#mostly for me to start cataloging my thoughts and understandings

[angelici-scriptis]

Incarnate Angels

Disclaimer: I'm constantly in the process of learning. Some stuff is my personal views. I may also get things wrong or misinterpreted. Let me know if I fuck up. Proceed with caution, thanks.

What are Incarnate Angels?

Incarnate angel is a descriptive phrase for souls that are angel in origin living in a human body from birth.

What are angelkin?

Angelkin is a sub-category of otherkin. It is used to describe people who identify as an angel. It encompasses a wider variety of experiences that aren't necessarily spiritual based (psychological, ficitional, etc.).

Do you have to be a part of a particular religion to be an angel/interact with them?

Nope. You can do whatever you want, believe whatever you want, worship whomever you want, such is the glory of free will. You may feel more predisposed towards a religion, world-view, or lack thereof which can be influenced your soul, but honestly follow your heart.

Angels also generally don't care what background you come from, just be aware of religious appropriation when it comes to angel-related information online.

Do angels incarnate because they are Fallen (cast out)?

No, but Fallen angels can incarnate too, so sometimes.

Why do angels incarnate?

Variety of reasons. It can be summed up to about three VERY GENERAL reasons as far as I'm aware, and each one can be a lot more detailed than the following very general descriptions. Possible reasons are: 1) To help, 2) To live, and 3) To learn. For example, I'm mainly here to just experience what it is to be human.

How do you discover if you're an incarnate angel?

The specifics defer from person to person. Some learn/remember very quickly, many others spend years going back and forth. Generally, a lot of introspection is required because ultimately it's you and only you that can say who you are.

There is no requirement/expectation for what an incarnate angel looks like, behaves like, thinks like, etc. either.

It's best to approach it the same as other questioning otherkin. Otherkin.net and BeyondHumanity have a good FAQ/how-to.

Technically, you can search up stuff online specifically about incarnate angels, but I am very serious when I say the New Age movement (which is where you'll find 99.999% of this information) is heavily drenched in white supremacy. Remember Garfield, you are not immune to propaganda.

I highly recommend creature-wizard's blog for information about the New Age movement.

[itneverendshere]

Maybe bartender reader and Rafes wedding is super emotional because she doesn’t have any family apart from her sister and she gets like sad when they’re writing the guest list or something??

a little drabble about getting the guest list done🥺🫶🏻 this was so cute to write, god they’re so in love😭😭😭😭 thank you for the request! hope you like this 💘

the last thing rafe ever thought he’d care about was wedding details.

but here he was, sitting at the kitchen table with you, half-listening as you flipped through guest lists and vendor catalogs. you were still months away from the big day, and it hadn’t sunk in completely—he was marrying you.

you were scribbling names onto a piece of paper, biting your lip in that way you always did when you were focused.

"okay, so… your side. let’s go over it,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

he noticed something then. you were staring at the list a little too long, pen hovering just above the paper, fingers tightened around it, and your jaw clenched.

he looked down at the blank spots on the paper, his hand slipping over yours, thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles.

"baby, what’s wrong?"

you blinked, like you hadn’t realized how quiet things had gotten, and looked up at him. your eyes were a little glassy, smile forced.

"yeah, i’m fine. just... thinking."

"thinking about what?" he asked.

it wasn’t like you to get worked up over stuff like this. you’d been cruising through most of the planning, but something about this part—about who you were inviting—seemed to be messing with you.

you put the pen down and sighed, "it's just... there's not many people for me to invite, you know?"

rafe furrowed his brow, not really understanding.

"what are you talking about? you’ve got your sister, milo, jj’s dumbass.”

you took a shaky breath, your eyes scanning the few names on your side of the list, gesturing with a soft, humorless chuckle.

"yeah, that’s pretty much it."

he sat up straighter.

rafe wasn’t the most emotionally aware guy sometimes, but when it came to you, he was always tuned in; he knew you well enough to get what was going on.

your mom passed away when you were young, and your dad? that deadbeat never showed up for anything, let alone a wedding. your sister and nephew were basically the only family you had.

compared to his list—shit, compared to most people’s lists—that was nothing.

he might’ve come from a big family, but he knew what it felt like to be lonely. even in rooms full of people, he’d never really felt understood until he’d met you.

"it’s not about how many people show up. i mean, shit, my list is mostly because rose’s making me invite people she thinks i should. that’s not what matters."

you laughed, but it was weak, the kind of laugh someone gave when they didn’t believe a word you were saying. he’d never thought about family the way you did.

"yeah, but it still feels… wrong," you admitted, "you have all these people, and i’ve got barely anyone. it’s like…" you paused, "it’s like a reminder that i don’t really have a family. not in the way most people do."

he’d never thought about it that way—had never realized how much it could hurt to feel alone in something so big, so full of love and celebration. his heart twisted for you, and he moved his chair closer to you, the wood scraping against the floor.

"hey," he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "you know what family is to me?" he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek, "it’s you. it’s us, building something real together. i don’t care if it’s just me and you standing up there. that’s all i need."

you leaned into his hand, "it’s just hard.”

rafe felt the desperate need to make you feel the love that he did. he took both your hands now, looking at you with that earning look only you got to see, the one that reminded you how down bad he truly was.

"you’ve got me. and you’ve got jj and milo and your sister. but more than that, baby, we’re starting something here. you and me. we’re the start of something huge."

you looked down, the tiniest smile creeping at your lips.

"and if you think i’m not gonna spend my entire life making you feel like you’re surrounded by love," he continued, "then you’re crazier than me."

a laugh escaped you, airy almost breathless, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

"i know it’s not easy," he murmured, brushing his lips over yours in a barely-there kiss. "but trust me. i’ve got more love for you than any fuckin’ guest list can hold. and just so you know, i’m more than happy to go through the guest list and cut people if it makes you feel better. we could have this whole thing just be me, you, and a couple of strangers as witnesses.”

“i’m not asking you to uninvite your whole family, you idiot,” you scolded him, shaking your head.

“good,” he smirked, “because rose would actually kill me. but seriously, baby, this is about us. i don’t care if it’s just a tiny handful of people for you or a stadium full for me. the second you walk down that aisle, nothing else exists for me. not the number of people, not the table settings—just you.”

for the first time that night, a real smile broke across your face, “i love you, you know that?”

he grinned, all boyish and sweet, and pulled you into his arms. “good. because i’m madly in love with you.”

you made a face, pulling back just enough to narrow your eyes at him. "you’re disgustingly obsessed with me. like, clinically down bad, you know that?"

rafe’s grin only widened, completely unbothered.

"oh, i know," he replied, leaning forward like he was telling you a secret. "and honestly, it’s worse than you think. i’m at the ‘plan your dream wedding, tolerate jj for you, and learn to cook because you made one offhand comment about it’ level of obsessed."

you groaned dramatically. "absolutely shameless."

"don’t act like you’re not equally obsessed," he shot back, his lips twitching up in a smirk.

"rafe cameron, stop. i am trying to be serious here," you replied, but you couldn’t hide the way your lips quirked up, that little smile you always got when he pulled you out of your head.

"and i’m seriously in love with you," he said, giving you that stupidly earnest look he’d perfected, the one that he knew would make you roll your eyes. "face it, you’re stuck with me. not even a stadium full of rose’s golf club friends could make me take my eyes off you that day."

“gross,” you muttered, scrunching your nose up as if you were truly repulsed.

you leaned in anyway, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, and he was positively glowing.

“i’m serious, though,” he protested, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. “one day, you’re gonna look back on all this planning and realize it didn’t even matter. because it’s just me and you and whatever the hell kind of family we build.”

“see, that’s what i’m talking about,” you replied, attempting to hold back your laughter. “that right there? disgusting. obsessed. do you even hear yourself?”

he chuckled, not remotely phased, because it was true. he was completely, embarrassingly obsessed with you, and he wasn’t even pretending to hide it.

“you love it,” he teased, nuzzling into your neck.

you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close despite your complaints.

"you know what? i do. but don’t get it twisted—I’m only marrying you because i’m really into the way you clean the kitchen when i threaten you.”

“admit it, you're just as disgustingly obsessed with me," he argued, still shameless, kissing your neck softly and feeling you melt against him despite your mock outrage.

“fine,” you muttered, rolling your eyes with a grin. “but only because you’re so tragically whipped, and it’s kinda cute.”

he knew he’d spend his whole life happily being disgusting if it meant getting to love you exactly like this.

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us

Chapter 1 (you are here!) || Masterlist

So, I like many others had seen this gorgeous fan art by @cheesy-cryptid and I was utterly hypnotized by it. I couldn't stop thinking about it and from that constant thought growing came my silly fic.

This has been a labor of love for the last month. I'm still working on it and so far I have about 10 parts 🙃 depending on the feedback is how quickly I'm going to be posting since it's still a work in progress. I want to thank my best friend and my main support for this @micropoe10 ❤️ without her I wouldn't have pushed myself to even post this, so thanks boo 😘

This is also my first long fic, so please be gentle 🥺

Summary: Octavia is a new assistant at the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, her new boss is elusive and mysterious. Good thing his right hand man, Gale, is there to help her out for the first few weeks.

Tags: Nothing too bad for the first few parts, fluff, establishing storyline mostly, generational lineage mentioned.

Chapter 1

Never Caught My Breath

The day Octavia was incredibly nervous about had arrived. After her graduation (which seemed like a lifetime ago), endless stack of paperwork and at least 3 different interviews; Octavia made it to the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, the end of her long and difficult studies.

Here, she would start as the new assistant curator. What's strange though, is that after the last interview she thought she'd get to meet her boss, but it was his main assistant, Gale.

"I must apologize", he begins, "but our lead is currently out of the office for another week, maybe two, so I must conduct the final round, I hope you understand."

Strange, but not unheard of. The majority of the work would be with Gale directly, but it was at the least, the most basic courtesy for her boss to introduce himself by this point.

As she walks into the museum, relics from the past line the cabinets; old armor and gloves from heroes of legends from long ago, tons of jewelry and books, rare spell scrolls, and most prized of all, paintings recovered from the fall of the Szarr Manor prominently hung on the walls. Their subjects long gone, they now serve to be viewed by those who would be their victims under different circumstances.

Octavia stops at one of the many paintings of a pale elf, his silver hair in perfect tendrils, piercing red eyes glare back at her and she feels a slight shudder run down her spine, it was probably just a little bit of nerves. Still, she couldn't help but notice that same subject surrounding her in other works. If not as the main feature, but in the background of at least a dozen. Who was this person? She drifts off in thought.

"Miss Octavia? Hello? Can you hear me?" Snapping back from the daydream, she sees Gale standing beside her. His positive attitude ever present, notebook in hand he greets her with a small wave. "Lots to do this morning! We got a delivery of religious artifacts from a Sharran temple in the Underdark that was previously thought to be lost." His eyes glimmer with excitement.

"We're looking at at least a day to see what was delivered, another to catalog it all, and then, my favorite part, writing the plaques for all of it." He chuckles "Altogether at least a month of work, maybe two if there's a particular item that's more mysterious than the others." He finishes his explanation with a tilt of his head.

Octavia nods, her mind still on the portrait, "Quick question, Gale? Do you know who that subject is? They're featured in a lot of the paintings, but there's no information about them?" He glances up, "Well, we've done some research into the subjects of all the paintings, luckily we've put some names to faces..." He trails off, brows furrowing slightly at the face staring at them both "that particular subject, though, unfortunately not."

He turns wearing a wistful smile "I do wish to put a name to that face, and I intend to, but our wonderful curator often reminds me that not every mystery has to be solved." He scoffs with a grin and shrugs "Of course he would, he loves to give me a hard time about my dedication to the museum, you'd think he would appreciate the tireless research but to each their own."

Octavia relaxes a bit and ask "Have you known each other long? I mean, since he's been gone this whole time I haven't gotten to meet him yet. Is he....nice?" She says the last word quietly, almost a whisper.

Gale picks up on the anxious question and lowers his notebook, his eyes softened as he leans in, "There's nothing to be nervous about with him, he's much more bark than bite, as they say. He's really wonderful once you get to know him. Just a little rough around the edges...you know these eccentrics..they're all so guarded but deep down, they're just like us regular boring people."

He grins in assurance and goes back to his notebook, "Before I forget, said eccentric has reached back out to me and he'll be returning tomorrow evening! He'd like to make your acquaintance as soon as possible and apologize for his absence." Oh, shit. "Wonderful!" She does an okay job at hiding the crack in her voice, she clears throat, grimaces a bit and adjusts the badge clipped to her smock. "When and where?"

[skarloeyspa]

dunky and rust! took me forever but details below

Rusty:

*clutches fists at overalls costing $1.29 in the 50s

ANYWAY uhm Rusty came to the SR in 1957 so I took some inspiration from both 50s and 60s clothing but mostly 50s

But yeah like all the other freethinkers🤖 in this community i subscribe to Rusty being nonbiney (altho they're mostly masc presenting)

I want to say that Rusty's jumpsuit is based off women's workwear but like. women's workwear in the 50's was based off men's workwear so what difference does it make😭

Ripped their boots straight from the bottom right of the catalog here so hehe

Their nameplate is specifically very simple and non-glossy to designate them as a maintenance worker as opposed to for passenger service

I don't. um. intend for Rusty to be that much taller than overhaul 2 loey. they're probably around the same height at best and Rusty is def a bit shorter than overhaul 3 loey

also they're wearing a flat cap. i don't like drawing them but it made the most sense so,

i don't know if they had binders in the 50s? If they didn't then um. I'm sure there was some kind of equivalent shapewear-

Duncan:

this guy was such a damn pain to design for oml

i really need to find a way to save my ref pics when i make my pencil sketches so i can add them to these posts when im done djfdjbfk

i gave duncan beeeaaauuuttifull lushious long blonde locks💅because he's got a long ass funnel HAHAHAH

he's tall. but he's also lanky. he's like a very tall twink sorta. like i get that he's strong cuz he worked at a factory but bro cannot retain muscle like. he's sticks.

oh and also blue eyes because of douglas. yyyyeah

anyway you might be wondering. capy what the hell is that ugly ass band of pattern across his chest

well that was my BIG BRAIN moment.

starting around like the 19th century people would take the fabric used to make sacks for shipping dried goods like animal feed and flour, and turn that fabric into clothing

this originated in more rural communities but became more widespread during world war I and especially world war II with rationing and whatnot. basically when companies noticed people wearing their sacks they began printing patterns onto their sacks for this explicit purpose (cuz you know. marketing)

before arriving to Sodor, duncan worked in a factory. you know who else produces dried goods?? factories!!!

around the time he arrived to sodor was also when American rock and roll was really influencing British youth, particularly with the rise of teddy boys and then the rockers (which is from my understanding, greasers but British). So around the time Duncan was heading to Sodor there was already an air of rebellion among the UK's youth

I took particular inspiration from Rockabilly based on its noted influence on British popular culture, which from what I've seen, adopts some more flashy elements to their clothing in contrast to the traditional suit and dress. I was this close to making duncan wear a bowling shirt

the kerchief is also because of this hehe

so in a moment of genius/delusion, i thought. what if while working at the factory, duncan saw the trends of people using their feed sacks as clothing fabric, and stole a bag or two for himself so he could sew on a strip of the fabric onto his work shirts because he's, ya know, mr. rock n roll

yes i did all that just for a stripe of fabric on his chest i am VERY happy with this choice

btw here's the exact pattern i used (i just ripped it off the internet)

ok that's it thank you for reading through my rambling once again!! lowkey i want to post lil western next but also. i talked abt making rws/formal uniforms for the SR crew so. we'll see what happens next lol

[beepersteeper]

I Will Always Find You -- Astarion x Tav -- The Talk | part 5

Apologies for the delay in uploads. I hope to have part 6 uploaded today as well. its written and jut needs to be looked at one more time before posting Astarion and F!Tav live happily together for the remaining years she has, she refuses to be turned into a vampire because her faith says that her soul isn’t finished with its work yet. Tav dies of old age and leaves Astarion to put together the pieces of his broken heart. AN: Lord of Light lore taken and changed to fit the story's means. Not canonically accurate. TLDR story line stuff. This is an AU where Astarion ascends but isn't a power hungry bastard and Tav is able to help him continue healing. Wyll is immortal and the Duke. Karlach in my mind, if given a new engine would be able to live a lot longer than the usual tiefling. Another AN: idk if anyone wants tagged in this WIP but let me know. 

“The boxes are out the side door, you don't mind giving me a hand right son?"

“Not at all, sir." He swallows the nerves pooling in his throat. They walk to the side door and Astarion begins to move each heavy box through the door frame.

“My little Vira seems very keen on you." her father starts sitting at the desk.

“I suppose so sir, she is a wonderful person." Astarion smiles, maintaining his composure.

“I will speak plainly because I like you too. What are your intentions here Little Star?” He asks prying open the lid of a box and checking the packing pages. 

“I don't have any intentions, sir. I just want to get to know her. If anything blossoms from that I give you my word that would be only by her own want." Astarion swears, dragging in another two large boxes taking off his vest, and wiping sweat from his forehead. 

“And if she did want that?” her father asks, not moving his eyes from his work.

“If she wanted that and I did too then I suppose we would see where that path led us together.” Astarion shrugs, setting a box on the table for her father to catalog. 

“What about any…  other urges you might have.” Her father adds pointing his pencil to Astarion's neck, moving his collar down enough to show his scars.

Astarions blood runs cold like it hasn't in a century. Nervous. Scared. “Completely under control.” He urges standing in the door frame looking for any lingering boxes as he grabs the last one and hauls it into the room. “I'll explain if you wish, but it's not everyone's favorite conversation sir.”

“Just tell me that my daughter isn't some meal ticket for you and we'll call it that.“

“Not at all, sir." Astarion shakes his head matter of factly. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.

“Thank you." He breathes a sigh of relief “How old are you anyway? I know that you're much older than you look, but I don't trust the gossip in town to have their information straight.” Astarion grimaces as he states his age before her father whispers mostly to himself “Such a babe." He tuts “but you seem to have done well for yourself the other years." Astarion purses his lips and nods in agreement unsure what to say. “Listen Astarion,” he sets his work down and folds his hands looking straight at Astarion "you seem like a good man, and my Vira likes your company and you treat her even better than she would like. You are welcoming my home as long as you have her blessing and her best interest at heart. I haven't seen her this happy since we lost her mother, spirits protect her, and just wanted a moment to get to know you myself.” He looks to Astarion with pleading eyes "Just don't hurt her... please. She's all I have.”

“I understand sir. I have no intention of doing that.”

“And stop calling me sir." The father laughs, instantly changing the energy in the room “It's too formal. If you need to call me something my name is Eyman."

Astarion laughs implying an agreement moving a new box to the table and moving an already sorted one to the floor. “I'll try my best. Old habits and all.”

They share a laugh as the door opens and Vira walks in with her hands full of 3 pies "Daddy why are we closed?!"

Her father nods his head toward Vira releasing him from their talk “No one was here to man the counter, Junior was busy moving the crates and I was cataloging."

Astarion rushes to her, taking two of the pies from her hands, and handing one to Eyman.  “They were so good last night.” He hums perching on the arm of the chair where Vira sat herself. They sat, enjoying their meal. Astarion smiles to himself enjoying the semblance of a family meal again. 

Eyman rights himself after finishing his meal and agreeing that the food was better than he anticipated. He flips the sign to open again and asks Vira and Astarion to continue their work from before. The afternoon passes as they share giggles and looks and talk about what books that they're stocking or packaging. Eventually closing time chimes and Eyman tells them to “get out of here, you both are too young to spend all of your time in this stuffy bookstore." He winks at Astarion telling him he refuses to treat him like he's ‘other than.’ Astarion is pulled out the door before he can respond. 

“Where in the hells are we going in such a hurry?" Astarion asks while keeping pace with her being dragged through crowds of people. 

“There's a circus in town and I don't want to miss its opening night." She says slowing down, realizing just how manic she must seem "There's minstrels, and portraits painters, a djini, clowns and even beasts.” She cackles slightly when she says beasts “I'm a sucker for animals. Even if they could feasibility tear me limb from limb.” 

“Djinis.” He scoffs "Scheming little bastards. The last one I interacted with turned me into a wheel of cheese just because I evened the playing field.”

“That doesn't sound grate at all.” She smirks at him

“And now you make jokes.” He laughs, grabbing at her sides to tickle her as she squirms away. He playfully pulls her back to his side and sweeps an arm around her waist. “You're lucky you're cute, because your jokes, my dear, need work.”

“Trust me that I have no intention of trying to make them better.” She laughs at her response leaning into him.

They giggle and walk closer to the circus before Vira asks what Astarion and her father talked about while she was gone. "He told me that he knew what I was and wanted to make sure I wasn't just looking for my next meal," he smiles, mindlessly running his tongue behind his teeth. “He just wanted to know what my intentions were with you.”

“And what are those intentions?” She asks meekly turning her eyes to his face that is still smiling, his eyes meet hers quickly as he scans the crowd around them.

“What do you want them to be?" He answers her question with another “I told him that I intended to get to know you better and see where things take us.”

“And if I wanted this to head somewhere serious?" She asked kicking a rock from under her feet.

“Then I think I could be persuaded." He playfully responded and squeezed her closer to his side.

She smiled wide and rubbed her thumb on his side in return before leaning into him “It just feels so natural being with you." She sighs.

He quietly laughs through his nose “It really does." He bumps his hip into hers pushing her slightly off balance causing her to grab onto him to steady herself. She laughs in response and bumps him back, not pushing him as off balance as she had hoped. Astarion rolls his eyes and a giggle slips from his lips.

They get into the circus and walk through the pulsing crowd, avoiding the djini’s tent because it was the same one from all those years ago. After seeing the “cute little beasties" as she called them they found themselves standing in line for the dryad. Originally by accident, not realize what the line was actually for, but then almost on a dare between each other. 

“We don't have to do this." Vira urges “It's crazy right? We don't know each other well enough to do this." 

“Where's the harm?" He shrugs, raising an eyebrow “Maybe she'll tell us something we don't know."

She shrugs and agrees as Astarion pays the woman for a session.

“Interesting…" the woman hums “Where two bodies stand many histories reside. A long line connecting you both. Answer my questions so I can see your true potential.” Vira passes her fingers over Astarion's arm and sits across from him.

“Where does Vira find the most peace?"

“In the cemetery with Tavilline." He smiles speaking her real name, but smiles more when Vira nods to the dryad.

“Very good. Knowing when your muse finds her peace is invaluable knowledge. When does she find the most joy?"

Astarion thinks, not sure but on a whim he responds as if he were answering about Tav “seeing the people she loves thriving."

Vira blushes and pushes her hair behind her ears. 

“A selfless partner is not always a blessing Astarion, your answer is true, but be sure to tend to her like she does others…  Finally, when does she feel fear? “

He doesn't even think about the question before answering “not being able to answer her Lord's question and losing the people she cares about.”

“Only one answer per question. Which does she fear most?"

“Not finding the answer." He states.

Vira squints at him and says quietly “he's right." 

“You both have many things in common, but there is a sturdy wall built that will need to be taken down before your full potential can be explored. I hope you both have the will to break that wall. Your love could be unlike one this realm has ever seen.” With a flourish, the dryad brings them back to the noise of the circus and continues their musings with the next couple. Astarion wraps his arm with Vira’s before putting his shaking hands in his pants pockets.

“I wonder what that means." Vira grumbles “So cryptic. I guess that's why people don't put a lot of stock in what they say, but, curiously, you were right every time. How did you know what brings me joy? We haven't talked about that at all. The other questions, sure it's probably came up or were pretty easy to read. But that…”

He laughs “Honestly?” asking her permission to be blunt with her to which she nods “I just answered like I was answering for Tav.” he shrugs. “The two of you are too similar and I kind of panicked” he laughs nervously.

She stares at him for a whole beat, lost in her thoughts. “Curious.”

They spend another hour or so milling through the circus as night begins to fall. They left the circus and just walked along the river bank behind the church holding each other's hands. Not speaking much, but still joking and flirting and enjoying the others' presence. Eventually, Vira breaks  the silence “Do you really see similarities between me and Tav?”

Startled for a moment Astarion just looks at her studying her face in the moonlight. “Yeah.” he shrugs, “I do. But I don't want you to think tha-” he is cut off by Vira.

“You don't have to explain.” she smiles and shrugs. “I'm honestly honored if you see some of her in me, you clearly love her.” She speaks of Tav in the present tense. “And she’s an amazing person from all accounts I've heard.”

“She truly was.” he sighs while smiling. 

“Would you humor me by telling me what you see that's similar?”

“As long as that's not weird…” he pauses “I feel like there's some taboo talking about my deceased wife on a second date.” forcing a laugh through a shaky voice.

She stops their walking and holds both of his hands in hers moving her head and forcing him to look into her deep green eyes “If I thought it would be weird, I wouldn't have asked Astarion. But if you don't want to, I won't be upset.” She reassures him by moving her hand to gently touch his face.

“Well that's one way.” he smiles into her palm and places a small kiss on it. “The way that you treat me gently. The difference is that she knew why I needed it, and you don't. You just do it.” Vira smiles at him, not moving her hand from his cheek. “And the way that you can make even the most mundane tasks into something fun.” he chuckles “And, if I can say something without getting elbowed” he smirks and looks into her face waiting for a nod “Your attitude!” he rolls his eyes, smiles and rocks his head beach before looking at her again “Gods be damned, the way that you constantly roll your eyes when you're happy, embarrassed or frustrated. You've got a mind of your own, and you're not afraid to use it much to your dad's dismay. That was something that drove me mad in every way about Tav. She just couldn't be tamed, and I would not have had her any other way. The way that you would be just as happy out on the town or with your nose buried in a book.” he smiles wide, laughing through his nose and shaking his head “All of that without mentioning the fact that your eyes and hair are a carbon copy of hers from decades ago.” he pushes his fingers through her long hair and pushes it behind her shoulder to look into her face. 

She blinks slowly, unconsciously leaning into his touch. “As I said, I'm honored to share any qualities with her.” startled when he leaned in to kiss her lips.

His hand is holding her head under her ear and pulling her face to his, kissing her eagerly. “I don't know what this is,” he points between them “but I just can't get enough of you.” he kisses her again “And I am more excited than I could have imagined to see where this goes,” he admits, nervous that he's going to scare her away. 

She moves quickly to wrap her arms over his shoulders returning the kiss, feeling his hands fall to her waist. She sighs softly into his lips “Then we will see where it goes.” She smiles as she pulls her face away from his. “You're not the only one that is excited.” she coos “but as excited as I am, I am exhausted, and have a long day at the shop tomorrow.”

“I've got some meetings to attend to.” he grumbles “but I’ll be by as soon as I can, to give you some company.” He releases her waist and starts to walk toward her house. Smiling to himself when she wraps her arm through his. When they find themselves in front of her house he leans on the door frame as she walks in the door “I hope you had a great night, darling.”

“Just the best.” she beams “Thanks Astarion.”

“Anything for you. Goodnight and make sure you lock up.” he reaches his hand out to her, which she eagerly takes. He kisses her knuckles and releases her hand “Until next time.” he smiles and steps out of the door letting her close it.

“Sleep well tonight.” She smiles and slowly closes the door. When he heard the lock latch he headed home through the cemetery brushing his hand over Tav’s headstone as he walked past, too tired to stay and chat. “I love you Tav.” he whispered as he walked past

He walked home quickly heading straight to their bedroom. Exhausted, he bathed and changed into his sleeping clothes, and fell onto his side of the bed. Feeling the down bed depressing beneath him. Anticipating the ache in his chest to tighten, he was shocked when that didn't happen. A little guilt appeared, but not that heart-wrenching pang in his chest. “Huh.” he tuts to himself, allowing himself to actually rest for the first time in such a long time. After sleeping like a stone he woke up and found his way to Wylls office to see when the meeting was.

Taglist:

@zoeloveslotr @silverfangmarks @prudent-nerd

[waateeystein]

Waateeystein's Ultimate Frankenstein Adaptation Review Masterpost

TL:DR

To appease my Frankenstein hyperfixation, I am attempting to watch as many adaptations of Mary Shelley’s novel as I possibly can. I created a grading criteria to rate each film/play/musical, and I am ranking my favorites in the name of science and obsession. All reviews will be posted to this blog and linked in the masterpost below for your viewing pleasure. 

[Last updated 7/30/2023]

Reviews [in chronological order]

[Scroll further for a detailed explanation of my review criteria and background on this project]

Frankenstein (1910) Score: 25/40

Frankenstein (1931) Score: 26/40

Background

In 2022 around Halloween-time, I started a twitter thread of mini reviews of a few Frankenstein movie/play adaptations. Because of school/work obligations (I’m a full time grad student and fall 2022 was my first of six semesters), I wasn’t able to get through as many adaptations as I had hoped to. This year I’ve decided to revisit my Frankenstein reviews, now on my new tumblr side-blog, with a better understanding of how much free time I have in grad school, and an ever-growing Frankenstein hyperfixation that simply won’t die (not that I want it to hehe.) This masterpost will compile my review criteria, and will have a complete list of what I’ve watched, what I plan to watch, and links to my reviews which will be on their own individual posts. This entire project is purely for my own personal enjoyment, and I absolutely do not expect anyone to agree with my opinions, but I also hope you all respect my opinions just as I would respect yours. I also hoped that I would do this during the month of October, but seeing my new scope, this will probably be an ongoing project that will start during the spooky season and go on indefinitely. To limit my scope, I will only be watching movies and plays or musicals that have been recorded and can be viewed/listened to. I’m sure there are a ton of great novels and short stories based upon the Frankenstein mythos, but for now I am sticking to visual media. I will gladly take suggestions of things to watch, I have a big list already but I will gladly add to it! The goal is NOT to create an objective list of which Frankenstein stories are the best and the worst, because it is simply impossible for me as one person to do so. The real goal of this project is to catalog my thoughts about Frankenstein adaptations in hopes of unpacking how different artists and groups approach the Frankenstein mythos, and for me to gain a better personal understanding of what I like best out of a Frankenstein story.

References

These are the wiki articles I am referencing for finding media to review:

Grading Criteria

Media will be graded on four categories:

Faithfulness to the Source Material

In the case of adapting a story from one medium to another, I think it is very silly to think that any adaptation should be 100% accurate to its source material. We are all familiar with the idea of "the movie is never as good as the book", and while I do mostly agree with that statement, I also believe it can be unfair to judge adaptations based entirely on if they are able to be a carbon copy recreation of the original (adaptations are meant to adapt after all). In the case of judging adaptations of Frankenstein, I judge this category in terms of how faithful an adaptation is to the themes, character motivations and general vibes of the original story, rather than if the adaptation can produce every single plot point and character of the original exactly as Shelley wrote. I also don't think an adaptation of Frankenstein is automatically bad if it is "unfaithful", but it is fun to see both how close or how far these adaptations get depending on what their intended artistic goal is. I can appreciate when an adaptation values accuracy to the source material, but also when it decides to go off the rails and tries something new or unexpected. Frankenstein adaptations give us both extremes and the goal of this category to appreciate the entire spectrum of book accuracy (or inaccuracy). Total Possible Category Score: 10 Points

Production Design

I include this category because I'm a scenographer by trade. I think design for film and theatre is incredibly important to a story, and I don’t see enough people talking about it in a genuinely informed way. That also being said, I'm a terrible judge of actors' performances beyond my own entertainment, which is why I am not including a performance category to mirror this design category (but I may still make comments here and there within other categories when I have something substantial to say.) Costume and scenic design are my bread and butter, but I also may occasionally include thoughts on other design areas too.  Total Possible Category Score: 10 Points

Entertainment Value

When all is said and done, entertainment value, in my opinion, may be the most important category in my review. A piece of Frankenstein media could be a 100% accurate visual recreation of the book, but if it's not entertaining or thought provoking, what was the point? How entertainment is judged will be different depending on many different factors, like genre, production time period, etc. And obviously this category is highly personal to my own tastes, my cup of tea may not be the same as yours. This may be the most important category, but it is also the most subjective. But as someone who makes a living in the entertainment industry, I’d like to think that I am generally a good judge of entertainment value. Total Possible Category Score: 10 Points

Bonus Points

These are a few low-scoring categories where an adaptation might get a few bonus points. Most of these have to do with accuracy to the source material, and what details might make an adaptation perfect in my eyes. There are a lot of adaptations that stray so greatly in genre from the original novel, that I might make a judgment call on whether or not to include this category on a case by case basis. In conclusion, these are some “just for funsies” points.  Character(s) included/mentioned (1 point each): - Robert Walton and/or Henry Clerval - The DeLacey Family - Justine Moritz - William and/or Ernest Frankenstein Victor(y) points (1 point each): - Is Victor aged 18-26 years old? - Is Victor a college dropout? - Does Victor have an accent that is not American or British? Miscellaneous (1 point each): - The setting is primarily in Switzerland. - There are homoerotic undertones. - The Creature has intelligence. Total Category Score: 10 Points

Total Possible Score: 40 Points

Congratulations if you made it this far! I hope you all stick around to hear my ramblings. Please feel free to share your thoughts on individual reviews or this project as a whole, I'm really looking forward to writing these reviews and sharing my love of Frankenstein with you all!

[liz-thinks-too-much]

I needed to hear this so bad. I’ve got the thumbs up diagnosis on autism by two professionals, and I still struggle to understand my autism because I’ve always brushed it off, and sometimes I don’t know what is really me and what is me masking autism, so to cope with that I grabbed my hyperfocus on autism and started doing three different catalogs with alll the information I find interesting or relate to.

For example, I thought I didn’t have sensory processing disorder because I’m not bothered by bright lights or loudness or texture or food most of the time, but then I learned that most of my experiennce with sensory input probably fallls into hyposensibility, wich means I am mostly underwelmed by sensory input.

I’m learning more about myself every day, everything is so new and exciting, and doing research helps me welcome this side of mine, love and support myself with all I can, and most of all, I’m being able to build my identitiy as an autistic person and understant my own way of being neurodivergent and how valid I am.

fuck it. shout out to "high functioning" neurodivergents

the ones who can mask easily, the ones who can get social cues, the ones who have managed to go most of their life not even knowing they were ND because they didn't present as the stereotypical ND person.

the ones who can pay attention in class, understand social etiquette, who understand societial expectations

the ones who don't feel neurodivergent enough bc they don't struggle in the same ways/areas a lot of NDs do, or they can't relate to other NDs' experiences because they always understood these things easily

the ones with high empathy, the ones who DO get the joke, the ones who are constantly told that they can't possibly be neurodivergent because they don't act like what you'd expect a neurodivergent person to act like.

you are neurodivergent enough. you are valid, and so are your experiences. not struggling as much as others do in some places doesn't mean you dont struggle at all. your condition and diagnosis is valid. your symptoms are valid. YOU ARE VALID. not checking all the supposed boxes doesn't mean you aren't neurodivergent. you are enough. you are valid. you are loved. you are valued. you matter. you belong in neurodivergent spaces, you deserve to use whatever resources are available to you, you are allowed to take up space in these communities. and i am so, so proud of you.

feel free to, and actually, i encourage you to reblog this with your experiences. we belong in this community as much as anyone else. please also tag this w/ any neurodivergent conditions i may have forgotten 💙

[jeramewrites2]

Breakfast with my father.

Confessions book club.

Month 1

This months selection was made by me. The book we read was Confessions by Kanae Minato. This was a book that I had had on my TBR list for a very long time. I always want to read outside of my normal lanes. This was written by a Japanese school teacher after the death of her daughter.

The plot of the novel is rather straight forward. Without spoiling anything the lead character of the novel is a mother of a 4 year old daughter and a teacher at a cram school. The daughter of the lead character is murdered and the mother seeks revenge.

This was Minato's first novel. I enjoyed reading this novel knowing that fact. The novel is structured with every chapter being from a different characters perspective. This is a very clean way to have different voices in the novel without getting them confused. As a writer I can understand the practicality of this approach. This is a way for the author to dive deep into a characters mind without having to keep other characters feelings or thoughts in their head as well. This is an approach I have tried myself in trying to understand who a character is for longer works. For me since I use journal entries to understand myself I also have my characters write journals so that I can feel how they feel about events as well.

That being said I felt the novel was conviently plotted. Everything fell into place for the revenge plot and while it worked out well for the lead character it felt unsatisfying as a reader. After the initial shock of the lead character losing her daughter everything else just worked out. I wanted to like the lead character but I guess that wasn't the point of the story. Honestly I don't think there really was a point to the story. The lead character starts the story wanting to avenge the death of her daughter and does. There isn't really any change now that I think about it.

I am writing this entry because that was not the conversation that I had with my Dad about it. Our conversation was mostly.

me- Well what did you think?

Dad- I liked it. I didn't like the bouncing around (meaning changing POV) but I read her second book too.

(My father has always been a voracious reader.)

me- Oh ok. How was that one.

Dad- I liked it too. I thought it was better than Confessions.

That was the conversation we had about the book we read to discuss. That is about what I expected from this activity. I am satisfied with the fact that he enjoyed the book enough to read her second book. I am making him pick the next book we read. I am pretty sure we are going to end up reading a John Grisham. Which is fine. To say that my father is a voracious reader may be putting it lightly. I learned today that he has read the full Grisham catalog. He apparently also has read all of the Lee Child Jack Reacher books. So I am pretty confident that we will be reading a book by a white male.

Breakfast was fine. Coffee was fine and pancakes where nothing special but not bad. The biscuits my dad had where dry as hell and at the gravy looked thin and sad. I will have to find the next place we go to. Someplace closer to where he lives.

[shawmlinsitly08]

Y'know, it's kind of funny. I can only think through about my past or thought process or emotions if I image myself in a scenario where I am voicing it out to a trusted person, a person who's willing to listen.

While it does Not replace an actual one-on-one conversation, but as another way to help me process it better if I don't have the time to vent about to actual person or not the right opportunity to do so. Or how limited to who I vent to. The downside is that I don't get to hear the feedback from them (if they offer it, or course). Though they don't Have to if they got nothing to say. They're not obligated to reply back, the best they can do is to listen. And that's enough for me.

Admittedly, I am more open to an online mutual than anyone else. Not that I don't open up to other people. Rather, the topics or vents I say is less restricted due to how I trust them enough to talk to them about almost anything. And how they respond is something I never thought I'd hear from anyone. To actual have Something to say about what I said, not necessarily all, but just enough that it makes me feel... seen and heard. To be actual seen and heard is something I never thought would Never happen in my life.

But it gets a bit repetitive the more I do it. Like, the growing expectation of a response from my words only to be disappointed that they didn't respond to all of them. Honestly, I can't blame them for it. If anything, they might've only responded with what they only had to say about some things. Or may be busy with other matters I am unaware of, hence the short response. And I can understand that. I don't hold it against them.

So part of the reason why I started using my tumblr blog as a means of cataloging my thoughts. And I don't expect anyone to read them, really. This just mostly for me. For me only. As a way to get my thoughts out more than to bottle it again. I'll only write these if I have any ideas or if I feel like it. And it helps me.

For all I know, maybe someone out there in the world, in a similar boat like I am, discovers these posts and making them feel seen and heard for the first time in a while. Perhaps my words will resonate with them, and in turn, help them get through with whatever hurdles in their way.

To me, that's enough. For what it's worth, I think sharing these can be helpful, not just for me but to other people.

[qu-film-history-to-1968]

The reputation of Disney's Hercules (Franco Morgante)

When it comes to the question of which film is the best out of the entire Walt Disney catalog. One film that rarely comes up is 1997’s Hercules. While it is widely considered to be a good film amongst moviegoers, it isn’t seen as anything revolutionary and at most people will say it is underrated. However, it's always been a personal favorite Disney film of mine, and after rewatching it there were a lot of small elements of it that I appreciated more as an adult. For one I liked how that the animation style felt distinct from the other Disney films at the time. I feel like the expressions of all the characters are wackier and more off model than the typical Disney film. The tone of the film is more lighthearted and comedic than say The Lion King. Which allows for some truly funny reactions from the characters. Also, with my greater understanding of Greek mythology I was able to pick up on the subtler jokes, like when Hercules references seeing a play about Oedipus. It made me smile seeing that this film was still able to make me laugh even after all these years.

But despite my great enjoyment of this film, the critical reception of this film was less enthusiastic. For example, Reelviews said, “Walt Disney Pictures' 35th animated feature makes for good family entertainment. Good, not great. While this film is capable of providing a ninety minute diversion for both kids and adults, it's a far cry from such recent classics as The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin.” (Berardinelli). Another review from the Miami Herald said, “Unlike The Lion King or Beauty and the Beast, Hercules never feels like more than what it is: A zippy, energetic cartoon” (Rodriguez). These two reviews show what the general reaction to this film was at the time. While the film is good, it is just another Disney film. I think this lack of enthusiasm comes from two reasons. The first is that around this time the quality of Disney’s films were becoming more inconsistent. Pocahontas released to a mostly negative reception and while The Hunchback of Notre Dame was received more positively it didn’t come close to reaching the popularity of say The Lion King. People started becoming tired of Disney, so Hercules suffered as a result. Another reason could be the rise of CGI animated films. Two years prior to Hercules’s release, Toy Story took the film industry by storm by being the first computer generated animated films. Suddenly there was big interest in this new kind of film making. Thus, leading to a general lack of interest in traditional animated films at the time.

I wasn’t born in the 90’s so I didn’t get to see Hercules when it came out. So, when I watched it, I was removed from the context of the time. I thought it was one of the most enjoyable Disney films, but at the time people didn’t think much of it. This shows how understanding the context of the time can affect the legacy of a film. After doing some research I can understand why this film has its reputation. Even after rewatching Hercules recently I do realize that objectively this film isn’t anything spectacular, but it still remains a favorite of mine.

Sources:

Berardinelli, James. “Hercules.” Reelviews Movie Reviews, 20 June 1997, www.reelviews.net/reelviews/hercules.

Lacey, Liam. “Hercules.” The Globe and Mail, 27 June 1997, www.metacritic.com/movie/hercules-1997/critic-reviews. 

[potatoesandsunshine]

okay! it took several weeks but i listened to the second half of the album!!! here are my thoughts :)

overall thoughts: i already liked this album but it's honestly comical how much i like this part more. she made these for me?? she used instruments? she did imagery that was mostly not cringe? hello? i really liked it! probably 8/10! there were some moments of sameness again but that's gonna HAPPEN when you do this many songs and they're all like four minutes long. my most consistent criticism of this album is i feel like a lot of the songs could be 30 seconds tighter and would benefit from some trimming down. okay, here are the song-by-song reactions!

TBD: piano!!! oh this one is sad :( there's a lot of anciety on this album re:growing older/being replaced w/ the next young thing. GUITAR. Good song! a little too long but 8/10. on the playlist. potential 9/10.

im: fresh out the slammer... 2!! hm this is a worse get him back isn't it! i like the vocal performance but it's always hard when a song reminds me of a better song. 6/10 but i like bygones will be bygone eras.

The Albatross: Guitar my love!!! hm i really like this one. i like an "i'm a problem" song from anybody really. invisible string vibes from some of the instrumentation. 8/10, playlist. (NOTE: this is the part of the listen where i started thinking about her entire catalog of work. it didn't stop.)

CSSM: good lyrics mostly. SO interesting the 'i loved you the way that you were' and 'i miss the old ways/you didn't have to change' tie. 7.5/10

HDIE?: piano <3 not sure i love it but i DO love the devouring locust swarm of strangers energy of it. i wish she did a bit more with this 'hey the voyeuristic nature of everyone is really awful thing' - she gestures to it more this album than ever before. BOLD to do a spelling section after ME! 8/10 it's good

So High School: i am not the target audience for this. if you ask me Miss Americana should've been the last high school metaphor. i get why she does it. it's not for me. nice sound that i won't listen to again! 6/10

IHIH: 'my eternal consolation prize' is a very good line. wish she wasn't so in love with the word 'precocious'. good song! i understand the 2nd verse but it is still cringe - if you listen to her music you NEED to accept that she does this all the time. 8/10!

TYA: the existence of this song is deeply cringe; that said "my mom wished you were dead" is a hell of a thing. honestly she's always saying she's moved on and it's never been true. good sound but it doesn't move me - like we haven't ever thematically moved on from mean. 6.5/10

Windows: VERY Good. she did this one for me. imagery works. i love to listen to it. i love repetition. 9/10, on the playlist. short and sweet

TP: so much religion on this album but i never feel like she does anything with it. i do like this song a lot, very strong chorus. would give so much for her not to say 'greige' i hate that. pulls you right out of it like 90's trend in willow. 8/10 :)

Cassandra: very interesting to me how the second part of the album has so much piano. this song doesn't really do it for me, 5/10. she always gestures at things without really taking a swing

Peter: oh no this one is gonna get me i LOVE 6:8. and i love repetition T-T this one got my heart stronger than so long london. 9.5/10 i will loop it. i love it. second only to florida!!! for me

TB: it started out with a kiss how did it end up like this... good song. crazy how this is so much more to my taste than the first half of the album. 8/10, playlist, where was this. to me this is A Taylor Swift Song.

Robin: i like this one too!! not as much but still a lot. like a 7/10 liking. this is such a 'i recently rerecorded never grow up' song.

TM: oh THIS is a 'i recently recorded dear john' song wow. and she's right. probably won't listen to this one much! it is upsetting to think about! 9/10 well made

ok for the benefit of everyone i am putting my ttpd thoughts under the cut bc i had a lot of them. i did listen to the album and i had a fun time writing my opinions as i went! i haven't done any of the extra songs yet but i probably will tomorrow.

overall thoughts: i like this album pretty well! definitely more to my taste than midnights. i'm not instantly in love with it, but i will listen to at least some of the songs a lot and i'll give the whole thing a few more chances to grow on me. kind of a 7/10 for me personally - i'm not sold on songs as vehicles for Lore, i need to think it's a good song to listen to if i'm going to like it. i wanted more differences in tempo or dynamics throughout; at times songs felt a little same-y. anyway, my first impressions song by song!

Fortnight: honestly i just don't love the word fortnight there are too many T's in it. overall 7/10. i like it but i want a tempo change or something.

TTPD: the lyrics... babe. but at least she figured out how to say fuck like a normal person. "Gonna troll you" is also a lot. 5/10 doesn't hugely do it for me, would skip.

MBOBHFT: like this one more. she's doing that thing she does where there are more words crammed into the verse than she needs but the chorus really does it for me. 7.5/10

Down Bad: i like the dreamy vibes. weirdly reminds me of another song? specifically fuck it if i can't have him; my brain is itching. anyway 7/10? WAIT if i can't have you kelly clarkson. (not totally convinced that was it. still can't place it)

So Long, London: wish it had instruments? interesting cadence, reminds me of Lana a little. i wish she didn't use so many modifiers but it's a decent song 7/10

BDILH: y'know i like the message. she's right fuck swifties. we're handshake about this. this one is pretty good! 7.5/10. too long though. has the staying power of like a 4 min song (i think everyone was so extremely weird about this situation and it makes sense that she thinks so too)

FOTS: again i just want less synths. i like the chorus a lot actually. kinda over how she uses American. wait what's happening to this song. solid 7/10

Florida!!!: Florence!!! this one was a guaranteed hit for me. fav so far for sure. 9/10 going on the playlist (the no-skip tswift playlist)

Guilty as Sin?: starting to feel a little samey! not a ton of tempo differences on this album. wild to write a song about wanting this hard. feels kinda honest which is refreshing after midnights. not super my song but i don't hate it. 6.5/10 JESUS COMPARISON??? (this added a point. i feel like people throw out 'unhinged' about her when she's always struck me as an extremely precise planner but this was still a big moment for me. she should do more stuff like this. she should get weirder.)

WAoLOM?: stranger things ass imagery. i like the scream i want more variation in dynamics. pretty good song! i like it as a continuation of anti-hero. 8/10. on the playlist

ICFH(NRIC): we love talking about him and smoke i will be listening to colors. i wish it was faster! but i like it. 8/10

loml: again with the modifiers. nice lyrics in this one imo. kinda sounds like you're losing me. 8/10

ICDIWaBH: very mastermind intro! again w/ the thesaurus problem. thank you. thank you. faster song. 9/10 on the playlist. get a therapist fr girl

TSMWEL: she said you get one fast song. piano!!! honestly i like the way it builds and i like the paranoia. again, feels honest. 7.5/10

The Alchemy: i like it! reminds me of the archer + willow. god she loves a sports metaphor. i will listen to this more. 8.5/10

Clara Bow: kinda feels like an Olivia dig. been very interesting to see the progression of The Lucky One -> here. can't pretend you're not the establishment. 7/10

and just for fun - here it is in the glitter gel pen :P i had fun with this! i'll probably do it for the other tracks too - it was like pretending to be a reaction channel

[drawlfoy]

detention retention finale p.2 (the real finale!)

masterlist (catch up on parts 1, 2, and the first half of the finale here!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no my original idea

summary: gryffindor and friend of the golden trio y/n y/l/n is tasked with getting close to malfoy to learn his secret in 6th year. things quickly become more complicated.

warnings: (please pay attention this time around) nsfw content, implied sex, swearing, character death. however, if you are sensitive to gore know that this one is a lot less graphic than the first half of the finale

a/n: wow. here we are! this part is going to be considerably more light hearted than the first part. ngl while writing this i reread my 8th grade diary when i spent hours overanalyzing what my crushes did/said and i kind of wanted to emulate that school crush feeling of “does he like me does he not”. if this seems like a weird turn considering how dark things were in the last chapter, i’m sorry i just really wanted to give poor draco and y/n a break fdajkfls. i hope you guys like it :) 

word count: 16.1k (the longest part of them all...lmfao)

tags! @sycathorn-slush @writeandtranslate  @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss 

here’s a spotify playlist i made for this!

enjoy!

Back at the Gryffindor tower, she was met with a surprise: Ron, sitting cross-legged on her bed, paging through a random Quidditch catalog he stole from Fred. 

“Hi, Ron,” greeted Y/N tentatively. Despite the fact that Harry and Hermione had both been outwardly stand-offish towards her, Ron had, for the most part, remained neutral. “What’s up?”

He jerked his head upwards, his eyes wide. “Sorry, er, you scared me. Hey, Y/N.” Ron awkwardly waved. 

“Is something...going on?”

“Oh.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, his thumbs twiddling together in his lap. “I just wanted to, erm, have a chat with you. I know Hermione and Harry are a little angry with you still, but I miss you. And I don’t think they’re right in doing this to you.”

Y/N allowed her shoulders to sag in relief as she joined him, letting the bed sink under both of their weight. “I understand why they’re upset. I just felt so bad, you know. Drac--Malfoy is going through a lot right now, and even though he’s been a prat to you guys, all of a sudden it was like I would be a horrible person to ignore what’s been going on with him.”

“Harry and Hermione think it’s because you’re a pureblood,” Ron said. “That’s mostly why I came to talk to you. Harry said something before the day in the bathroom about how he wasn’t surprised ‘your kind’ was so quick to turn on us.”

“Does he not know that you’re literally a--”

“Exactly.” A nervous laugh left Ron’s lips. “I mentioned that, and I think he realized how messed up that line of thought was. Anyways, he feels proper terrible about hurting you the way he did. I think you’ll have to wait around a bit before he swallows his pride and apologizes to you himself, but he hasn’t been the same since what happened before the break.”

“Wow.” Y/N allowed that thought to sink in. “And...Hermione?”

“She’s still hurt,” admitted Ron. “Can you blame her, though? One of her best friends starts messing around with her childhood bully?”

She winced. “I know, I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re not...like that.”

“I think you should try talking to her again. I’m not sure why you’re so insistent on keeping a promise to Malfoy, but nothing’s going to change unless you tell her why you did what you did.”

“Thanks, Ron.” Y/N reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Also, I don’t want to be gossipy or anything, but I think you should leave Lavender for Hermione.”

Ron balked. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just an idea,” said Y/N, shrugging. “I just have a feeling you two would be really cute together. I dunno what it is. Just an inkling of a thought.”

“I would never leave Lavender,” he said, frowning as his eyes hazed over. “I would never do that…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Y/N smirked, elbowing him in the side. He grinned at her, the dimples easily forming in the freckled skin of his cheek. 

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Hermione Granger was not a difficult witch to locate. All Y/N had to do was wait until prime studying hours before searching the library’s long halls until she found the bushy head of hair craned intently over a large textbook.

“Hermione.”

At her voice, Hermione snapped to attention, a sour expression forming on her face. “What do you want?” She didn’t even wait for a response, dipping her head back down and continuing to take notes.

“I want to apologize, properly, for what happened,” Y/N said, settling into the seat across from her and dropping her voice. “I know I didn’t give you a very good explanation about what was going on, and I know I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

“I’m not interested in hearing what you have to say right now, Y/L/N.”

She brushed off the pain of her last name being used instead of her given name and continued. “I know you must be really hurt that I got close with Malfoy, especially considering how cruel he was to you.”

Hermione remained silent.

“I know that I’ll never understand how it feels to be an outsider in this world,” she said. “I’m sorry that I can’t change what happened in the past. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want with me. Believe me when I say that I never meant to lie to or to deceive you. You had to have noticed how different Malfoy looks. He needed someone, and I was there. He might not deserve that kind of treatment, especially not from you, but it would’ve been wrong of me to just let him suffer on his own.”

Hermione finally met her eyes, a few tears shining in the deep brown depths of her stare. “I don’t understand how you could overlook all the things he’s said about me. Is...that what you think of me, too?”

“Of course not, Hermione,” exclaimed Y/N. The angry shh from the table over made her drop her voice once again. “You’re twice as capable as my entire bloodline combined. You have every right to be part of this world. You are part of this world and you always have been. If I thought that Draco hadn’t changed, I wouldn’t have become friends with him.”

“You call him Draco now?”

“He’s my friend. And I think that if things were a little different, he’d actually defect from his family’s beliefs and join our side. Living firsthand in the close proximity of Death Eaters really took a toll on him.”

Hermione chewed her lip. “This is really hard. I don’t know what to say.”

“I miss you,” confessed Y/N. “And, to be honest, I felt quite left out, too. I know you and Harry and Ron have important confidential business to attend to, but the way it was treated made it seem like I was too stupid to hear about or understand it. Draco didn’t make me feel that way, and I liked it.”

To her surprise, Hermione’s features softened. “I’m sorry. I really am, Y/N. I don’t know why I didn’t realize earlier how unfair we were to you about that.”

“Really?” 

She shrugged. “I think so.”

“Are we okay, then?”

Hermione frowned a little deeper as her idle hand allowed her quill to dribble ink over the fresh parchment she used. “Not really. I think I need some time. It’s hard for me to feel like I can trust you again after all of this.”

“I completely understand,” Y/N rushed out. “Hopefully one day things will be better, yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Hermione offered her a small smile before turning back to her work. If it had been another time, Y/N would’ve invited herself to sit across from her and distract her as she tried to study, telling Hermione all about her day and how much she wanted to drop kick Goyle across the Quidditch pitch, but it was different now, and she knew that. 

Without another word, Y/N got up and left her old friend in her library. 

Her dorm was rather quiet as she settled back into her bed for the second time that day, this time happy to find it entirely empty. It was a Sunday, after all, and she had an entire stack of homework to try and drag herself through before her classes the next day. 

As her fingers began to card through the messy parchment of her desk, she took notice of an item that hadn’t been there before--a crimson red envelope, embossed with glittery golden piping and a roaring lion. Her family crest.

Y/N tore into the parchment as she wracked her brain to try and guess the contents. A howler? No, she’d been (mostly) good. A gift? She hadn’t been that good. What awaited her was much more underwhelming--just a boring old piece of parchment with black ink penned in her father’s handwriting. 

But the news that it brought her had the memories from Christmas Break rushing back.

~

The next day, he was sitting in his Potions seat, making small talk with Pansy that coaxed a few laughs out of both students like nothing had happened the day before. Their eyes met briefly before he uncomfortably cleared his throat and turned away, back to Pansy’s animated speech over how ridiculous this class was. 

Her heart ached at the sight. How could he act like nothing had ever happened between them? How could he just evade eye contact like that? Y/N felt a wave of uncontrollable jealousy wash over her when the thought of Pansy lying in his silk sheets with the knowledge that she was actually HIS, that he actually wanted her. It was all she could do to avert her eyes and pretend it didn’t happen, though Draco wasn’t exactly ignoring her anymore, which was almost worse. Now that she knew he only saw her as a friend, it only hurt so much more when he would chivalrously offer to walk her back to the library at night or say polite hellos to her in the halls. 

The days began to bleed into each other again, speeding along even quicker now that she actually had people to sit with during meals and to talk to during common hours. Hermione and Ron had begun speaking to her again, though Harry was still making himself sparse whenever she appeared in a group.

To her surprise, though, that changed one day when a paper crane fluttered onto her desk in Charms. She opened it quickly, hoping desperately (and against her will) that it was from Draco, but instead she was greeted with a messy scrawl that she knew very well.

Meet me after practice on the pitch if you’d be okay with talking to me. -Harry

Despite the recent events, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the many times that Harry had written her similar notes, back when their relationship wasn’t rocky and she was actually helping the Trio. That wistfulness was quickly replaced with anxiety when she tried to figure out what to expect from Harry.

“Y/N,” he greeted her a few hours later. She rose from her seat on the bleachers and began to walk alongside him.

“Hi Harry.”

“Listen,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I know I’m not very good at talking about feelings--that’s why I’ve been putting this off for so long--but you deserve an apology for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I don’t think I’ll ever understand your connection with Malfoy, but that isn’t an excuse for what happened.”

Well, this was going better than expected. “I’m not going to lie and say that it’s okay that you hexed me, but I don’t blame you all that much.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “That’s, er, really good to hear, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” responded Y/N. “Madame Pomfrey even said that the scarring might go away.” The way the blood drained out of his face made her realize that that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Oh, Merlin, there’s scarring?”

“Forget I said that,” replied Y/N, placing a hand comfortingly on his arm. “Water under the bridge. It really is okay.”

“Well…” He coughed awkwardly as they neared the castle’s entrance. “I think I owe you an explanation as well. If you want one, that is.”

“Shoot,” she said. “Preferably not a deadly curse at me, though.”

If Harry thought that was funny, he certainly didn’t show it. “Looking back on what happened, it was all just a complete blur. I lost control.”

“Because I hadn’t told you about Malfoy?”

“Oh, well…” He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. “Obviously I was angry that you’d lied to us. And I was angry at Malfoy over Katie Bell. But that wasn’t what made me lose control. It was seeing you together. There was this moment before either of you noticed I was there and it just made me sick to my stomach to watch. Merlin, the way he…” Harry trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “The way he looked at you. It just boiled my blood.”

“What do you mean?” asked Y/N, beginning to grow more and more confused. How could Harry have seen something that wasn’t even there in the first place? 

“And the way you two looked at each other in Potions,” he continued, clearly not planning on answering her question. “It makes me sick. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t see me that way, Harry,” she said, her voice little.

“Has he told you that?”

“As a matter of fact he has.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she replied, holding his palms up in a surrender. “It’s not as if it came as a surprise or anything. Plus, not like I care. Just because I don’t want to see him get hurt does not mean I have feelings for him.” Y/N was talking too animatedly, something that prompted her friend to tilt his head and send her a curious look. 

“Right. Well…” Harry stood up, brushing his robes off. “If I didn’t make it clear enough already, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you see in him. But you haven’t lost me. I just hope I haven’t lost you.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile before launching into his arms. He started, but once Y/N had her arms around his neck, he hugged her back. She breathed in the familiar woodsy smell she’d known since she was 11 and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I missed you, Harry.”

“I missed you too. So much.” 

She was just about to poke fun at him for being sappy when someone pointedly cleared their throat behind them, prompting her to spin around and prepare to tell someone off for interrupting her conversation. Once she saw who it was before her, though, she froze. 

“Try and keep the PDA at a minimum, yeah?” Draco Malfoy said, his lips twisted into a bored scowl.

“Draco,” she warned. He simply arched an eyebrow at her before swiftly passing by the two, being sure to brush harshly against Harry’s shoulder.

“What has gotten into him?” she asked in astonishment. “Merlin, it’s like we time traveled back to 5th year or something.” 

He scoffed at her side. “Y/N, what did I tell you?”

The next day, Draco wasn’t at breakfast. Y/N tried not to think too much about his empty seat as she listened to Ron ramble on about how crazy Lavender was being. She had finally migrated over to the Gryffindor table, bringing her new Ravenclaw friend along with her. Hermione was still giving her side eye, but it was better than being treated like a complete outcast. This time around, Parkinson was gone from the Slytherin table, too. The thought of Pansy being the one to comfort him filled her chest with the slimy coolness of jealousy, but instead of dwelling on it further, she stabbed her fork through the strawberry on her plate and took a bite. If he wanted to mess around with her, he could. Merlin knew he needed some sort of distraction. But her most private thoughts couldn’t help but wonder if he ever had feelings for her. There were so many moments that made her think otherwise--the way he’d blush when she said anything flirtatious, how eager he had been to walk her to her dorm, all the glances sent her way…

It was at moments like these when Y/N sternly reminded herself that they were just friends and that was all he’d ever seen her as. Friends brushed hands. Friends walked each other to their dorms. Friends stared across the room at each other sometimes. Friends gave each other gifts. Hermione, Ron, and Luna had all acted similarly to her in the past and it was entirely platonic. She was just overanalyzing.

He didn’t show up to Potions, Charms, or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape was giving her the eye, and Y/N uncomfortably shifted in her chair as she wondered if the wizard had found out it was her who stole the Veritaserum.

“As you all may know,” he drawled, stalking the perimeter of the classroom, “A particular potion of mine has been...misplaced. If any of you happen to know where it is, I suggest you confess now.”

Nervous chatter erupted around the room as Snape’s eyes bored into hers. Was he using Legilimency on her? Wouldn’t she feel something? Despite her worries, he broke eye contact and spun around to the board, scrawling the topic of the lesson on the chalkboard. Y/N reminded herself to breathe. 

He wasn’t at lunch, Transfiguration, or dinner. Y/N was starting to believe that Draco had just up and left Hogwarts as she began to get ready for bed, showering off the day and dressing in comfier clothes. For once, her homework load had been lightened to the point where she could put it off for a full day. Diffuser on, windows open, and sleeping clothes on, Y/N was ready and settled into bed early with nothing but her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Was Draco okay? Did something happen with his task? Where was he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light rap on her door.

“Y/N?” A young girl’s voice, muffled but distinguishable through the heavy wooden door shook her out of it. She groaned, throwing the blankets off her and closing her hand around the doorknob. She wasn’t even a prefect, but for some god-forsaken reason the first-years always went to her instead.

“Candace,” she greeted. “What’s cracking?”

“Someone wants to see you.” The first-year’s voice sounded shakier than usual. Y/N finally cast her eyes up from the short girl to take in the sight of a rather disheveled looking Draco Malfoy standing in her hallway.

“Draco? What are you doing here?” 

He cleared his throat. “Are you busy?”

“Candace,” Y/N said, addressing the eleven year old in front of her first, “Thanks for helping Draco. You should go to bed, you know. It’s late.”

Wide-eyed, Candace dashed off without any protest. Y/N cast a raised brow to Draco and tried to look like she hadn’t spent the past 12 hours obsessing over his disappearance. “You better have a good reason for showing up at my dorm in the middle of the night and scaring one of my first-years to death.”

“She wasn’t scared,” he argued.

“You must be horrible with reading children,” stated Y/N. “Anyways, is this a conversation that you want to have in my dorm hall? Or would you prefer to come inside?”

He tilted his head towards the doorway. “May I?”

“Er...sure. Come on in.” She bit back the quip about already offering. “What’s going on? You missed all your classes today.”

“I’m aware,” he responded drily as he sat down on the same spot she’d just been nearly asleep on. “I just...something happened last night. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Y/N tried not to blush at how flattered she was. He didn’t even like her. Why was she acting like that still? Friends did this sort of thing. Friends were there for each other. “Oh. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to just take your mind off of it?”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment before exhaling a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe take my mind off it until I feel ready to talk about it.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, leading him by the cuff of his sleeve over to her window. “I think I know something we can do. Grab a pillow and a blanket.”

He did as she asked while she opened up the window wider until it was large enough to crawl through, spelling the tiles of the roof outside clean. 

“Are we going on the roof?”

“As long as you’re not too scared of heights, yeah,” she responded, using her desk as a stepping stool while she swung the rest of her body out on the old Hogwarts roof. Despite the age of the castle, the structure was thankfully sturdy. “Pass me anything you want out here. I’ll get it set up for us.”

“I’m not sitting on that dirty roof,” he said, his usual snotty tone creeping into his voice as he handed her a blanket for each of them. 

“Okayyy, Your Highness.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “We can sit on my blanket.” True to her word, she took the one she usually slept with and covered the tiles. “Will you come sit with me now?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He settled in next to her, his own blanket barely draped over his knees while she sat cross legged at his side, trying not to shiver from the cold late winter air. “Wow. This is actually a better view than from the Astronomy tower.”

“I know, right?” she said, trying to ignore how her heart fluttered every time he looked at her. “You can see Hogsmeade from here, too.”

The pair watched the scenery before them in silence. Y/N drank in the landscape bathed in soft moonlight, the winding creeks leading into the Dark Forest reflecting the moon while the Black Lake’s waves gently lapped at the shores. 

“I come up here sometimes when I get stressed,” she confessed after a little while. Draco turned to look at her, his lips slightly quirked up and his eyes soft. 

“Yeah?”

“It just helps clear my head,” she continued. “I feel really lucky to live in the Tower. It must be kind of weird to know that if you opened your window you’d just flood your room.”

Draco snorted. “You get used to it.”

Y/N hummed in something that felt a little like agreement.

He shuffled, clearing his throat. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you this since that night. I’m…sorry that I can’t give you what you want.”

“It’s really okay,” she said, her cheeks growing hot. “I understand. You can’t change how you feel. I’m happy to be your friend and eventually that’s all I’ll ever want.”

Draco dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement when a brilliant display of lights suddenly exploded over Hogsmeade. Fireworks. They were obviously magic, charmed to glitter in the shape of the words, “Happy Birthday, Margie!”

“Oh my god, happy birthday Margie,” Y/N echoed, eager for the distraction of their conversation.

“I wonder how old she’s turning.”

“I bet she’s 34,” said Y/N. 

“32.”

“33, maybe, but that’s pushing it.”

She returned his grin before she felt something hit the top of her head--a raindrop, fat and cold--and roll down the back of her neck. “Shit. I think it’s going to rain soon. Do you want to go back in?”

As if to accentuate her point, the clouds above them rumbled. Draco shrugged. “If you want. I kind of like staying out here, though.”

“Me too.”

They sat in the quiet for a few more moments, the only sound coming from the soft patter of the rain and the occasional boom of Margie’s birthday fireworks. Y/N began to shiver as the raindrops became more frequent, her loose sleeping shirt and her shorts not really doing much for her. All of a sudden, she felt something fuzzy on top of her head.

She looked to her left to see that Draco had lifted his blanket to drape over both of them, creating a tent of some sort. “Thanks, Draco.”

“Don’t mention it.” His smile set off the butterflies in her stomach once again, but she beat them back. The fireworks continued, now switching to a glittering sage green. “I bet Margie was a Slytherin.”

“Or maybe she just likes sage green,” argued Y/N. 

“Maybe.” He held her gaze for what felt like a second too long before clearing his throat and turning his attention back onto the night sky. It occurred to her at that moment that they could’ve just transfigured the pillows they were sitting on into umbrellas, but traitorously, she didn’t want to mention it if it meant she lost her chance to be near him. 

She felt something lightly brush past the hand she had rested in the space between them but thought nothing of it, instead focusing on her breathing and making sure she didn’t sound like she was hyperventilating because she most certainly felt like she wanted to. She’d never shared her special roof spot with anyone, not even Harry or Ron. But he didn’t know that. 

The fireworks exploded with a crescendo of motion as multiple green sparkles were launched into the air, crackling and sparking with energy. At any other point in time, Y/N would’ve found it easy to focus on the beauty of the show, but something else caught her attention: the fact that Draco’s hand was now set directly next to hers, the edge of his touching her with the lightest of pressures. Every nerve ending in her left hand felt like it was burning with energy as Draco, without even sparing a glance in her direction, inched his hand over just enough for his pinky to overlap with hers.

Y/N tried to remember how to breathe as her thoughts ran wild. Friends touched hands sometimes. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he didn’t even know it was her hand.

She heard Draco’s own breath hitch in his throat as his hand finally slipped under hers, intertwining their fingers and turning them so her hand rested in his palm. 

Friends held hands sometimes. There was nothing romantic about this. Nope. This was normal. Y/N’s frenzied thoughts were interrupted by Draco’s voice.

“You know how much danger my family is in,” he said, finally revealing what had him so shaken up. “Well, I got a letter from my mother last night. Apparently she’s been getting these strange, veiled threats. She can’t identify the owl and it seems like whoever this is is hell-bent on breaking into the manor. My aunt and the rest of the Death Eaters have been ridiculing her for even worrying about it.”

Y/N started to feel a guilty pit in her stomach. The letter her father sent her was beginning to make more sense. “Draco, that’s awful.”

“Do you think that maybe they’re the ones who are sending them to her?” he asked, his voice raising an octave at the end, flourished with a small crack in his tone. “As a way to rush me to the end of my task?”

Draco had slowly leaned into her as he told her his worries, and Y/N found herself gently squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this on top of everything else. This isn’t fair to you. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need help solving the cabinet?”

He shook his head, casting his gaze down to their hands. “Is it okay if I just stay here for a little?”

“Of course you can,” she said, immediately regretting her words. Having him around would only make her feel worse. Was this how he treated all of his friends? She held back an ill-timed chuckle at the thought of him holding hands with Goyle. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” His eyes were so light that she could still see the silver hue of them in the dark, reflecting what little moonlight found him under the blanket. “You know, I’m glad we had detention together. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Pansy kept badgering me all day about how she could help instead of actually listening and Blaise just told me that if I kept moping around he’d nab my mother himself.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. Jealousy surged through her as she thought again about Pansy. When she held hands with him, she probably never had to wonder what it meant. “Do they know about…”

“Not everything,” Draco clarified. “That’s just you. They just know about my current house guests. I haven’t told them any specifics.”

Another pang of guilt rattled through Y/N as she ran through the information she’d gotten the night prior in her head while he squeezed her hand back, his thumb running along her skin. She felt like the shame of not mentioning it earlier was burning her up.

“Draco, I need to tell you something.” The makeshift blanket tent all of a sudden felt like the most intimate location in the world as he turned to face her fully, now gripping her hand with two of his own and leaning closer, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut as she mentally ran through the contents of the parchment on her desk. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of rain and Draco’s breathing. 

“If this is what I think it is, then I--”

“I’m not about to confess to you again literally right after being rejected,” she snipped back, pulling her hands from his grip in a moment of unexpected humiliation. “I’m not that stupid.”

Draco took his own hands, now empty, and folded them neatly on his thigh. He stopped meeting her eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t--I wasn’t going to--”

“It’s--no, I’m sorry.” Y/N found herself angry that she gave up her excuse to hold his hand. “That was just a little embarrassing for me. I promise I won’t bring it up again. This is something totally different.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” To her surprise, there was no usual teasing lilt to his tone; he was being entirely genuine.

“I want you to know that we can call this off at any time,” she began, watching his blank expression carefully should it change, “But I hope you think about this.”

“Think about what?”

“I’m kidnapping your mom.” 

There. It was out. Draco’s mouth had long since fallen open, a look of mild horror on his face. “What the actual fuck?”

“Let me explain,” Y/N rushed. “The Order owes my family a favor. My mom knew yours. I may have mentioned something about the treatment towards her over the holidays and now my family is orchestrating a way to fake a kidnapping-turned-murder situation to get her out.”

He blinked at her.

“Of course we can call it off anytime you want,” Y/N repeated. She cast a quick Accio (something she was surprised worked considering how shaky she was) and summoned her father’s letter from her desk, thrusting it into his arms. “Read this. It has all the details.”

Draco scanned the document without a single word leaving his lips.

“You’re scaring me, Draco. What do you think?”

“You have an Italian beach cottage?” he asked. 

“Apparently so,” answered Y/N. “I’ve never been there, but we haven’t actually registered it through the British Ministry. If we hide your mother there, no one is going to be able to find her. She’s not required to give up information to the Order, either--I mean, we kind of hope that she will, but there’s no mandated amount of intel to keep her safe.”

“And I can…”

“Yes. After your task is straightened out, you can join her if you want.” She hardly finished her sentence before Draco’s arms pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever been given in her life.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he mumbled, his voice strained. “How did you...wow. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. “I’m just glad I could help.”

He finally pulled away, still keeping his hands gently placed on her forearms. She tried to keep her thoughts from straying too much as he gazed down at her, a slightly sad downturn in his lips. The way he was looking at her began to make her even more nervous.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she stated. “I want to get up early tomorrow so I’m not too late to Potions. Are you feeling better?”

Draco cleared his throat. “Er, yes. I suppose so. Thanks again, Y/N. I’m assuming this is when you kick me out?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She spelled her blanket clean from under him and stepped back into her room, turning to face him. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me.”

He sent her a small smile before swinging his legs over the windowsill and making his way to the door. “I hope you have a good night. Sleep well.” He went in for another hug, but this time Y/N accidentally leaned the same direction as him, nearly crashing her lips into his.

“Shit, sorry,” she murmured as she quickly corrected herself to lean the other way--and was horrified to find that he had done the exact thing as well, barely dodging him this time and instead reeling herself back as far as his hold on her allowed. Draco let out a nervous laugh, letting her go and stepping away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well. That was poorly timed considering the conversation we had,” he pointed out. What stellar observational skills.

“Er, yeah. Well…” Y/N held her hand out and immediately felt herself cringe. “Here’s to being good friends.”

He took her hand in his and tentatively shook it, a sort of half-smirk dancing on his lips as his eyebrow raised. “To being good friends. I’ll see you later.”

Then he was gone, and Y/N was able to flop back on her bed and frantically sort through her thoughts in peace. He’d almost--no, she’d almost--well, they both had almost kissed. As friends, though. Obviously.

This is ridiculous. She pulled a blanket up around her and immediately froze when she breathed in--black tea and sage, just as she remembered. She decided it was high time to switch her blankets anyways and tossed that one in the laundry bin.

~

“And then guess what she said?”

“Come on, we’re waiting,” Y/N said to Ron as they chattered over their cauldron in Potions together, flanked by the rest of her Gryffindor friends.

“Lavender said I’m obviously pining after Hermione because I keep asking her to study with me.”

“No!” came from Neville after a theatrical gasp. “She did not.” 

“She literally did, mate,” Harry cut in. “I saw it myself. Honestly, I think she might be onto something. I’ve always sensed some sort of tension between you two.”

“I think Harry’s right, as much as it pains me to say it,” she teased, giving her friend a little shove. Seamus had just opened his mouth to start talking when the sound of shattering glass prompted them all to whip around to face the Slytherin section. Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly clutching the broken remains of a glass vial in his hand like he was still in disbelief over what had occurred. 

“Malfoy, boy, is everything alright over there?” Slughorn asked from the front.

“Yes,” he said quickly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened.”

“You should sleep more,” the professor continued. “It’s harder to control your magic when you’re young and exhausted.”

Draco just nodded, his gaze turning over to meet Y/N’s worried one. She tilted her head, mouthing, “Are you okay?”. He sent her a tight smile and nodded, though Pansy sent her a very dirty look. 

“So that was weird,” said Y/N, turning back around to face Harry. “I haven’t broken glass by losing control of my magic since I was a kid.”

“One time I let a snake out in a muggle zoo,” said Harry, his eyes miles away as he traveled down memory lane.

“You what now?”

“I can’t believe I never told you that.”

“I think I would’ve remembered that. What’d you do, whisper in its ear about how the only thing it has to lose is its chains or something until he was motivated enough to escape?”

Harry laughed. “No. I vanished the glass. And then it thanked me, which was horribly alarming for a kid who had no idea what magic was.”

“You poor, poor thing,” she mocked before Slughorn dismissed them and they began to make their way together down the hall. “Suffering from success.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N felt a surge of affection for the fact that they were friends once again. “Basically the story of my life. Anyways, I’m off to see Snape.”

“Merlin, are you okay?” asked Y/N, holding her hand to his forehead and miming the motion of checking for a fever. “On your own time?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he said, suddenly looking more somber. “I’m just serving detention for what happened in the bathroom. I am still very sorry about that, you know. If you wanted to curse me to get back at me, I’d understand.”

She shoved him forward, a smile dancing on her lips as she said, “Go on, suffer for my honor.” Then she felt a hand pull her back into an empty, dark classroom. 

“Let go of me!” she exclaimed, twisting around to try and see the person who had grabbed her.

“Boo,” whispered a familiar voice in her ear. 

“Draco, you do realize you could just talk to me in the halls like a normal goddamn person,” she chided, finally being released from his grip so she could give him a stern look. He only shrugged, a slightly impish look displayed across his features.

“But it’s more fun this way.”

She tried her hardest to frown at him, but it was honestly difficult when he was smiling at her the way he was. “So, what’s up? Did something happen?”

“Nothing really,” he admitted. “I just know that we both have free periods. Do you want to spend it together?”

Friends, friends, friends, friends, friends Y/N chanted in her head. He’s only saying this as a platonic thing.

“I guess I don’t really have anything better to do,” she teased. Despite her light hearted tone, she couldn’t help but notice the shift in Draco’s behavior. In a matter of days, he was looking more like himself than he had all year--the color finding its way back into his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled, the food on his plate in the Great Hall actually being eaten. 

If there was one thing that Y/N was quickly learning about Draco, it was that under all of his snobbery, he was endearingly weird. He’d memorized all of the captains of the Slytherin Quidditch team, read everything there was in the library about alchemy, and always sent her the dorkiest fucking waves whenever their eyes met. 

So, in spirit of Draco’s newly recovered persona, Y/N spent the rest of her free period sitting in the empty classroom and chatting with him about a whole load of nothing. They’d both sat on top of adjacent desks, and sometimes Y/N would swing her feet so she kicked his shin. He’d always promptly return the favor.

“So,” she said after a while, “Have you been thinking about what I told you? My family’s plan, and all?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze cast down to his hands. “A little. I guess I’m just a little confused about what I should do with my task or when all of this is going to happen.”

“I’m only asking because I’ve been thinking about it,” confessed Y/N. “I think I’ve figured out what you should do with your task. If you want to, that is.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ve already established that You-Know-Who has nothing to hold over your head without your mother at stake,” began Y/N, searching his face to find agreement, “But it’s going to look suspicious if you suddenly stop sending progress reports.”

Draco reached his hand up to scratch his cheek. “One problem, though. I don’t think I’ll be able to repair the cabinet. I’ve hit a complete dead end anyways.”

“That’s fine,” said Y/N. “That doesn’t matter. Fake the progress reports. I don’t think that you should fix it at all, to be honest. I think you should leave it broken and still invite Bellatrix and her friends to travel through it.”

“And kill them?!”

“Or maim them,” offered Y/N. “I know it’s not ideal, but I think that if I tweaked the cabinet’s lunar belt just right, I might be able to control how the space-time continuum is warped and simply incapacitate them so the Order can take them into custody. Of course, the dark magic as an element may throw a curveball, but it’s worth a shot. And if you do this, it’ll mean that the Order will trust you more.”

“Hm.” Draco caught his bottom lip on his teeth while he shut his eyes, obviously stewing over everything. “That’s quite the risk.”

“I can run it by my family to get their thoughts on it,” she offered. “But the only caveat is that I have to mention what you’re trying to do.”

His eyes shot open. “Maybe don’t mention the part where I’ve already made more than one attempt on the headmaster’s life if we end up going down that route.”

Y/N shrugged. “The Order might already know. Isn’t Snape onto you?”

“He’s not ‘onto me’, he was instructed to help--” Draco stopped in his tracks as he stared at her. “Wait, what?”

“Oh,” she said, both of them frozen as they realized what they’d revealed to each other. “Erm...forget I mentioned that.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” he mumbled, sending a half-hearted kick at her. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Love it,” she said absentmindedly. “Anyways, will you go to Slug’s Valentine party with me next weekend? As friends, of course. He wants all of us to bring dates and I don’t know who else to ask.”

Draco looked like he was glowing. “Really? You wouldn’t bring Potter?”

“Eh,” she responded. “I’m pretty sure he’s going with Ginny. Plus, I see him around the common room enough as it is.” Y/N waited a few moments. “So? Are you in?”

He shook himself out of what looked to be a weirdly stupified state. “Er, of course. Just let me know when you need me.”

The Hogwarts bells began to chime outside, signifying that the third period block was beginning. 

“Saturday at 8,” said Y/N, turning to leave. “You can meet me in front of the Great Hall.”

“I’ll just walk you from your dorm.”

“Then you have to be there earlier.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t mind. Anyways, I’m off to Runes. Enjoy Divination.” He bumped her shoulder as he walked past, sending a thrill through Y/N. How had he even known that she had Divination? That was one of the few classes they didn’t share, and she probably just mentioned it in passing once. 

Then again, they were friends. And just because Ron and Hermione hadn’t memorized her schedule, it didn’t mean that Draco was the same kind of friend.

Things only got more confusing as time went on. Draco found any excuse to talk to her, especially when she was with Harry. If he were any other boy, Y/N would’ve immediately assumed the obvious: that he had a crush on her and was jealous. But, obviously, that was impossible. He’d told her upfront that he didn’t have any feelings for her. So why was his behavior so different after that night they spent together on the roof? 

It got even weirder on Friday. Draco once again pulled her away from a conversation with Harry to shove a little box in her hands.

“What’s this, Draco?” she asked, frowning as she turned it around in her hand.

“It’s just something I thought you might like,” he muttered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Her interest piqued, Y/N opened the box.

“A quidditch bracelet?” Y/N gulped as she looked down at the enchanted diamonds, each glittering with a gentle silver pigment--as well as a slight lavender purple sheen. This was not a normal gift to give to your school friend. This was at least a few thousand galleons--probably even more, considering the enchantments that made the stones glow. Even her considerably wealthy family wouldn’t buy her one because of her horrid track record with jewelry.

He shrugged. “I picked it up while I was at Barnaby’s a bit ago. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want. I remembered I had it when you asked me to Slug’s party and I thought I’d see if you’d be interested.”

“Erm,” said Y/N, stammering, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this from someone before.”

“Believable.” Draco snorted. “Take it and do me a favor. It’s not like I’d wear it. It might as well be appreciated by someone.”

“It’s beautiful, it really is. I’m just worried because I have a bit of a habit of forgetting I’m wearing jewelry and breaking it….”

“I assumed. That’s why I charmed it to be unbreakable,” said Draco quickly. “If you don’t want to wear it, I won’t be offended. I’m just offering.”

Y/N couldn’t help but be thankful that the abandoned classroom he’d pulled her into was dark. Otherwise, he might’ve seen how red her cheeks were. “I guess we’ll figure out how strong your unbreaking enchantments are shortly.”

“Is this your way of saying yes?”

“Help me put it on, will you?” 

She could see dimples form in his cheeks as he allowed a small, close lipped smile to spread across his face while he unclasped the bracelet from the box and gently turned her arm so her palm faced up to the sky. His touch lingered over her skin for a few seconds. Y/N had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice suddenly low, “About what we talked about last time we were here. About the cabinet, and the Order…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to do it,” he said firmly, finally pulling his hands away from her arm and tossing the empty wrapping into his pocket. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

“Nothing yet, really. Just your consent to tell my family about your task. I’ll let you know if they want anything else.” Though Y/N’s response was truthful and concise, her mind was elsewhere as she came to a depressing realization. He wasn’t giving her the quidditch bracelet because he secretly liked her and wanted to spoil her or whatever. He was doing it as a thank you for what she was doing for him and his mother. An elaborate gift for an even more elaborate favor. 

“That’s easy enough,” Draco mused. “In the meantime, I’ll keep sending progress reports.”

“Good plan,” said Y/N, her voice a little deflated. “Thank you again for the bracelet. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left the classroom and spent the rest of her night stewing over the poor decisions she’d made regarding her emotions over the past week. She knew about the effect that Draco had over her, yet she still invited him to Slug’s party like an idiot. And then she’d let herself get her hopes up over dumb little things like the way he looked at her in class or the quidditch bracelet when he was really just being a friend trying to pay her back for a big favor. 

Saturday night was going to be rough if she couldn’t get her feelings in line.

~

At 7:50 sharp, Y/N waited by the portrait of the Fat Lady. Peeves wailed above her as she tried to practice slow breathing--in for 5 seconds, out for 5 seconds. I am in control of my feelings. I control my own reality.

Then she saw him, and all of the work she’d done trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him amounted to nothing. He looked breathtaking. Y/N bit her tongue as she tried to violently beat back the thoughts of all the things she wanted him to do to her. 

“You look nice,” he said smoothly once he was close enough for it to be socially acceptable. Her mouth went completely dry as she drank in the sight of him in an all-black suit.

“Thanks. So do you.” She internally congratulated herself for getting through that without stumbling over her words too much. Gingerly, she pushed herself off her position of leaning on the wall and began to walk alongside him.

As they ascended the steps, her heel teetered. She reached for Draco’s hand in a moment of sheer panic--and, surprisingly, he latched onto her and held her up. 

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you to not wear shoes you couldn’t walk in?” he said, amused. He didn’t move to let go of her hand. 

“Don’t be rude, Malfoy,” she fired back.  

“You’re not wearing it,” he noted. His lips slightly turned into a frown as he cast his eyes downwards.

Y/N stared at him, her mind barely functioning at this point. “What?” 

“The bracelet,” he said, letting go of her hand to motion to her wrist.

“Oh,” she responded lamely. In truth, she’d tossed it into his quill box while she was in the throes of self-pity over the whole ordeal of unrequited feelings, but she could hardly tell him that. “I took it off to shower and it took too long to put back on.”

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to help again,” he said with a teasing lilt. “I’d only judge you a little.”

She smiled, grateful he wasn’t pushing it any further. “Ever the gentleman. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

They made it to the fifth floor in no time. Slughorn only seemed slightly concerned with the presence of Draco, but he didn’t say anything to Y/N. As she expected, Hermione and Ron gave her a little bit of side-eye once they saw her choice of a date, but neither of them brought it up and even spoke to her for a little--though they never verbally acknowledged Malfoy. While she was constantly overanalyzing the little things that Draco was doing--the way he offered her a sip of his drink when she spaced out on the way his hands looked holding it for too long, the way he was always touching her in some way, whether it be a hand on her lower back or a lingering grip on her waist--she couldn’t help but feel overcome with the relief that her friends seemed somewhat accepting of her new friendship with Draco. 

Then Harry opened his mouth. 

“Malfoy,” he greeted through gritted teeth. 

“Potter.”

Ginny met her slightly panicked gaze with one of her own. To her surprise, though, Harry just flicked his gaze to where Draco’s hand was lightly poised on her waist, raising an eyebrow. “Congratulations for finally being honest with her. I always thought Y/N deserved a bloke who outright admitted his feelings. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe that is you after all.”

Draco’s hand immediately dropped. “Do me a favor and bugger off.”

“Or maybe I’m wrong,” replied Harry, looking Draco up and down with possibly the pettiest look she’d ever seen on a wizard before. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“That was weird,” said Y/N, though she secretly revelled in the fact that Harry was picking up on something too.

“I suppose.” Draco slid off one of his rings, running his fingertips over the ridges of his family crest.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Y/N, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve just never really been a party person.”

“I imagine it’s probably not helping that Harry’s here,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze before releasing him. “Do you want to just get out of here? I think we’ve been here for long enough to justify ditching.” His grateful smile told her everything. “I had a feeling. Where do you want to go?”

He pondered this for a bit. “I’m not sure. Anywhere but here.”

“Anywhere but here” quickly turned into his dorm as they wordlessly made their way down to the dungeons, passing by Marvin the raven outside Snape’s stores. Y/N’s pulse sped up every time their hands brushed--which seemed to happen far, far too often for it to be accidental on either of their ends. 

“I can’t believe you broke in there,” he said finally, chuckling as the raven cooed at her appreciatively. “And just for me? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” grumbled Y/N. Obviously she’d done it just for him--she was hopelessly obsessed with him. He knew that. She found herself profoundly grateful that she’d been under the influence of Veritaserum that time instead of now--if she’d had so much as a drop of truth serum, she’d spend the entire night telling him how much she wanted him. “Anyways, I’m sorry for how weird Harry was back there. I don’t get why he feels the need to make assumptions about everything.”

Draco hummed, tapping his fingers on her wrist. Just friends, just friends, you’re just friends. Merlin fucking damnit, why did he have such nice hands? “I don’t know. He was certainly sure about it.”

“And I have no clue why,” Y/N said, pretending like she was in disbelief instead of acute pain. “I know you don’t see me like that. I’m not really sure where he’s getting that from.”

“Oh?” Draco let his hand fall, a weird tone coming over his voice. “You aren’t?”

“Well, I remember what you said,” she said matter-of-factly, trying her hardest not to read into the way he was staring at her, watching every fidget of her hands. “It’s not like I’d be self-loathing enough to expect anything different.”

He let out a huff of frustration. “Y/L/N, honestly. I sent you a box of special Wurgie’s lavender chocolates on Valentine’s day. I spend all of my free periods talking to you.”

“Ok?” Y/N couldn’t help but be taken aback by how argumentative his tone was becoming. “I suppose I see how Harry could read into that. But I have to spend my free periods with someone, right? And sometimes I get my friends chocolate on Valentine’s day too.”

“I bought you a whole enchanted quidditch bracelet. It’s the only one of its kind,” he snipped, obviously becoming more agitated. “I spent an entire day trying to find the right unbreaking spell. My father literally wrote to me from Azkaban to ask me why the Gringotts bank statement recorded me taking out that many galleons at once. He thought someone had broken into our account.”

“He doesn’t know that.” Y/N was becoming keenly aware of how close he was standing to her now that they’d stopped walking, her back a few inches from the wall as he leaned into her space. “Even if I had worn it out, there’s no way he could’ve known it was from you.”

“That’s not what I’m--” he began waspishly before clearing his throat and collecting himself. “I’m just saying, those things aren’t exactly platonic.”

“Okay,” said Y/N slowly, trying to turn her thoughts away from how soft his lips looked, “I’ll concede that some things that we do can be read as something more than friendship. But I know how you feel. You told me.”

He wet his lips. “Do you actually think I care about whatever goes in that dim brain of his?”

“Normally, no. But considering the fact that we just had an argument over it, then maybe I’m incorrect in assuming.”

“Well, I don’t,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. He was close enough that she could smell the traces of that expensive cologne he always wore that reminded her of loose leaf lapsang souchong and fresh parchment. “And I was never trying to argue with you about his perception. I was talking about my actual intentions.”

“What?” Y/N choked out as she tentatively glanced up to see his jaw set. Her heart was pounding so hard it must’ve been audible. What the hell was he talking about?

Instead of answering, Draco gently reached up to her shoulders, walking her back until she was pinned up against the wall. His other hand came to tilt her chin so their eyes met. She would’ve been deceived into thinking he was confident by his unwavering stare, but she’d felt how his hands were slightly unstable. “Merlin, are you going to make me spell it out for you? How many different ways am I going to need to tell you?”

In the end, she wasn’t quite sure who it was who closed the gap--just that, at some point, one of them did, and that she was all of a sudden kissing Draco Malfoy with a fervor that she didn’t know she had in her. His mouth was hot against hers as he pressed her up further into the wall, his knee rising between her thighs to prop her up.

In the recesses of the back of her mind, it vaguely registered that this didn’t add up with what he told her the last night they spent together--but she decided to brush all those concerns off to the nebulous concept of later when his hands tangled into her hair.

The sound of footsteps and students giggling echoed down the corridor, making the pair jump apart. Y/N wiped her lips, trying to fix the smear of her lipstick as Draco frantically straightened out his tie that she’d tugged loose. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. 

“Do you still want to go back to my dorm?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She dared to look up at him, not expecting the sight of his pupils blown out and his cheeks slightly rosy. “If that’s okay, yeah.”

Neither of them attempted to make conversation as he led her through the empty Slytherin common room. She could feel her heart crawling into her throat. She’d never gone to a boy’s dorm before other than during the Veritaserum incident--sure, she’d kissed some boys before, she’d even gone to the Yule Ball with a cute Beauxbatons boy--but she didn’t know how this worked. Was she supposed to immediately start kissing him the moment his bedroom door was closed? Was she supposed to be kissing him now? Was she supposed to be kissing him at all after that?

They made it into his bedroom before Y/N could come to a decision on her next action, so she decided to just not make any moves. Fuck, that was almost worse. Where would she sit? At his desk? No, who the fuck does that? Next to him on his bed? No, too suggestive. Just stand by the door? Merlin, no. She wished that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole so she could sit back in her dorm and think about the way he’d kissed her in private. 

“So,” said Draco. 

“So,” echoed Y/N, finally giving in and sinking down onto the bed next to him. 

“So, I take it that you still like me?” A small smirk danced on his lips. 

Her cheeks blushed into a furious red. “Draco, please don’t make this any more embarrassing than it has to be.”

“What are you...huh?” He shifted so he was on his side, propping up his chin with his palm as he studied her with agonizing attention. “Why would it be embarrassing when I was the one who kissed you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that this isn’t the first time? And the fact that I’m waiting for you to tell me you didn’t mean it again?”

“You think I didn’t mean that?” Draco’s eyebrows raised. “Do I need to do it again to get it through that thick skull of yours?”

“I--what--don’t be rude,” she stuttered. 

He rolled his eyes but didn’t lose the upturn of his lips. “I guess so. I suppose I was planning on it anyway.” 

All her nervousness melted away as Draco edged closer, the coolness of his rings pressing pleasantly into her neck. Instead of kissing her immediately like she expected, he traced the outline of her neck up to her ear where he wound his fingers into her hair, finally leaning in so their lips met. 

His skin was soft against hers as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss and pulling her into his lap, his fingers spanning the width of her waist and twisting in the satiny fabric of her dress. When she was out of breath and the pillow she was next to was beginning to get pushed dangerously close to the edge, she finally broke the kiss. 

“Can’t you just tell me how you feel with your words?” she prompted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Draco. 

“I thought it was obvious last time.”

“Well, it was. That was before I knew that I was relieved of my task,” he explained, his grip around her waist tightening to tug her ever closer. 

“Why would that matter?”

“Because,” he began, a slightly exasperated look in his eye, “If I had my task and my mother was still at stake, I would’ve had to go back home over the summer. And You-Know-Who would see you in my memories. Plus, I think that being a full-time Death Eater makes it very difficult to be a good boyfriend to someone who’s best friends with Harry Potter. That would complicate things. I knew that if I told you I felt the same way I wouldn’t be able to say no to you.”

“So…” She swallowed. “Does this mean that you’ve liked me all along? Like, from the start?”

“What do you think?” he drawled, his fingers ghosting over the zipper of her dress. “Do you think I just go around kissing random girls in my bed?”

“Well, what about Pansy?”

“Yeah, actually, what about her?” he asked, a little glimmer appearing in his eye. “We haven’t been together since, what, the middle of 5th year? I talk to her as much as I talk to any of my other Slytherin friends. I don’t know what’s got you so up in arms over her.”

“She obviously isn’t over you,” Y/N pointed out. “I just know it.”

“And? I’m over her.” He gave her a knowing look. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know!” she exclaimed. “I thought that maybe there was something. It’s not like I’m keenly aware of the Slytherin social going-ons.” 

“Sheesh, so defensive,” he tutted, his thumbs now rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s almost like you like me or something.”

“Draco!” She swatted at him, but he caught her hand in midair and kissed each of her knuckles, giving her an almost sheepish look. It was all she could do to keep her laughs from getting too loud as he dropped her hand and swept towards her again, kissing her fully. 

Before she knew it, they were rolled over so he was on top of her, hovering over her with his elbows supporting his weight as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along the bare curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and let a soft sigh escape her as his lips drags across the spot under her ear, pushing up further into him.

“You liked that, huh?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Shut up,” she said, reaching up to thread her fingers lightly through his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. Something possessed her to wind her fingers through the locks on the back of his neck and close them into a fist, awarding her with a sharp intake of air from Draco. “You liked that, huh?” she mocked.

He rolled his eyes, muttering a “fucking hell” so quietly that she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear it. Despite the exasperation in his tone, his mouth was still fixed in an upturn as he looked down at her, his eyes soft. She couldn’t help but move up to kiss him again, and again, and again, until her lungs were screaming for air and her neck was cramping from the angle.

She let her head fall back onto his down comforter, taking in the sight of Draco with swollen, well-kissed lips. 

“What?” He tilted his head as he regarded her.

“I just love you like this,” she said shyly. “Oh, Merlin, wait, I didn’t mean it like…”

Draco let out a chuckle. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. I love you like this, too. You’re not as difficult.” He rolled off of her, taking a moment to shed his dress coat and pull off his tie.

When he was close enough again, she rewarded his tolerance with a smile and a delicate, nervous kiss on his collarbone, dragging her teeth over his skin for just a moment. The hand that was placed on her back scrunched up the material of her dress as Draco’s breath caught. 

“Your hands are bloody cold,” he complained as her fingers wound themselves under his dress shirt, exploring the new expanse of exposed alabaster skin.  

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, pulling away and letting go for just a second before he grabbed her wrists together and hauled her back.

 “No.”

“I’ve never…”

“That’s okay,” he said as she settled back onto his lap, reveling in the soft way that he was treating the skin that was exposed by her dress. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I’m just scared,” she suddenly choked out. Where did that come from? “I want you, now, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to you telling me that you can’t do this or that you didn’t like it or…” She trailed off, distracted by the way he firmly tapped the outer edge of her thigh.

“I’m not going to do that to you,” he said. “I promise. I made that mistake once. Plus, the burden of the performance is kind of on me anyways, so there’s nothing to be nervous about if that’s a hold up.”

She snorted. “Don’t make me change my mind, Malfoy.” 

Despite her words, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I mean it. If you want to just lie there that’s fine. As long as you enjoy it, it’ll be great for me.” His hand came up to gingerly brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen in her face before dropping to gently toy with the top of her zipper again--a question. Wordlessly, she allowed herself to be helped out of the garment, letting it fall to the ground before turning back to attack the buttons on Draco’s chest. He made an amused sound as she struggled, eventually unsheathing his wand and opening it up in a second.

“I could’ve done that, you know,” she said rather defensively.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, hardly masking his teasing tone. “You’re very capable. Now come here.”

 And so she did.

The idea of sex had always been scary to Y/N. Someone, especially someone attractive enough for her to want to sleep with him, seeing her fully exposed made her want to freeze up and dive under her blankets. But that was before Draco. Somewhere, hidden deep in the back of her brain, lay an anxious switch that flicked off as soon as she was pinned under him with his knee pushing up to part her legs. She no longer felt like she had to be self-conscious--despite how intimidated she was by him, she’d never felt more adored. 

Y/N learned three surprising things about Draco in the span of that night: one, that in some places his skin felt like crushed velvet under her fingers; two, that he melted in her hands when she pressed her lips to the sensitive spot on his neck; and three, that he had a freckle under his jaw. And on his left shoulder. And at the spot where his thigh met his torso.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured to her after they’d slumped together, his duvet haphazardly flung over their bodies while his fingers traced patterns on her back.

“I’m just so glad you feel the same way,” she admitted. “I thought I was going crazy over your actions not lining up with your words. It was driving me insane.”

Draco let out a little laugh. “I thought it was painfully obvious.”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs that time you walked with me after detention?”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs today?”

“You’re ruining this,” she said sourly as she swatted his chest.

Instead of responding, he just snatched her hand and held it hostage. “I’m not the one resorting to physical violence. Which, now that I think of it, is pretty commonplace for you.”

“Hey! If I hadn’t thrown the york pudding at Pansy, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Draco was silent for a few moments.

“You know I’m right,” she pressed. To her surprise, he shifted uncomfortably under her.

“I’m not so sure,” he finally admitted.

“Huh?” Her features flooded with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I’m lucky it worked out like this,” he said hesitantly. “And...so soon. You hated me.”

She sat up, pulling away from his embrace and folding her knees under her. “What are you talking about?” 

“I dunno.” Draco refused to meet her eyes, his fingers instead playing with the edges of his sheets. “This is probably stupid, but do you remember the time we brewed Amortentia in Slughorn’s class?”

She nodded. 

“You told me that it reminded you of a memory,” he continued, “And that you knew you had to have danced with them at some point.”

“I’m aware.” Y/N blinked down at him as she tried to piece the puzzle together.

He finally flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I guess you don’t remember it, but in fourth year we danced together once. I’d never talked to you before--I knew you were friends with Potter and the like--but I just never really stopped thinking about it since.”

“This is so embarrassing,” said Y/N. “How do I not remember?”

He shrugged. “I think you were a little tipsy at the time. I did, though. I’ve never forgotten.”

“Then why were you so mean to my friends?”

“I stopped for the most part,” he pointed out. “And, if you’ll notice, it was mostly towards Harry.”

“I thought that was because he’s the Chosen One.”

“No, it’s because I could see that he liked you and I was jealous. Eventually I just gave up around 5th year, around when I started dating Pansy. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I was ever going to be able to be with you, especially not after getting my task.” 

“Oh,” Y/N said as she mulled over this information. “My story isn't as romantic. I suppose I’ve always had a little crush on you too, but I was definitely in denial. I just always found you ridiculously attractive and tragically funny considering what you used to support.”

He glowed down at her, pressing the pad of his thumb into her cheek. “Well, I’m glad I can finally give you what you deserve.”

“Me too.”

~

The weeks began to pass faster after that. Draco never really struck Y/N as a PDA type of guy, but he was surprisingly affectionate. When they began to brew potions together again, he was quick to tuck away her hair behind her ear when she was looking over the cauldron and sent her sweet, private smiles that made her heart flutter. He even sat with her every once in a while at the Gryffindor table when the trio was busy doing whatever they had to do to save the world. Y/N pretended to not notice the whispers that were elicited from her peers when Draco would casually touch her.

They spent as many nights together as they could, but considering how often her friends were giving her dirty looks for stumbling into Potions after not being seen in the Gryffindor Tower for the past day, they had to be reasonable, cutting it down to three or four nights a week. 

Y/N treasured every moment she had with Draco, even when they were fleeting and in between classes. She learned everything she could about him--how he was actually terrified of snakes, how he preferred his tea black, how he had an elaborate morning routine he hardly ever deviated from--and committed it all to mind. Her favorite version of him in her head was the way he looked when he was between her sheets, fast asleep with his arms draped over her. Whenever she woke up before him, she tried to memorize it.

He was absolutely ridiculous with the kind of gifts he gave her. Y/N swore that one day she’d wake up to find that he’d bought the British crown jewels because he “saw them” and “just thought of her”. She now had enough Barnaby’s quills to rival the number of feathers on the country’s entire population of geese, but instead of feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, all Y/N could feel was the impending doom that, one day, those gifts would be the only thing she had left of him. He seemed to know this, too.

Draco always found some kind of reason to pull her away and kiss her senseless, whether it be behind a tapestry or in a broom closet when Filch heard them walking around the castle after curfew. In a way, it was like they were just normal teenagers, enjoying the thrill of the moment and acting out. When she thought of it like that, it made the inevitable events seem more bearable; at least they had some time together.

The letter came with no more context than just a simple “Tomorrow.” Y/N knew exactly what it meant--Narcissa Malfoy was going to finally be taken from the manor. Bellatrix needed to be convinced over the next 24 hours to enter the Borgin & Burke’s Vanishing Cabinet as a distraction, and Y/N needed to be sure of her work on the cabinet.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Y/N mused absentmindedly as she sat in front of the cabinet. Draco’s head rested on her shoulder after recounting all of the changes he’d made. “That was clever, switching out the conductor clasp with a copper fitting.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. “I’m not totally daft, you know.”

“Of course I know,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft murmur. Fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her thigh as he pulled her onto him. “Draco, I have to fix this first. Then we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Hm,” was all he said, burying his face in her neck once again and letting out a deep sigh.

“Are you worried?”

He was still for a few moments before dipping his head slightly in a nod.

“You’ll be okay,” she promised, winding his fingers through hers. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“I should be comforting you, not the other way around,” he said softly. “I dragged you into this.”

“I pushed myself into this,” she corrected. “And, plus, it’s not my mother on the line. It’s okay to care, you know.”

Y/N got up, making her way towards the cabinet and meeting his eyes once. They shared a knowing glance as she brandished her wand and whispered a quick fracturing spell, sending cracks down the eastern side of the lunar belt. Her hand shook as she shrank back onto the couch until his arms found her shoulders and turned her towards him. “I can’t believe I just...I just did that.”

Instead of responding, he simply sat up straight and delicately pressed his lips to her forehead, his hand coming around to cradle her for just a moment. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Out of here” once again turned into Draco’s dorm room.

“I can’t believe this will all be over tomorrow,” Draco said, his back turned as he loosened his Slytherin tie. “I’m going to be gone by Sunday morning.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to let the lump in her throat garner too much attention at the thought of losing Draco into what was essentially the Order’s witness protection program. 

He seemed to notice her uncharacteristic silence, frowning at his reflection before making his way towards her and diligently pressing kisses on her cheeks. Instead of grabbing onto his sleeve cuffs and pulling him closer like she usually did, she just let out a tiny sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the tie slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he murmured, moving so she had to look at him. 

“Hey.” She sent him a watery smile, hoping that he couldn’t see how close she was to tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

Y/N just shook her head, anchoring her bottom lip with her teeth so she didn’t choke up. “It’s nothing.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t pull that with me. I’m not falling for that. I’m going to ask again. What’s wrong?” His hand came up to pull her chin up again so their eyes were level, his eyebrows raised in expectation.

Y/N tried to tell him; she really did. It wasn’t her fault that the most pathetic sounding sob of her life came out of her mouth instead of a confession. Instead of asking any more questions or trying to get her to talk, Draco just pulled her into his arms and held her there, letting her weep into him. His hands came up to rub her back as she struggled to breathe normally.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered, breaking the silence. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“This isn’t about me,” said Y/N miserably. “It’s about you. What if something happens to you while we’re apart? What if I don’t get to see you again?”

Draco made a small sound in his throat, almost like he was holding back a sob himself. “Y/N, don’t worry about me, okay? It’ll all be alright, love. Don’t worry.”

Despite the fact that Draco was doing his best to comfort her, Y/N knew one thing for sure: his word couldn’t stand against fate, and if he were meant to die or disappear during the time that he was hidden away in Italy, there was nothing either of them could do about it.

She turned her head and found herself pressing her lips to his with so much desperation that she hardly even noticed the few stray tears that had made their way down her cheeks. He met her with much more tenderness, his fingers gently brushing away the wetness on her cheeks. For someone as cocky as Draco, he could be so shy when he kissed her, almost like he expected her to change her mind halfway through. 

“I don’t want this to be over,” she whispered as she pulled away, leaving the slightest gap between their lips. 

He cupped her face, his eyes shining. “It’s not over. We have a few hours left.”

To her horror, another strangled gasp left her lips. Draco had her tucked into his arms in an instant, his lips pressing into her hairline. “It’s not over, okay? I just don’t want to hold you back if you aren’t allowed to see me. Don’t wait around for me.”

“I don’t care,” choked out Y/N. “I’d wait forever if it meant I got to have you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But it’s not fair of me to expect that from you. I don’t know how long this war is going to last.”

“I don’t care about fairness,” whispered Y/N. “I just want you.”

They spent the rest of the night tangled together in his sheets, just waiting for the morning to come. Neither one got any sleep. Instead, Y/N entertained herself by playing with his hands and asking him questions about his childhood--anything to keep her from remembering what was in store for both of them.

It had been decided earlier that Y/N would have no part in the cabinet plan after they ran the information by the Order. Actually, it was decided that she’d have no part in anything beyond just bringing the situation of Narcissa Malfoy to attention. “It’s crucial to your safety that you don’t connect yourself and by extension our family to this,” one of her father’s earlier letters had read. “Doing so puts you and everyone you love in jeopardy.”

That evening, just as dusk set in, she stood with Draco in her dorm for what was the last time, shaking with unshed tears. He just clung to her for the first few minutes, her head tucked under his chin as his hands were clasped around her back. 

“Give me your hand,” he said finally. “I want you to have something.”

She felt something slide on her thumb, her eyes widening as she realized what it was--his family ring.

“Draco…”

“I probably shouldn’t have this on me, anyways,” he explained. “And I want you to have something of mine, something that’s really mine, not just a gift. Just...maybe don’t wear it in public, and if you do wear it as a necklace charm or something. The last thing I want is you to get connected to this--”

Y/N cut off his rambling by pressing her lips to his, his hand feeling oddly bare as it came up to touch her cheek. “If anything happens to you, I love you. I hope you know that.”

He smiled, then kissed her again--so long that it seemed like he was savoring every moment of 

it before finally stepping away. “You know I love you. Always will.”

She managed to fit in one last kiss before he left.

Monday turned into Tuesday which turned into Wednesday which turned into the next week. Before she knew it, her 6th year was almost over. Neither Draco nor Narcissa had contacted her. The Order had been cagey about the details leading to the Malfoys--while she obviously had a general idea as to the location of her Italian vacation home and thus by extent the Malfoys, she hadn’t heard anything about their travels there. All she’d heard was the basic news that everyone had--that Bellatrix Lestrange had been found dead and that the Ministry had taken both Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov into custody with near fatal injuries.

But that didn’t make her miss him any less. Y/N found herself longing for the nostalgic, innocent time when she shamelessly flirted with him in detention and only worried about whether or not the Trio would like her again. It all seemed so long ago. 

Falling asleep was the worst. She couldn’t smell the lavender of her diffuser or her room spray without relating it to him, couldn’t slide under her sheets without remembering how it felt to fall asleep in his arms. Around May, Y/N came to the most disturbing realization: she wasn’t entirely sure if she remembered what his voice sounded like anymore. Not in the way that meant she wouldn’t recognize it if he called out to her--she would, of course she would--but she couldn’t replicate it in her mind or replay their interactions with convincing accuracy.

Sometimes, on the nights when she couldn’t sleep at all, she envisioned her last interaction with Draco: his snow blond hair ruffled and his face grim as he turned to leave. Even though she couldn’t hear his voice quite right as he told her he loved her, she remembered the scent of his cologne against her jumper and the feeling of his skin against hers as he slipped his family ring onto her hand. It was killing her that she didn’t know exactly what happened to him. He could’ve been taken by a surviving Death Eater and held hostage at the manor. He could be dead. The papers had printed that he’d been pulled into the Vanishing Cabinet and, true to the name, completely vanished, caught in the space passageway between it and the sister cabinet. She’d known that that was the angle the Order was going to take from the start, but it did nothing to ease her anxiety. 

It was even more concerning when she remembered that they’d never agreed upon anything in the future--just simply that they cared about each other in March. At that moment it had been enough. But it wasn’t anymore. All she wanted was for him to appear, give her that stupid wave he sometimes sent to her from across the dining hall when she saw him enter in the morning, and sweep her up into his arms. But that was hard to do when he was countries away. 

N.E.W.Ts had been cancelled, much to the dismay of Hermione, so Y/N had even less things to distract her with. Harry was off with Dumbledore doing Merlin knows what to try and defeat Voldemort. She was left with nothing to do but wallow in her own pity.

In early June, days before Hogwarts classes were officially concluded, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” mumbled Y/N. While she had thankfully gotten past the habit of crying every day, she’d instead slipped into a sort of anxious paralysis, lying on her bed after all of her tasks were done.

“It’s me.” Ron’s voice made her sit up in surprise. He hadn’t really spoken to her privately since he’d brokered the peace between her and the rest of the trio. “Do you have time to chat?”

“Sure,” she responded, moving over so he had room to sit beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Lavender just broke up with me,” muttered Ron, his hand coming up to brush at something on his cheek. “And I’ve never felt this way before. Is this what it feels like for you? With Malfoy?”

Y/N met his eyes and saw the same kind of hopelessness in them, the edges pricking with tears. “Yeah. I think so.” It was hard to choke back her own sob, so she just hugged him. He smelled of caramel and spring grass.

“Not to be a prat,” he said, “But you shouldn’t waste any tears over Malfoy. I don’t care if he switched sides in the end, he’s still a snot-nosed tosser to me. When this is all over, we’re going out together so we can find you someone better.”

“You know he switched sides?” She pulled back in surprise. Ron sent her a little wink.

“Of course not. I’m not sure why I said that. I’m sure if it was true, it’d be confidential Order information.”

“Who else?”

“Just Hermione and Harry,” he replied in a low voice. “But we weren’t supposed to figure it out--it was an accident over Easter break while we were eavesdropping on an Order meeting. That doesn’t change anything, though. You could definitely do better.”

“And so could you,” she said. “Remember what I said about you and Hermione?”

He laughed. “I’m working on it.”

Her conversation with Ron shed light on something else that had baffled her as of late--the tentative rekindling of her friendship with Hermione. The witch was actually inviting her to study nowadays, making small talk with her despite steering clear of all topics regarding Malfoy and Death Eaters. 

The last day of school rolled around before she was ready, the final ceremony being spoken by McGonagall instead of Dumbledore while he was still traveling with Harry. As she got up from her seat in the Great Hall, Hermione grabbed onto her sleeve.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

So, instead of walking straight up to the Gryffindor Tower on the route they’d used countless times since the beginning of their educational career, they took the scenic route along the Black Lake, away from the hordes of students. They walked the shore quietly until Hermione spoke up.

“Draco needs a tutor to cover what he missed this year.” 

Y/N snapped to attention. “What?”

“Narcissa Malfoy has been requesting it and all the professors are busy with Order work,” continued Hermione, not bothering to repeat herself. “They want me to do it. When they ask, I’m going to turn them down and volunteer you instead. Is that okay?”

“Um…” Y/N stuttered. “I’m going to be a pretty shit tutor. Why would you do that for me?”

“I’m going to try and help Harry this summer,” she explained. “And even if I wasn’t, consider it my formal apology. I know it wasn’t right how I treated you this year. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just hope you understand why I was hurt.”

“Of course I understand!” said Y/N, reaching out to touch her elbow. “Considering the way he treated you, I can’t blame you for feeling betrayed. I should be the one apologizing. It just...happened the way it did. I didn’t want to fall for him, but I did anyway.”

Hermione covered her hand with her own and gave it a little squeeze. “I know. Do you think we can put this all behind us? I’ve missed my best friend. Ron and Harry have been driving me crazy this term. Ron told me to tell you that you have permission to smack me if I ever say something condescending to you again.”

“Please, let’s. And I think I’d resort to throwing a nice york pudding instead…”

The familiar bittersweet feeling of looking forward to putting school behind her yet dreading leaving her friends consumed her as she filed onto the Hogwarts Express, looking back onto the castle for the last time. She didn’t know it then, but she wouldn’t be returning. At least not for a long time.

“Luna!” she exclaimed as she ran into someone trying to find her seat. The blonde Ravenclaw sent her a dreamy smile.

“You certainly look happier.” Luna tilted her head as she studied her features. 

“I never got to properly thank you for this,” said Y/N, “But you absolutely saved me this year. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you in January.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being your friend,” responded Luna. “If you really want to, owl me this summer. I think I’ll miss you quite a bit.”

“I’ll miss you more.” She let her new Ravenclaw friend pull her into a hug before she finally retired to her respective seat next to Hermione, who pressed a package into her hand.

“McGonagall just gave it to me,” she whispered into her ear. “Don’t show it to anyone. I think it’s a Portkey.”

True to Hermione’s prediction, it was a familiar object from her manor--an ornate vase that was normally on display in the main foyer. A piece of parchment was rolled up inside.

Activates at 9am on the 10th of June. Closes 5 minutes after the hour. Do not be late.

~

Instead of feeling excited to see Draco, all she could feel was her nerves as she stared at the vase in front of her at 8:55 in the morning. It’d been so long since she’d kissed him that she wasn’t even sure if she remembered how. She literally felt as if her virginity had grown back like her leg hairs did the morning after she cast hair removal spells. 

And not to mention, seeing Narcissa again--that was terrifying. She’d always been a very intimidating woman, dressed impeccably with sharp, aristocratic features much like her son. Y/N doubted she’d take kindly to her son’s tutor being more interested in him than the actual job at hand. 

That assumed he even wanted her still, anyways. Maybe three months in isolation made him come to his senses and realize he’d been absolutely off his rocker for liking her in the first place. Merlin, did he regret it? Was he going to tell her they couldn’t?

Swallowing her worries as the clock chimed at 9, she wrapped her hand around the vase and allowed herself to be pulled across international borders.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Instead of the florally pine forest that surrounded her family’s main manor, she was greeted with the scent of sea salt and the sound of cawing birds. The sun had long since risen, the temperature a pleasant warmth to her skin after she’d spent a year in the cooler English air. 

Y/N stepped forward, towards the looming white structure that she assumed was her beach cottage. Her feet sunk in the sand as she made her way across the beach. Did he even know she was coming then? She would’ve thought he did, considering that anyone approaching the safe house unannounced would no doubt send everyone into some sort of a panic. 

Finally, she made it to the front door, tapping her wand on the enchanted knocker to signal that someone was at the front door. It creaked, and all of a sudden she was looking into the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. He looked less pale than he did the last time she’d seen him, like he’d actually begun to spend time in the sun instead of locked away in the Slytherin dungeons. His hair looked somewhat sunbleached. She could see the faintest beginning of unfamiliar freckles across his nose. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, toying with her nails in front of her and not sure whether or not to embrace him. “I’m not sure if you knew, but your mother wanted someone to review the material you missed this year and Hermione didn’t want to, so--”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he crossed through the door, swept her up, and kissed her with conviction. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he whispered when he pulled away. Her eyes pooled with tears as his voice re-registered in her head. 

“I missed you,” Y/N managed. She let her fingers run over his cheekbones and the rest of his face and hair like she couldn’t believe he was actually there in front of her again. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“Something kind of did,” he admitted. “My aunt died.”

“So I’ve heard. Sorry about that.”

“It was her own fault. She brought a dagger enchanted with dark magic and it messed with the energy.” His smile had morphed into something more tense, so she stood on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, a bit tentative after not touching him since March. 

“You were all I could think about,” she admitted. “I’m not going to be much good at teaching you anything because I honestly stopped paying attention after you left…”

Draco’s smile widened, and she felt her legs turn to jelly. “I don’t mind. You were all I could think about, too. If you ever run out of things to teach me…” His fingers ghosted along her jawline as he spoke, “...I’ve had three months with nothing better to do than to think up ways to make up for the time we’ve spent apart.”

As she basked in the warmth of his embrace and the gentle sound of the Mediterranean ocean lapping at the earth, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in months. There was a war on the horizon, her friends were in danger, and her parents were once again risking themselves to aid the Order. But she’d gotten Draco out of his task. They had at least a summer left together. And at that moment, that was enough. 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, tugging her chin up to meet his eyes once again.

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kiss me again.”

And so he did.

final a/n: thanks for hanging in there! i hope you guys liked it! first off, apologies if my fluff scenes are choppy or repetitive. i’m not very experienced with writing them yet. also, i decided to write draco this way last minute because i like to imagine him as someone who has never had to actually admit feelings for someone and put himself on the line--instead i think he’d try his hardest to get you to confess that you like him if he’s afraid of messing it up. also if you were confused the quidditch bracelet is supposed to be the magic equivalent of a tennis bracelet lol...when i was shopping w my mom i may have been inspired when i saw those bc literally who wears diamonds around their wrist that cost thousands of dollars every day? i asked the saleslady how much the smallest one was and she was like “only 4k and you can wear it anywhere!” like girl i work a minimum wage customer service job and that shit would break in a few seconds. no i would not wear that everywhere. tennis bracelet rant over but anyways ig i was saying that a tennis bracelet def has draco malfoy energy per se

[skribblz]

Fics??????? *very eyes, much emoji*

If sooo I recently just came up with another SenGen scenario-

I feel like Senku would question why Gen walks around barefoot all the time. He did offer some shoes for him one time but Gen declined cause I hc that for him it feels nice to walk around barefoot, and that since they're in the Stone world he has freedom to do so without getting called out, which Senku agrees nevertheless. But he does offer to clean his feet for him cause of how dirty they are sjfjsjfjsjf Gen ur gross /j /lh

and I think u know where this is going heehoo 👀👀👀

hehehehEHEHEH yay sengen ty angel <3

"Don't your feet ever...hurt?"

Gen tilts his head, a grin starting to spread across his face, "Aww are you worried about me, Senku-chan?"

"Just answer the question, damn mentalist." The scientist scoffs, earning a giggle.

"Of course it hurts if I step on something sharp," he replies, poking the other on the cheek, "but otherwise, nope! It's kinda like a nice little massage!"

"Don't tell me you have cuts on your feet." Senku starts, ready to go off on a whole tangent. "Someone like you knows how deadly infections can be, especially-"

"Especially in the Stone World, blah blah." Gen imitates, smirking as he received a glare from the other. "It's not that hard to say that you care, you stubborn thing."

Senku glared harder, pink faintly dusted across his cheeks since he couldn't honestly refute that statement. "You're just a-"

"Useful ally, I know, I know." The magician sighs dramatically, "Just another person to exploit."

Suddenly, a rough hand grabs onto his arm, pulling him out of his performance. His single audience member drags Gen along, who honestly doesn't mind. It did give him more chances to annoy the younger man.

"Fine, allow me to repay you for all the work you've done, as well as prevent your feet from falling off later. It's ten billion percent efficient."

"Ooh, where are you taking me, Dr. Ishigami? And please be gentle."

Senku groans, rolling his eyes. "Ew, shut up."

This was way too much fun.

It doesn't take long for Gen to realize that they were heading toward a nearby creek; all those trips to collect flowers for his tricks gave him decent knowledge of the land. Senku leads him down to the side of the water and allows Gen to roll up his the bottoms of his pants before obediently stepping in.

"It's cold!" He whines immediately.

"Deal with it, you big baby." Senku snickers at the mentalist's discomfort, letting this go on for awhile more. "Alright come on, get over here." He sits. "Give me your foot."

Gen backpedals a bit, trying not to fall into the freezing water. He’d prefer not to be soaking wet after all. Senku’s words did surprise him though, and he voices his concerns with a titter. "W-what? Who would've thought you were into stuff like this, Senku-chan!"

"Don't make it sound weird, I'm just cleaning your feet for you."

"I can do that myself-"

"You're the one who says how caring I am. So let me show how much I care." The scientist deadpans. He didn't understand why Gen was being so reluctant, unless there was actually a reason he didn't want his feet touched? Was he trying to hide an injury?

He frowns at Gen, offering his hand expectantly. The other shifts nervously, slowly sitting down on the grassy bank before placing his right heel onto the hand.

Senku immediately starts inspecting, taking note of the (thankfully) shallow scratches. Though when he starts prodding around for anything broken, Gen jolts and his face scrunches up all weird.

"Sorry, does this hurt?"

"No, no. I'm fine." The magician squeaks, willing himself to stay still as Senku shrugs, continuing his lighting poking and tracing.

After what seemed like ages, the sensations stop and Gen breathes a sigh of relief. He hears the bag rustle and Senku pulls out a bar of soap and dunks it into the water a few times. And without warning, he starts scrubbing the surface of Gen's sole.

And Gen squeals, instinctively yanking his foot out of the scientist's loose grasp.

"Oh yeah, you have some scratches so it might sting a little, but I thought you could take it?"

"A little too late for a warning don't you think!?"

"Just let me finish. It's your fault for not wearing shoes in the first place."

"And that's my choice!" Gen cries, trying to crawl away.

"And I'd rather not become the stone world's first amputator so you're just gonna have to bear with it." Senku remarks, snatching up the foot with a firmer grip.

"No means no!"

"Can you not?"

“Can you noEEE- NAahahaha!” The mentalist cackles as the scrubbing begins again. Although he noted that Senku was a bit gentler this time, it didn’t really help with his predicament. Gen’s back hits the grass as he clutches his stomach, desperately tugging at his trapped foot while the giggles fall endlessly from his mouth.

The scientist quickly puts two and two together, finally realizing why Gen was so reluctant to have his feet cleaned. It also explains the constipated looks he got during his inspection. "Huh, you're ticklish.” Senku says, mostly to himself. He watches the other squirm with great interest, cataloging each moment Gen twisted his head, face cherry red and mouth decorated with the cutest smile. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

"Behehecause it's- hAHahaha! Embahaharrassing! Nonononohoho!"

“I guess so.” Senku throws out casually, opting to dig his fingers into the magician’s toes. And Gen goes berserk, hands thumping the ground as he throws his head back, bright laughter filling the sky. He even almost kicks Senku in the face.

Senku, however, found this whole ordeal rather fascinating. He is very amused to find out how such a simple action could prompt such a large reaction. All that smooth-talking and witty remarks, turning into dorky, uncontrollable giggling. “Y’know, I think I like this side of you better, mentalist. Way more easier to deal with.”

And Gen wants to protest and argue and rebuke, but how could he? Nothing but chortles would come out; the ticklish sensations from his foot overloaded his brain, causing him to flail around madly.

The scientist decides that this is enough for now, dropping the foot back into the river. And Gen doesn’t complain this time, chest heaving grateful breaths. Each exhale produces a string of residual giggles, making Senku’s heart flutter just a tiny bit. Gen didn’t need to know that, he determines.

“Thahahat....was so...cruel.” 

Senku shrugs in response, “Again, your fault for not wearing shoes.” 

Gen ponders for a moment, was pushing Senku’s buttons right now really worth it? Sitting up slowly, he looks at the younger man through half-lidded eyes. “Well if you continue to give me special treatment...maybe I won’t ever put on a pair of shoes~” 

“That is extremely illogical and you know it.” 

“Maybe I think it’s nice having you touch me like this.” He really couldn’t help himself. Gen smiles flirtatiously, expecting to be met with wide crimson eyes and an equally crimson face. 

But instead, Senku smirks back, eyes not wide, but calculating. He’s not skillful enough to hide the tint of pink dusting his cheeks though.

“Yeah? I’ll touch you more if you’d like.” 

“Ooooh, how dirty~” 

"Hand over the other foot, mentalist." Senku's grin morphs into something more sinister.

Gen’s jaw drops, a look of betrayal spreads across his face. Asshole. He grits his teeth and then presses his lips into a thin smile, "...Please be gentle?"

[beatricethecat2]

"Another day or two?" Helena gruffs.

"Yeah, um, sorry," Myka replies.

"That storm postponing your flight was one thing, but this? You are aware our rental is expiring eminently."

"Maybe we can extend?"

"I already inquired."

"And?"

Helena grimaces, nose wrinkling.

"I-I'll find us a new one."

"No, I shall, since I've clearly been left to my own devices."

"I'm coming soon, I promise!" Myka yelps. "I'll stay wherever you want. Extend the car rental, too."

"If I must swap it at the airport, I shall be cross."

"More cross than now? How is that even possible?" Myka jabs.

"I believe you know the answer," Helena says, deadpan. "What exactly is keeping you there?"

"I'm figuring something out but it's more complicated than I thought."

"And this 'something,' how long am I to remain in the dark?"

"Not long, but..." Myka's shoulders sag. "I might as well tell you."

"If it's such a burden—"

"No! I wanted to iron out the details first." Myka heaves a heavy sigh. "Ok, here it goes...I'm figuring out how to work remotely. Mostly."

Helena perks up. "This is something you truly wish to do?"

"I..." Myka pushes a hand through her hair, stopping halfway, looking off to the side. "I've been thinking about what you said, that the Warehouse needs to evolve, that it's stuck in the nineteenth century."

"Such a travesty; agents sequestered in a boarding house with modern communication and travel as they are."

"It's not so bad, having your friends there when you need them." Myka's hand drops to her side. "I do love my family here, but if I'm honest, it hasn't felt the same since Leena died." 

"May I say again how truly sorry I am for your loss. She was an extraordinary woman."

"She really was." Myka blinks back a tear and looks down. "But it's more than that. What you said about only traveling for work, of never really visiting a place, that stuck with me, too. How you want to take advantage of all this new world has to offer, things I take for granted, because you've been given a second chance." 

"I can be quite persuasive when I wish to," Helena says, lips turning up at the ends.

"And I love you for it." Myka's smile matches Helena's.

"But those are my wishes. What are your own?" Helena asks.

"I think it's worth fighting for change, even if making up rules as we go scares me."

"You are fond of protocol."

"And you're not. So we complement each other. Or cancel each other out," Myka says, lips lifting into a crooked grin.

Helena huffs a short laugh. "And Pete? How is he faring?"

"He's super bummed, but I think he understands." Myka shifts in her seat, sitting up straighter. "You might hear from him. He said he wants to have a chat."

"What about?"

"A 'big brother' kind of thing."

"I'm surprised he's waited this long."

"Me too."

The air quiets, each waiting for the other to continue.

"There is one other thing. An, um, 'condition," Myka says.

"Just the one?"

"Hey..."

"I'd expect nothing less. Go on."

"I can't go on missions alone."

"Nor would I allow you to."

"Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"While you're working, someone will join you."

"Yeah, you."

"But I'm no longer an—"

"They want to reinstate you."

"Myka..."

"I know, I know," Myka says, waving her hands in surrender. "It'd be on your terms. I'll make sure of that. And I'll keep you in check."

"That's a tall order."

"Believe me, I know."

Helena grasps at her locket and works a thumb over its smooth metal case.

"We'd have our autonomy, mostly. Be working part-time. We're already doing it unofficially anyway. And I think we work well together." Myka flashes a smug smile.

"And the distance from the Warehouse? How will you manage?"

"Abigail agreed to be our eyes in the archive. And we already have access to the database."

Helena stares at Myka for a long moment, fingers clutching her locket. "Can this truly be?"

"I think so. I'm hashing out details with Jane, but we need a few more days," Myka says, smiling. "Find us a place to stay for a couple of weeks. We can figure out what happens next from there."

"With pleasure," Helena says.

"So...can I tell them you're Agent Wells again?"

"I've further terms to discuss."

"Send them over. I'll make sure you get what you want."

Smiles grow wider as they hold each other's gazes.

"So...what'd you get up to yesterday?" Myka asks.

"I traveled by cable car up Hyde Street. The views were breathtaking."

"You did that without me?"

"I was tired of waiting."

"Do not go to Twin Peaks or Coit Tower. We're doing those together."

"I shant. Perhaps I'll peruse City Light Books again and linger in Jackson Square."

"That's where those buildings from the 1800's survived the earthquake."

"Indeed."

"Are you feeling a sense of closure, being there?"

"I believe we could have had quite a pleasant life here in my day. But closure, that may only truly begin upon your arrival."

"I can't wait," Myka says, grinning wildly.

-END SCENE-

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

Bering and Wells: New Horizons ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 8 Title: San Francisco: The 415 Blues Summary: A freak storm delays Myka's flight to San Francisco. Helena learns Myka's taken on more while home than just dropping off an artifact. New paths are revealed while working through a difficult retrieval, as well as an ask that may take them to foreign shores.

Previously: Episodes 1-7 (look in my archive as adding links broke my post last time)

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

After assessing the scene of a retrieval, Myka and Helena duck into a coffee shop.

"That facade's massive! How would we know which one?" Myka asks.

"'It'll be obvious,' Artie said. Far from it," Helena snips.

"Maybe spray it with neutralizer and see what sparks?"

"It's a landmarked structure, too high-key."

"True," Myka says, frowning. "Artie said it was a chain reaction. One brick radiating into the others. Remove the source and the rest will calm down."

"Once one pinpoints the source."

"At least we know it's in arms reach," Myka says, sipping of her coffee. 

"Do we?"

"Someone almost burned their hand on it."

"Nothing felt even remotely hot to the touch today." Helena screws the cap onto her water bottle. "The brick responsible could be beaming down from the loftiest of places. We'd need scaffolding to check properly."

"And that hill is..." Myka motions with her hand at a forty-five-degree angle.

"Is it truly a risk if it's merely hot to the touch?" Helena says, leaning back in her chair.

"Artie's not sure. He thinks wildfire smoke is 'activating' the bricks, making them think they're in the fires after the 1906 earthquake. So it depends on which way the wind's blowing. Prolonged smoke contact equals hotter bricks, and hotter bricks mean the building might catch fire."

"Because these melted 'clicker bricks' were used in rebuilding after the earthquake?"

"Uh-huh. And Artie thinks they caused a previous fire."

"The one where those girls died trapped in the basement."

"So sad," Myka says, shaking her head. 

"I'd read it was arson, meant to discourage the Mission House staff from rescuing those poor immigrant girls from servitude."

"It probably was. But it might not have spread as fast without the clinkers."

"I see." Helena's hand tightens around her water bottle. "We cannot allow it burn again."

"We won't," Myka says, touching Helena's hand to reassure her. "Maybe we can monitor it with heat sensors. I bet Claudia has a gadget."

"I'm certain she shall," Helena says, looking as if she's combing through a catalog in her mind. "We must set up surveillance in the buildings across the street."

"Maybe we can pose as historians studying Julia Morgan, the architect," Myka says, perking up.

"What a blessing it shall be we're here for an indeterminate amount of time."

"Ooh! Maybe this can be our thing, traveling places and staying awhile, snagging difficult artifacts."

"I adore your ingenuity." Helena leans across the table, planting a kiss on Myka's lips.

"Mmm...thanks," Myka hums as Helena pulls back. She lifts her phone off the table, fingers working the keyboard, texting Claudia. "Maybe this is a good time to, um...tell you, there's a...a, um...something else the Warehouse's asked us to do."

"I knew they wouldn't release you that easily," Helena says, narrowing her eyes.

"This one's about you."

"Aren't they all, somehow?"

"Kinda?"

"Well, out with it then," Helena says, sitting back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The artifacts you hid, the Warehouse wants them."

"They believe there are more?"

"Oh, come on."

"They've shelved the Trident and Corsican Vest."

"And the Imperceptor."

"That was not an artifact."

"Fine. Artifacts and inventions," Myka snaps. "And they want us to follow up on cold cases you left behind."

Helena shifts in her chair and looks towards the bridge in the distance. "This is punishment for my unwillingness to interact with the Warehouse. You told them of my issues surrounding Christina."

"No. I said separating your body from your mind then sending it out as a lure for Sykes really pissed you off."

"This is not untrue."

"Pisses me off, too," Myka mumbles.

"They may threaten such a thing again should I not bow to their demands."

"We."

"Pardon?"

"Should we not bow. I'm part of this, too."

"Yes, as my 'handler.'"

"Maybe. But our definition of 'handling' can be kind of fun." Myka skims a finger down Helena's forearm, prying her fisted hand apart and threading their fingers together.

Helena lets out a heavy sigh. "I may not recall everything. I'll need my diaries."

"Do you know where they are?"

"At the Warehouse, of course."

"I meant the real ones."

Helena raises a brow.

"You know they know you hid them before you were bronzed."

Helena grimaces. "I once knew where they were. There's no guarantee they're still there."

"You've already looked."

"I may have, briefly."

"And?"

Helena shakes her head in the negative.

"Then let's start with what you remember."

"Or, start with the items I've hidden since?"

"Helena!"

"Punish me later, darling. We've a smoldering building to extinguish." Helena squeezes Myka's hand and brushes a thumb under her jacket cuff. "Did Claudia get back to you?"

"No," says, checking her phone. "Maybe we should get back to the apartment and do some research?"

"'Research' is our best course of action."

Both women smile in agreement, then rise and hastily take their leave.

-END SEASON ONE-

NOTES: NOTES: And this wraps up Season 1! As you can see, it's set up to transition to a second season, one fairly independent from the Warehouse. Who knows if that will ever materialize (but I do have a few ideas). Links broke my post last time, but look up Cameron House (formerly the Mission House) in San Francisco and Donaldina Cameron for more on that organization and the deadly fire. Clinker bricks are regarded as junk bricks - warped from being fired at too high a temperature, or in this case, mangled by building fires after the 1906 earthquake. Many older buildings in Chinatown contain them as the neighborhood scrambled to rebuild after the earthquake, because white real estate developers were poised to swoop in steal their land. In the Cameron House design, clinkers were also used decoratively in an Arts and Crafts style (there are other buildings in SF like this, like 45 Upper Terrace, also designed by a female architect, Ida McCain). I dedicate this episode to @blackfoxreddog !!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Chapter 9: Finally, a case!

Disclaimer: the address and phone number are made up. Please do not use or attempt to contact if an actual number. Just comment and let me know if real address or phone number. Thanks!

Y/n awakens in their room, tucked in bed still dressed except their shoes. They smiled sleepily at the understanding and enjoyed knowing Castiel carried them to bed. They were on the heavy side of healthy— soft, pudgy tummy, thick thighs and hips (mostly muscular but still can see the cellulite that’s impossible to get rid of no matter how much they run, it seems), and a square butt (which they’ve given up trying to change its shape).

At least I have nice arms and back , they thought to themselves. They sat up and stretched looking for their phone, finding it in their night stand plugged in, bringing a grin on their lips.

They got up and walked out to the kitchen finding a delicious smell of meat, cheese, and tomato pulled an approving hum from them. It reminded them of the need to check ingredients to make the pralines tomorrow, so they went into the pantry to see what they had. They moved to the spice cabinet and then fridge just to make sure. They texted Dean advising the need for pecans and heavy whipping cream, a gallon if they can since they like it with their coffee.

Dean texted back saying he was already heading to Hastings for a grocery run and they had great timing.

They headed into the library to find no one there and wondered where Castiel was. They shrugged and started searching for cases on their phone.

After a few hours, they hadn’t found anything and were bored. They skimmed through the card catalog to find information on Angels. While they knew about the biblical and Qurán religious references, they were curious what the Men of Letters might have. There were several books about the mythology and history of Angels and Heaven, one that focused on the physics and quantum mechanics of Heaven and Hell, another focused solely on near death experiences where people met Angels, and then a thin one on Angel grooming. They decided to start on the Angel grooming book.. Skimming past the information about physical grooming since it was oddly similar to bird since they watch a lot of documentaries especially with Castiel in the last few months (Dean tends to fall asleep and they get to discuss with Cas about it).

In the chapter about true forms:

It is believed that Angels, a “celestial wavelength of intent” as many have stated they are, actually need emotional and mental connection while in their true angelic form and/or a vessel. It is thought that Angels possessing a human body with the human soul attached receive this, unintentionally or not. Should an Angel be without a human soul, it is unknown how they would receive this other than from other Angels or possibly human companions, except humans are very finicky and afraid of differences, which means this could be impossible to occur. They continued to skim for more information.

About twenty minutes later, their phone pinged with a text message.

Hunter Smith: Kansas City, KS. 1256 S. Gurnsey Ave. 913-555-0135. Family expecting ur call, Ghost Dr.

Y/n laughed, “Seriously, Reg?”

Y/n: I hope you at least told them my real name.

Hunter Smith: Ofc I did. Dr. Y/n L/n, paranormal & private investigator. I gave them ur business card.

Y/n: Lol. Thanks for the case. Email me info on the haunting?

Hunter Smith: Em’d 1st then txtd.

Y/n: Thanks, Smith!

Chapter 10 on ao3

Did you know Angels can sleep? Did you know they have to feel safe and protected, truly, to do so? It is not physically necessary for them to sleep as their grace maintains all aspects of them.

One night when Y/n came into Dean and Cas’ room, they found Castiel, Angel of the Lord himself asleep. He was snoring and it was adorable. They were so shocked and did not want to wake them, and so they walked to the other side, woke Dean up, asking him to scoot over causing him to sit up looking confused. Took a moment for him to recognize Y/n and then he heard Cas snore. He nodded then scooted over, laid back down throwing an arm around his Angel’s chest.

Y/N climbed under the covers and wrapped an arm around Dean. They kissed his shoulder, “Thanks.”

“Course,” he mumbled tiredly.

About a minute passed when Y/n started hearing humming, opening their eyes, remained still, and then singing. Recognized Dean was singing to them. They squeezed their arm across him and learned into Dean’s back pressing their smile to his skin. They nuzzled against his back and closed their eyes again as he sang on of the slower songs he plays in Baby.

He chuckled at the nuzzle and continued until he heard Y/n snoring as well. Dean laid his head on Cas’ shoulder and fell asleep himself, surprisingly quick. It was always easier to sleep with Y/n in there with them and he never questions why. As a hunter finding safety and peace is difficult to begin with. When they find it, they keep it as much as they can without questions.

Maybe…

The next morning, early, Y/n wakes up to Dean rutting against their ass. It takes a few minute for them to remember they’re in Dean and Ca bed and not having a sec dream.

“Dean,” they grumbled.

Dean paused and hummed questioning.

“Do that to Cas so I can sleep,” they grumbled.

Dean rolls over and y/n fell back to asleep to a not moving bed.

Romancing the Hunter, continue reading on ao3 (a Work in progress)

[presumenothing]

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland    

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.