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blitheringmcgonagall · 2 years ago

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@jilytoberfest microfic prompts & 31 prompts…

Prompts #1-4

Prompts 5 (climb) & 6 (“Why do you have two ice cream scoops but not any food?”)

“Good evening, er, Mr Black. How kind of you to call in for a… chat. A problem, you say? May I be of assistance?” Dumbledore asked, periwinkle eyes curious as he reached over for the sweets. “Lemon sherbet?”

Sirius Black shook his head.

“A problem. Of the very irritating, long-standing variety. And I know how to fix it!”

“I see,” the old man’s eyes twinkled, and Sirius noted how simultaneously amused and shrewd they could look.

“Yes. Well, the fact is that Evans and Potter have been mad about each other for ages, at least for all of 6th year and frankly, I’m sick of it. I know you are too. Lost a bet with Flitwick in April, didn’t you?”

Dumbledore stared at him.

“Flitwick pays me a retention fee to keep him updated on their progress. I was able to appraise him of the fact that diddly squat had changed since March, February, Christmas - you get my drift,” Sirius said.

The fact that the professors had a betting pool which included among other things - whether the marauders would successfully pull off a splendid prank without getting caught, whether Hagrid managed to find a new dangerous beast to befriend, or whether his stupid friends managed to get a life and start dating - wasn’t that surprising. It just proved to him that most grown ups led extremely boring and unstimulating existences.

Mind you, those were more or less the kinds of pointless things they themselves bet on - Peter had won a galleon last week for betting Dumbledore would buy a new pair of roller skates before the NEWTs started. And he had won two galleons for betting that David Bowie would climb to number one in the muggle charts and that Evans and Diggory would be toast before the Equinox (so what if he’d had a hand in the ending of that blight of a relationship? Evans had been telling MacDonald that she wanted to break it off in a gentle manner before he’d gotten involved. He had simply speeded the whole train wreck…)

“Anyway, the fact is, you need to make Prongs Head Boy next year,” he finished triumphantly.

“I see.”

“Yes, it’s very simple. Evans is definitely going to be Head Girl, correct?”

Dumbledore hesitated.

“Don’t even bother denying it, Sir, professor Slughorn told us last week. She’s outstanding.”

“Yes, um, that may be correct,” the headmaster replied cautiously.

Of course Slughorn had said no such thing.

“Excellent,” Sirius grinned. “But as for Head Boy… there’s no obvious candidate, is there?”

Dumbledore regarded him silently.

“I mean, you and I both know Remus Lupin would be a great Head Boy, but you’d never risk giving it to him. Plus he’d hate all the attention and he’d be terrified someone would find out about his furry little problem, and he’d feel too guilty having someone else do his duties on full moons and all that.”

He stopped. Dumbledore hummed in possible agreement.

“The Slytherins this year are all a bunch of Voldy-supporting, bigoted wankers - no offence intended,” he said, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Dumbledore raised his palms and shrugged.

“Ha! The Ravenclaw chaps this year are all far too introverted to want to boss everyone about. The only good candidate in Hufflepuff is Diggory,” he grimaced. “And frankly that chap is far too irritating, he already got hexed through the Veil and back on five occasions so far this year. If he makes Head Boy, he’s screwed.”

Dumbledore looked glum.

“Which leaves Gryffindor. What you need is a strong, well liked character you can rely on. Someone who knows how to lead and is experienced in managing a team under difficult circumstances. Someone who is a pureblood- those bastards would throw a fit if one muggleborn head girl is appointed, let alone another less than thoroughly inbred fellow - yet somehow manages to hate bigotry and has a record of standing up against mini Death Eaters in this school.

Someone with positivity coming out of his arse. The type who sees a thunderstorm and starts talking about the benefits of a cold shower. You know, sees the best in all his fellow students despite being surprisingly and unexpectedly intelligent to boot? The sort of chap who is always looking for solutions, tenacity to beat the band, and gives most people third chances and whatnot. And yet, unbelievably, is practically universally well liked and respected. At least half of the wankers who dislike him still fancy him rotten. Which only leaves the usual suspects - and frankly, you and I both know that if you appointed someone they approved of, we’d all be screwed.”

Dumbledore shifted in his chair, hands steepled in front of him.

“You really think he’d be Head Boy material?”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Yes. He’d hate it. And so would I. But he’d do a damned good job of it.”

“When I mentioned Mr Potter as a possible option, Professor McGonagall expressed grave concern about the amount of pressure he’d be under, were he to retain the title of Gryffindor Quidd- “

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sir, you’d have to pry the Gryffindor Quidditch Captaincy from his cold dead hands.”

“On that, I do agree with you, Mr Black.”

“Of course you do, you’re not an idiot, unlike bloody Prongs,” Sirius sniffed.

“Hmm, I’m not sure we want an idiot as Head Boy,” Dumbledore mused, leaning forward.

��Well of course not, frightfully irritating. I’m ready to hex his ball- ballast off! But if they get to be Heads together? I guarantee the best working relationship of any Head Persons in the past fifty years, plus a top tip in your betting pool… situation.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.

“Top tip?”

“Life hack,” Sirius nodded, hand outstretched. “Do we have deal, Sir?”

Dumbledore leant back into his armchair and smiled benevolently.

“I had, of course, been planning on giving Mr Potter that role since he managed to fight off your cousin Bellatrix’s rather dangerous attack on students in Hogsmeade in April. Do you think you could also pass on a few useful tips concerning Hagrid’s latest furry friends?”

Wiley bastard.

“Consider it done, Sir.”

Dumbledore stood and shook his hand.

“And what about you, Mr Black - you don’t fancy the role of Head Boy yourself, do- “

“Haha! Godric’s gonads, no way in hell!” Sirius snorted aloud. “Dealing with horse manure from all sorts of shady bastards and always resisting the urge to hex them all? Attempting civil conversations with the likes of Snape? Mulciber? Wilkes? I’d rather eat Hippogrif dung with raw billywig maggots, er, no offence, Sir.”

“None taken, Mr Black, none whatsoever,” the Professor replied mildly. “Some celebratory ice-cream, perhaps?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The door closed behind him with a jaunty slam.

“Yessssss! Operation Smitten Idiots is a go!” Sirius punched the air with his fist and grinned in elated triumph. “They better fucking name me best man AND godfather to their first born, or there shall be war!”

“What are you on about, Padfoot?” the most idiotic half of the Smitten Duo asked as he rounded the corner, ice-cream cone in his hand.

“Abraxan racing results, Prongs, Best Man came first.” he said, winking at Remus, licking the chocolate and raspberry ripple.

Remus stared at him (mind you, Remus was very partial to chocolate, so that was the most obvious reason why he’d stare at his lips, wasn’t it?).

“Why do you have two ice cream scoops but not any food?” Remus asked, clearing his throat.

“I merely entertained our Headmaster with witty conversation and he felt obliged to give me ice cream by way of thanks.”

“Good news, then? Do we get an extra day off for Merpeople National Feast Day, or whatever barmy idea you came up with?” Prongs asked, pushing himself off the wall with his foot.

“Don’t be ridiculous, old chap.”

“Well why are you looking so pleased with yourself then?” His best friend rolled his eyes and scuffed his shoe against the stone pavement.

“Top secret, Prongs my deer, top secret!”

#jilytober #jilytober2022 fic #fluff and idiocy #smitten idiots #sirius is the best wingman #poor fellow is having to pull out all the stops #blithering idiots #marauders #jilytober fest #jily

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theblacksheepcz · 1 year ago

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THE HEX 🔛🔝

Hrrrrnngggg play The Hex

#The Hex #the hex game #super weasel kid #the hex bryce #chandrelle stormblaze #lazarus bleeze #the hex fpp #The Hex mr shrewd

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dreaming-voices · 3 years ago

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hey, you sent me an ask so im curious with you - do you have any headcanons for the hex? no specific characters or anything in mind, just go nuts!

Oh my god yes yes!! I have!! So many!!!! Sorry tit took me so long to answer, it’s been BUSY. I still have LOTS more, but here are some that are constantly in my mind.

ANYWAYS.

Oh they totally live together now, after everything that’s happened. Murderers and murder accomplices gotta stick together, y’know? Both Reggie and Jeremiah are super grateful for the extra company.

Despite technically being the second oldest of them all, swk is just… a kid. A teen at best. He thinks he’s super independent. And he is. He thinks he doesn’t need anyone’s help. And for the most part he DOESN’T. BUT. There are times when he Needs An Adult. Everyone’s more than willing to pitch in and give him Advice (even if the quality of said advice is debatable at times), but it can be frustrating and even a little bit painful. SWK can be REALLY stubborn.

Most of the time, it’s Lazarus who’s the adult SWK ends up going to. He just feels most at ease with him, and he trusts him the most. And Lazarus does like the kid. They become pretty close over time.

Speaking of relationships, SWK is somewhat scared of making new connections. Between what happened to him, his game, and Mr. Shrewd, he’s built up A LOT of walls. Bottles up his emotions QUITE a bit too.

Yes he still misses Mr. Shrewd. How dare anyone suggest otherwise? He misses him a lot. Nothings ever gonna fill that hole.

He actually wasn’t planning on staying at the inn at first. Or if he really REALLY had to stay, it would just be a day or two, until he figured out what to do. It is just… too awkward, too… guilt-ridden. Reggie never went TOO into detail about what happened to him with everyone when he first invited them to the cabin, just enough for them to trust and help him and enough to make the game, but still… SWK was able to piece some things together and get an idea of what happened by the time the game was ready. Logically, he knew it wasn’t really his fault, but still, it KINDA feels like his fault. He tries not to show it, but it weighs on him a bit.

Reggie was the one who brought it up again, just to SWK, after everything was said and done. He wanted to clear the air, make it clear that he doesn’t blame SWK for what happened. He DID, at one point. He was really REALLY bitter for the longest time, but as he watched SWK’s rise and fall (as well as everyone else’s), it became apparent that SWK wasn’t the issue and has never been the issue, and SWK shouldn’t blame himself. And while hearing that didn’t completely get rid the guilt, it did make SWK feel… a bit better, and he was a bit more comfortable about staying. (It made more sense to stay anyways. Better to stick together through whatever comes next than separating from the group and fending for himself)

#the hex #mullinsverse #super weasel kid #pretty super weasel kid centric tbh #I have lots of thoughts on the others too I just need more time to jot them down #gonna make a part 2 probably #sorry this took so long!!!!!

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annerbhp · 6 years ago

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H/G, "You don't have to stay."

Ginny navigates her way across the crowded room. Theballroom is rather impressive, with candles floating up in the high ceiling,rich fabrics draping the walls. The most powerful and famous figures in thesporting world are here—players, coaches, owners, and journalists alike.

Ludo Bagman currently holds court over by an ice sculptureoff a Bludger chasing a Snitch in an endless game of tag. A shrewd-lookinggroup of owners in expensive robes sit around a table eyeing each other and nodoubt brokering deals what will shape the next season of Quidditch.

For now, the season is at an end, and Ginny is glad of it,looking forward to a little break from her grueling training schedule. Havingmade her rounds of the room, saying hello to teammates and friends, doing herduty to schmooze politely with various important contacts, she is now in searchof far more pleasant company.

She’s nearly across the room when she’s stopped by a hand onher arm. “Miss Weasley,” the wizard says, drawing her name out, his fingertrailing down her bare arm.

Ginny forces a smile on her face, though she doubts it’sexactly friendly. “Mr. Tate,” she says, turning to look at the wizard only afew years younger than herself dressed in robes that are no doubt moreexpensive than the entire value of the Burrow. “How is your father?”

An innocent question on the surface, but she knows how muchhe hates to be reminded that his father is the one who owns the Appleby Arrowsand not him. He’s always enjoyed pretending he’s more important than he reallyis.

Sure enough, his smile slips, but then so do his eyes. Asin, he’s staring at her chest rather than her face. She can’t really blame himall that much; her dress is rather spectacular.

“Father does well as always. He trusts me to keepthings,”—his hand slips lower down her arm—“running smoothly.”

“Hmm,” Ginny says, moving out of reach and suppressing ashudder of revulsion. “And does he know that you’re out after curfew?”

His face flushes, and she knows she shouldn’t have said it,but he bloody well shouldn’t have touched her either. There could beconsequences, pissing this particular arsehole off, but somehow she justdoesn’t care. She’s a Harpy, not an Arrow, and any goodwill she needs from himfor national play and recognition just isn’t worth it.

He’s looking angry now, but before he can say anything thatwill prod her into even less subtle retaliation, Ginny casually drops in, “Nowif you’ll excuse me, I need to find my boyfriend.”

This has the intended effect, everyone knowing just whoGinny Weasley, upcoming Chaser for the Harpies, is romantically involved with,thanks to the invasive media. Mr. Tate straightens up a bit, the red flush ofanger fading, leaving him looking a little pale.

He tugs at the edge of his collar. “Oh, is he here? I hadn’trealized.” He glances around, looking equally eager and horrified.

Ginny somehow manages not to roll her eyes, insteadgesturing vaguely off in the direction she’d been heading before he stopped her.She doesn’t actually know where Harry is at the moment, but he’s definitelyhere somewhere.

“Well,” Mr. Tate says, recovering his slimy composure. “Do sayhello for me.”

No chance of that,Ginny thinks, hating herself for using Harry’s name this way. He wouldn’t mind,she knows. But she minds. Being forcedinto stooping that low just makes her hate the bloody spoiled brat even more.

She bites back another parting shot encouraging him to askfor some warm milk at the bar, instead resuming her trek across the crowdedballroom. See? She’s learning tact. She’s like a real grown up and everything.

She finally locates Harry at the far side of the room. He’sretreated so his back is pressed against the wall, his arms crossed formidably overhis chest. It’s working too, to judge from the pocket of space around him.People are clearly too intimidated to approach.

He isn’t dressed in the thick wool and leather of his Auroruniform tonight, rather in simply and elegantly cut black dress robes, but hestill radiates the feeling that he is on duty, his eyes narrowed to slits as hesurveys the room with an air of bored indifference.

He’s not on duty, of course, but rather here as her plusone. Ginny recognizes his pose as the ‘I’m stuck out in public at a socialevent and really really hate it’ posture. Meaning that he has his back pressedagainst the wall not so much to keep from getting snuck up on by a dark wizardas to protect his bum from getting grabbed. Again. She’s pretty sure Marlena’sgotten him twice this evening already.

Ginny can feel the moment his attention shifts to her as shenears, even as his posture doesn’t change in the slightest.

Having just returned from a long mission somewhere Merlinknows where, Ginny assumes he’s exhausted. Not to mention not keen to share herwith an entire room full of people.

There are definitely other places she would rather be withhim right now.

“Having fun?” she asks as she steps up next to him.

“Loads,” he says, voice dry.

“Well,” Ginny says, “neither of us have hexed anyone yet, soI think we should take that as a win.”

He lets out a derisive snort. “Oh, I’m making a list.” Hiseyes trail down her arm, unerringly taking the same path Mr. Tate’s hand hadtaken, and she knows he didn’t miss a moment of that little interaction.

“We’ll have to compare lists later,” she says lightly. “Noneed to double up on anyone.”

His face contorts with what she realizes is an attempt tohold back a yawn. She eyes his face, noting how exhausted he looks. He hasn’tbothered to shave, but she isn’t sure how much of that is laziness and how muchis an attempt to look even less approachable.

“You don’t have to stay,” she says.

His head doesn’t turn, just his eyes latching onto her face witha mix of incredulity and anger. “Not bloody likely.”

“I doubt Mr. Tate will try anything again, not the way I’mbrazenly throwing your good name around.”

Harry’s eyes seem to flash with something that could besatisfaction. “I’m not worried about Mr. Tate.”

“Ah, yes,” Ginny says, her voice coming out surprisinglybitter. “No one wants to risk incurring Harry Potter’s wrath.”

They still refer to her as ‘Harry Potter’s girl’ in thepapers sometimes. Eleven-year-old her would be ecstatic. Twenty-one-year-oldher is far less enthused, wondering if she’ll ever be seen as anything otherthan an appendage.

Harry leans slightly towards her. “If they had half a brain,they’d be more afraid of your wrath.”

Against her will, Ginny feels her lips twitch into a smile.“So then why hang about when you’re clearly miserable if not to protect me fromhandsy arseholes?”

His gaze sweeps her body, having quite the opposite effectas Mr. Tate’s attention. “You mean besides getting to see you in this dress?”

She slides him a look. He’s seen her in far less, and willagain very soon if she has anything to say about it. “You know you can have afashion show whenever you like. A private one.” She considers him. “Or are youenjoying looking but not being able to touch?”

He finally unfolds enough to wrap an arm around her waist,his fingers unerringly finding the small cutout at her lower back. “But you’vemade touching so convenient,” he says, voice lowering.

Harry isn’t one for public displays, but that doesn’t stopher traitorous heart from speeding up in anticipation. They’ve been apart formore than a week, after all.

He draws her closer, his head lowering to her ear. “I’mexhausted and would definitely rather be alone with you anywhere else on theplanet and am probably very close to causing a scene if one more person pissesme off.”

Ginny can’t stop her eyes from closing at the littletraitorous thrill she feels at his closeness. “My original statement stands.You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I see my girlfriend rightly crownedbest Quidditch player of all time.”

“I’m only up for breakout star of the season,” she correctswith a laugh, “and I may not win.”

Harry pulls his arm away, and Ginny tries not to make asound of protest even though she knows this is hardly the location for more. Hesettles back into his crossed-arm pose of brooding. “You damn well will.”

His certainty fills her chest with warmth.

He flicks his hand, making a little shooing motion. “Now goaway and dazzle the crowd while I remain taciturn and off-putting.”

She looks at him fondly. “Okay,” she agrees. “But you knowthis act is only going to work for so long.”

His composure breaks just long enough for him to smile ather, the real Harry shining through for a moment. “Just so long as it workswell enough to keep my bum safe until you win.”

She can’t help herself, stepping up against him and kissinghim solidly, letting her body press fully against his. As much as she wants to,especially when Harry’s hands find her waist, she doesn’t linger, stepping backaway before she can embarrass him.

Harry looks endearingly befuddled by her surprise attackdespite the brevity of her attentions, one of his hands still stubbornly on herhip.

“Careful, love,” she says with a smile, “your disguise isslipping.”

He scowls, pulling his arms back into his chest. “We’rehaving words about this later,” he says, trying to sound stern but the warmsparkle in his eyes completely ruining the effect.

“Oh, I was hoping for far more than words,” she says, givinghim a wink.

He makes a low sound of protest. “Go away,” he says.

She laughs. “You know you’ll miss me.”

“You have no idea,” he mutters.

She takes mercy on him then, strolling back out into thecrowd, but not without looking back at him. Harry has once again settled backinto his defensive pose, already glaring at someone who has dared to sidlecloser.

She’s glad he’s staying, even if she wishes he didn’t haveto submit himself to so much scrutiny. One would think his hero status might fadeover time, but people seem as interested in him as ever, much to his chagrin.

Fortunately the period for mingling ends soon after sheleaves him, an emcee stepping up on the podium and beginning the officialceremony. The trophy for the league champions will be handed out—the damnMagpies already look smug and pleased with themselves. But there are a fewother awards, like most valuable player, standout defense, most impressivesnitch catch, and others. Including breakout star, which Ginny is up for.

She’s honored, of course, but also knows she’s worked herarse off for years to earn her starter position, and then to demonstrate thatshe deserves to be taken seriously. Her nomination goes a long way towardsacknowledging that.

When they call her name out to announce that she’s won, shefeels an intense beat of satisfaction, of having proven herself. She takes thestage—managing not to trip or anything—aware of her teammates slapping her onthe arm, of people clapping for her.

She takes the crystal trophy from the emcee and looks outover the crowd, and there Harry is in the thick of it, no longer hiding in thecorner. He has his fingers in his mouth, whistling a high pitch that rises farabove the polite applause of the crowd as he bounces on his heels.

Unfortunatelythe emcee notices Harry too. “It seems we have an esteemed guest with us in thecrowd tonight,” he gushes.

Everyonenot already staring at him turns to look, and Harry’s beginning to look alittle sheepish, like he definitely didn’t mean to draw that much attention tohimself but couldn’t help it in his excitement.

Itoccurs to Ginny as she watches him that Harry’s brooding act wasn’t just abouthating parties and attention. It was about not stealing her thunder. He stoodhuddled up against that wall so she could talk to people without being Harry Potter’sgirl.

Shefeels her throat close up with how much she loves this ridiculous, wonderfulman.

“Ofcourse,” the emcee says, “he is a man who needs no introduction.”

“I shouldhope not,” Ginny says with just enough asperity to make the crowd laugh. “Hemay have collected a lot of titles over the years, but I think we can all agreewhich one is the most important.”

“Andwhich is that?” the emcee asks with a smile, apparently content that he knowsthe answer. The Chosen One. The savior. The hero. The Boy Who Lives.

Ginnydoesn’t look away from Harry’s smiling face. “Ginny Weasley’s number one fan.”

A fewpeople in the crowd look horrified, thinking she’s making light of hisaccomplishments, no doubt, but Harry just nods enthusiastically in agreement,nudging the guy next to him and saying, “That’s right.”

The emceeclears his throat. “Well, okay. Uh, shall we talk about your greatest momentson the pitch this season?”

Ginnysmiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

#harry/ginny #hinny #annerbfic #well look at me writing little ficlets #though this one is not exactly angsty #i assume weatheredskies will be okay with that

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hunterartemis · 6 years ago

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The Assistant: Chapter 8: Silver and Diamond

Word Limit: 5152

Summary: This is the Night that will be known not only the one that changed the fates of Two Nations, but also four lives

Chapter Theme: Vasily by Martin Phipps https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeA8K6sACiA

“May I have this dance, Miss Goldstein” Tina’s brows crinkled slightly with this most unlikely of proposal. She started to wonder what she did owned to this unlikely of pleasure, and most importantly… why Newt’s brother from all the people. She could sense a subtle politics behind it, but chose to think that it was beneath her.

As if Theseus could hear what Tina was thinking, he took his lips near Tina’s ears and whispered “It’s a changing dance, Tina… we may get the chance with the ones we really want… so” he straightened up to sport a natural courteous manner “are you in?”

Tina hesitated for a moment then without losing another word glided with Theseus into the dance floor.

He and Tina positioned themselves and started to glide to the rhythm and waited for the fated moment they all waited for. As the beat changed and their desired ones came closer, they looked at each other with a peculiar glance that looked shrewd and anticipating at the same time. One moment passed and then from the closest of quarters Theseus and Tina would drift apart from them. And he couldn’t resist the temptation to talk with the woman he was dancing with.

“So... you must be wondering why the man you hexed so badly six months ago is getting so friendly.” Theseus asked, swallowing his nervousness, “remember miss Goldstein, this is not a simple dance” he masterfully led Tina through the six principles steps around the circle, “in fact most important of society’s decision are made during dances. There is something mesmerising and distracting about it, that its motion stirs our rowdy mind and deposits all our thoughts at the bottom of the calmest part of our mind.” Tina, whose height rose up to Theseus’ eyes, looked at him with an unknown stare, “you are quite a philosopher Mr. Scamander… and it seems that you are not as short tempered as you seemed in the French Ministry” she let go off his hand and paired herself with a blond man.

“Does that surprise you…?” Theseus added with a smirk, peering over the shoulder of his current dance partner. With that passing inquisition, Tina’s eyes flashed with a certain severity which made Theseus almost regret his choice of words, but instead of a harsh reply, the woman counter questioned him quite smoothly.

“No… I would be a fool if it didn’t. I don’t pretend to understand a man I met only once. I wager even my legilimens sister would be able to figure out the whole in that short amount of time.” Tina added with a sarcastic smile “The only thing that surprises me that, why are you bothered to talk with me at all?” she said, while they once again united.

Theseus lowered his eyes in a mock embarrassment, “ah… the things we do for love, don’t we?” his eyes oddly fixated on the face of Tina, as if to imply she was in the same situation as he was, “we pretend, deny and avoid and the wretched thing keeps pulling us to it despite ourselves to make complete fools out of us...”he remarked abjectly as he changed his stance to go counter clockwise, contrasting with the inner circle of the waltzers, “look at them...” he glanced towards Newt and Maxine in the inner circle, “I envy them so much...”

“You don’t say...” Tina smiled sardonically and then changed her tone to reply assertively “we look at the people who truly belong to us and curse at our fates.”

“Oh no... You misunderstand me completely” Theseus denied, “I didn’t envy them for that... I envy them because they are so natural with each other... as if they were two sides of the same coin.” Tina huffed a laugh, that kind of laugh that people laugh when they don’t really respect the other party, “isn’t that the same thing being in love... being the sides of the same coin or whatever crazy stuff you are saying?”

“Who said that they are in love?” Theseus anxiously commented while they changed partners again and changed position towards the inner circle. Although his frown was causing distress with his very pretty current partner, but his eyes didn’t notice anyone but Tina, who danced in an obligatory manner with a man with sleek hair and thin moustache. He impatiently led himself and his partner towards Tina and very tactfully switched, against the rule, leading Theseus’ partner to stomp away from the dance floor angrily.

“Who said they were in love...” like a relief after an exhaustive labour, Theseus’ previous agitation melted to a huff which made Tina a little taken aback with him.

“What is it then... what do you think is between them?” Tina asked again with her characteristic assertiveness.

“A game...” Theseus’ eyes looked towards the ivory figure of Maxine, waltzing gracefully with Newt at the centre of the circle where the chandelier of a thousand crystal lights shone all over them. Maxine was cleverly keeping Newt within the circle so that he could not change partners, “She is playing a game of flirtation and Newt is enjoying all the attention he can get from her... we are men Tina, we may love a woman deeply with all our heart, but if another beautiful...ravishing one gives us positive attention we can’t help but to admire her. The world condemns us to fulfil the role of the governor, the provider, and the stoic responsible ones, meant to do our duties without any qualm. We crave for someone who will take care of us” Theseus tore his eyes from them and towards Tina, “don’t you think so?”

“I think it is utterly stupid to feel something like this for someone so cruel...” Tina scoffed at Theseus.

“And you said you’d be stupid if you knew a man you met only once...” Theseus’ smirked at Tina’s uneasiness.

Some moments of silence passed between them as they glided through the inner circles, changing and then reverting to their original partners. However they could not penetrate inside the circle where Maxine ad Newt dazzlingly danced. Theseus could not help but to admire their chemistry. Maxine put Newt in an absolute ease, and Theseus knew he could not be in love with her; he knew Newt was still in love with Leta when Theseus and her were engaged. There were some hints of shame and flusters about him when she was around, avoidance, a denial and a pain; even since Newt was in Hogwarts, but not here. Newt was in love with Maxine, but not the sense Newt loved Leta or Tina for that matter. It was something very beautiful and inexplicable. After all, it was impossible to love Maxine like any other woman. That’s what he had thought all along.

That’s why he gave her up for Leta.

It was her own impossibility that never let Theseus reach to her.

And yet, the strange dichotomy of despair and the ever-burning yearning was always present in his heart.

After a few turns the waltz came to an end. Theseus forcefully tore his eyes from Maxine and bowed to Tina as an after dance etiquette.

“Your plan failed Mr. Scamander...” Tina spoke with a futility in her voice and sarcasm on her lips. Theseus didn’t even tried to conceal his annoyance and defeat to Tina; with desperation of a wretched man, he kissed Tina’s hands and silently walked towards the bar.

“Martini, dry” Theseus ordered emotionlessly and leaned on the counter pensively; his eyes suddenly veered towards a voice that was addressed to him.

“Can you believe the British Ministry, can’t do politics and now can’t even party decently...” Theseus was slightly offended because no matter whoever spoke this he, Theseus Scamander, would be a loyal member of the British ministry. He could not identify the accent because he sounded like a Englishman—Theseus’ intuition could mostly let the speaker be a sarcastic Scot or an over-enthusiastic Irish, but nothing other than that. “... and the booze, tastes like piss...”—or maybe an Irish wizard.

“Do I know you?” Theseus asked annoyingly taking his martini from the counter. His annoyance made him look up at the Speaker, he was a man who looked he was very close if not in his forties, well proportionate hexagonal face, high forehead and his icy blue-gray eyes sported a kind of feudal arrogance. He was very pale, and looked even paler under the white-gold lights, whose shadows cast a skull like contours upon his otherwise handsome face, and his platinum blond hair was arranged in careful pinned curled waves that reminded Theseus of both polishedness of a nobleman and ostentatious manners of a muggle flapper.

“...it’s unlikely...” the stranger replied, “I studied and served abroad: Germany, Bulgaria, Russia...anywhere but in this murk.” He was speaking without looking at Theseus, “but I know you...” he finally turned towards his neighbour “Theseus Scamander, die kriegsheld.” He led his hand towards him. Theseus did not like him very much, but as this party was an unofficial Pan-European diplomatic summit, lest he offend any foreign official and badly represent the British ministry, he took his hand and shook it anyways. The man didn’t sound like he was supporting the British Cause against Grindlewald.

“Nice to meet you Mr.--”

“Anatole Malfoy...” he spoke in a pompous tone and let go of his hand, “I have utmost respect for you Herr Scamander... but I think you have made a poor choice of standing on the wrong side.” Anatole added with a half smirk, “The British Tolerance Policy has always been ineffective, the most witch burning, heretics, inter-mixing with the mudbloods... and the pureblood-lines dying out because they were committing incest... this country is nothing but a joke.” Anatole huffed, “take them for example...” he pointed at a tall dark haired man with wavy shoulder-length locks dressed exquisitely in purple velvet and black leather, “Hrothgar Bartholomew Valois... a beacon of the European purebloods, married and related to some of the most finest of the pureblood families in Europe. He is married to an Orleans, his sons married from the houses of Orsini and Gruzinsky, but for what? The man is a lily-livered coward who cannot see the brighter times that are coming.”

“I am sorry, but aren’t Orsini and Gruzinsky families two of the most extremist pureblood groups? Then why they would be wed to the Valois?” Theseus, despite his disgust could not help but to know a little about Maxine’s family, which she kept a secret all her time. the reply came in a form of a most cryptic of tones “There are many things that wretched family has that none of the family nowadays has: wealth and influence over muggles. The Valoises are as well reputed in the Wizarding communities as they are amongst muggles. ” Anatole huffed in disrespect, “can you believe? The French Muggle Histories record some of their ancestors are French Kings, and apparently they have two branches of the family, muggle and wizard to get best of both worlds. Fucking fence sitters I tell you, but their wealth is to die for.” There was a stench of greed in Anatole’s voice.

“Very nice to meet you Mr. Malfoy...” Theseus downed his drink in one go, “and now if you’ll excuse me--”

“—and their daughter, Mademoiselle Maxine.” Anatole threw another comment in the air with a vicious pride, “such a ravishing piece of work isn’t she?” he stopped, “I have travelled far and wide across Europe, and I swear many purebloods will stake their lives to lie with her.”

Theseus stopped for a moment on his walk, looked back at him slightly and then walked away without any word. This evening was getting worse and worse by the moment for him. He walked towards the men’s washroom without registering his mind to others. After slamming the door shut after him, he banged his fist hard on the counter. He was angry, but this time he was not only just angry. Something else worked inside him, which he could not understand...

He looked up at the mirror and couldn’t recognise the face that looked back at him, a reddened angered face, glaring back at him with icy blue eyes. His brunet locks were astray and he shook like a madman; who was he? How did he descend down to this level? His vision suddenly started to blur a little and blood pounded so fast at his neck that it felt like he would faint. The moment between wake and unconscious seemed like eternity

He didn’t realise how long he was in that position until he heard random thuds at the door. Before he could go and react, someone came in with hurried steps. It was none other than his boss Travers; it seemed that he was a bit out of breath and sweaty, even in the Christmas cold, and he looked a little cross also, which comically reminded Theseus of the days when Travers didn’t got the reports within the deadline.

“There you are... I have been looking for you all around.” He exasperatedly asserted. Theseus, being a straightforward man asked his superior “why, what is the matter” in the most curious manner, and within seconds, like a sudden chill felt right after stepping outside, a fear crept inside his heart: it was a Pan-European peace summit, was something wrong with the Allegiance?

“Is everything all right?” came Theseus’ second question with a unintentional tenseness.

“Yes, yes of course...” Travers almost pulled Theseus out of the washroom by his shoulder, “The French High Secretary has been asking for you.”

Theseus was almost dragged to the middle of the hall, in front of a bunch of people. He recognised the man at the very front from his luxurious gray waves, who was facing his back towards Theseus and chatting with a bunch of other men, who looked like they were in high offices of their respective ministries.

“Your Excellency...” Travers bowed deeply to the man with wavy hair, and he turned towards him. The man had a nice proportionate face. He seemed to be nearing sixty, but his age could not mar the natural beauty that was graced by him. He had deep set dark eyes, and wavy grey man and beard and there was something pleasant about him. On the other hand, in that cordial outlook there was something else in him that made the onlooker to be wary and on their best behaviour.

“Ah, Travers mon ami...” his voice was low and melodious, “comment ca va...?” he grabbed Travers by both of his shoulders and patted them very strongly. There was something condescending about that friendly gesture that made Theseus even more uneasy. Travers was well known for his irascible and firm nature, this man was nullifying that within seconds.

“Votre Excellence, let me introduce you Theseus Scamander... the Deputy Head of the British Law Enforcement and the War Hero... and Theseus, this is His Excellency Hrothgar Bartholomew Valois, Duke of Angouleme.”

“Enchante...” Theseus beckoned his hand and Hrothgar Valois took it to shake with his gloves on.

“Monsieur Theseus, how kind of you to meet me... I have been very excited to meet you, after all in these troubled times we need men like you to protect the Wizarding Law from the kinds of Grindlewald” He gave a professional, as if very well rehearsed smile, and then he hug him by the shoulder, “come, I have some matters to discuss with you... would you do me the honour to sit by me?”

Theseus walked alongside Hrothgar, and it would be prudent to say that he was locked under Hrothgar’s strong arm, and even if he wanted to escape there was no way that he can without making a scene. He could almost hear Hrothgar smiling, and it gave him a sinister feeling that he considered Theseus nothing compared to him, an arm candy to be graced and shown off—but why? People his kind were always haughty and dissosiative, but this man was going all over the way to make him feel humiliated. He and Hrothgar were walking towards a giant golden oak door, which opened to the most glorious banquet hall. Theseus knew all about it and he had all the feelings of avoiding it, but circumstances were very different.

Maxine and Newt, who were a little weary after their second dance took a break and went to the counter to have some drink. After ordering a whiskey and a champagne, Maxine turned towards Newt with a smile of satisfaction.

“Ah... can you die of happiness?” Maxine chimed silverly catching the glint in Newt’s shy eyes, “I hope not, or else I will end up with no assistant again... I do not want to go through the interviews again.” Newt gave a little smile as if enjoying the witty remark he passed on about himself.

“Of course not, I won’t leave you a destitute...” Maxine changed her tone while veering towards the side aisle of the dance floor, “As expected, all my family is present as usual... look at the regalia of the French Diplomacy!” Maxine gave a sarcastic huff, but in spite of her, Newt looked curious about Maxine’s family.

“Your family is here...?” Newt asked curiously, taking a sip of whiskey.

“Yes...but let’s leave them, all official stuff!” Maxine waved the matter way like a stray fly in the wind, and suddenly her tone changed into a more serious one,

“Newt, you trust me right?”

As if a lightning bolt has struck nearby, Newt bolted towards Maxine with an alarm in his eyes. Maxine was seldom serious outside of her work, and this tone didn’t suit her. He kept his eyes on his assistant, who was twirling the nearly empty glass of champagne with a faraway, forlorn look. As if realising that she was being watched, she veered her sight towards him and Newt’s heart thudded loudly against his ribcage.

“Maxine... is everything alright?”

But before she could confide, they were called in the Banquet, and they soon found themselves sitting near the middle left of the long table. The moment that scared Newt out of his mind, was shallowed within seconds by Maxine. No matter how much he pried, he could not get Maxine to open her mouth. She denounced it as a moment of drunken passion. Now he found himself in a new situation where Maxine couldn’t help but to spoke some fun at the officials.

“And there goes the Bulgarian Secretary...” Maxine led her lips towards Newt’s ears and laughed at his weird accent, “do you want to have some fun Newt?” she looked at her neighbour with the most mysterious and most mischievous of ways. She clicked towards a nearby valet and whispered something in his ears. Only Newt could see that she poured some galleons in his pockets.

“Ah... Charlemagne, bonsoir, viens...” Maxine called aloud and a gentleman with neat hair and moustache came near her and stooped to kiss her hand, “Charment as always Mademoiselle Valois...”

“Always a flatterer, aren’t you Charles...” Maxine said flirtatiously and covertly winked at Newt, “By the way, I forgot to propose you a toast for your latest promotion...” the previous waiter walked in with two drinks, Maxine picked up one and offered the other to the man, “to your health and success... ah ah, how rude...!” she prevented Charlemagne from drinking, “offer the Bulgarian Secretary first...” she spoke with a feign scandalous tone. The man nodded and walked away towards the secretary and Maxine slowly turned herself towards the table. Newt was looking at her with mildly offended and highly amused eyes.

“What did you do now...?” he asked with humour laced in his tone.

“You’ll see...” Maxine bit her lips to prevent herself from laughing out loud. Suddenly a commotion made Newt to bolt and to look at his back. The man who was offered a drink by Maxine, spilt it all over the secretary, and both of them were jumping on the floor to wipe off the liquor on the secretary’s dragon hide jacket. The Secretary on the other hand was painfully oscillated between uncontrollable laughter and inconceivable anger and annoyance and made quite a spectacle of him amongst the foreign officials.

“A shot of tarantula mescal on the old toad’s jacket... worked like a charm...” Maxine mused on her own and laughed in a manner that she was like another beholder of the incident, covertly and briefly. When she turned her face at Newt’s side, someone was already standing there.

“Do you play with people’s lives on the daily basis or this is just for the Holidays?” Maxine turned her head at Newt’s opposite and saw someone was already standing there.

“Tina...” Newt stood up, so abruptly that he took some of the glasses and napkin down smashing with him, “I didn’t see you the whole evening...” Maxine pulled his hand downwards to make him sit down so that he doesn’t make things more awkward. He was already getting some funny glances from the others. Tina smiled politely at Newt and attempted to focus her dark eyes upon him in a manner that seemed a little forced. “I was otherwise engaged... talking with some ministers and all...” Tina said and it didn’t escape Maxine’s notice that her lips quivered a little to give out the smile afterwards. It fell on no one’s notice that a cruel smile graced Maxine’s lips for a second, and she knew exactly how she was going to play her game.

“So... would you like to have a seat...?” Maxine couldn’t resist the chance to humiliate Tina a little and offered the seat right next to her. However it was not Maxine’s call to hold all the cards on the table. Tina, who completely understood the ploy, replied with her usual calm assertiveness, “no... I would like to sit by Newt, if he wants me to.”

“By all means Tina, come sit by me.” Newt invited.

“Ladies and Gentlemen... Dinner is to be served.” As soon as the sonorous voice announced, the dinner table filled with most fantastic of foods. It reminded Newt oddly of the start of term banquet at his days at Hogwarts. But the situation indeed felt very tense, he was sitting sandwiched between two very important women of his life and he wished they could get along; otherwise it was very cumbersome to lean to either side each time one of them spoke. Newt kept one eye at Maxine because in his heart he knew something was off. Maxine was behaving her usual way, but not really in her natural way. She wasn’t relaxed and it was three times when her hand slipped while cutting into the Wellington. Her jaw was stiffened between the conversation and casual flirtation and her black eyes reminded Newt of a wary animal. Despite Tina’s distress, he couldn’t help but to reach out to Maxine.

“Maxine... is everything alright?”

There was it, the faraway look... she tore herself from the state of gazing and tried to look at Newt. Her look was peculiar, as if she couldn’t recognise her boss rightaway, and then in a more unnatural stumble came the hesitated reply.

“Yes... yes, everything is fine... everything is fine...” then as if to establish that she was ‘fine’ she forcefully cut into the wellington.

Newt’s foreboding was buried under the clinks and clangs of cutlery and wine glasses. But it is said that when the doom comes the human intuition senses it first. Fate was playing an even complex game which no one, even in their darkest of fantasies, could imagine. On the other side of the table, near the French Officials, Theseus and Hrothgar were dining with utmost luxury. Hrothgar had introduced Theseus with at least three ministers from different states, and was boasting about how his daughter was flourishing under the guidance of this brilliant and young war hero. Theseus could not bring himself to say that his dear daughter no longer worked for him. Neither heart, nor the gut. Between the meals, Hrothgar’s hands will find itself on Theseus’ back, slapping the heck out of it; to be honest, he was a bit frustrated with the scale of affection of the old man.

“Ah Theseus, tu es magnifique...” Hrothgar slurred after a sip of wine and looked at him with approving sort of way. Theseus, in the reply could only laugh in a nervous manner.

“I am feeling very nervous today mon ami, because I have something very important to announce today.” Hrothgar smiled with his cheeks glowing with the effect of the alcohol. “You see, it would be the foundation of my family and my people in the Duchy of the Angouleme. You may think that why does this old man is latching himself on me...”

“That’s not what I--” Theseus politely defied.

“—it is okay, mon chere, je comprends tout—but I know what the world is. The world I have known for so long is changing so rapidly that I cannot even recognise it anymore. With the brute burgeoning from Eastward, families like us are in the verge of extinction...” Hrothgar philosophised, “So I have taken the responsibility to change it forever...” Hrothgar slurred drunkenly and thudded the goblet on the table.

“How will you do that?” Theseus asked tentatively, he was a representative of the French Ministry and he was a second tier employee from the British Ministry, there was no way he could escape this conversation. Hrothgar looked at Theseus with unfocused eyes and gave a smile that looked a little strange to Theseus’ eyes. He felt that he knew that kind of smile, a smile of a fool hiding a truth that the beholder cannot even begin to comprehend. It was a smile of someone who posed his smile so craftily that under that drunken mask of a fool lurked mystery, madness and shrewdness that was either a bugle for something great or the premonition of utter catastrophe.

“Patience my dear friend... let them eat, drink and be merry, my announcement will come at the twelfth chime” Hrothgar gave a laugh that for some reason made Theseus’ heart stop in fear. Like a puppet he followed Hrothgar and the rest of the officials out of the hall, and the moment Hrothgar let go of him from under his arm, Theseus huffed a sigh and ordered a glass of champagne. The stress that he was put craved the alcohol to be down instantly.

After the dinner the entire ambiance of the Yule Party changed, as if they awaited for something great. Maybe it was because what Hrothgar said, at the twelfth chime, something was going to happen that could change the diplomatic relationship between Britain and France. Britain was at the isolated space right now, and their greatest of former allies, France and Italy were quite tentative about joining hands with England against Grindlewald, despite their cause being the same. Although he laudated the ministry, he wasn’t an idiot. The current ministry was infirm and faulty, and as much as he hated to admit, but he was with Anatole when it came to the ineffectiveness of the government. Maybe this will be the time when Hrothgar, the French High Secretary will join hands with Britain. He had made allies with Germany, Italy and Russia with political marriages, but what cards he has this time? He was the stronger party, what will he do?

The clock started to chime twelve. Theseus felt that the hammer that slammed against the melodious bells permeated through their bright brass bodies and hammered straight into his heart. A rumble in the crowd made him more attentive as he saw Hrothgar Valois moving towards the stairs and the entire crowd parting for him to make a way.

“Ladies and gentleman”, Hrothgar spoke sonorously, pointing the wand at his throat. “Today, I am honoured to be invited in such a prestigious celebration of Christmas in the British Ministry of Magic, and I am grateful to the ministers both countries to give me this opportunity to speak” Hrothgar looked upon the crowd proudly and continued, “At the twelfth Chime of the Bell, I am going to give you an union that will strengthen the Bond amongst two countries: Britain and France. Tonight, I present you, my daughter, Lady Maxine Adrienne Odessa Valois, Duchess of Croy...”

A shower of applauds followed as Maxine’s tall figure approached her father in the most graceful manner, and as she turned towards the crowd, Theseus could also hear some murmurs ensuing in the people, which he assumed caused from the British ministry stuff, surprised to know that this woman, who had worked for them held such a parentage.

“And I am proud to announce my youngest daughter’s engagement with Anatole Vasillius Malfoy, the newly appointed junior undersecretary to the British Ministry of Magic.”

Theseus couldn’t believe what he had heard. If the lightning deafened him, it would have been of less surprise. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t process the thing at all; no no... it must be some kind of joke, a cruel dream. He tried to screw his eyes shut and open it once again to wake up from his nightmare. Yet, there was some cruel and masochistic voyeur lurking inside Theseus that forced him to look beyond the past and into the finality.

His eyes started to burn profusely and a vacuum created inside the skull where the brain functioned in him day and night, keeping cool, solving crises. He vegetatively saw as the man he saw before walked towards Maxine and knelt in front of her; he had a burning urge to whip his wand and shoot him with the crutiatus curse on that wretched piece of work called Anatole Malfoy. His pretentiousness was so mercurial that he managed to fill his face with tenderness and love as he looked up to see Maxine, the Duchess, who looked down to contemplate whether she would accept her proposal or not.

Please say no... Please say no...

Theseus looked towards the inhuman spectacle that was happening in front of him. He was locked with an inconceivable hypnotism, like a fly to the flame, bend to self destruction. His whole concept of world and human beings shattering into pieces and there was he, standing like an abject statue to behold, and behold. And his eyes, that refused to glance anywhere found themselves locked with another. The same dark, angular eyes that dazzled him in the first day at the interview, however there is no mischief left in them. Their magnetic force locked Theseus to witness the pure feral revenge in them. The black eyes showed him the abyss to Maxine’s heart and echoed nothing but rage and empty.

“I do...”

Tags: @my-current-fandom-is

I have formally introduced the Paterfamilias of the Valois, Maxine’s Father, and soon I intend to expose them through an edit.

I took the inspiration from the political marriages amongst European aristocrats, and I intend to present the Valois as dying aristocracy in the 20th century Wizarding world, who are doing their best to hold the glorious past. I tried to write other members of the families, but it felt unnatural. Usually the officials didn’t take their family into a state party, unless they are formally invited. So I thought to Write Hrothgar as a Diplomat rather than a family man, a side which I will explore later.

Herr: German for Mr.

Die Kriegshel: German for “The war-hero”

Fun Fact, Orsini and Gruzensky are in fact two of the noble families from Italy and Russia. I have taken the names from real nobles.

“tu es magnifique“: the pronoun ‘tu‘ is more informal and often avoided in official conversation, it was quite condescending of Hrothgar to use such terms, or may be he was just drunk.

The character of Anatole Malfoy was inspired by Anatole Kuragin from Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. His middle name ‘Vasillius’ was inspired by father of Tolstoy’s Anatole: Prince Vasily Kuragin. Why his name was Anatole, will be revealed in later chapters.

Fun fact, Anatole Kuragin was played by Callum Turner (the actor who played Theseus Scamander) in 2016 BBC version of War and Peace.

Anatole is a french given name that means ‘Sunrise’

#newt x oc #newt x reader #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander x reader #heartbreak #love triangle #jealousy #engagement #theseus X oc #theseus x reader #waltz #christmas #dinner party

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