at the bag one last time. The plan would work, she assured herself. She would out logic her heart into finding her old self.

—

Over the weekend, the autumn chill had given way to winter mist. As Hermione walked through the breezy corridors down to the Great Hall for breakfast, she pulled her cloak and scarf closer to her. She made a mental note to give Harry the scarf she had knitted him over the summer. She knew his uncle and aunt wouldn’t have bought him any new winter wear over the break.

When she reached the Gryffindor table for breakfast, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh orange juice filled her nose. She was pleased to see Harry alone. He had spent the weekend drilling the Quidditch team in new formations to accommodate Dean, who was acting as their new temporary Chaser to replace Katie who was still being treated in St. Mungo's.

As she approached however, her skin prickled with irritation. “Must you read that thing at the breakfast table? Is there not some other homework assignment that could use your attention?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Harry said absently, not pulling his nose from The Prince’s book. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing new, just a few suspicious Muggle disappearances,” he said as she sat and moved to pick up the morning’s Daily Prophet.

“Honestly,” she grumbled as she took her seat in front of him.

Between The Prince and Malfoy, Harry had been far too distracted to offer much support with her current predicament with Ron. It was probably for the best that she quickly ruled him out for further consideration, she noted humorously, he was too emotionally unavailable. In fact, she rather thought he was avoiding the subject. Of course, he must suspect her feelings.

It was just as well with her. Even if he had been emotionally available, she didn’t think she would want to talk about it. In an attempt to tear his attention away from that blasted book, she brought up the only other subject that interested him these days.

“How was practice with Dean and Ginny this weekend? I know it was the first since they broke up,” she said nonchalantly. She spooned some fluffy scrambled eggs onto her plate, not making eye contact. His head shot up from the book.

In an attempt to play his reaction off, he reached for his goblet, resulting in him sloshing some orange juice onto his robes ever so smoothly. “Erm, they both flew really well. You wouldn’t know anything was the matter, really. Ginny was joking with the team and making fun of Ron as per usual.”

After contemplating this a moment, Hermione said, “I’d say Dean is putting on a brave face for the team. He’s already been down to breakfast in hopes of avoiding Ginny at the moment, see?” She indicated to Seamus who was eating by himself.

Harry’s eyes trailed from Seamus to behind her at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny had taken to sitting with Luna for meals since breaking it off with Dean. Hermione turned to see her shining sheets of silky auburn hair framing her freckled face. She was chatting animatedly with Luna, who was dressed in a pair of bright yellow dungarees over a blue turtleneck. They were an odd pair, but it was true that Ginny didn’t seem troubled at all. Rather, she seemed to be quite happy in Luna’s company.

When she noticed them looking at her, she beamed at them. Hermione did not fail to notice how Ginny’s eyes lingered on Harry before she turned her attention back to Luna. When Hermione turned back to Harry, he was bright red. She raised her eyebrow at him knowingly.

“Oh, shut up.”

—

Their first two classes were spent with Hermione trying to prod Harry into just talking to Ginny. He wouldn’t confirm what she had suspected since their summer at the Burrow, but his red face and curt nods told her all she needed to know.

In Transfiguration, they were partnered together, since Lavender managed to claim Ron before Ron could claim Harry. They were meant to be lightening each other’s eyebrows, having mastered transfiguring their own. Hermione had already successfully turned Harry’s eyebrows to a shade of platinum that even Malfoy would have envied.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry shook his wand at her face. “You’re too close Harry. You have to remember, you’re casting the spell but you’re removing the pigment. Channel that.” He grunted and tried again. “Let’s hope wooing Ginny goes better than this – OUCH!”

He had whacked her with his wand while animatedly trying to transfigure her eyebrows. His glare let her know that that conversation was in fact over. She couldn’t help the smirk that came over her.

They resumed their work on Hermione’s eyebrows. He continued poking and prodding his wand at her while she alternated between encouragement and chastisement when he muttered the spell verbally. However, she found herself getting distracted when she noticed Dean Thomas staring at them. No, he was staring at her specifically.

Every time she looked up, his brown gaze was waiting for hers before quickly averting itself. Confused, she returned her attention to Harry’s antics. Clearly, he was no longer even trying.

“Fine! I’ll show you how to do it again. You just had to ask. You didn’t have to keep poking my forehead with your wand.”

As she raised her wand to demonstrate the hand motions, her eyes met Dean’s brown ones again. A thought occurred to her. Had Harry managed to horribly disfigured her and was he trying to hide it? She clamped her hand to her forehead. “Harry! My eyebrow is gone!”

No wonder Dean had been staring at her. Her face turned bright red. Harry burst out laughing. “I dunno. I thought it was a nice look. Now you can’t keep raising it at me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and set to work conjuring her eyebrow back into place.

—

The rest of her classes passed by uneventfully. She didn’t share them with Harry and while she did appreciate having his company, she actually preferred the ones where she was alone. Classes without Lavender cooing over Ron the entire period were easier to focus in.

At the end of Ancient Runes, Hermione noticed Dean lingering near her desk as she gathered her things. Before she could make eye contact with him or speak, he walked out of the classroom. Out of an abundance of caution, she pulled out a small cracked compact she kept in her bag. Her eyebrow was intact and the proper color.

The embarrassment from Transfiguration had obviously made her paranoid. It was very likely all in her head. By the time she set out her study things on her favorite table by the large common room window, she was ready to forget the strange ordeal altogether.

Her books and parchment and ink bottles were spread across the entire table. Her book bag laid at her feet, now mostly empty except for a few drafts of essays she had started and other loose parchment. She dove into her Arithmancy homework and hardly noticed time passing. Students milled in and out of the common room but it stayed largely empty. The afternoon sun drifted lazily lower in the sky, signaling the near end of the last period of the day.

“Hey, uh Granger,” a voice called from the other side of the common room as it approached.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the chart she was studying to decipher a particularly difficult piece of numerology. “Oh. Hello, Dean,” she said curiously.

There was a small part of her that felt vindicated. So, she hadn’t been imagining things! A bigger part of her felt nervous. Though they were in the same year and house, they rarely talked. Was this about the eyebrow incident? Her face colored again. No, that couldn’t be it. Why would he seek her out just to mention he had seen her without an eyebrow? He was probably looking for Harry about something Quidditch related.

To her surprise, he sat down at her table. Although his eyebrows were furrowed in what was perhaps confusion, his earthy brown eyes were direct and determined. An echo of a thought about how handsome he was flitted through her mind.

“Uh, sorry for interrupting,” he gestured to her homework spread across the table before him.

He looked around awkwardly, seemingly unsure of where to start. This was odd for him. While it was true they had not interacted very much, Hermione did know he was a self-assured person. Unlike Hermione, it hadn’t taken him long to assimilate into wizarding culture and seem like he belonged. Had she not known otherwise, she would have assumed he came from a wizarding family.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m really flattered,” he began. “I mean, I never would have imagined you would think I’m, um, ‘intelligent or artistic.’ You’re the smartest girl in our year by far, and all. But this whole thing with Ginny is still fresh and . . . ” he trailed off.

Hermione blinked at him a few times, confused. Was Dean Thomas rejecting her? She thought back to every conversation they had been a part of in the past week, trying to remember if she had unwittingly made any misleading advances. Her eyes fell on his hand.

He was clutching a folded piece of parchment with a light but unmistakable floral design printed on it. Her breath caught in her throat.

“This was really sweet,” he held out the parchment to her. “I just don’t think it would be appropriate considering everything that’s happening right now.”

Eyes wide, she snatched the parchment out of his hand. Her eyes tore through the contents. It was undeniably her handwriting. This was the same sheet she had written up as a mental exercise for herself just a few days ago.

Your dimples are very lovely and add to the charm of your smile. It’s no wonder why girls are so taken with you this year . . .

She turned it over in her hand, on the back it said, From Hermione Jean Granger in an elegant script written in green ink.

That was not her handwriting.

Without a word or second glance at Dean, she thrust the parchment back into his hands and tore into her book bag. Frantically, she rustled through the various pages; there was her Ancient Runes essay, her Potions essay, and the rest of her loose parchment. Finally, she found it. Or rather, she found the cover page with the list she had drawn up. The rest of the pages had all vanished.

“Where did you get this?” she said as evenly as she could manage. Her breathing was heavy. How in Merlin’s name had Dean received that parchment? They had been in her book bag all weekend. No one else knew about them.

“In the owl post I assume. I wasn’t at breakfast to receive it, but the school owl found me out at the pitch.”

Panic was clinging tighter and tighter to her skin. She needed to get to Harry now and ask if he’d gotten any post from her. Nothing had come in the owl post for him during breakfast, but she had to be sure. She shot up from her seat. “This is a huge misunderstanding.”

Dean’s deep brown eyes were wide and a little worried. He leaned away, almost afraid of what she might do, clearly having taken in her frantic energy.

“Listen, this is not what it seems like. I mean, I did write this. But it wasn’t a confession. I was writing a list. I make lists to clear my head. It was sort of a mental exercise.”

Now Dean chuckled, raising his eyebrow. It was the same look she had given Harry this morning. “’More handsome than Harry Potter’?”

He was laughing at her. She stuck her chin out defiantly. “So I hear other girls say.”

Dean licked his lips, bringing his fist to his mouth, clearly biting back laughter. “Look you don’t have to be embarrassed. I just thought you deserved a—“

“I don’t need an explanation, Dean. I don’t fancy you. Thank you for being a gentleman. But truly, I’m far too busy with my studies to be writing love notes.”

It took a few seconds of consideration but he nodded, accepting the truth. She started to gather all of her things, shoving them carelessly into her bag. She needed to hurry and find Harry before Ron could find her. If they all had disappeared, logically there was a risk Ron could have received his.

“Can I have that?” she indicated to parchment in his hand.

Oddly, Dean hesitated. “You know, it’s not every day the Hermione Granger writes you a love note.”

“It was a list,” she said as she snatched the slip out of his hands. He laughed, leaning back in his chair.

Just as she was about to sling her book bag over her shoulder, she heard the portrait hole open. Dread filled her stomach as she looked up, her worst fear confirmed. In came Ron, his tousled red hair shining against his freckled face. He looked paler than usual. Her stomach flipped and then it dropped. In his hands, a floral piece of parchment stuck out. His eyes met hers, determined.

“Merlin,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

A crazed feeling came over her — that Gryffindor feeling. She had to stop him, they could not have this conversation, ever. There was only one thing for it.

She plopped down onto Dean’s lap as gracefully as she could and smashed her lips to his. He froze, startled. Tentatively, he brought his hands to her hips, likely to push her away. She could feel Ron staring. Desperately, she grabbed Dean’s face, deepening the kiss and trying to ignore the fullness of his lips against hers. Shock threatened to overcome her as she realized that she was properly snogging Dean Thomas and that he was beginning to kiss her back.

She heard a sort of sputtering sound from Ron’s direction. She had almost missed it, while focusing on not looking like a complete idiot. Snogging was not something she had much experience with. She suspected the kisses she had exchanged with Viktor, based on how many times they bumped noses, didn’t really count.

She pulled away from Dean abruptly. His eyes blinked slowly as if he were just waking up. His jaw flexed as he opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly, as if wanting to say something.

“Yes, well, thank you. Sorry about the note.”

Without waiting for a response, she stood quickly from their compromising position, snatched up her bag and hurried away from Dean. She brushed past Ron, who seemed to be frozen in confusion, and scurried out the portrait hole.

To Be Continued…

#Black Wizard History #Hermione Granger #Dean Thomas #To All The Wizards

2 notes · View notes