#murtlap

[ominosus]

snatch, latch and loose your head — ominis gaunt x fem!reader

Ominis grows tired of the the long game and hearing other people ask you out – so he takes matters into his own hands as he makes it clear what you are to one another ˚∗✴︎ ❤︎

plot summary: (slightly possessive) older ominis gaunt x fem!reader

During one of your late night readings in the archives of the Ministry of Magic you’re interrupted by someone you thought were out of town. Feelings that you’ve tried to stifle claw within you at a sudden and unfamiliar closeness. A shift in the air makes it clear that you're not the only one feeling frustrated.

warnings: recommended 18+ , kissing, smut, hot, heavy and all things nice

It was getting late, but the new alchemy study touching upon metaphysical speculations and the refinement of transformative magic within the branch of herbolical alchemy was just starting to get interesting. Your hand moved rapidly and decisively on top of the parchment as you wrote down points throughout the text. ”Surely it would be better to use the sap of sequoia in this case…” you spoke quietly to yourself before underlining your notes: Try sequoia instead. ”They should know that…” you muttered. 

Being the only known keeper alive had its perks, one being you were allowed to come and go as you pleased within the Ministry of Magic, borrow artifacts, space – or whatever it was you needed, the ministry could more than often supply. This time you had placed yourself within one of the ministry’s smaller archives in the department of mysteries. It had large windows with deep alcoves along one wall of the room that emanated the perfect blue soft light to read in. The space had started to empty out a couple of hours ago until it was only you and an archivist named Melvin left. He had diligently assisted your every wish, managing to find the exact papers you were after while completely ignoring his colleagues need for help as they vexed him with their eyes. He had then roved all around you like a restless ghost before he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out on a butterbeer or two. He was good looking and pleasant enough, but, alas, you weren’t attracted to him. So, you kindly declined. Perhaps another time, you told him, to let him down easy. Finally you had the space all to yourself. The room had fallen perfectly quiet and the only thing you could hear was the pencil moving against the paper.

”Oh… Murtlap and Valerian, huh…”you whispered to yourself as you dove deeper into a paragraph. 

“It's endearing hearing you mumble to yourself...” a quiet voice suddenly spoke, pulling your nose from out of your notes. You felt your heart skip a beat at the realisation that you weren’t alone anymore. A sharp cramp shot through your neck as you, by a mere reflex, quickly twisted your head to where the voice had appeared beside you. Your eyes caught ahold of a sleek figure leaning against one of the shelfs, misty eyes looking down towards you. “Merlin, Ominis…” you winched as your hand flew up to your neck that cried and twisted itself painfully at your sudden movements. ”One of these days you’re going to make me loose my head.” you whined while massaging your neck.

Ominis couldn’t help but tug a little at his lips. ”Oh, I wouldn’t want that-” he spoke, swaying slowly, both on his words and heels. ”–besides, that’s Sebastian’s pastime... It wouldn't be fair of me to steal that from him. You know how he gets.” he spoke. Even if he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes at him. Although, you always had an inkling he knew each time you did. ”Also... I like your head right where it is.” he finished. You looked up at him just in time to see the grin grow slightly larger. You watched him in silence for a little while, still massaging your neck. ”Cheeky.” you mumbled, a smile tugging at your own lips as you stretched out your leg to nudge his with yours. You felt a growing and familiar sensation flutter in your stomach at the sight of him – one that always yanked at your heart, that you’ve taught yourself to submerge, quiet, stifle, choke… Well, you had tried it all, but to no lasting effect.

”I didn’t know you had already returned fro-” you started before your neck retorted by twinging again, making you winch. ”Merlin-” Ominis spoke at the sound of your soft wails beneath him. ”I didn’t mean to cause any actual harm.” he added as a somewhat guilty frown bowed above his eyes. ”I’m more and more certain you actually enjoy hearing me whimper.” you mumbled. Ominis huffed out a light chuckle. ”Now, I wouldn’t necessarily phrase it that way…” he spoke quietly. The fluttering in your stomach took on new life at the sound of him, releasing a melting hot flood that washed over you - leaving you soaked in the alcove.

You didn’t decline Melvin’s invitation because you weren’t attracted to him – you declined it because you were hopelessly in love with someone else: your best friend, Ominis. It’s rather difficult to catch feelings for someone when someone else had already caught them. A couple of years back, something shifted within you that shed new light on Ominis . He had always been one of the trio, your best-friend-Ominis, the proper, level-headed friend keeping both Sebastian and you out of trouble, always by your side when you needed him, aiding you both in physical pains as well as mental ones, attentive and gracious, a guiding hand – and suddenly you all grew up – and he grew to be more protective of you as you had to travel across the world to different sources of ancient magic, always keeping tabs on you (almost to a fault), patching up your wounds when needed... and he started to smell intoxicatingly good, and his lips curved in this really, sultry, yet boyish kind of way whenever he smiled, and he was always awfully dapper, something that you hadn't really cared for at all, until you noticed how well he carried it... and when he started to work at the ministry he became a renowned auror, and with every other charm of his it all accumulated to him becoming a popular bachelor (which he was outside of the ministry as well, which pained you each time the boys and you went out) – and girls in all ages fell for his effortless flair, swooned after him… and, eventually, you couldn’t resist his charm and swooned too… or perhaps you became brutally aware of the feelings that had always been there: love, but not only platonically. Dwelling on those feelings scared you. He was your friend, your best friend – and he’d always been that. Sure, some borders seemed to have been blurred along the years, and he seemed to stretch the meaning of friend to its brim, but then again he taunted you mad, like a friend would... The feelings would subside, eventually – right? Well, hopefully they would. Otherwise you would have to give Melvin a proper chance… or any of the other wizards drooling after The Hogwart's Hero. Gosh, it was exhausting. Nevertheless, you tried your very best to quiet the soft, longing and rather embarrassingly needy voice that clawed at you whenever Ominis was around – or away, for that matter.

You couldn’t help but twist your head up towards him where he stood, eyes somewhat shielded behind your lashes. Once again you winched. ”Easy.” Ominis spoke before he stepped closer towards the alcove where you sat. ”You’re tormenting me on purpose… I’m sure of it.” you cried weakly before sighing – referring not only to your muscles contorting but the way he made you feel. You heard a soft sigh leave his lips as he placed himself beside you where you sat in the window. A soft glowing red beacon of light lingered in the air next to you both. A couple of years back he had managed to separate it from the tip of his wand so that it existed on its own, part of him but apart from him, always around him – allowing him to move more freely. You peered up at it pondering the fact Ominis was peering back at you through it. ”Perhaps I am.” he spoke at your side. You turned towards him, frowning slightly. ”I thought that was Sebastian’s pastime…” you mumbled. ”Well, it’s a complex hobby – better to share the responsibility… You are a handful.” he teased. You nudged his leg again, making him smile. ”You’re awfully smug this evening.” you mumbled again, trying your best to sound as unaffected as possible. If he could have seen you, your cheeks would have given you away in a heartbeat. Ominis shot you a soft grin. ”What are we dissecting tonight, hm? Except for that head of yours, of course.” he spoke as he leaned back against the alcove, making himself more comfortable. ”Ha-ha… hilarious. There will be no dissecting of heads.” you muttered as you peered at the red light looming in the air, your hand still gripping at your neck. ”Well, it’s a new study within Spagyric… I’d like to be able to create – perhaps a smaller bush, with smaller leaves – that in itself held the same properties of wiggenweld… yet more soothing, as dittany itself – that lasted longer, more concentrated, acting with more efficiency-” you spoke a tad too hurriedly, making your neck cry again and you groan irritably. "Merlin, knows I need it.” you added as you pressed your eyes together. ”Sounds… complicated.” Ominis answered to your ramble.

”Here.” Ominis suddenly spoke as he motioned you to turn to him with his hands. ”What?” you mumbled as you turned towards him, frowning at his hands floating between you. ”I can try to ease the ache a little.” he spoke leisurely. ”I don’t think we can conjure up that new plant of yours tonight… but some good ol’ fashion kneading might do the trick.” he added with a soft smile. Your frown deepened – first looking at him, then at his hands – you were still pinching at your own neck as it twisted itself defiantly. ”…or you can continue to suffer, since you seem to enjoy it so much.” Ominis spoke, his hands falling down into his lap as he sighed, his smile evaporating into thin air. ”Are you actually offering me a massage?” you asked, frowning even deeper. You felt your stomach twirl a little at the mere thought of it – his lean hands on your neck, sitting close to him… You felt yourself grow a little bit lightheaded as your thoughts trailed off. You shook your head in order to return to the room in which you both sat. ”Yes.” Ominis spoke. ”I am.” he added matter-of-factly. There was this tone that lingered in his voice, as if he indicated that you were being childish the way you reacted to his proposal, which made you want to prove to him that you didn’t care about the situation at all – that the thought of him massaging you didn’t affect you the slightest. So, you straightened your posture a little, as much as your neck could muster, and shrugged. ”Why not.” you spoke, feigning apathy. You felt yourself swoon as you realised what you’d agreed upon – i.e, id est, that is, the most intimate physical contact the both of you had ever had. Merlin, pray he’s horrible at it, you thought to yourself. ”Swell.” Ominis spoke knowingly, a soft grin creeping up on his lips.

You turned where you sat, making Ominis reposition himself at the sound of your movements so that you could place yourself between his legs in the alcove. Once again he motioned with his hands for you to scooch closer. You swallowed down what felt like a stone as you slid yourself into the gap. You felt the warmth of his body emanate against you as you moved closer – sending a shiver up your spine. Trying to ease the sudden and almost deafening silence that creeped into the space between you, you chuckled lightly. ”Lucky me – ” you spoke, trying to sound as calm as possible, yet coming off rather meekly. ”–the ministry’s renowned auror himself offering me a private massage in the archives... Scandalous, really.” you added. You felt your cheeks burn hot. ”Not only does he have nimble feet, my dear wizards, witches, goblins and other fiends – he also has nimble hands… Who could have guessed.” you spoke musingly. ”Oh, you’d be surprised.” he spoke cooly before you felt the fingertips of his hands grace the back of your neck as he removed your hair. You tensed at the feeling – resulting in your neck twisting itself again. ”Relax.” Ominis spoke as he felt you do the opposite of what he wanted you to do. You merely nodded, falling completely silent at the close proximity of you both. ”There’s no use if you’re going to clench up like a shell – despite popular belief, I’m not going to hurt you.” he added. You felt his breath behind you. It was warm against your skin and smelled slightly of mint. ”I am relaxed.” you retorted, slightly irked – but only at your own lack of cool and the slight fear Ominis might smell your faltering composure on you. You felt Ominis huff out a breath. ”Right… you’re in desperate need of a rub if you’re always this stiff.” he spoke before his hands made contact with you, making you blush madly.

He felt soft and rough at the same time. ”Merlin, Ominis…” you instinctively breathed out. You couldn’t help but close your eyes at the feeling of his hands and fingers gently pushing into and against your neck. Of course he’s good at it, you cursed within your head. His thumbs rubbed slow circles on you as he traveled up and down your skin while his other hand gently held onto your shoulder – keeping you in one place. Without realising it you leaned backwards a little, tilting your head to the side as he strengthened his grip. "Is this alright?" he spoke softly. You could merely hum in agreement as an answer, completely captivated by the movement of his hands. "Hm, good." he mused quietly. The muscles in your neck cried out in joy as they released tensions that reached down your spine – making you feel ten times lighter. It felt as if you were standing right next to the sun as it warmed you from within, intensely, turning you into a mere puddle where you sat. Ominis smirked behind you as he felt you grow more relaxed with each second that passed. As you were melting into him he could feel himself grow more tense as you leaned against him. ”I heard Zatcher asked you to grab a couple of butterbeers with him…” Ominis spoke quietly behind you. ”-and that you kindly declined.” he added. ”Oh...” you spoke hazily, finding it difficult to speak when you felt as relaxed as you did. "That's how you knew I was here." you mumbled, mouth slightly open, eyes closed. ”I met him as he was heading out – and he asked me about you…” he spoke. You couldn’t help but feel a little smug. ”-wondering if there’s anyone else in the picture, and if I could... put in a good word...” he added, almost sounding a little repulsed as he continued to massage your neck and shoulders, tracing your skin with his fingers. Without any one of you knowing it, you both cringed at the idea of him pairing you with someone else. You moaned quietly in front of him. ”It’s a crime that you’ve kept this talent of yours a secret until now…” you mumbled even more hazily, not really focusing on what he was talking about as your head gently swayed back and forth as Ominis kneaded your neck. ”Is there?” he asked earnestly. "Is there what?" you mumbled. Ominis sighed behind you. "Is there someone special in your life?" he repeated. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit frightened that he’d be able to hear your inner thoughts screaming that he was the one making your knees week, thighs tense and your heart unable to function properly.

”Well... " you gulped. "- no, not really.” you eventually answered quietly, sounding unsure. Ominis hummed behind you. ”Not really, huh… Then why’d you decline?” he continued. You sighed before you opened your mouth again. ”I just... I didn’t… feel like it…” you managed before he pressed down on just the right spot. ”Merlin, that feels good…" you breathed out. "The – world – needs – this – gift – of – yours… ” you added, breathing out your words in puffs to the rhythm of Ominis hands moving against you. Ominis chuckled quietly at you before sighing. ”Perhaps I don’t feel like sharing it with the world.” he spoke with a low voice – making that shiver travel up your spine again, sending goosebumps across your skin like a wildfire. Ominis felt your skin grow prickly as a slightly devilish smile grew on his lips. "Feel like it..." you repeated quietly, pondering his words. "Mhm, feel like it." he confirmed with a low voice. He clenched his jaw – but he couldn’t help but tighten his grip on you a little by impulse. His nails softly dug into your skin as your heart fluttered wildly within your chest. What in merlins name is happening, you thought while high on the feeling of your muscles being kneaded into a soft pile of nothingness while Ominis whispered sly remarks behind you that crawled under your skin. You gulped again. 

”Well…” you mumbled, voice thick as your mouth grew dry. ”-in that case, I’m deeply… honored…” you continued as Ominis’ fingers creeped up a little into your hair. ”Mhm.” he hummed quietly behind you as he roamed your skin, making that little pit in your stomach flip again. ”-to be the exception…” you continued, trying to keep some type of composure, albeit finding it incredibly difficult, if not impossible as his fingers started to travel more freely in your hair, sending tingles across your body that tugged at your lower stomach. ”- and I’ll cherish it… forever – tell tales about… the hands… of… yours – no one will ever be able… to measure up…” you trailed off, leaning slightly more against his hands as he deepened his movements, slowing them down as he listened to you. His hand on your shoulder had now moved up into your hair, holding your head up in place as his other fingers traveled across your exposed skin that had moved closer and closer back towards him. He inhaled slowly.

”Only my hands?” he asked. You felt his hot breath much more clearly now, painting your neck with his humid words. Your eyes opened. ”Huh?” you mustered, choking a little on the air in your lungs. ”You’ll only tell tales about my hands?” he repeated. You felt your blood pulsate through you, echoing within your head. ”What else… would I tell tales about?” you asked. You tried to turn your head slightly back towards him, but he held your head in place – and it took you by surprise – he had you in a little lock, and he wasn't planning on letting you go. Ominis breathed in heavily. You felt his chest bump against your back, making you want to lean back with it as it retracted. ”Those nimble feet of yours, perhaps?” you teased, fumbling for a better reaction – not knowing where you were heading. He shook his head. ”You always try to wiggle yourself out with wits.” he spoke with a low voice, still grasping onto your hair, messaging your neck ever so slowly. ”And no, not my nimble feet – even though they deserve honoree mentions…” he added, musing you. A silence grew between you as he continued to knead your head and neck. Your eyes were still open. You didn’t dare to close them in order you’d miss something. ”What then?” you asked with a soft voice soaked with anticipation.

You felt Ominis’ fingers in your hair tangle themselves deeper as he gently tugged you back. Suddenly he pressed his lips against your neck – softly. They were gentle and wet – and they burned cold against your scorching skin. You gasped as he pulled away. The tip of his nose graced against your skin until it reached your earlobe, breathing against you. You closed your eyes again, swooning at the sensation as he placed yet another soft kiss on you. ”Right…” you swooned, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape. ”I… can tell tales... about that...” you mumbled quietly. "-but..." you continued quickly. "-I might need more, just to be... sure...." you added. "-more information about it, and such... for the tale's sake, of course..." you finished rather incoherently as each word grew smaller. Ominis crowed behind you. ”Oh, is that right? For the tale's sake?” he quietly spoke against you as he scavenged your skin with his lips and nose – you merely hummed in response. ”Well, you have always been meticulous when it comes to your research.” he spoke with a low voice as he traced your neck with his lips, making your lower stomach ache. You hummed again – hoping he’d place another kiss on your skin, longing for it. 

”And a tale should have depth… and layers, don’t you think …” he whispered. ”-suspense, several acts... interludes… before it all, eventually…” he whispered, placing the softest of kisses beneath your ear before leaning even closer. ”-reaches its peak.” he spoke quietly into your ear as you listened intently. His words echoed into your eardrums before they bounced within your chest until they landed somewhere deep down below – sending those goosebumps across your skin once again. ”What are we doing, Ominis?” you spoke rather breathlessly as a last resort, slightly afraid what this would turn into, yet longing madly for it. He hummed again. ”Hm…What are we doing...” he repeated quietly. ”Well, perhaps I’m merely educating you on the art of creating a compelling story…” he spoke slowly. ”-or I'm taking advantage of having you all to myself for once, actually enjoying tormenting you a little… ” he added before he placed a hot and heavy kiss against your neck, making you whimper lightly. ”-because I enjoy seeing you like this, all flustered…” he continued. The pit in your stomach widened and it felt as if you’d both would be consumed by it. ”-or perhaps I'd like to make it very clear for Melvin that there actually is a special person in your life…” he finished, voice low. "Isn't there?" he asked. You felt faint and you tried to catch your breath that was faltering slightly. A flood of emotions washed over you as you felt incredibly exposed. You merely nodded softly making Ominis hum. "And who is that?" he spoke, wanting to sweat you out. Your eyebrows bowed above your closed eyes, as in capitulation. You groaned quietly. "Ominis..." you begged. "Mhm?" he answered, cooly. Your head fell forward slightly. "Who is it?" he whispered, somewhat more stern. You sighed softly. "It's you." you finally spoke, very, very quietly.

It felt as if something flipped within you and Ominis quickly turned your head towards him, pulling your lips onto his. It was as if you had both gone without water for a century only to stumble upon a lagoon and instead of drinking slowly, you consumed and devoured. You breathed him in and you both clasped onto each other, pulling and tugging closer – wanting more, more, more. You gasped against each other’s lips, fighting for air in between kisses. The entire room grew hot, humid and heavy. The taste of him – spearmint and a certain deep and tangy sweetness, like plums, made you feel positively insane. His lips moved against you with ease and his hands were completely entangled with your hair and tightly wrapped around your neck as he pulled you even closer. ”This is insane.” you mumbled against him. ”Mmm, the good kind…” he hummed back. ”-like you.” he added. You groaned as you shook your head against him, not breaking the kiss. None of you were sure if you’d ever be able to stop now. It felt as if you’d entered nirvana and why would you ever leave heaven, willingly? They’d have to pull you away from each other, this window – or perhaps you’d become one with it.

You turned yourself towards him, making him move with you again – both flowing like water in a stream – pulling his other leg down as you straddled him. As you kneeled down, you keened quietly at the feeling of him pressing up against you. He placed a hand on your hip, harshly pressing you down even harder – making you both moan into each other’s mouths. His head fell backwards against the window as he tried to stifle another groan. You looked at him, his pale skin glowing in the soft blue light from the window, his eyes pressed closed. You softly traced his jaw with your finger, slowly moving down his neck and the strained veins traveling towards his hidden chest. Your fingers grabbed ahold of his tie as you began to loosen it. Ominis’ head leaned up towards you again, his milky eyes looking straight at you. You smiled a toothy grin before placing the softest of kisses on the corner of his lips, making him try to catch it with his as it caught him off-guard – but you started to sway your hips against him, continuing to loosen his tie – making his head fall back again as he sighed heavily. ”Merlin, y/n…” he mumbled quietly. You smiled again as you looked at him – slightly at a disbelief. The tie untangled as you tugged at it before you moved on to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning half of them before you became greedy and dove in with your hands beneath its fabric. You showered his neck with kisses as you slowly moved against him, tracing his skin with your hands, feeling him grow even harder. He sighed heavily at the feeling, overwhelmed with how good it all felt. He grabbed ahold of your neck and pulled you from his before intertwining his lips with yours. You whimpered against him as he pressed up against you, growing more impatient. ”Now you’re the one loosing your head…” you teased him, rubbing your cheek against his as you whispered into his ear – driving him insane at the sound as you reeled at the feeling of him pressing against your core as he groaned more loudly, sounding frustrated, as if you weren’t yet close enough. He placed one hand on your hip pressing you further and further down on him, guiding you as you swayed back and forth – one hand around your neck. You wailed quietly into the air before Ominis forced his thumb into your mouth, pulling your jaw against him and his lips. You keened at his forcefulness, his hunger – it seemed you hadn’t been the only one daydreaming about this. ”I’ll lose my head… heart… all.” he mumbled against you, breathing out his words. ”It’s all yours, anyways.” he finished. Those words became the nail in the coffin to whatever composure left in you. 

Your hands flew down to the hem of his trousers, searching desperately for the buckle of his belt. Ominis waisted no time and started to unbutton your vest and shirt as well, and without much effort he pulled the fabric aside. ”Wait.” he panted, grabbing your wrists as your hands had started to zip down his trousers. You pulled back slightly. Both of your chests heaving madly from the lack of air as Ominis grasped onto the exposed skin of your waist. He allowed his other hand to slowly travel across your stomach, taking his time up towards your breasts where he felt the soft sheer fabric of your bra. You gasped for air at the feeling of his fingers on you, tickling you slightly. Ominis pulled down the thin fabric so that he could cup your breast as he drew circles around your nipple before tightening his grip, making you cry out quietly in a pleasurable pain that flooded all over you. ”You’re gorgeous.” he spoke quietly, gazing towards you, his cheeks flushed red. ”You can’t even see me, Ominis…” you panted softly.”I don’t have to.” Ominis answered. At that you both met in the middle, lips crashing against each other. Your hands tried to continue removing his pants but to no avail, tugging at its hems. You whined against him.

”I need you.” you muttered. A sly grin grew on his lips. ”Come again…?” he spoke quietly. You sighed. ”I need you.” you repeated. He hummed smugly before you felt his arms lift you off of him with ease, making you both stand up in front of the alcove. Your legs felt weak as you turned your head up against his as he looked somewhere above you. ”Well, why didn’t you just say so…” he mocked, the grin returning to his lips as he pulled down the last bit of his zipper before pulling down his trousers completely – as well as his boxers. You gaped, gasping quietly at the full sight of him. There was something feral in you that wanted out as you looked at him, heaving heavily where you stood. Since you weren’t moving or speaking, Ominis’ hands reached out to you. You peered up at his misty eyes again, seeing his eyebrows bow a little – concerned to why you’d gone quiet. You pulled his face down with your hands, seeing as his eyes fluttered a little at the touch of your hands on his neck. You pulled his lips against yours, making him bend above you. As he deepened the kiss you started to remove your own pants. It looked as if you both were dressed in rugs at this point – shirts half opened, vest on one shoulder, no pants… As you stepped out of yours, you pushed your hands against Ominis’ stomach for him to sit back down. You gulped where you stood, looking down at all of him – the proper and prim Ominis Gaunt now naked, love-drunk and completely disheveled in the window. His chest slowly moved up and down. Once again he reached out his hand between you and this time you took it – once again straddling him, without any layers in between. You lowered yourself onto his lap, this time there was a sense of gentleness to it all, and he clasped your face with his hands as he kissed you, softly. Your wet and warm core landed on top of his hard cock that twitched beneath you. You both sighed against each other before you both grinned, laughing lightly. 

”This is insane.” Ominis spoke this time. ”The good kind…” you answered, lust soaking your words. ”-like you.” you both mumbled simultaneously against each other’s lips, making you giggle and Ominis shake his head, cringing a little at your sudden and unfamiliar lovey-dovey-ness… but at the same time you both reeled from how good it all made you feel. You broke the tenderness by starting to grind against him. Ominis groaned, slowly leaning his head against your shoulder. You held onto him, tightly, intertwined, as you both swayed – melting into each other. He felt incredibly good beneath you, but you wanted more of him, all of him. You kneeled up slightly before repositioning yourself on top of him, feeling his tip at your entrance. Ominis was still clasping onto you. You gently bopped up and down on his tip, making both yourself and Ominis cry out softly in pleasure. ”Merlin…” Ominis groaned, tightening his grasp on you, looking almost in pain. With one soft and slow movement you lowered yourself completely, feeling him stretch you to the brim as he tightened his grasp around you as you both gasped euphorically. You leaned your head backwards at the sensation as Ominis held you in place in his lap. It felt as if the entire room swayed. You moved slowly against him, both of you finding a soft rhythm, groaning and moaning into the empty space around you. ”Dearest-fucking-merlin-good-lords, y/n… you feel criminally good.” he groaned before he removed his forehead from your shoulder back to your lips. He felt a little bit starved for you as he returned, pulling you close against him as you began to sway, ever so slowly.

”You have no fucking idea how much I’ve wanted this.” he breathed into your lips, his hand caressing your hair. ”For how long I’ve wanted this.” he mustered. You’d never really heard him swear, ever. ”Language, mister Gaunt…” you teased, panting against his lips. He tugged harshly at your hair to reprimand you – you plunged deep on top of him to punish him back, making you both gasp and groan. You hummed slowly, panting in between kisses, feeling Ominis smile against you. ”You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted this.” you confessed, seeing this was a good time to do so – calculating that the risk of him not feeling the same way was rather low – since he was inside of you.”Is that so?” he hummed, pushing himself up into you rather forcefully, making you wail and dig your fingers into his skin. ”Mhm.” you bit down quietly, reeling from the feeling. ”Mhm.” he mirrored as you began to sway faster against him. You felt a knot start to unleash within you, crying softly against Ominis’ neck. The sound of him breathing heavily against you, humming, his quiet moans, your skin melting into his – both of you steaming, reeking with lust – drove you closer, and closer to the edge. ”I’m really, really close.” you whimpered into him, merely coming out as a whisper. ”Hm?” Ominis hummed pulling your face against his lips so that you faced each other. He held onto your neck behind your back as his other hands fingers curled into your skin as you started to sway more inconsistently. He was highly focused on not reaching his peak before you did. ”I’m really close.” you squeaked against his lips. You felt him grin, nod and hum happily before he thrusted up against you making you squeal into his mouth. ”Mm… just like that.” he groaned. You grabbed onto him with all the force left within you as you moved hurriedly against him, feeling him within you and around you, he was everywhere. He kissed your neck as you leaned against his shoulder. You wailed at him thrusting softly into you as he breathed heavily next to your ear. The knot started to unravel completely and you gasped for air – feeling as if your head was about to implode for reaching too high too quickly. Ominis felt you spasm around him, growing tenser each time he moved. ”Mhmm… just-like-that, love.” he panted heavily, leaning his head back against the window, both of you clasping onto each other as if your life depended on it. You felt yourself twitch on top of him, pulling you up high above, scorching you by exposing you to the very center of the sun. Ominis pushed into you, hitting your wall. ”Ominis.” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulder, clasping onto the back of his hair, pulling him backwards as a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you, sending tingles down your entire body, bouncing back and forth. Ominis hissed at your nails scratching his skin and the feeling sent him above and beyond his limits. His grasp around you grew even tighter, almost suffocating the blood flow beneath his grip, likely to leave purple little labels on your skin tomorrow. He groaned harshly into the air before a sea of profanities flooded out of his mouth. You felt a hot, heavy flood push into you – you cried out softly, slightly deliriously, drunk on all things Ominis as he pushed you down deep. You both collapsed against each other, utterly dazed from your high, sweaty chests heaving against each other – and you stayed like that until the room grew quiet around you and all you could hear was the beating of each others hearts. 

Ominis played with your hair as you leaned against his shoulder, letting his hand travel from your hair down to your back as he scratched tenderly, drawing small shapes as he hummed slowly. It felt as if you could fall asleep there and then. You started to move off of him only to have him tighten his grasp again, quickly stopping your movements. ”No.” he spoke. ”I want to stay like this.” he added, sounding positively inebriated on love, lust and longing. You laughed softly against his shoulder before you sighed. Bending up to his face, your nose gracing against his, eyes hooded as you breathed in his ruffled self, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was tender and quiet, but it spoke volumes. You both pulled away hesitantly. ”I’m not sure I’m ready for your colleagues to see me like this just yet.” you teased quietly making Ominis chuckle. ”No, I don’t think I want to share you like this either.” he spoke softly before licking his lips. You sat there for a while, just looking at him and his misty eyes gazing back at you, noses still touching against each other. ”What happens now?” you asked as a pit started to take shape within your stomach, twisting uncomfortably. A soft and gentle smile grew on Ominis’ lips before he inhaled slowly. He pressed another tender kiss on your lips, making you swoon again. ”Now…” he spoke. ”-I suggest we make ourselves look slightly more presentable – and after that I’m planning on snatching you home to my place – or you’re free to snatch me to yours, of course – but someone’s getting snatched, that’s for certain – and after that, we’ll take a long nap together, preferably in a bed, where we can do this again, and again, and again-” he spoke, making you giggle before you cut him of with a kiss. As you pulled away you both sighed. ”What do you say?” he asked quietly. You looked at him and his rosy cheeks and tousled blond hair. ”I’d love to get snatched by you.” you mused. Ominis hummed against you. ”Oh, I’m going to snatch you real good then.” he mused back.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I think what’s frustrating for me in ootp (which is still 100% my favorite book despite this) is how everyone treats Harry like his anger is childish/unreasonable. Like guys he watched a classmate get murdered last year (among other traumatic things). And then he was isolated a from everyone he cares about and forced to live with people who treat him worse than dirt. The fact Hermione is kind of scared of him when he thinks Sirius is being tortured in the DOM? Idk, it just never sat right with me. Ppl treat Harry like a loose canon or an angsty kid and it minimizes the real trauma he endured

I get what you're saying, but I think the way people treat him and his anger is very much in line with what we see from the Wizarding World. The Wizarding World doesn't really understand trauma or mental health as a whole. They have no concept of therapy of psychiatric care of any kind. The only mind treatment they have is to do with healing spell damage (like Obliviations or Legilemancy). So, it's a society that doesn't really know what to do with someone like Harry, they don't have the tools to help him and people around him just don't really understand.

Ron and Hermione care about Harry, but due to their own life experiences, they have no real ability to relate to him over his trauma and understand him. That's kinda the point in this conversation:

“Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?” he said heatedly. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!” The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn’t remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa; Ron and Hermione’s smiles had vanished. “You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me —”

(OotP, 327)

They try, but they don't really get it. And after this conversation, they try more, and they make more of an effort to understand what Harry is talking about.

We see Sirius, who has his fair share of issues, understands and relates to Harry better from the get-go:

“Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?” asked Sirius. “Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen —”

(OotP, 87)

He understands Harry would want to know what's going on after being trapped for a month — he's in exactly the same boat, he knows.

“But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.

(OotP, 115)

He understands the situation with the Dursleys and wants to help, but has no way to do so. He can't make promises Dumbledore would override him on. He cares about Harry and has the life experience to relate to him.

As does Luna, who experienced her mother's death:

Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius. He had just remembered that she too could see thestrals.

(OotP, 863)

The problem isn't that people around him don't care (I mean, some don't) but in the case of Ron and Hermione, they just don't get it. They're teenagers in a culture that just doesn't conceive mental health as a thing. Wizards happily let inmates in Azkaban go mad and drive themselves to suicide, it's even expected according to Fudge. It's not our world and culture, so I'm not surprised by it. This scene with Hermione also showcases it well:

“Well, it’s like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,” said Hermione impatiently, “and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly Plank wouldn’t usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren’t they? The way some people can see them and some can’t! I wish I could.” “Do you?” Harry asked her quietly. She looked horrorstruck. “Oh Harry — I’m sorry — no, of course I don’t — that was a really stupid thing to say —”

(OotP, 450)

It's not that she meant to say anything to upset Harry, she just didn't think it through. Didn't think about what her words actually meant until Harry brought it up. And that's really what it is. They don't understand, not really. At least not at this point in the books.

The ones I don't really have an excuse for are some of the adults in the Order. I mean Lupin, Arthur, and Molly should know better. I mean, Lupin is allergic to responsibility, so, I understand why he doesn't try to help in any way. But Molly doesn't seem to understand either, Molly, who lost both her older brothers to Death Eaters. I think in Molly's case, is that she mastered the art of pushing any emotion she doesn't want to feel down and she doesn't understand why Harry is feeling things and not doing the same because she's sure everyone is like her in that regard. She is wrong.

Her reaction to the boggart in OotP is the result of how she doesn't seem to really process her negative emotions which, again, results in her having no clue what Harry's going through. Molly is a result of a culture that's very unaware of mental health and who never really dealt with her own issues and fears from the first war.

So, yeah, I think the responses we see to Harry's trauma from other characters are just very in line with wizards' understanding of mental health. Which is close to none.

[adhdduckie]

felix felices, or liquid luck f.w. x fem! reader.

my masterlist

irl mutuals dni (你没有看到我）

music choice; yo bro wtf

t.w.: swearing. (sorry i couldnt help myself)

word count: 3.5k

synopsis; strangers (hallway crushes) to lovers, with the help of felix felicis potion, or the liquid luck potion!!

here you go anon! hope you enjoy <3 sorry i took so long.

im so sunburnt help

(slightly inspired from my own events but let me tell you i died inside. i hate chemistry oh my lord, potions reminds me too much of it lol)

warnings; not proof read. 3 (?) mentions of y/n, a really stupid misunderstanding. reader is described with hair that can get blown into their face.

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everybody knew fred weasley. it was impossible not to, as they were hogwart's most well known pranksters since the era of the marauders.

of course, you did not happen to know him well enough yourself. you had a couple of lessons with him, such as; potions, herbology, and arithmetics.

His brother and he never really contributed anything to class discussion, only ever helpfully supplying mischief and jokes, and whatever they deemed interesting to themselves.

however, you noticed him wherever you went. It seemed as if it was almost impossible not to, he just happened to pop up randomly everywhere. In hogsmeade, in the hallways between classes, and in your dreams. (not in a weird way you weirdos).

Maybe the first time you ever really started thinking about him was when he appeared in your dream…you weren't too sure. But soon enough, you began thinking about him way too much, counting down the lessons till you could see him again in a next lesson.

you began searching for him in the hallways, the common room, the dining hall. even in places you know he would never be, but it just seems like you were always looking for him.

in lessons, everything he did, you were drawn to. you knew what he had, knew what he liked, and you spoke to him only every once in a while.

'this sucks.' you'd tell your friends. they'd laugh, telling you you should just talk to him more.

which isn't really helpful. you would think.

through some miracle ( or horror, you really couldn't decide.) you ended up sitting with fred in potions. Technically it wasn't a miracle, you had just been goofing off with your friends, being too loud for dear old snapey, you'd been moved next to him.

'oh god oh god oh god oh god' was the only thing going through your head as you packed up your desk to move next to him. your friend could barely hold in her laughter, having to slap her own hand over her mouth to muffle it.

'oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done to deserve this oh my god' is what you were thinking as you walked towards the back, brushing past george as you walked towards fred.

You sat down at his desk, and he turned his face to you, giving you a soft smile. you pray internally that your face does not erupt into flames.

professor snape, once satisfied that you are suffering, turns back to the board, tapping his wand impatiently on the board.

"today," he drawls, "we will be attempting the felix felicis potion. failure to produce a functioning potion will result in a fourteen inch parchment describing every step you made and what you did wrong." he finishes, piercing his gaze into every one of his students.

you wince. fourteen inches for a mistake? seems costly. Potions has never been your strong point. (for the purpose of this, we're gonna pretend fred is excellent at potions.) You pray to the gods above that you don't mess this up for fred.

as snape sits down on his desk, working through marking some paper. as you get up to go get the ingredients as fred sets up the cauldron. you come back, setting down the ashwinder egg, squid bulb, murtlap growth, thyme occamy eggshell, and powdered common rue on the desk.

fred smiles again, thanking you for your help.

"so we have to set in the ashwinder egg first. you wanna do it?" fred asks, as you tie up your hair. he watches as you do so, and you nod, trying to fight off any embarrassment.

he steps back from the cauldron, letting you do so. your hands are shaking and you are doing everything in your power to stop it. in your haste, you knock over the murtlap growth, but before it falls, fred's hand flashes out, catching it in his hand.

"sorry!" you apologise frantically, and he laughs. It's the nicest laugh you've ever heard, deep and infectious, a laugh you'd be able to hear across the room and still recall years later.

"don't worry. i caught it." he says, setting it back on the table.

you smile, avoiding eye contact. you manage to finish the task, and with his help with mixing, the felix felicis is done. while he was mixing, you tried to pretend not to notice his hands. they're nice, to say the least. his hands are rough and calloused from years of being on the quidditch team, as a beater. he's got small white scars littered across his hands from years of experimenting with george over their joke shop products. you have to drag your eyes away.

The felix felicis potion is finished, and it's the most beautiful shade of gold you've ever seen. You would describe it akin to what you would imagine liquid gold to be, and it fits perfectly into a little vial the size of your middle finger. all that work for a little vial no bigger than your middle finger.

it's still the most valuable potion in the world, though.

the potion has large drops of gold leaping across the surface like goldfish, but it never seems to spill out of the vial. you put the stopper over it, and you hand it to fred, your fingers brushing against his warm ones in the process.

"thanks." he seems to whisper, even though he speaks at normal volume.

"we work well together, i think. usually i can't even get a basic potion done." you tell him, laughing a little.

"i bet that's not true." he responds, the corner of his lips upturned.

"it is." you laugh.

you both return to your seats after setting all the equipment away, and as the first group finished, it means you get to present it first.

snape looks at it approvingly, the first time he's ever regarded something you've done, as done well. you can't help but smile, and snape speaks. "i'm glad that you were able to work well once i removed you from your friends. mr. weasley will now be your partner."

you stare at him in slight disbelief, before shrugging and saying, "yes professor snape."

"as the first students done, and the best potion made, you may keep it. decide amongst yourselves which of you gets it." snape finishes, before shooing you away from his desk.

you both stare at each other, your eyes meeting his hazel brown ones. "you have it-" "i don't want-" you both say, before he tries to hand it to you.

you push his hand away, shaking your head, "it's alright, you can keep it."

"no, i think you should keep it. after all, you need it for potions, right?" he jokes, pushing it into your hands.

you gape at him in mock shock. "how could you say that! We only did so well because of me!" you respond, in mock indignation.

he laughs, as he closes your palm over the small vial, and you realise you've lost. however, you decide, you will sneak it into his bag when he's not paying attention.

the end of the lesson has never come so fast. And for the first time in your life, you're slightly disappointed to leave potions. before leaving you levitate the felix felicis potion into his bag with your wand, and you grin wickedly. you'll just have to see him in your other classes later.

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

Fred Weasley thinks he is absolutely screwed. After a year of having a crush on a girl who he does not talk to often, despite sharing three lessons with her, he is now partners in potions with her for an indefinite period of time.

He doesn't know when he first noticed you, but god, is he glad he did. he thinks you may be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, with the brightest smile, and the sweetest personality.

so imagine his surprise, that this sweet girl, has gotten in trouble for talking so much (he doesn't care, he liked listening to your voice)

while you were freaking out and chanting 'oh shit' in your head, something similar was going through fred's. george coughs, unsuccessfully hiding his laugh behind it. fred elbows george to get him to shut up as you approach the table, and george gathers his things, to leave. he winks at fred, before walking to your previous seat next to your friend, flashing a quick and easy smile.

fred wishes he could talk to you so easily, and he tries his best not to show his nervousness, flashing you what he thinks is an awkward smile. (it isnt, it looks natural as hell, not to mention hot as hell)

while you make the potion, he watches you with fervour, as if he's scared he'll miss a single movement you'll make, hungrily soaking up your smiles like a man starved.

every touch feels like something he's been missing, like a hot cup of chocolate after a walk in winter, and he's scared he's going to get addicted.

he wants to give you the felix felicis, and is happy when you finally give up. after potions, in herbology, he reaches into his bag, to find the felix felicis. he laughs, before searching across the classroom for you.

when he makes eye contact, he raises an eyebrow, holding it in his palm to show you, his heart fluttering in his chest. he looks as composed and calm as ever to you, but he knows differently.

it becomes a game, the felix felicis. it takes over several months, and you start to get creative with it, hiding it in his mail, he hid it in your textbooks somehow, you hid it in his hair, etc etc.

it became a competition, who could come up with the craziest spots. after you hid it a couple months later in what you hope was his jacket pocket.

it's been awhile since you had first sat with fred in potions because of professor snape, and you're so happy to say that you've grown closer over the months, even spending time together out of lessons at cafes to study, or in the library together.

after hiding the felix felicis in his jacket pocket while on a walk with him in the winter months, you wait for his turn.

one day passes. nothing happens. another day, and another. four days later, and it still hasn't turned up yet. where is it? you wonder. you check for it everywhere you go, turning your entire dorm upside down searching for it.

he couldn't have lost it, right? it was in his jacket pocket. could it be that he's bored of this game, and he just decided to keep it? must be.

you're disappointed, of course, it was very enjoyable. but there's nothing you can really do.

imagine your surprise, when you walk into the dining hall, to see fred standing with his brother, and what- what's that in his hand? none other than the felix felicis.

you watch as he takes a swig of it, setting the rest of the vial in his pocket. his brother pats him on the back in what seems to be encouragement, and he walks over to your friend.

he smiles at her, and she smiles back. they talk and for some reason your heart starts to get a bit heavy.

'did he just drink the felix felicis just to talk to her?' you ask yourself. unable to stand there and watch, you turn around and walk out of the dining hall, threading your fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face.

something dark, sick and familiar is brewing in the pit of your stomach, it's pulling, pushing your heart strings.

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

fred weasley is going to ask you out. he toys with the felix felicis vial in his pocket as he waits for you to enter the dining hall, turning it over and over again in his pocket as he leans against one of the columns with george.

you don't show up for awhile, and fred's wondering where you are.

"go ask her friend." george states, pushing him forward, giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

fred hypes himself up, and he takes the vial out of his pocket, swigging a sip as he stalks towards your friend. the liquid is thick but light in his mouth, tasting of golden hawthorn berries and honey.

he taps her on the shoulder and smiles at her nervously.

"hey. where's y/n?" he asks your friend

"she's still upstairs i believe." she responds with a smile.

she turns around to see you walking out of the hall, and her smile drops.

"oh."

"what?" fred asks.

"i think she may have misunderstood what's going on." she sighs, and gives fred a slightly strained smile. "you couldn't have waited till after you spoke to me to drink it, could you?"

fred flashes a confused look. "whatever do you mean?"

"hasn't the entire potion been a game? who could hide it the best?" your friend asks him.

"i mean, yeah, it has. but i don't see the problem…?" he scratches the back of his neck.

she rolls her eyes, muttering something about 'boys…' freds eyes narrow, and she lets out a soft laugh.

"right. think of it this way. imagine you've had a crush on this guy for ages. you're not exactly close, but you talk. you have one 'special' thing you do together. for example, hiding the potion….and then you see them keeping it for themselves….you got me?" Your friend finishes, raising her eyebrows at him.

he stares, before realisation finally dawns on him.

"oh shit." he mutters, hand threading through his ginger locks.

"well?" your friend asks, somewhat impatient. "go after her."

fred nods, sprinting across the dining hall, after you. praying to himself that he can fix this, and george throws him a thumbs up as he sprints past.

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

'fuck.' you think as you sit down on the edge of the astronomy tower. you can't help but replay the moment of fred drinking the felix felicis before he speaks to your friend. he looked so nervous but so hyped.

you're not about to jump off the astronomy tower, but it's a nice place to be where you need some time alone, to think. you need that now.

that sick, familiar and painful thing pulling at your gut earlier, its back. theres nothing you can do now, but just sit back and let it happen, you suppose.

She's your friend, and so is fred. you have to be okay with it. it's not worth losing friends over.

the wind picks up, ruffling your hair into your face, tangling it into knots. the rain starts pouring down, dropleta cascading down your face.

turning your face up to the sky, you let out a deep sigh, feeling tears prickling at your waterline, fighting the tears back. 'no. you don't have a right to be upset.' you chatise.

'he's not yours. he never was.' you need to remind yourself. this isn't fair to either of them, they had no control over their feelings.

despite that, the tears continue to fall. you can't compete, this isn't fair. she knew you liked him. she knew how you felt. you literally spoke to her about it.

There is nothing. nothing you can do about this. you are just going to have to wait for the feelings to go away. it wouldn't be fair to like your best friend's boyfriend. (getting ahead of yourself, aren't we?)

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

fred weasley is freaking out. he can't find you. you're not in the common room, in any of your lessons for the day (yes, he knows your schedule), you're not in any of the bathrooms (he didn't go in, he just asked the girls who came out of the bathrooms), and you're not near the black lake.

in his haste, he almost runs in to someone. "shit." he grunts

"watch where you're going!" someone says. he looks up and realises it's harry.

"oh it's you. you alright there, fred?" harry says, pulling fred up to his feet.

"harry!" fred basically shouts. "where's the marauders map?" he practically begs, and harry raises a brow in response.

"not the time. i need it." harry nods, pulling it out of his pocket, before handing it over to fred.

"oh shit." fred whispers, seeing your name pop up at the astronomy tower. how could he forget it? you told him weeks ago that it was your favourite place in the school.

shoving the marauders map back into harry's arms, fred yells his thanks to harry as he speeds through the hall, skipping steps three at a time to get to you, he stumbles a couple of times, not hitting the floor, but catching himself just in time.

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

your back is to the door, and the combination of the rain and the wind prevents you from hearing it open.

"y/n? are you alright?" fred asks quietly, taking a deep breath and sitting besides you.

you turn your face away, wiping away the marks of tears before turning back to him.

"yeah. just enjoying the rain. it's nice, isn't it?" you tell him, trying to change the topic, giving him a soft smile.

you both stare off into the distance, slowly watching all the dark rain clouds move away from the astronomy tower.

he notices that you're drenched, and he sighs. he pulls his jumper over his head, pulling his wand out from his pocket as he does so. "exaresco" he whispers as you dry off.

he passes you his jacket, which you accept without a word. it's still warm with his body heat, and smells faintly of the quidditch pitch and cinnamon, tinged with a scent of something burnt.

"so. you and (friend's name), huh?" you say to attempt to lighten the mood. turning your face to him, you send him a (fake) sly smile, nudging him in the arm.

he stares at you, furrowing his eyebrows. since he finally knows how you feel about him, why are you acting like this?

"no." his reply is short, straight to the point.

you gape at him, mouth falling open and he lets out a deep chuckle, his index finger reaching out and pushing your jaw back up.

"what do you mean no?? I saw you going up to her, drinking the felix felicis." you say, pushing his hand away from your face with a confused frown.

"it wasn't for her." He states simply, hoping his answer is enough for you to finally understand his feelings.

you stare blankly at him.

"you're one of the smartest people i know, but you're so oblivious." he states, sighing playfully.

"then who's the lucky girl?" you ask him, not really wanting to hear the answer anyway. your stomach's already feeling heavy, and he's not even said anything yet. is it katie bell? angelina johnson? who else has he spoken to that he might like?

fred lets out a groan. how can you be so oblivious.

"what?" You laugh, nudging him and trying to get out an answer from him. your hands are getting cold, so you put them in your (fred's) jacket pockets. there's something cold inside, and you pull out a familiar vial.

"why would you think there's anyone else?" fred asks, eyes trained on you as you turn the vial over and over again in your hands.

that catches your attention and your eyes turn to him. "what do you mean?"

fred laughs, his hand combs through his ginger locks as he pushes them back nervously.

"I'm trying, and failing apparently, to tell you i like you." he finally says, laughing nervously again, avoiding eye contact with you.

you gape, for the umpteenth time tonight, before realising he must be joking. you force out a laugh, slightly (super) disappointed. "you're so funny." you deadpan.

"i'm not joking."

"you must be." You respond, slightly hurt that he finds something like this funny. you're facing away again, so you don't notice him look at you. something steels inside of him, and he's confident this will end in his favour.

he reaches up, his hand finding your jaw, and he pulls your face back to him.

something in his eyes is dark, and you realise for the first time, that he's not joking. there's something similar to adoration in his eyes, and it's everything you do in your power to stop from gasping.

"i'm not joking." he repeats.

you can feel his breath on you, fanning across your skin like a warm embrace.

"are you sure?" you whisper, trying to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"yes." his response is short, sure and straight to the point. "i am"

the next thing you know, his lips are on yours, breaths mingling together. he pulls you closer, and you feel yourself melt into his embrace.

you pull back from the kiss, and he lets out a unhappy groan.

"does this mean…you like me?" you ask him.

he glares at you, and you laugh. "i'm only joking." is your response. he grins, his forehead resting against yours.

you lie your head on his shoulder, and the both of you enjoy each other's company. this all happened because of felix felics. you can't help but feel so grateful. maybe you should stop hating potions now.

[milunalupin]

helloooo, 33centaurrii here! Decided to ask anonymously (though announcing myself beforehand defeats the entire point of being anonymous) because secondary blogs can't be used to send asks. I think that's rubbish and a hassle and it's borderline criminal that Tumblr hasn't found a way to optimize that in several years from its conception

I really liked your post-azkaban Sirius and was wondering if you could write something regarding him escaping Azkaban and reuniting with reader ...the catch is that he reunites with them in his animagus form — his fur is matted and growing in odd ways, he looks and somehow smells like he's contacted some kind of disease and he's panting like crazy as a consequence of his sedentary lifestyle in Azkaban. Reader doesn't know this! Heck, reader thinks he's someone else's emaciated stray dog :')

How angsty or how funny or fluffy this goes is totally free reign to you! I've been thinking about adult Sirius way too much for wayyyy too long that I just HAD to request it

— 🌿

ty for the request ily <3 i hope you like it !

— homecoming

post azkaban!sirius x reader ★ 1k words

With a wave of your wand, the sign on the door turned from 'open' to 'closed' and the potion shop was closed for the night. You did a quick walkthrough one more time to make sure you weren't forgetting anything, and stocked up on a few potions that you were running low on at home. Once more you flicked your wand about and the lights in the shop were off. You walked out the back door and locked up, buttoning up your coat as you started your walk home. The night was chilly but the skies were clear, allowing you to see your favorite star, the brightest in the sky.

The walk to your home wasn't terribly far, and you quite enjoyed the peaceful walks down the empty trail. Suddenly a high pitched whine stopped you in your tracks, your eyes going to a wiggling bush on the side of the road. You crouched down and got closer, just to find a bloody lump of dark matted fur, it's tongue lolling out with heavy pants.

"Oh Merlin, look at you! You poor thing, can I please help you?" you gasped, tears already forming as you looked at the weary dog. You held your hand out near it's snout to let it sniff you first, but the dog pushed its face into you hand, whining as it used all its strength to lick your arm.

"Where's your owner, sweetheart?" You frowned, only receiving another whine in response. You looked around for someone who might be looking for him, but the village had been practically empty the past few hours. The dog nudged your hand again, his dry tongue scraping against your fingertips.

"Hold on tight puppy, sorry but this may feel weird." You apologized, wrapping an arm around the animal as you whipped out your wand and quickly apparated home.

The second you arrived in your flat, you rushed around to collect your healing supplies, dropping them in front of the dog, whose eyes drooped tiredly. You were lucky you saw him when you did, his injuries were terrible and he looked like he was going to pass out any moment.

He had gashes and cut all over him, some rashes and boils the result of intentional poisoning. You muttered a quick Reparifors to revert any poison in his system, the dog letting out a large sigh and few coughs. You got up and ran to and from the kitchen to set a bowl of water next to him to drink, so you could get started on healing his other injuries while he rehydrated. You dabbed a cloth with some Murtlap Essence, gently pressing it to his larger cuts, mumbling apologies as he cried underneath you.

You managed to get the dog onto the couch on you were done with the initial healing and laid a blanket over him. His larger wounds were dressed and he looked a little better after a few bowls of water. You gave him a few scratches under his chin and picked up his bowl before walking into the kitchen to refill it. Walking back into the living room you stopped dead, the metal bowl falling from your hands and clattering to the ground, water spilling onto your rug.

On your couch sat a naked Sirius Black, the blanket thankfully laying over his lap. You stood frozen with your eyes wide, your heartbeat picking up as he sat there just staring back at you, anxiously biting at his chapped lips.

"What are you- I don't- How-" you sputtered, your breaths getting quicker as your eyes watered, unable to look away from the man in front of you. He was supposed to be in Azkaban, for Godric's sake, what was he doing here?

"Hey hey, slow down poppet, take a deep breath for me, will you?" Sirius was at your side in a second, one hand holding the blanket around his bruised hips while the other hovered over your shoulder, his tired eyes staring down into your own. "You're alright."

"I- Are you alright? How are you here, Sirius?" you sniffled, raising your hand towards his face, fingertips lightly brushing over his cheekbones as you tried but failed to hold back a sob. "Merlin you're real, you're actually here."

His arm came around you in an instant, his own body shaking as he pulled you close to him, pressing kisses into your hair. "Oh please don't cry, lovely girl."

Sirius held onto you until you became too tired to cry anymore, guilty and ashamed of the man - or rather, dog - he came back to you as. It wasn't easy escaping, no it was complete and utter hell. But the first place he thought of to go was to you, how could it not be. You had been the one to dry his tears the summer after his little brother had surrendered to the pressure of his parents and received the Dark Mark, the one who held him late at night in the astronomy tower when the letters with the Black family seal were too much to handle on his own. Of course, you were just being a good friend, maybe too good. Sirius could've never confessed his true feelings back then, he didn't know if he was stable enough to hold a relationship, and he wasn't going to risk losing you in trying, so he kept quiet. But twelve years later, your hands were still just as kind and gentle holding him, his tears dripping from the tip of his nose onto your head that held the most beautiful and purest mind he knew.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered, teary eyes looking up at him.

He sighed softly and shook his head. "Tomorrow love, I think we're both a little tired after tonight."

You nodded and led him to your bedroom, where you lent him some clothes to sleep in and pulled the bed covers back, sliding in and patting the space next to you. He slipped in beside you and let out a blissful sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to relish in the silkiness of your sheets and the plushness of your pillow. The two of you laid facing each other, studying the other's appearance. You reached for his hand and squeezed lightly, a sleepy smile on your face.

"Welcome home, Sirius."

[spindrifters]

In honor of impmas 2024, I present to you good godfather sirius black and the one and only time I will ever write harry, ft. some groupchat crack treated seriously. happy birthday, @impishtubist!

“Where have you been?”

Harry jumps, the uncanny impersonation of Molly Weasley reverberating through the dusty rafters and black lacquer front hall of Grimmauld Place. Sirius smirks, grabs the lanky fifteen year-old by the scruff and pulls him into an all-encompassing hug.

“Didn’t half scare me, Sirius,” Harry grumbles into his chest, and there’s the whisper of an attempt to pull away, but his heart isn’t really in it. In any case, Sirius doesn’t let him go, just buries a grin into that mess of hair. Lemongrass shampoo and London grime.

“Serves you right, sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“No? What time d’you call this, then?”

“A perfectly appropriate time of night to go for a walk,” his godson continues to grouse. “Needed to clear my head.” Only it doesn’t escape his notice that there hasn’t been another attempt to pull away. And he’s not wrong. It’s barely half eleven, only Harry’s at double risk on his own these days. If not Death Eaters or another bloody dementor, then the press who’ll hound him to the ends of the earth should they catch sight of the Boy Who Lied—fucking cunts—alone on walkabout without so much as his friends for a buffer. There’s a reason the Order’s got about ten layers of protocol surrounding his protection at all times. If it were anyone else who’d caught him slipping in through the front door, there’d be hell to pay.

Harry’s not stupid, though. Far from it, Sirius thinks, that old pride swelling in his chest. And he’s got James’s cloak for good measure, clutched in a hand that smells of hot concrete and pigeon shit.

Harry seems to sag against his chest, Sirius’s hand still wrapped around his nape. Summer sweat of a teenage boy on the brink of becoming a man.

“Knut for your thoughts?”

“M’fine.”

Liar.

These are the things, then. The little tells beyond the way Harry strains toward him like a houseplant yearning for the sun. It’s not the same as sniffing out smells—daffodils and murtlap essence and the endless putrid fecal stench of Azkaban—but it’s just as strong. Pheromones or some muggle toss like that, something he might ask Hermione Granger about if he remembers before she heads back off to school.

It’s something Sirius noticed a long time ago, the change that happened in fifth year when his own heightened senses were lent keener by the dog that now lived inside. He remembers that Prongs was bright and coppery like triumph when he stepped off the Quidditch pitch, or cinnamon-fresh like home. He remembers being sixteen, frustrated and hormonal and knowing he’d die on the spot if anyone caught him with his nose buried in Moony’s discarded trousers to see if there was anything there that might even hint he wasn’t alone in this.

And Harry…

Something sour signaling frustration. Harsh metallic that means fear. Beneath that, the sweet damp scent of hurt. Sirius can hardly blame him. Fuck Peter Pettigrew, if he ever gets out of this fucking godforsaken house arrest, Merline Maitland and the rest of her staff at the Prophet are at the very top of his hit list.

“Go to bed,” he tells him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty brow, one that smells of rubbish bins lining the streets for the morning to come.

Green eyes flick up, half shock. “Thought I’d get it in the neck.”

“Nah,” says Sirius, guiding him up the stairs. “Just let me know next time. Maybe Snuffles can come along, too.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, though they both know he won’t. Sirius doesn’t need to sniff that out to know. He still thinks he has to protect Sirius just as much as Sirius knows it's not his job to do it.

He’s a good boy, Prongs. Too good. He doesn’t deserve any of this.

And.

You’d be so bloody proud.

[multifandomsimagine]

Imagine Fred and George comforting you after you had detention with Umbridge

"I do hope we see a change in behavior, Ms. [Last Name]" Umbridge says as you set the quill down, having finished writing your lines. You had been warned by both Harry and Lee about the quill but hearing about it and experiencing it had been two different things. The back of your hand burned as you wrote the lines. But you didn't want to give her the pleasure of seeing your pain so you stayed quiet. Holding in your noises of pain and instead tried flexing your hand in an attempt to make the pain away when it got too much to handle.

It was well after midnight when Umbridge had decided that the message of your punishment had sunk in and made you stop. You said nothing at her parting sentence, opting to give her a silent stare before making your way out of her office. Your robes swished behind you at your sharp turn.

Leaving the faculty tower, you made your way back to the Gryffindor Tower, taking careful steps to make sure that your newly formed scar did not brush against the inside of your sleeves.

Your tough facade breaks though when you see your boyfriends waiting for you on a couch in the Gryffindor common room. The room is empty as everyone else is sleeping soundly in their dorms. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as the twins stand from their seats and make their way to you. Making sure to not touch your hands, the two guide you to the couch, seating you between the two of them. "Let us see," Fred says softly.

You nod and the two fold up your sleeves, the scarring clear as day on the back of your hands once the sleeves have been pushed high enough. Fred presses a kiss to your shoulder as George stands up and walks to a nearby table. He gets the bowl that sits upon it and carefully makes his way back to the couch, careful to not let the bowl's content spill out.

"Hermione gave us some Murtlap Essence. It's supposed to help with the healing." He explains.

"You're supposed to soak your hand in it." Fred continues.

Your eyes soften with appreciation before placing your hands inside the bowl, flinching when the cool blue liquid touches your scar.

Resting your head on George's shoulder, you let your tears fall down as you take comfort in the twin's presence. "Merlin, I hate that horrid woman so much." You whisper to them.

The two don't say anything and instead lean closer to you to press kisses on any inch of your body they can reach. Showering you in their affection as you let out everything you were holding in.

[pearlmagick]

IRON BONDS II

pairing : harry potter x reader

synopsis : harry discovers your secret and helps you gain some confidence while also discovering his own boldness.

warnings : mentions of blood , drinking blood

notes : just to clarify, pale does not mean light skin only in this fic !! the word in context is meant be portrayed as your skin tone just without blood.

Over the months, Harry carefully analysed your every move like a secret, obsessive hobby. Could he have simply asked you what had troubled you? Of course, he could, but he had a feeling you would let yourself wallow in your stress by yourself, a feeling he had experience with.

He noted your weariness during the day and the nearly unnoticeable shake of your fingers as you drank your regular “cranberry juice” every dinner. “It’s good for the immune system.” you’d always say when Ron questioned why you drank the tangy liquid so frequently. Your answer sounded almost rehearsed to the trained ears of Harry Potter, who knew the timbre of your voice when you usually chattered about things that interested you.

One night, he strolled the grounds, rubbing the bandages wrapped around his bleeding hand. The consequences of disobeying Umbridge left bloody splotches seeping through the white. His own issues were put behind him when he saw you sitting next to the lake.

Your skin was paled, as though all the warmth in you had chilled. Your eyes seemed brighter under the moonlight and the way your hair contrasted with your skin seemed supernatural.

“Y/N?’ Harry called out. Your hair whipped in the wind as you turned towards him. You, in all your horrific glory, were fully on display to the single person that you wished would never catch you.

Harry’s hand reached out for yours and he felt the cold jolt his system but still held on. His eyebrows cinched closer together, asking the question unspoken. “Summer before fourth year, remember when I couldn’t go to the World Cup with you and the Weasleys?” Harry nodded. “I couldn’t go with you because… because a vampire attacked me. My parents fought back so he didn’t kill me and I just became this. I became a monster. I’ve tried hiding it with charms and potions, changing my teeth and making my skin look normal but it wears off and there’s no cure.” You turned to the moonlight, your eyes glowing from the tears rather than the golden-red halo around your pupils. “I wish he just finished me off that night.”

Your confession felt like another weight had sat on your chest; the weight was lifted almost immediately when Harry pulled you towards him, the warm scents of his freshly laundered shirt and wood enveloped you as his embrace pulled you into a new, more comfortable trance. “I understand why you didn’t tell me but I would never leave you. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I promise I’m not scared. You’ve been trying to control all this by yourself so please, let me help you now.”

Your tears flowed more freely now that you had the assurance that Harry wasn’t going to run away from you; he was here to stay.

The two of you spent the night whispering about your bloody situation. “So, the cranberry juice?” You chuckled and dipped your fingers into the lake, racing to trace the ripples that formed. “Yeah, I couldn’t lie about it being pomegranate juice since I’ve already said I hate pomegranates, but it’s actually cow blood. I haven’t tried human blood before. I thought about it loads of times, but I get afraid that I can’t control myself once I start.”

Harry’s impulsive nature struck as he gave his wild suggestion, ‘I’ve got a pretty fresh wound that I haven't put in murtlap essence yet. Why not drink some of my blood?” If your body had any warmth, you would be burning from the bold yet casual tone in which he delivered his idea.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry’s every nerve prickled with nervousness. What if he was too bold? What if you shot down his idea? What if you didn’t feel as close to him as he does to you?

His last reflection was a new flavour in the soupy mess his thoughts were becoming by the second.

Before he could fully analyse every memory he had with you appearing at the forefront of his mind and how it made him feel, he was thrown off balance by your answer. “I could try.”

Harry saw your hesitation in your pursed lips as if the action would hold off your vampirism entirely. He took the initiative and unwrapped his bandage, bringing his still-bleeding hand close to your lips.

The smell of human blood was enticing and your eyes shifted to a deeper shade of red before you took the leap and drank the small drops of blood that seeped out steadily from the cuts. The metallic taste from Harry’s blood left sweet notes on your palette rather than the rusty cow’s blood you drank. In that moment, you could have drained the boy of all the blood in his body but you regained the restraint you had built over the months and let go of his hand. Harry couldn’t help but smile, “You see, I knew you could do it.” You smiled in return, your pearlescent fangs charming Harry the longer he took in your grin of pride.

The longer you sat there, enjoying each other’s company, the stronger Harry’s confidence was becoming. His boldness had already been a success once, there was a chance that maybe another stroke of impulsiveness would lead to something he didn’t realise he’d been waiting for.

“Y/N?” Harry asked. You hummed in response. “How do you feel about a date?”

[indorset]

Masterlist

For Science: How Newt discovered the effects of a Murtlap's bite.

Here With You: You are the Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts and Newt paid a visit.

In Dorset: You first met Newt on a stormy summer day.

[omg-itsmoon]

It seems Okami has found out the similarity between Merula and a Murtlap...

[cuffmeinblack]

What did they do about sun protection in the 1890s? Ladies had parasols but the men really just had to put up with it I guess. Skin cancer galore. A tan was usually the mark of a working man and frowned upon by the gentry, in Muggle society at least.

Garreth's fair complexion can't have been good for long days working on his family's land in the height of Summer. He'd probably end up burning, especially around his nose and shoulders, and would need slathering in Murtlap essence afterwards (I volunteer for this task).

The sun would bring out his freckles even more though, so swings and roundabouts.

[joeliz99]

By my side- Regulus Black

Regulus Black

Seventh year at Hogwarts

Regulus Black was not one to be hurt easily on the field. In fact, he was considered one the best chasers on the field since becoming part of the Quidditch team at Hogwarts. However, that day turned out to be different. Word on the bleachers stated it was a mixture of bad weather and the longest game seen since the start of the season, while others think it was just the result of lack of attention. Either way, the main point was the young man was hit heavily with one of the Quaffles, demanding him to stop playing almost immediately as he could not even move his arm. 

It didn’t take long for him to be on his way to the Nursing Wing of the school, being chaperoned by one of the nurses assigned to assist any emergencies that occurred at the games. Once there, the quietness of the place disappeared, being replaced by instant haste and seriousness. It wasn’t uncommon to see this kind of injury, but nevertheless it was still just as important to treat it with the utmost importance. Madame Pomfrey didn’t take too long to make a presence, demanding different sorts of things that were delivered in an instant. With water dripping down his chin and clothes, Regulus had a tense jaw and a big frown on his face while trying to not concentrate on the pain that extended all over his arm.

- Miss Bennett, come assist me- The girl, who stood a few feet away from the scene, looked nothing but surprised at the request of the head of nursing services, as she was only an apprentice. But that didn't stop her to be on Madame’s Pomfrey’s side in a second, being ready for whatever the superior asked.

- See the shape and limpness of the arm? - She nodded now observing him- That’s an indication that the arm is broken. You can also notice how it’s starting to swell. - Regulus grunts once he feels his arm being lifted moderately, just to assess the rest of the situation. – We’ll need to give him a shot of Murtlap Essence just to ease a bit of the pain. What else do we need in this situation?–

- Skele-Gro- responds the girl and the young man snorts being annoyed with the whole situation–

- Could you please choose another moment to give a lesson?– 

- Oh dear, don’t confuse this as a lack of efficiency- The old nurse extends her arm to receive the potion she just mentioned a minute ago by another of the employees on shift- Either way, it’s not like you’re going to have too much fun in the next couple of hours. - Regulus’s expressions worsens once he drinks what he was offered, just as the girl decides to add something in almost a whisper–

Don’t mind that. You’ll feel better soon...- He raises his gaze to look at her, noticing just now that she was someone he already knew. They had two classes together, Potions and Transfiguration to be exact, and she was oddly good in the first one. He, however, did not know what to say at that moment or why exactly she was there, so he preferred to stay quiet as he was helped by the same girl to lay down in one of the dozen beds spread throughout the big room.

The next couple of minutes were honestly a blur. One moment his arm was being stabilized and the other he felt what could be described as excruciating pain once he had drunk the disgusting Skele-Gro. Madame Pomfrey said the process of his bones getting back in place could take a couple of hours, maybe a whole day, so he had no other choice than to stay there until being back to his most normal self if taking the situation into consideration.

Hours passed by and no one really came to see how he was doing, making it clear that at least Slytherin still won the game and people, and his so-called “friends”, were probably celebrating the recent victory. Regulus didn’t expect any less, he knew he had no one to count on, especially now that his brother was out of school and even worse, out of his life. His classmate, on the other hand, was not okay with that thought. So even when she was free to go and rest for the rest of the night, she decided to stay there and make sure he was okay, dismissing Madame’s Pomfrey disapproving look. She only left his side to go get some food for both, coming back to find him awake and in complete silence.

The young Black heard her footsteps and looked to his side, just to see her being a few steps away from him with her hands full of bags of food.

- What are you doing here? - He asked, not arrogantly, but confused. –

- I figured you would be hungry after everything that happened today. - She placed the food on his lap, sitting then on the chair next to him. –

- You didn’t have to…- He extended his good arm to open the bag and see what was on the inside. He wasn’t hungry at all. But either way, he took the pear lying on top of everything else and gave it a bite just to show her he was thankful. - Thank you. –

She just nodded, being more concentrated on her own food than anything else. Minutes passed by with just pure silence and occasional looks from one to the other. Regulus was not sure on how to act around her. To be honest, he didn’t know her at all, not even her name. They probably exchanged not more than ten words in almost seven years they have been studying together, so surely, it felt like there was nothing to talk about. The silence, opposite to what he was thinking, didn’t last much longer as the Hufflepuff decided to talk.

-Slytherin won the game. They said it was the toughest game of the year, but you’ll probably keep being on the lead. –

- I imagine…- He murmurs not being as excited as he could be in other circumstances. – Better luck next time for Hufflepuff? I’m sure you’ll do better in the next games. - He wasn’t sorry, of course, but he didn’t know what else to say. –

-Oh. I don’t care if we win. I don’t even understand all the fuss and excitement behind that game. –

- Okay now… You don’t have to insult Quidditch that way. - She laughed seeing he was actually a bit offended by that comment. - I’m sure you would think otherwise if you went to the games instead of doing whatever it is you’re doing over here. —

- Well, I’m also sure my education is way more important than staying there for hours watching people be… Kind of dumb, to be honest. —

- Ey, you’re taking it too far… Bennett- He remembered from earlier- So what is it exactly that you do here? –

- Contact hours. I want to study medicine when I’m out of here, and since I have some free time to spare, the headmaster let me be an extra pair of eyes and hands so that I start getting used to what goes around in this field. It’s a bargain if you ask me. —

- I’m sure it is. – She’s a curious girl, he thought. There was something in the way she talked and acted that was so new and different to him- So when was the last time you went to a Quidditch game? –

- I don’t know. Maybe two years ago? Can’t remember exactly. —

-No.- He looked at her as if she was crazy. - You must be lying to me. —

- I’m not- She shrugs, looking at him unbothered- It’s not that big of a deal. –

- Umm yes, it is. There is a reason why it’s considered the biggest game in the wizarding world. You should give it a second chance. –

- Sure… Maybe I will. After all, I need to see if my potion did the job- There was something in her smile now that screamed ‘mischievous’, and he didn’t know how to interpret that. —

- What do you mean? –

- Who do you think made the Skele-Gro? - Her smile widened- I told you, I’m an extra set of hands here now. - His face probably got whiter than it was originally, and she apparently found it even more funny, but he didn’t. – Guess I’ll have to go to the field to see how that arm works after today. —

-Okay…- He took a deep breath trying to not freak out right there. Regulus knew she was good at Potions, that’s how he remembered her. However, it was different when he knew there was a possibility for her talent to fail. After all, they were still in the same grade and everything. - I don’t really want to hear more about it. —

- Don’t worry Black- She smiled, now more laid back than before- You’ll be good to go before the sun rises. Or at least that is what Madame Pomfrey said. —

He was, indeed, almost back to normal once the morning came. Regulus was free to go with the order to return the next day to see how his arm was doing. He did not see the girl that stayed with him the whole night until he fell asleep, as he thought he would, however, he did get to see her at class the next day. He wanted to say thank you, but he didn’t even know when or how to approach her, so he didn’t. They both shared a look as they were going out of class, and he was almost sure he saw a small smile coming from her, which he didn’t have time to return before she was gone. Bennett wasn’t either at the Nursing Wing that day, so he figured maybe it wasn’t the right time to come close to her. 

That did not stop him from learning her name a couple days after. (Y/N) Bennett, just as Professor Slughorn stated while making sure that all students attended class that day since they were going on a special trip to find key ingredients for their next assignment. That day (Y/N) could swear she felt Regulus staring a couple of times, something that never happened before during all these years. But, instead of thinking much more about it, she just put it to the side, seeing it as a sign that she was overthinking the whole situation. 

The next time they saw each other was at the library, just an hour before its doors closed. Regulus was nose deep into his book, not even realizing that (Y/N) was walking around the shelfs looking for some books. However, she did see him, and after debating with herself for a minute or two she decided to approach him. The young man only lifted his eyesight from the words when noticing that someone was clearing their throat to get his attention, being actually surprised when he saw it was her. 

- Hello, Bennett.- She smiled nicely as he talked and just gave him a nod before talking.—

- How’s that arm doing?— 

- Well, I haven't had any problems yet. Although Madame Pomfrey said something about a 30 day period of trial. I guess that comes with being drugged by a classmate.- He was joking, and she knew it just by the way his body was relaxed and his voice was coated with a sweetness she couldn’t really describe.— 

-The best, may I remind you– She smiled, coking an eyebrow on the process, which was mimicked by him.—

-You’re pushing it too far… Anyways, about the whole thing, thank you. I hadn’t had the chance to tell you before.— 

-No need. It was nothing… Anybody would do it.—

-But it was you that did it. Nobody else was there, right?- For the first time she felt intimidated with his stare, feeling obligated to look somewhere else before the unknown feelings on her body made a bigger presence.—

-Right… Well anyways, I better get going now. I’ll see you at class?—

-As always- he gave her a small smile before going back to his previous position on the chair- Rest well. —

A week or two passed with little interactions between the two. From time to time there  was a stare, a hello or even just acknowledging their presence by sitting closer at class. However, that changed when they were paired together in an assignment in Transfigurations class. Others would see it as casualty, but Regulus knew it was all thanks to him. The professor already told them that she would be choosing the groups that day, so opposite to his normal self, he made sure to get to class a few minutes late and state loud enough that he had a headache. Of course, (Y/N) gave not long after that the suggestion for him to go to the nursery to get checked up, since it could be something related to his rough Quidditch practices. In any other moment, he would immediately shrug it off and completely ignore the unsolicited advice, but that day that was exactly what he wanted. And that’s how the girl ended up being asked to chaperone him to the other side of the school, which also resulted in being paired together for the assignment since they were the only two left without a partner. 

In those next two weeks they both got to know each other more. Remus noticed how demanding and perfectionist she was when it came to homework, which was slightly annoying, and cute, when thinking that he was, too, one of the best of his class. (Y/N), on the other hand, saw him more comfortable when talking and expressing his thoughts than the past six years. Remus was, in fact, a whole new being to unpack. He was sarcastic, funny, a bit dramatic and definitely smart. They found themselves debating about different topics, laughing, eating together and also learning a bit about Quidditch and medicine, much to both dismay, always with the excuse of having to do the project together. 

Remus often had to ignore the comments of his friends and other Slytherin’s classmates, which thought they had the right to say something about the girl because of her house or her coming from a family of mixed-blooded people. He knew what his parents would think about it too, he didn’t care, since he knew it was just a friendship, or whatever else someone could call it, that mattered only to both of them. That’s why it was disappointing when they turned in the assignment and had to go back to their normal routines once again. It was a shame, really, because if it was up to her, or him, she could spend way more time with Regulus than anybody else.

Two weeks after, the third game of the season finally arrived and Slytherin was playing against Ravenclaw. As always, the field was full to the brim with excited students and professors from all houses. Anybody could feel the nerves in the air, being this the last game before the semester ended for Christmas break. Regulus was seated on the bench inside the locker room, staying in complete silence as he always did before the beginning of any game. It was the best way he knew to concentrate and not get stressed with all the comments and loudness there was around him. However, he was interrupted when they let him know it was time to get checked and approved to play today. He went to do the usual line, being behind some of his fellow players and classmates, and he almost went back to his bubble if it weren’t from seeing a familiar face not far from him. Regulus couldn’t lie to himself even if he wanted to. His heart started to race a bit quicker when connecting eyes with (Y/N), who smiled almost immediately not paying attention to anything else at the moment. He smiled back, being a bit more discreet, and she made sure he would end up being checked by her when the time came. 

-You’re here.- He whispered, while she made sure he didn’t had any visible injury- I thought you didn’t like Quidditch.—

-I asked for permission to help on the field today. I need to make sure your arm works fine, remember?- He smiles, nodding just one time.- Also, it turns out I know more about Quidditch now than I have for my whole life. Maybe I’ll enjoy it a bit more.—

-I have no doubt you will. I’ll make sure to impress you today. You know… Just so that you wanna come back next time.- The girl laughs shyly, trying to not bring any attention to the both of them.—

-You better keep your word, Black.— 

-I always do.- He smiles back, looking at her attentively while she extends his arm, looking at him the same way.- What are you doing on Christmas break?—

-Umm… I don’t know? I guess just the usual. Spend time with the family and stuff… Why?- He shrugs, but never stops looking at her.— 

-You should write to me. Maybe we can plan to go out sometime and do something nice.— 

-Outside of school?- she raises an eyebrow, not sure if he was actually proposing to take her out on a date.— 

-Yes. Outside of school… How does that sound?— 

-Umm yeah…- She smiles, feeling how her cheeks start to feel a bit hot under his gaze and the closeness between them.- I would like that.—  

-Great. We’ll exchange addresses later. Maybe a pseudonym too? I can explain later.— 

-No need. I already know why.- She pads his shoulder- You’re good to go. Are you ready to kick some ass?— 

-I was born ready.- The girl laughs and rolls her eyes before looking at the room, making sure nobody else was there, and then taking a step towards him, kissing his cheek before losing any bravery she felt at that moment.—  

-Just for a little bit of extra luck then. I’ll see you later.—  

Regulus didn’t say anything. He was too surprised or nervous to answer that before the girl left the room. But he knew, right there, that was just another excuse to get this game over with and make sure to impress her, just so that he could do the same exact thing.

[isbreulla]

Time to feed this universe. I had done a couple of illustrations of Sarah's personal objects, and now it's Severus's turn. Of course, I imagined them having lots of other things, but I can only draw a few of them without my mind melting.

Potion Book: The Official. The half-blood prince's one. Murtlap Essence: He is always ready to heal any scratch you have. Calming Draught: He will say it's just in case someone needs it. He won't say that someone is him. Cauldron: because he's a potions master, etc. Newspaper: He likes to keep up with the news, you know, he's nosy. Mug: Sarah saved her allowance to buy him the "#1 dad" mug as a birthday gift and he keeps it as his biggest treasure. Wand: Do I have to explain? Sarah's Pics: He's a doting dad who snaps pictures of his daughter at every opportunity. Even if she's just breathing. Pocket Watch: Eileen left this watch to him before she passed away. It is a watch that has been passed down from generation to generation and he intends to leave it to Sarah one day. Potions Kit: The iconic one we see in the movies

[blue-bujo]

Hogwarts Legacy: Care of a Magical Creature

Summary: Professor Sharp finds the Hero of Hogwarts, Elizabeth Shallowbrook, in his classroom one night, overwhelmed by the expectations that her heroics during the previous year have wrought.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Mental health struggles, old injuries, scars, physical contact between teacher and student (platonic)

Author's note at the end!

Professor Sharp may have retired his badge years ago, but his old auror habits were never permitted to weaken. Especially after the events under the castle during the previous year. Aesop had not anticipated ever seeing action again, especially not at Hogwarts, and while a part of him had thrilled to brandish his wand once more in battle, he was determined that his students and colleagues should never have to face such dangers again.

Which was why, when he approached his classroom well before dawn one morning to retrieve some Murtlap essence to numb his leg and saw a faint flickering light bleeding under the door, his hackles raised. He kept his door fastened with the strongest locking charm he knew, to keep out the Gareth Weasleys of the world, and he knew he’d extinguished all of the candles and brewing stations when he’d left the previous evening. Though he had been drowsy upon approaching his door – being kept awake all night by chronic pain, and a mind fixated on how to save a dismal student’s grades in the last two months of the school year, had that effect – he was almost instantly alert at the prospect of catching a student raiding his classroom. Silently, he drew his wand and reached for the door handle.

The door was locked.

Aesop narrowed his eyes. Normally, when students were foolish enough to raid his stores, they forgot to lock the door behind them while they were inside. Whoever was inside now was smarter than average. They had only locked it manually by turning the bolt, which he easily reversed with a quick “Alohamora,” but still. The potions master then disillusioned himself and slipped inside.

As quietly as he was able, he advanced through the classroom, wand still drawn. The lock was still on his office door, so whoever had entered hadn’t needed ingredients. None of the visible brewing stations were lit, either; the intruder was using one of the ones down the right-hand wing, by one of the blackboards. As Sharp shuffled forward, the last station came into view, and its user.

The man, still effectively invisible, stopped to observe his intruder. It was Miss Shallowbrook, the now-sixth-year. He wasn’t surprised now that the door had been locked; she was perhaps his brightest student, and exemplified the wit and wisdom that her house so valued, more than any other Ravenclaw he’d taught. It had been remarkable how easily she had made up four years of study and passed her fifth-year and O.W.L.s near the top of her class, especially now that the faculty knew about all of the extracurricular activities she’d been pursuing on top of it. Miss Shallowbrook had saved the school, and had had to grow up quickly to manage it.

Aesop was proud of all his students, but he was especially proud of her. The young woman would have a bright future ahead of her no matter which path she chose to follow. Right now, she had all four cauldrons at her station going, and was bustling between them. From the look of it, she had multiple recipes going, too, something even he tried to avoid doing. Having too many different brews going at once was asking for disaster, as not even the most masterful potioneers were above distraction.

Continuing his silent watch, the professor moved his focus from the potions to the Ravenclaw. Miss Shallowbrook had survived the battle with Ranrok, but it had altered her. Losing Eleazar Fig, her mentor and the man who’d brought her into the wizarding world, in her arms… Sharp knew that pain better than most, and understood why she had withdrawn. Before, during her first year, at Hogwarts, she’d been exuberant in dress and manner, having finally found the world in which she belonged. Now she was quiet, and seemed to be trying to blend into the castle walls by only wearing dark, neutral clothing. She had a tendence to hide behind her hair, which was short enough to fall from behind her shoulders and into her face whenever she looked down, which she now always did.

Aesop could see just how dark the shadows under her blue eyes were, how loosely her clothing hung on her, and how fatigued her movements were. Her glasses were sliding off her face and her hair had nearly doubled in size from the steam that her four cauldrons had produced. She looked a mess, and the man could empathize; she’d been through and lost so much, but she had to somehow continue on, because life wouldn’t stop to wait for her. It hadn’t for him, after his injury. At least she was keeping herself busy, although he didn’t know why. He certainly hadn’t assigned that many brews as homework, yet there she was, brewing like her life depended on it.

When her back was to him, Sharp intended to start moving closer. But on taking a step, and having to put his weight on his damaged leg, it locked painfully. He swallowed the groan that his body reflexively tried to make, and reached one of his long arms out to steady himself on a nearby blackboard. He wasn’t prepared for the moment, or graceful in his rush to take his weight back off of the offending limb, and so he grabbed at the blackboard roughly enough that it scraped noisily against the stone floor. Blasted thing!

Miss Shallowbrook whirled around instinctively at the sound, wand raised. Her eyes wild, she shouted “Diffindo!” at the spot where her professor was concealed. How ironic that she chose the spell he had taught her in this very room, the one that he’d warned her was effective but dangerous.

Aesop reacted, shielding himself with Protego and dropping his disillusionment immediately after, so that the young woman could see him clutching at the blackboard. Her face paled when she realized she’d attacked a teacher.

“Professor Sharp! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anybody was there, or I wouldn’t have done that, I swear!”

Sharp put out a hand to hopefully get her to calm. “While I appreciate your apology, Miss Shallowbrook, it isn’t needed. I surprised you, and you reacted. We cannot be held accountable for what our bodies do without our brains’ input. I’m more concerned with what you are doing in my classroom in the small hours of the morning.”

The witch pushed her hair out of her face, and Aesop noticed that she still held tightly to her wand. She was like a caged beast, undecided between fight and flight. “My potion station wouldn’t hold a flame. You told me last year that I couldn’t leave hot cauldrons lying just anywhere, so I came here. It was the only place I could think of where I would have access and be alone.”

“Have access through my very securely locked door?”

“I know a really strong form of Alohamora,” she admitted guiltily, looking down again. “Mr. Moon taught me last year when he had me looking for those demiguise statues.”

Of course Moon had taught her. That egomaniac would do anything to keep himself from appearing foolish. Sharp would have ground his teeth in frustration, had he not already been grinding them to silence his pain. He needed to sit down.

“May I help you finish whatever it is you’re brewing?” asked the man. He made sure to keep his voice neutral, and chose to drop the conversation about the locks for now.

She seemed to appreciate the change in topic, and inclined her head towards two of the cauldrons. “If you want to babysit the two over there while I finish these two Wigginwelds… The last stage ingredients are already prepared, and the recipe is open, but they shouldn’t be ready for that for a bit.”

The professor had already limped to her, pulled up one of the stools that littered his classroom, and sat down with a grunt, dangling his left leg off the ground as he braced himself with his right. Two cauldrons were bubbling happily, shrivelfigs slowly stewing down to turn the potions purple. Sharp knew Thunderbrew when he saw it, and this was a good batch.

“Miss Shallowbrook, this Thunderbrew is textbook. I’m not going to ask why you need it, only that you use it responsibly. You focus on the Wigginweld, and I’ll keep these going.”

His student began to protest. “I can finish them; you don’t need to-”

Sharp gave her the stern look that typically silenced his first-years. “Don’t divide your focus. Finish your brew and wash your cauldrons when you’re done, and I can finish the Thunderbrew. As you said, the last stage ingredients are prepared already, and the recipe is open. Surely you can trust your potions professor to not mess it up?”

Shrugging, the Ravenclaw turned her attention to her workstations. Aesop could tell that she was still wary of him, but he remained silent, choosing to enjoy the process of watching his two cauldrons. He hoped that, by not saying anything, he would show her that she need not fear him. And soon, he became so focused on finishing the Thunderbrew that he barely paid her any mind, only tracking her in his peripherals when she moved to bottle her yields and wash up.

Her potions done, Miss Shallowbrook came to his side and watched as he meticulously added Stench of the Dead and levitated the cauldrons to remove them from the heat. She had already fetched vials and held them out for him to fill. Once done with that, they deep cleaned the entire station – all four burners and countertops – in a companionable silence. They’d both seen enough of the other’s method during the past year and a half of classes and extra assignments to work together without getting in each other’s way, and she did most of the running to fetch and put away things, for which the professor was grateful.

After the workstation was put back to rights, Miss Shallowbrook perched herself meekly on one of the stools close to her teacher’s. She opened her mouth once as if to speak, but quickly and firmly shut it again. She was clasping her hands tightly, too, a new nervous habit she’d acquired after the battle. Sharp suspected it was to stop them from shaking, the same way he tended to rub his palms together or drum his fingers on the days his pain was especially bad. If she was going to react to his silent invitation to speak by not speaking, he would have to find another way to coax her.

He let out a sigh – not quite aggravated, but close – as he rose to stand in front of his student.

“Would you like some tea? I know it’s still a bit early for breakfast, but for tea, there’s never a wrong time.”

The young woman nodded, surprised, and followed as he slowly shuffled towards his office at the entry of the classroom. When he reached the padlocked door, he turned to her with the slightest of smiles.

“I’d like to see this strong Alohamora of yours, if you’d like. It’s not every day a student can get into one of my locks.” He kept his voice light, the gently prodding that he tried to use with the younger students. When they weren’t taking years off his life combining random ingredients to “see what would happen.”

After sizing him up, looking for a trap, but finding none, she quickly aimed her wand at the padlock, whispered the incantation, and had it open in less than five seconds. Then she looked back up at him apprehensively.

“That was well done,” praised Aesop. “I expect nothing less. After you.”

The man followed her into his office and started a conjured kettle heating on a small potion burner on a cart by the door. He then summoned a stool for her from the classroom and pushed his chair around to the front of his desk so she could sit near him, leaning heavily on the piece of furniture as he moved it. Charmed teacups filled themselves and floated onto the desk to be within reach as they steeped. Sharp carefully lowered himself into the comfortable leather of his seat and gave the young woman his full attention. He wasn’t content to be silent anymore.

“Now that we don’t have brews to supervise, I’d like to know why I found you in my locked classroom after curfew. And I understand that your personal brewing station needs repair, but you could have borrowed a classmate’s, or come and asked me to use one here outside of class hours.”

The student clasped her hands tightly in her lap and refused to look at him, although she seemed to be considering it. The man huffed through his nose and shifted his weight to lean towards her. He picked up her teacup and gave it to her, just to draw her attention, force her to look at him. Once she looked up, he gave her a nod, encouraging her to speak.

“Everyone looks at me differently after last year,” she said finally.

At last, thought Sharp, wryly and a bit relieved, she speaks. “Go on.”

“It was okay last year,” she continued, visibly sinking into her shoulders. “I was new, and I had five years to do in the span of one. People had high expectations.”

“Because we saw your potential. You have an innate connection to your magic that few others do.”

“I know that, and it helped me meet those high expectations. But because of it, I never felt like I could turn anybody down. I shouldn’t have been asked to do so much outside of school. Everybody in the hamlets needed something, but they saw somebody who had ability, so they didn’t even try. Even the adults… Especially the adults.”

“Hmm.” Aesop took a sip of his tea. It hadn’t steeped long enough yet, but he needed to do something to hide his expression. If what Miss Shallowbrook was describing now could be considered “okay,” then what she was enduring this year sounded dreadful.

Now that she was talking, the Ravenclaw didn’t seem to be able to stop. She pushed up the sleeves of her jumper, like she was getting flustered from having to say it all, and the man could see bruises, scrapes, and scars both old and new. She was still living hard, her teacher realized, seeing reflected on her body the beginnings of the lifestyle that had ruined his.

Miss Shallowbrook was venting now. “I knew I was getting into danger. The Keepers were demanding, but Ranrok was going to destroy wizardkind. It was my fate to take on that challenge, since I have ancient magic. But my friends were using me for my power, too. I got in trouble with the Ashwinders and poachers for Nattie and Poppy, which turned into a year-long thing once those groups knew about it, and there were some encounters I didn’t think we’d survive. I faced a mother dragon, and got kidnapped by Rookwood, and would have been seriously hurt by Harlow if Nattie hadn’t intervened. And then there was everything that I got into with Ominis and Sebastian…”

She finally paused to take a breath and try her tea. By the look on her face, she didn’t like it.

“You drink chamomile tea all day? Why? It tastes like an old dish rag, not to mention it makes you fall asleep.”

After taking another sip of his, Professor Sharp replied, “Chamomile has soothing properties. I find it relaxes the body, which helps me get through the day. And with my injury, falling asleep is nearly impossible unless I’m really trying. Being upright will always keep me awake.”

“Is that why you were here so early? Getting something to help you sleep?”

“We’re not here to talk about my lack of sleep, Miss Shallowbrook, nor about my poor taste in tea. You won’t be able to redirect me that easily,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Fine,” she groaned, but she didn’t return to the topic of Mr. Sallow. Sharp couldn’t know for certain, but he suspected that she, Mr. Sallow, and Mr. Gaunt had shared some unsavory experiences together. Their friendship had very nearly severed overnight last year; it seemed that Miss Shallowbrook and Mr. Gaunt had been intentional in distancing themselves from Mr. Sallow for a while. The two had seemed interested in each other, however; they were often whispering to each other during class and in the castle corridors, when they thought their professor was out of earshot. “Do I have to talk about the end of last year? Or can I move on to everything this year?”

Giving her a sympathetic smile, the professor replied, “I am here to listen to whatever you feel you need to say. And if you simply need somebody to be quiet with, I can do that, too.”

The young woman’s eyes suddenly glistened, and she had to blink them rather forcefully before they cleared again. Then she took another sip from her cup and pulled another face before she decided to continue speaking.

“After everything came out last year, I haven’t been able to escape. Everywhere I go, I’m the hero who saved Hogwarts – and wizardkind. The Daily Prophet circulated my photograph, for Merlin’s sake! So rather than finally getting to rest, I have to perform, otherwise I’m not the person they expected to meet, and I disappoint them.”

Slowly, Aesop said, “That can’t be easy to manage. How do you?”

She scoffed bitterly. “I don’t. I still have to be their savior. If there are rumors of poachers, someone asks me to go check. Dark wizards – can I go clear them out?” The glisten was back in her eyes, and she was blinking furiously to clear it, but unsuccessfully. “The Ministry still aren’t doing anything, and the adults want me to before things get out of hand again. And because the expectations are so bloody high, I have to soldier on, so I keep brewing combat potions to make it easier, and growing aggressive plants, and I’m so tired, and falling behind on coursework, which is another way I’m failing.”

Now her chest was heaving, and the wild, caged animal expression was back. The tears glistening in her eyes were on the verge of falling, but still she fought them. Professor Sharp observed her cautiously, but didn’t yet speak. Her mind was obviously circling the main point, and he didn’t want to force it out of her.

“I can’t keep it up,” she wheezed. “There’s no way I can succeed. There’s so much that I’m doomed to fail somebody. A lot of somebodies. Fate gave me an impossible task, and because I actually did it, I’m punished with never being allowed to fail again? Well, I didn’t ask for that fate!”

The dam finally burst. All of the tears that had probably been forced back for days, weeks, months ran down her face. She took off her glasses and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she sobbed. “I can’t keep failing everyone. That’s why I broke into your classroom in the middle of the night, because I had to prepare for the next time somebody needs me to do something. Except I failed you, because I got caught, so now you know what I’m doing. You taught me better than this.”

Sharp now felt that he had to interrupt. His emotional range was a little more than that of a teaspoon, unlike the ingrates who had the nerve to keep making demands on his student, but she was rapidly going out of his depth. He’d had no idea she was feeling this low. She’d been in his classroom multiple times a week, and he hadn’t seen the depth of her despair. She’d masked it all, body and soul. He wondered if any of his colleagues had noticed. He should have.

“Miss Shallowbrook,” he said firmly, to get her attention out of her own mind and onto him, “you have not failed. You have not failed me, or anybody else. We’ve failed you.”

The Ravenclaw froze.

He continued. “You were entrusted with ancient magic, that only you could wield. That was your responsibility, to steward it well, and you did. As the adults, we should have handled everything else. We should have been preparing you for a life beyond Hogwarts, protecting you and giving you a place to be safe and grow. Instead of being the stewards of your education, we forced you, whether we knew it or not, to learn from necessity while putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Our duty was to you, and we failed you. Miserably.”

The young woman’s sobs shuddered, interrupted by coughs as she tried to stop. “How could you have known? I had to keep it a secret. Professor Fig told me that no one could know what we were doing.” She whimpered and took a shaky breath. “I feel so guilty for being mad at him about it. He’s dead, and I should be sad he’s gone, but part of me is relieved, and an even bigger part of me is furious that he conditioned me to feel like I owe my ability to the wizarding world instead of myself.”

At this confession, the tears returned in force. Professor Sharp was angry for Miss Shallowbrook. He hadn’t known, not explicitly, how much pressure the last year’s ordeal had put on her, and he’d trusted Fig with her wellbeing a bit too much. She’d needed care, and she’d been given responsibility instead, a duty that was crippling her. Fig had been a flawed mentor, perhaps too deep in his own grief for his wife to see that he had projected his hopes in finishing her mission onto his student.

Aesop heaved himself up from his chair and approached the Ravenclaw. She didn’t notice him move; her forehead was resting on her knees, which she drawn up to her chest and hugged. She probably felt like she was completely alone in the work. He knew how that felt, but it was a lie. He put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed down with a light pressure, not breaking contact. Her cries got more controlled almost instantly.

“What do you need of me, Miss Shallowbrook?” he asked quietly.

The man could feel her trembling as she replied.

“I just want to be a normal girl, with a normal fate. I don’t want to be the hero anymore.”

“I don’t know if I can give you a normal fate, but I can tell you that your fate is only where you start. Your choices will impact it more than you could imagine, and even an unwanted fate can turn into a good life. Mine did, as my injury led me back to Hogwarts. As for being normal, I can give you that, at least in my presence.”

Miss Shallowbrook finally looked up. “Thank you, Professor Sharp.”

“You are most welcome. Please, let me know if there is ever anything I can do to help, anything at all that you may need.”

She unfolded herself and slid off of her stool, looking exhausted from her cry. Embarrassed, too, as she wiped her sleeve across her face. “I actually need something now, but you don’t have to. It’s probably against the code of ethics.”

The man quirked an eyebrow. Where could she possibly be going with this? “Try me.”

She quickly gave him a watery side-eyed glance before averting her gaze. “Can I… I mean, would you mind if…”

She was clearly embarrassed by what she wanted to ask, and starting to look cagey once more. He put his hand back between her shoulders, hoping it would calm her as it had before.

“You can ask me, Miss Shallowbrook. You know by now that I’m not as terrifying as I first seem, don’t you?”

With a nod, the young woman took a breath and forced out her questions. Although, now, it was a statement.

“I just… I need a hug.”

That was it? It wasn’t unheard of for professors to comfort their students from time to time, although this was the first time Aesop had been asked, and the students who needed it were normally younger. But after everything Miss Shallowbrook had had to face alone, it didn’t come to him as a shock.

Using the hand that was already on her back, Sharp pulled his student into an awkward hug. He didn’t know what to do, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. Because that was what she was – she may have almost been of-age, but Miss Shallowbrook was still just a girl, a child, and she needed him to look after her. Indeed, she gave no reaction to how he was standing completely stiffly; she was too busy losing the fight against more tears, and eventually threw her arms around him and again began sobbing, burrowing her face into the lapel of his coat. After a moment, he leaned down a bit –she only came up to his chest, as he was at least a head and a half taller than her – and lightly wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders. He held her close, but loosely, hoping that he was doing this right.

The girl’s heartbroken crying continued for several minutes. Long enough for her professor’s bad leg to lock, which would cause him a good bit of pain for the entirety of his day, but he didn’t mind. Sharp was learning why the other faculty were so open to being available to their students. He never really let on just how much he cared for these children, so they typically didn’t come to him when they needed an adult to tell them that they mattered, that they weren’t a burden, and that everything they were experiencing had a purpose. He hadn’t known how much it would fulfill him to be the stand-in parent when the real parent was so far away. It made him feel… he didn’t know how he felt, but it was good.

His hug must have become more natural, because the young Ravenclaw was starting to slow down, if only just.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m old enough to keep my emotions in check, and I’m ruining your coat. But I’m just so overwhelmed. I’m tired of taking care of everybody else. I need someone to take care of me for once.”

“You don’t have to apologize, my dear girl. Cry it all out. I’ve got you.”

And that was what she did, while he continued to hug her, the heart in his chest growing a size or two to hold this remarkable student safely to him, despite his leg, which was screaming at him now. He waited until she extricated herself from the embrace to end it, and found that he had some slight moisture in his eyes from how powerful the moment had been. Curious.

“Thank you,” whispered the girl. “I know you probably hated that, but I needed it.” She stepped back a few paces and looked guiltily at the snotty, wet lapel while wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I really am sorry about your coat.”

The professor reached into one of his pockets and offered her a handkerchief. “It’s just a coat, and nothing the Scourgify spell can’t fix. I’ve been through much messier than this. For the moment, my concern is with you. I don’t want you to feel badly about breaking down, because it takes great strength of character to do so in the presence of others.”

“It didn’t feel strong. It felt like yet another failure.”

“I assure you, Miss Shallowbrook,” Sharp said seriously, “it is not. Allowing oneself to be vulnerable, rather than hiding behind emotional barriers, is the first step in finding closure, and in changing the outcome of an unwanted fate. I speak from some experience here, and I know with certainty that you are not a failure. You’ve simply had to be strong for too long.”

The young woman drew in a breath and exhaled forcefully. “You’re the first person to say that. Thank you, Professor.” Then she turned.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the man, watching his student closely.

“Back to my common room, I suppose,” she mumbled.

“Not yet. We still have much to discuss. Do you like scones?”

The girl had been starting to shut down again, but paid attention when food was mentioned. “Sir?”

“Scones. Do you like them?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you are welcome to have one while we talk,” he said. “And in the spirit of being vulnerable with each other, I’d like to ask you to put my chair back behind my desk so I can sit down. I’m rather afraid I can’t seem to move; my knee has locked itself.”

A younger Aesop would have been embarrassed to admit that, but he had been living with this injury for over a decade and didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Miss Shallowbrook jerked into action, dragging the chair back into position while he slowly dragged his leg around the desk, supporting himself on the stained wood surface with every painful step. Once he’d gingerly lowered himself into his seat, he slid open a desk drawer, produced two blueberry scones, and placed one in front of the Ravenclaw. She stared at him in disbelief as he took a bite of a second one.

“You keep pastries in your desk?”

“Did you think I starved all day?” he challenged. “The kitchens aren’t far from here, but there are several staircases en route, and the Great Hall is on the other side of the castle. Your teachers are human, too, and I daresay we need even more snacks than the students do.”

She huffed. “Of course I know you eat, but pastries?”

“You didn’t expect me to eat pastries. Well then, what did you expect?” Sharp was curious, and waited good-naturedly for her response. It was hard not to enjoy oneself with blueberry scone in one’s mouth, and he found the myriad rumors and assumptions floating about the castle were always amusing, and usually completely wrong. The one about a supposed fistfight he’d had with Headmaster Black while they were both Slytherin housemates was his favorite. He wished it were true, as Phineas would possibly offer him a bit more respect if it were. He was interested in what the students thought he ate, and sat expectantly, waiting for the girl’s answer.

“Oh, well, I don’t know…” Miss Shallowbrook said bashfully. “I guess I thought you ate more bitter or savory foods. And drank lots of black coffee, or firewhiskey.”

“Harsh foods for a harsh man?” chuckled Aesop. “I had my fill of that in the auror’s office. One of the perks of being at Hogwarts is getting to indulge in the kitchens, and the house elves do pastry better than anything else. Don’t let the rumors about the professors inform your judgements of us. You know we all care about all of you students and want more than anything for you to succeed in your lives outside these walls. Even you, the girl who just happened to save the school with ancient magic. We care about you. Which is why I asked you to stay for a snack,” the man said to change to his intended topic. “We have some things to discuss.”

“Oh.” Miss Shallowbrook clasped her hands together anxiously. “This is about me breaking into your classroom. You’re right; there should be a penalty for that. I let you down.”

“When did I say that we were talking about punishing you?”

She glanced at him in disbelief. “You’re not going to?”

“No,” shrugged the professor.

“But… But I broke multiple school rules! Being out after curfew, breaking into your classroom, being in a classroom without you present, using your equipment unsupervised…”

“Yes, you broke those rules, but you are repentant, and these are not normal circumstances. I’m not going to penalize you because what you are already experiencing – and what you’re putting yourself through – are punishment enough. To punish you in addition to everything else would be cruel.”

Aesop had said it to relieve his student, but so heavy was her guilt at being extended grace instead of justice that it had rather the opposite effect. The girl was starting to wheeze again, her chest heaving.

“No, you have to punish me! I broke the rules!”

“Very well. If you insist, that’s five points from Ravenclaw.” Sharp shrugged. This late in the term, five points was negligible, and they both knew it. The young woman looked confused that he would let her off so easily.

“Why won’t you be harder on me?” she questioned. “I’m breaking major rules. I’m sneaking out of the castle at night, and taking Ministry matters into my own hands. Five house points isn’t enough. I should be suspended. No, I should be expelled! Why aren’t you expelling me?”

“Well, for one, it would be giving our headmaster what he wants, and I can’t bear the thought of being complicit in helping him ‘cleanse’ the school until there are only purebloods left,” jested Aesop.

Miss Shallowbrook hadn’t expected the man to joke, and her brain missed the purpose anyway as it looked for the literal meaning, as she tended to do.

“Aren’t you a pureblood?” she asked.

“As pure as a person can be, although there’s no possibility wizardkind would have survived this long without intermingling with muggles at some point. I don’t believe that any of the bloodlines are truly pure. But that is beside the point. That being that I am not suspending or expelling you.” He fixed her in a stern gaze. “You want to be expelled, I surmise, because then you wouldn’t have a wand, and if you wouldn’t have a wand, you wouldn’t have to be the hero our world believes you to be. Am I correct?”

Staring at her lap, the Ravenclaw nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. It’s the only solution I’ve been able to reach. If I can’t use magic, I can’t meet the expectations. Then people would finally leave me alone.” She didn’t sound convinced – the logic was forced, desperate – but did not have the energy to make herself believe it. That was why the potions master didn’t believe her, either.

“Miss Shallowbrook, I cannot allow you to waste your enormous potential,” he chided. “That is why, just this once, I will be lenient. I cannot fully understand what you are enduring after the year you had last year, but you know enough of my personal history to know that I can understand somewhat. Trauma causes damage, whether physical or mental, and sometimes both, and after something incurs damage, it needs to be rebuilt.”

“But how can I rebuild? I haven’t been able to manage it yet, and I’ve been trying.”

The man shook his head. “Respectfully, Miss Shallowbrook, you haven’t. You’ve been trying to continue on as though nothing happened. You need to break your mold to rebuild.”

“Break my mold?”

“Yes. Stop the current pattern. You’re only going to keep failing if you continue sneaking out and getting into trouble.”

“But that would mean I’d have to stay in the castle.”

“By Merlin, she’s got it; the Ravenclaw wit actually is there,” Sharp teased sarcastically. “Yes, you’d have to stay in the castle. Let the adults do their jobs and handle any poachers that come. I can send an owl to Officer Singer letting her know that you will no longer be gallivanting across the highlands playing auror. I have a better use for you.”

After taking a nervous last bite of her scone, the student held eye contact. “What will you have me do?”

Aesop had known even before now that expectations were her motivator, the reason she ever did anything. This morning’s conversation had confirmed it. During their talk, he’d been devising a plan to use that to his advantage, in a way that would also benefit her. He leant forward and interlaced his fingers on the surface of his desk, and allowed himself the smallest of proud smirks. He’d be able to solve multiple problems if this were to work.

“I’d like you here, with me and another student, three afternoons per week for the rest of term. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday after the last class of the day.”

“O-kay,” she replied suspiciously. “Is this detention?”

“No, not detention. I want you to tutor one of my first-years.”

“Tutoring? Why? I’ve never done that before.”

The professor had to lean back before he answered; his leg really was unhappy today, and bending forward was making it more so. But he kept the discomfort from his voice.

“You may have never tutored before, but you are patient, helpful, and a talented potioneer. And while I have expertise in my craft, I do not have the most gentle tone of voice.”

“No,” agreed Miss Shallowbrook hesitantly, “you do not. I remember in my first class, you banged open the door and started shouting about potions being ‘the most challenging and hazardous subject taught in this school.’”

Aesop had felt badly about that at the time. He’d launched into his usual fifth-year spiel before he’d remembered he had a brand new student who was basically a first-year. He tried to be less intimidating with the new students, albeit not always successfully.

“As I said, my tone is not always gentle,” he admitted, “and I’ve scared one particular student this year, a boy named Bates. He doesn’t have the disposition for potions, and he loses track of what he’s doing. He’s blown up a few cauldrons, which is no small feat for a first-year who isn’t actively trying to blow up a cauldron.”

“Surely he can’t be that bad?”

“I assure you, he is. I’ve never seen a student so ill suited, and frankly, if he doesn’t start to improve, he’ll score a ‘T’ on the end of year exam. I’ve tried to help him, but he’s so terrified of me that he performs even worse when I give him individualized instruction. I need somebody to help him learn, and I need to keep you inside, away from danger. What do you think?”

The Ravenclaw took a few moments to ponder the request. “You’ll be here?”

“Yes, as near as you need me. I can grade essays at my table in the classroom, if you’d like. Close enough to listen in and interject if I feel the need, but hopefully far enough removed to not scare Bates.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. But you’re sure you wouldn’t rather punish me?”

The man huffed a sigh through his nose. “Really, Miss Shallowbrook, I’d rather not. But if you are so hellbent on tarnishing your reputation, we can call this an extended detention. Would that be to your satisfaction?”

“It would be,” she answered, flashing the first smile he’d seen from her this morning. “Thank you, sir.”

What a strange girl, he thought. “Very well. Now that we’ve spoken, I think we’re done for the morning. Unless there was anything else you need to discuss?”

She shook her head. “No, sir. I’ve had enough talk for now.”

“All right.” Aesop reached into a drawer and pulled out some parchment and a quill. “I’ll write you a note excusing you from your first class. You’ve had a long night; I’m sure my classroom wasn’t your first destination.”

“I really don’t need it, sir. I’ve got two hours until the first period, and it’s a study hall. I have plenty of time before any real classes. I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense.” He finished inscribing the note and thrust it at her sternly. “It doesn’t take an auror to see how beaten you are. You need sleep, and lots of it. You’ve told me more than once today how tired you are. You will not fail if you miss one class. Take the note, Miss Shallowbrook.”

Hesitantly, the young woman regarded the scrap of paper in her teacher’s outstretched hand. She was obviously exhausted, but something kept her from accepting it. Sharp softened a bit and tried a new approach.

“You asked to be taken care of. This is me taking care of you. Now, please take the note before I write to your head of house.”

She finally took it, not willing to risk Professor Hecat’s wrath. Sharp didn’t blame her. “Thank you, sir.”

He grunted in response. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you after class to help Bates.”

Miss Shallowbrook packed her bag with the potions they’d brewed and tucked the excuse note on top. Then she walked slowly out, into the dungeons and out of sight. When Professor Sharp next saw her, the shadows under her eyes weren’t quite so dark, and she came bearing a large basket that she said was for after tutoring. The man introduced her to his terrified first-year and distanced himself to observe.

Young Bates had an older sister, so he quickly opened up to Miss Shallowbrook. As the potions master had expected, the girl was a natural teacher, and soon got the boy brewing a simple forgetfulness potion by having him copy her steps as she brewed alongside him. Sharp rose only once, limping over to assess their final products. The boy’s was passable, and Miss Shallowbrook’s… well, it was technically perfect. He rumbled the praise, affecting annoyance that he couldn’t fault it, but offered the young woman a proud nod when Bates’ back was turned.

After the students bottled their brews and cleaned the workstation, the sixth-year retrieved her basket. By then, it was evening, and would be difficult to make it to the Great Hall in time for dinner, so she’d had the forethought to bring enough food for all three of them, courtesy of the house elves in the kitchen. The first week, she and Bates ate at the workstation, away from Sharp, but she quickly convinced the boy to join her and the professor at the table. She’d been carefully pushing back at the man all week, snarking and offering little commentaries to his instruction at the beginning of each tutoring session. Once she’d shown that she could be sarcastic towards him, and been given nothing but harmless, good-natured grumbling in return, Bates wasn’t as terrified.

Aesop grew to look forward to those tutoring sessions. He saw an abysmal student make remarkable progress – passing with an ‘A’ at the end of the two months – and helped a lost student start to find her way back to herself. And he got something out of it, too.

Human connection. Aesop Sharp, the cursed, notoriously-grumpy ex-auror, wasn’t nearly as lonely anymore, and found himself legitimately disappointed when the end of the school year came. He’d enjoyed having a few lost children under his wing, and for someone who’d given up on ever having a family of his own, these two honorary kids were a pretty good substitution.

Author’s note: I’ve been addicted to Hogwarts Legacy for the past three months, and have loved every second of it. I especially love the character of Professor Aesop Sharp. The lore behind him is so rich, and I’m disappointed that we didn’t get more of him in the game.

I’ve been reading fanfiction for the game here on Tumblr, as well, and almost all of the Professor Sharp fanfiction is spicy, to say the least. I didn’t see the character that way. Rough around the edges, yes, but in a dad way. He’s gruff, sarcastic, and grumpy, but he offers encouragement or praise when it’s due, and doesn’t hesitate to put himself between any threat and the people he surrounds himself with, even when he could die. I wanted to write something with him in more of a caretaker role.

Lastly, this writing is pretty personal to me. My MC, Elizabeth Shallowbrook, became a tool for me to process a lot of what I’m working through in counseling right now. I struggle with expectations and people pleasing to an unhealthy degree, and this story became my way of experiencing what I wish I could have heard growing up. I didn’t have an unhealthy family life, by any means, but I think my parents did when they were young, and they didn’t have the right tools to cope with what they had, so they didn’t get to teach them to me.

[ashesandhackles]

HP Reread - Order of Phoenix (Part 3)

Chapter 25, 26,27,28 - OOTP

Antonin Dolohov murdered the Prewett brothers. He will later kill Remus. He is repeatedly implied to be a very deadly Death Eater, and it is his slashing spell that will hurt Hermione in the climax of OOTP.

Harry feeling horrified and guilty at Bode's death: "How come we didnt recognise the Devil's Snare? We have seen this before, we could have stopped this from happening":(

Hermione deciding to send Skeeter a letter due to the seriousness of the breakout, and how much there is need to change the narrative. lol at her being vague with her plans that makes Ron grumble: "would it kill her to tell us what she is up to?"

Lee being an absolute king in trying to turn Umbridge's decree against her. However, he gets a bleeding hand for his effort and Harry has to recommend him essence of murtlap (an info Lee relays to Fred and George, which helps their products)

Neville improving in DA classes so unnervingly that he is only behind Hermione in mastering the Shield Charm.

LOLLL the entire scene at Puddifoot, where Harry feels like if Roger and his girlfriend kept kissing, he would be expected to compete. And then he looks up to avoid looking at them (or Cho), and cherubs throw confetti in his face.

Harry grabbing the sugar bowl when Cho takes her hand off the table. Harry laughing when he finally understands that Cho is jealous of Hermione. Oh god. The second hand embarrassment is real.

Hermione cornering Rita is such fun. XD I love that she makes use of resources at hand - even if she doesnt think much of the Quibbler herself. (Also, she took Sirius' advice, and kept the meeting in Three broomsticks instead of Hog's Head).

The breakout had gifted Harry a desire to do something, and he talked about the most traumatic night of his life so far to a journalist he did not trust on account of that. This also shows his faith in Hermione's facilitation of his need for justice. These two will be scary in the Ministry together.

also, Hermione knowing that Ginny has been sneaking around with their brooms since she was 6, and her implicit criticism of the way people talk about Ron: "at least my happiness doesnt depend on goalkeeping ability"

"You are banned as long as Umbridge is in the school" - Ginny's association with hope, with future, and comfort.

Angelina not letting Ron resign and Harry giving Ron the space to go to bed and pretend to sleep if he needed to <3

Harry being impressed with Ginny's performance and then going, "I would have been faster tho" the audacity of this boy XD

"An interview? What do you mean?" "I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered her" and Harry throws the Quibbler at her. LMAO.

Cho apologising to Harry:"The interview was so brave, it made me cry" and Harry wishing that she hadnt cried over it. Ugh, this compellingly messy dynamic.

This is such a hard book for Harry. Being so afraid that you would wake up and look like Voldemort. He bites down to not make any noise during his visions, just because Seamus had recently stopped seeing him as a nutter.

Snape once again projecting on Harry - he brings up the idea that Harry seeing dreams and visions of Voldemort makes him feel "special, important". And Harry reflects it back to him, "No, that's your job, isnt it?" "That is my job." Stop your power struggle with a 15 year old Snape XD

Harry did it! He focused on Snape in between memories, and pushed him back with a protego! And Harry sees Snape memories: that imply a domestic abuse situation in his house (hook nose man shouting at a cowering woman while a boy cried in corner), a clear case of neglect (Snape shooting down flies in a room), and a sense of injured masculinity (a girl laughing at a scrawny boy's attempt to get ona bucking broomstick). Snape pushes Harry back at the last memory, and I wonder if that girl was Lily.

Snape also compliments this, "Well that's an improvement. I dont remember asking you to do a Shield Charm, but it was no doubt, effective."

The lesson end at Trelawney's screaming, Snape runs out and so does Harry. Sneaky parallel.

I really love the description of Trelawney to set the scene. My favorite descripton is her innumerable shawls were coming down from shoulders giving the impression "she is falling apart at the seams."

Dumbledore appointing Firenze is such a power move Imao.

a twinkling red star winked at him - reference to Mars, which consistently shows up in text again and again with Harry. Firenze brings attention to this, and the fact that Harry is directly under it is nice way in text to remind us there is a war coming.

"There are things more important than keeping a job" and Hagrid's hands shake. Because this job has been something he wanted, something his name was cleared for.

We get to know that Marietta's mother has been helping police Hogwarts fires, and Willy Widdershin of the regurgitating toilets was let off after he gave info on Harry.

Percy laughing at Fudge's sarcasm, and Harry for the first time expresses anger towards Percy in his internal monologue. Before he was just shocked and confused.

Kingsley modifiying Marietta's memory, to corroborate with Dumbledore's story. That man is quick. He did it immediately after Dumbledore says they can't prove 6 months worth of meetings.

ooh, it is implied that Fawkes' singing kept the four unconscious on the floor and the moment Fawkes leaves with Dumbledore, they are all awake.

Fred and George sending Montague into Vanishing Cabinet and how Montague gets out (nearly killing himself by Apparating) and gives Malfoy the information needed for the plot of HBP.

Snape the nerd, writing foot long answers. I love how much teenage Snape's body language is entirely different from adult Snape, and how much the adult Snape is a construction. Teenage Snape will lie on grass and scream hexes and swear words at you.

James literally traces and embellishes Lily's initials like a dork lol.

I deep dive into Marauder dynamics in chapter here.

"Wormtail was the only one who didnt laugh" : how cute is it that Remus laughs at his own dry joke XD

There is a strong theme of masculinity in this chapter, and James is making a performance of it with the snitch, with messing up his hair and Harry notices that this is done for the girls by the lake. (Harry wondered why James doesnt tell Wormtail to get a grip, and Sirius does it few seconds later much more unkindlyXD)

The power dynamic of the scene is framed with description of Sirius as "dog who scented a rabbit" and underlines it further by Remus' implicit disapproval (that he avoids by staring into a book, my poor bean) and Peter's anticipation (Sirius line in POA comes to mind about how Peter was drawn to the biggest bully in the playground)

Interesting note about James: he uses household spells like Scourgify for an attack. I can imagine him being similarly creative later in the Order. (it gives me such ideas of Transfiguration being his fav subject)

Interesting to me that even though both James and Sirius are on the scene, it is James Lily is consistently addressing.

Snape attempts a workshop Sectumsempra on James' cheek (clearly not the fully developed version) and James turns around and uses Snape's own spell against him. This moment alone speaks to such history in this dynamic.

Lily's "10 things I hate about you" speech is interesting because she also noticed that he was playing with the snitch (something he had nicked). She was also watching him.

Snape, emasculated by the scene, tries to exert power over one thing he has power over: his friendship with Lily. He uses Lily's otherness in wizarding world to reclaim power in the scene, and Lily throws it back at him by calling him the nickname his bullies call him and commenting on his underpants (therefore his class otherness). Utter dissolution of a friendship.

Lily channels her hurt and frustration at Snape's rejection of her onto James when he tries to help, and does a "10 things I hate about you" speech.

James tries to deal with being rejected publicly by Lily by directing his anger at Snape and threatening to take his pants off, in line with masculinity theme of this chapter.

Harry making Dudley-James associations. He will integrate a more complicated view of his father in later chapters (where he associates James with Ron), but this moment, where Harry rejects hypermasculinity displayed by James (but is keen to not reject James himself), is an important moment of moral growth for Harry.

OOTP - Chapter 29,30, 31, 32,33

Cute trip opening scene when Hermione is drawing up colour coded timetable for the boys (and nagging Harry), Ron brightening at the thought of evenings off and Crookshanks trying to get Harry's attention since he is brooding.

Harry is not only questioning James' morality, he is also questioning Sirius' ('look at what he was like himself') and Remus ('he just let it happen'). Later in the chapter, he wonders - "did he want to be like his father anymore?"

looking at Mrs Weasleys easter eggs, a handsome one with snitches on them makes Harry feel emotional. The way chocolate is tied to comfort + longing and Mrs Weasley functioning as an echo of a home.

lmao the scene where Harry admits he wants to go to Umbridge's office is peak Hermione as mum, Harry as sulky teenager and Ron as Arthur to Hermione's Molly scene.

Harry is so hypervigilant in Snape's class for his taunts, it clearly affects his performance in class. Because Snape is ignoring him, he could whip up a decent E level potion (which ofc Snape shatters).

"He attacked Snape for no good reason - well just because you said you were bored" - the apologetic tone Harry says this in and Sirius' quick "I'm not proud of it" shows how careful they are with each other. It is a big step for Sirius to admit he is not proud of his behaviour (because 2 years before, he all but snarled "served him right"), and this is the influence of Harry's distress. Remus also notes this with a "sideways glance" at him. (Remus also, something he hasn't shied away from admitting, owns his own culpability but is also harsher with himself -"did i ever tell you to lay off him?" and Sirius tries to correct/comfort that with "you made us feel ashamed of ourselves")

Harry knowing Hermione's nagging face lolll ("she fixed Harry with a beady eye and opened her mouth with a determined air") and he just interuppts before she starts lol.

hermione predicting Ron will do well without Fred and George around to watch <3

"Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?" yes, Harry. Norbert would be far preferable. I really am not sure why we have a storyline where Dumbledore sends envoys to giants so they can have them as allies (as actual thinking beings with political weight) and then write an entire chapter about how Hagrid is stupid for trying to "civilise" Grawp with English lessons. Why are you writing marginalisation like this, where you validate how "savage" Grawp is? Just a book ago, there is critique on how giants face prejudice via Hagrid and Madame Maxime, but then you're like, "maybe the prejudice has some sort of weight cos giants are brutal actually".

Cant believe we get an entire chapter of this and not Ron's victory over Slytherins and in Quidditch.

More on the giant's rant that I have and my absolute loathing for this Grawp chapter: Hagrid's Tale is one of the few times Hagrid is allowed to act as a competent adult - going with Maxime off country to send envoys to giants. For once, he is not someone the trio constantly has to take care of or save from trouble (it's not something I particularly mind, but I do have a problem here - where there is an additional layer of the fact that Hagrid hasn't had formal education. This entire chapter - he is just made a joke of and it reinforces the prejudices wizarding world shouldnt be having)

I really love the opening scene of Ron basking in the glory of having won the match, and he sits under the very same beech tree rumpling his hair, and Harry grins affectionately at being reminded of his father. It shows that Harry is beginning to integrate parts of his father - from seeing him as Dudley at end of SWM to seeing Ron-like qualities in him.

Cho crying out of temper and kicking her broom away after Gryffindor won the match : what a competitive streak. Love it.

"Hagrid's monster mates" - once again, the narrative needs to pick what giants are meant to be.

Griselda Marchbanks, the one who resigned from Wizengamot in protest against the High Inquistor appointment, is apparently friends with Neville's gran. Daily Prophet snidely said she had links with "subversive goblin groups".

Harold Dingle and his powdered dragon claw and Eddie Carmichael and his brain stimulant trade XD

also ron mothering Hermione asking her to eat a decent meal so she can have good sleep <3

ooh, Hermione wondering if she did justice on Cheering Charms (its the lesson she missed in POA when she lost track of time). I wonder if not attending the actual class makes her feel nervous, and not like she had enough time with the information.

Umbridge's "nasty smile" when she sees Harry's patronus in DADA exam: a hint towards her actual involvement in sending Dementors after Harry.

The confrontation between Hagrid, Umbridge and McGonagall is beautifully written. Really love the atmosphere here with the use of lights from the castle, the hut, the moon over the darkness of the lawn to set up the mood of the scene. The moment McGonagall was lit by the stunning spells sent at her? Eerie.

Harry staring at Parvati's hair while sleep-deprived in history exam cos there was something gold in it. He sure likes shiny hair.

there is a question in history of magic exam about how legislation of wand: whether it better controlled the goblin riots in 18th century. The politics of this is brought up in Deathly Hallows, where griphook brings up how wizards have denied other creatures rights of expanding their magical powers by refusing to share wandlore.

Harry's sheer blinding panic and fear in this chapter hurts to read.

I actually really love how bad the communication is between Harry and Hermione in this chapter. Where, in her desperation to stop him, she calls out his "saving the people thing" in an effort to make him understand that Voldemort's playing into an instinct in Harry, and Harry obviously feels stupid about the way she calls it out and thinks she is criticising it as a an attention seeking thing. It makes him less sympathetic to her appeal that it could be a trap, but the scene anyway ends with him conceding to check with her and recognising her offer to come with him to Umbridge's office as "mark of loyalty."

Kreacher's hands are injured cos he injured Buckbeak. There was a lovely Tumblr post I read about this moment, about how combination of Sirius' indifferent cruelty (towards kreacher) and love (for Buckbeak, Harry) is what pushed him towards the events of his death. It perfectly captures his duality.

The conversation between Snape and Umbridge is hilarious. Snape offering his sympathies to Umbridge in case she wanted to poison Harry ("venoms act too fast to give victims time for truth telling"), the ironic bow before he leaves and telling Crabbe to loosen his hold on Neville because if he suffocates, there will be "lots of tedious paperwork" LOL.

Harry noticing that Hermione was not really crying immediately, and knowing that she is scheming XD These two will be a force in the Ministry. Imagine Harry looking at Hermione trapping someone ina courtroom and being like, "yeah, saw that one a mile away. Sucks to be you buddy."

Man, Hermione is having quite a day. Her inexperience with a plan she is making up as she goes along showed, as well as her putting her foot in her mouth. Umbridge is a threat she has known and assessed well, the centaurs, less so. She will grow from this in DH, when she makes bigger elaborate plans with failsafes on the spot. (For example, the Lovegoods escape)

Ginny being astonished that a herd of centaurs left Harry and Hermione behind - suggesting familiarity with the centaur ways. Interesting character note! (also how her and Luna also clearly pay attention in Care of Magical Creatures, as they both remind the trio of Thestral traits - that they are good for finding places riders are looking for, and Harry and Hermione being covered in blood will lure more of them). I wouldnt have paid attention to this detail without @whinlatter lovely WIP "Beasts".

Chapter 34, 35,36,37,38

Proof of Ron, Hermione and Ginny's loyalty and gutsiness: they are willing to ride an invisible horse for hours in the air to help Harry. (also Luna is so cute, sitting all in side saddle)

Harry thinking the veil had a strange beauty to it, and that he felt a strong inclination to walk through it is an indication of his fascination with death. He isn't the only one: Luna, Neville, Ginny are all similarly entranced. Only Ron and Hermione are not and they drag everyone away.

Sirius' knife, Harry's gift is melted by the Love Room in Department of Mysteries :(

Ginny wanting to watch the bird's progress is so cute. Such a lovely detail - I never noticed this interest in creatures before. But she consistently thinks in terms of animals, she even thought the brains they initially saw were fish. ("his eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad" anyone?)

how interesting that the Prophecy Hall is beyond the room full of Time-Turners.

interesting note of how some prophecies having liquid glow (Harry's felt warm as he touched it) and how some prophecies were blown out like a night bulb. Could indicate that the events they had foretold have come to pass etc.

I love during the entire conversation with Death Eaters, you can feel Harry being hypervigilant. He notices the shifts in Bellatrix speaking and makes decisions - once he speaks Voldemort's name, he holds the prophecy tighter because given that he riled her, he expected an attempt to take it from him. And then of course, he is very "improvise. adapt. overcome" with the plan to smash shelves.

Harry's athleticism shines in these chapters where he is elbowing and ducking around Death Eater attacks, launching himself on top of them, heaving Ron when he is out and flinging him when he needs to help the others, rolling over tables to get to doors quick XD

Neville kicking aside fragments of his father's old wand when he carries Hermione. It's his "I'm gonna be my own person not defined by my father's legacy" moment, a parallel to Harry's own in this book.

I love the tiny detail that Tonks is above on the steps, firing spells down at Bellatrix. The distance she keeps, and the detail of Bellatrix and Andromeda resembling each other to the point they could be mistaken for each other, adds such a layer to this detail.

Sirius and Bellatrix are so caught up in their battle that they dont even notice that Dumbledore had arrived. Speaks to their personal history and intensity of their duel.

Harry's child-like denial is utterly heartbreaking. The way he thinks that Remus doesn't understand because he had heard whispers behind the veil, and surely people are hiding there, and that Sirius is just hiding. It is the most child-like he has been and it breaks my heart.

Remus' voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry, speaking as though every word caused him pain, or just not being able to look at the veil:(

The moment Harry is angry that Sirius would keep him waiting. It is such a childish, entitled reaction. The boy who never expects anything from his adult figures feels like he has the space to be mad at Sirius for keeping him waiting - and then realises, that Sirius would never keep him waiting. And that's how he knows Sirius is dead.

Harry laughing at Bellatrix right after Sirius' death ("a mad laugh to match her own"): the boy really is his godfather's godson.

Bellatrix loves Voldemort, but also fears Voldemort. The moment he comes - Sirius turns from the mocking "dear cousin" to "Animagus Black." She is super keen to distance herself from Sirius in front of him and it calls to the scene later in Deathly Hallows, where she claims she never laid eyes on Andromeda after she ran away.

"We both know there are other ways of destroying a man. Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I must admit" - contrast this with Deathly Hallows, where Dumbledore leads Harry away from Voldemort's maimed soul in the limbo. Harry feels pity for it, and even tries to save Voldemort, but Dumbledore is beyond that and this scene conveys it.

"And I'll see Sirius again.." it's not only Harry's love for Sirius that drives Voldemort out of his body, but it is also his very raw desire for death. Something he wishes once again, when he is at his parents' graves. (it is this passive ideation that Hermione grasps at the grave and why Harry's desire for Resurrection Stone terrifies her)

"You've been chasing the wrong man for 12 months, it's time you listened to sense!" Dumbledore's feelings of Sirius' fate are also encapsulated in this line. He claims responsibility for Sirius' fate next chapter, but his anger and guilt at Sirius' death is clear here.

Harry's intense guilt and hatred for himself, where he had never before wished he was someone else so intensely, that he was trapped inside his body and mind. It is this guilt, even though he expresses them this chapter, that he will carry with him in HBP and it will come out in moments like strangling Mundungus for perceived disrespect to Sirius.

"I know how you're feeling Harry" "No you dont" : it is both Harry lashing out his intense self-hatred, but also his feelings of abandonment. In his mind, if Dumbledore understood his feelings, he would not have "abandoned" him through the summer or the year. So this moment of Dumbledore reaching out in solidarity after a year of freezing him out makes Harry angry.

Harry just demolishing his office, and Dumbledore remaining calm and detached through it, until Harry himself matches Dumbledore's tone to let him out. Such a well written scene.

The chapter is good illumination of how Dumbledore's distance/detachment and big picture thinking and how it hurts people: Dumbledore locking Sirius and Harry up (Harry shouting this back at him must be a painful reminder of his time with his sister), Snape not overcoming his feelings ("some wounds run too deep for healing").

"I alone could prevent this, and I alone must be strong" - How Dumbledore rationalises his decisions, the weight of the guilt he carries, the calculations he must make. # war general.

"He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you": Voldemort destroying everyone and everything that reminds him of who he is. Strange likenesses from Voldemort is not a compliment, when he wants to be extraordinary, special and unique.

Harry thinking that if only he had just pulled back the veil, he would have seen Sirius greeting him with a laugh like a bark :(

Dumbledore trying to repair Harry's feelings of abandonment by telling him why he didn't choose Harry as a prefect.

Fred and George sending Ron mountains of Chocolate frog after the Ministry fiasco to express their care, in a book where they were harder on him is <3

Ah, that subtle implication that Harry spent hours by the lake, crying about his godfather until the sunset. :( It is gorgeously subtle writing - him getting up at sunset, and wiping his face on his sleeve.

The way the book twists our innards with Harry opening Sirius' gift. :( and how Harry hopes again, and when the hope shatters, he throws the mirror. But it is the very same mirror shard, Sirius' gift that will enable Dobby to help the trio out of the manor, where Harry would ask for help because he saw a parental figure's eye (Dumbledore).

Luna validating Harry's feeling that they were just lurking out of sight, behind the veil and it is this connection with death and understanding of afterlife that comforts Harry. That he will see Sirius again.

[the-al-chemist]

Before Moonrise

A/N: this was meant to be a sweet, ship-py story for @hphm-ship-week (prompt: Sunset). But then, I handed the mic to Chiara, and she kind of just ran with it. I guess it really is the quiet ones…

Warnings: mention of canon character death, allusions to chronic/stigmatised illness, blink-and-you’ll-miss-them descriptions of injuries.

It was the tiredness that was the worst thing. Not the pain in her muscles or her chest, not the hunger that left her almost shaking between mealtimes, not the constant low-level irritation and short-temperedness that she had to fight to keep under control, not even the taste of the Wolfsbane potion or the niggling fear that this time it might not work. It was the Godric-damned tiredness that got her every month, her fatigue growing with each night the crescent waxed.

By the time the full moon came around, Chiara was always exhausted. Perhaps if that weren’t the case, she would have the energy to fight against her transformations, to stop herself becoming the monster she hid from the rest of the world. But, in all the years she had been dealing with her lycanthropy, she had not had a single month where she had been able to muster the strength to fight it.

At least she had the Wolfsbane potion. Chiara was lucky, as lucky as a werewolf could be. Those few occasions on which she had faced the full moon without it had been horrific, her pain unbearable, her dread and self-loathing all-consuming. She had scars from those transformations that would probably never heal: one up her thigh, one on the side of her ribcage, another curving up and over her shoulder. She hated all of them equally. They were all reminders of how she would never be rid of the monster within her, even when the full moon was not high in the sky.

She would never be rid of the wolf.

But, she could predict when it would rear its ugly head. Even if the growing symptoms in her own body weren’t enough, Chiara had her lunar chart memorised. She knew exactly what time the sun would go down, and when the moon — the dreaded full moon — would go up. As long as she was safely back in her little private room by then, all would be well. Well-ish, anyway.

The only problem with her plan was the lack of predictability that came with volunteering in the Hospital Wing. Granted, Chiara should probably not have been volunteering on the day of the full moon, but with Madam Pomfrey still Medusified, what other choice did she have? Only to tell the Healers from St Mungo’s that she would not be able to work the full moons due to her affliction, and risk ruining her chance at a career in Healing after she left school. Madam Pomfrey took no issues with her lycanthropy, but not everyone was so open-minded. Not everyone would want a werewolf for a Healer. No, she was just going to have to push through the aches and the exhaustion, try not to make any stupid mistakes because of them, and make a swift exit before sundown.

If a swift exit was even possible. She should have known by now that leaving the Hospital Wing was always easier said than done, and today was no exception. Every time Chiara thought that she was done, another student would come in with another ailment. Oliver Wood, a third year Gryffindor, had taken a Bludger to the shoulder during Quidditch practice. As soon as he had walked out the door, in came Barnaby Lee, who had been bitten by Hester, apparently a Murtlap he had been feeding on the shore of the Black Lake. No sooner had she sent Barnaby back to the Slytherin common room with his hand in a bandage than two first-years presented with bloody noses after getting into a physical fight. Normally, Chiara might have spent longer listening to them tell her why they had each been so upset that they had resorted to violence, but by that point, the sun was dangerously close to the eastern horizon. She told them that she didn’t care who had started it, fixed their noses and vanished the blood from their faces, and sent them both packing.

A wave of her wand, and the Hospital Wing was spick and span and ready for the following day, and she was ready to face the night ahead. She shut the heavy doors behind her as she walked out, and turned the key in the lock. Finally, she was able to leave, and not a moment too soon, for the sky had already turned pink with the setting sun.

But, as the lock clicked, she heard someone say her name.

“Chiara?”

It was Jae Kim. He had his hands in his pockets, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he looked at her. Perhaps he had done something to one of his legs?

“I was hoping you’d be here,” said Jae.

“Why, are you not well?” Chiara hoped that he was well. She did not have the time to tend to him if he wasn’t.

“What? No, I’m grand. Fit as a fiddle, me.” Jae grinned, but kept fidgeting. “I just wanted to chat, that’s all. I mean, if that’s alright with you.”

Of all the times to want to chat. Chiara had to stop herself from sighing out loud.

“I’m actually on my way back to my dormitory, Jae.”

“That’s alright, I can walk with you.”

Chiara couldn’t come up with a good reason why he shouldn’t. Not on the spot, anyway. After almost six years of deliberately keeping her distance from her peers, she was running out of excuses. Or, maybe, she just didn’t want to keep her distance anymore.

It had started as a self-preservation mechanism. The closer she got to others, the more likely it would be that they would discover her secret. If they did, the consequences would be disastrous for her and her future. And, as for the rejection she would face, she didn’t think her heart could take the pain. It was far easier to reject everyone first. At least, it had been, until Rowan died and put everything in perspective. Chiara had spent five years living in the same quarters, attending the same lessons, and eating at the same table as Rowan. And yet, they’d barely ever spoken, let alone become friends. Now that she was gone, it was as if something had clicked for Chiara. Now, she’d had enough of being isolated, of isolating herself from everyone around her.

So, she nodded her head, and let Jae accompany her on her walk back to the Hufflepuff common room, the sun getting lower and her stride becoming faster with every brisk step that she took.

“Oi, what’s this?” Jae asked her. His cheeks were pink trying to keep up with her. “I didn’t realise it was going to be a race.”

“It’s not…”

“Or are you just that keen to get away from me?”

“No, I just… Sorry.” Chiara slowed down. It would be more time-efficient to walk less quickly and talk at the same time than to rush back to the basement and stand around chatting for Godric knew how long. “What was it you wanted to talk about, anyway?”

“Oh, I, er…” Jae’s cheeks turned even pinker. He was giving the sky a run for its Sickles. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really glad you decided to join the Circle of Khanna.”

Was that it? “It was the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, definitely. You’re always doing the right thing,” said Jae. He let out a soft laugh. “What’s it like, being so good all the time?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Chiara told him. “I’m definitely not good all the time.” Before Jae could ask her what she meant by that, she added, “We all have our flaws, don’t we?”

“Some of us have bigger flaws than others though.”

If only Jae knew how true that was. He wouldn’t think her half as good if he did.

“I think you’re probably a better person than you give yourself credit for,” said Chiara, and Jae’s eyes lit up as he smiled.

The walk back from the Hospital Wing to the basement wasn’t short, and Jae had clearly not had that much to say to her, but he kept on walking with her, chatting about nothing consequential and making silly jokes as they went. It was quite nice. It was like having a friend. It was as if she was normal, just like everyone else. She had been tired all week, but now she felt as if she could keep on walking and talking like this all night.

But, of course, Chiara wasn’t just like everyone else. And she couldn’t keep walking all night. She had to get back to her room and lock herself away, before the wolf returned.

“Well, this is me,” she said, once they reached the pile of barrels that hid the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. “Thank you for walking with me.” A pause. “So, goodnight, then.”

“Yeah. ‘Night,” said Jae, but he didn't leave.

Was he just going to stand and watch her as she tapped the barrel sequence to unlock the door? Had that been his aim all along? Was he planning on breaking in later? Well, if that was the case, so be it. She had to get inside, whether he was watching her or not. She turned around and drew her wand.

“Chiara, wait a minute.”

Did Chiara have a minute left to wait? There was no clock in the corridor, nor any windows down here. She no longer had any way of telling what the sun was doing, nor the moon.

“I didn’t just want to talk about the Circle of Khanna, I wanted to…” Jae cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say that I think that you’re really kind and really pretty, and just… lovely, really.”

Chiara blinked. “Well, that’s nice to hear.”

It was nice to hear. It was lovely to hear. Chiara hadn’t known it before that moment, but she had been longing to hear someone say those things about her. But, Jae wasn’t done.

“Yeah, I kind of fancy you a bit, and I’d like to get to know you better…”

It would be better if she turned away, but she didn’t.

“…and I wanted to know if you’d maybe like to go out with me sometime.”

It was time for her to leave, and yet, she stayed.

“We could go and get some food, or a drink, or something. I don’t know. It might be fun.” Jae paused. “So, er, what do you think?”

Chiara didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t been expecting this. And every moment she spent trying to work out how she felt would be another moment closer to moonrise. She couldn’t do this, not now.

“Can I let you know another time?” she asked. Jae’s face fell. “It’s not that I don’t… I just really have to—”

“No. No, it’s fine.” It clearly was not fine. “Forget I asked. It was stupid. Anyway, I’ll let you get on.”

Finally, Jae turned and walked away, obviously crestfallen. Chiara wanted to call after him, to go after him, but she couldn’t. She had to go to her room, her private, lonely little room. It used to be her safe haven, but now it felt like a prison cell. Even through the window, she couldn’t see another soul, only the grass, silvery in the glow of the rising full moon.

She had only just made it back in time. Thank Merlin she had not gone after Jae. He might have fancied her, and he might have thought she was lovely, but he wouldn’t if he knew the truth. And, as flattered as she was by his interest, as much as she hated that she had hurt his feelings, maybe this was for the best. She was ready to try and make friends, but she wasn’t ready to let someone love her, not yet.

And then the moonlight struck her, and her chest was filled with a pain even worse than that of a broken heart as the wolf took over her once more.

[sailtomarina]

Who did this to you?

Another day, another reminder that even though the war was officially over, animosity still festered in people’s hearts. Hermione had finished her prefect rounds for the evening and was heading through the 8th year common room to her private quarters when she noticed Draco Malfoy sitting in the back past the fireplace. He was nearly hidden and only noticeable to her because she often chose the same location for its privacy and proximity to the tea cart.

His shock of white hair was barely visible over the cushion where he slouched. She could have called out his name, but Hermione opted to approach silently—so as not to surprise him, of course.

As suspected, he was asleep. Hermione couldn’t count the number of times where she, too, had passed out in the nook, forgotten or unnoticed to everyone else, only to wake up at some ungodly hour in the early morning before trudging back to her room for an unsatisfying remainder of hours before class.

She approached, but rather than wake him up like she intended, she studied his features. He looked better than he had during 6th year, but that wasn’t saying much given the other times she had seen him since. While his hair still fell in a perfect arc over his forehead, the dark circles under his eyes remained. This time, they were accented by additional bruising that bloomed across his left cheekbone. His lip was also split and still puffy.

His eyes fluttered open just as she leaned in to look closer.

“Can I help you, Granger?” His voice was hoarse.

“Who did this to you, Malfoy?”

He studied her for a moment before answering, voice curiously flat. “Do you wish you could have joined them?”

She jerked backward at the question, brow furrowed and cheeks tinged pink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Rather than answer her question with another question, he just shook his head and started gathering his things.

“Forget about it.”

Hermione chewed on her lip as she watched him stack his books. Despite his injuries, she saw no cuts or bruising on his own knuckles. Whoever did this to him hadn’t received a punch in kind.

“Malfoy, wait.”

He sighed and turned to face her, one eyebrow raised.

“Just, let me—” Stepping into his space she raised a hand towards his face, and his eyes widened.

In what felt like a dream, she watched her own fingertips brush across his lips, now parted, before tracing up towards his cheekbone.

“Episkey,” she murmured, watching the cuts close to only leave bruises. “Please just…wait.”

Light irises traced her movement as she turned to set her bag down and rummage through it. She turned back to him, jar in hand, and as she unscrewed the lid, his nostrils flared in familiarity.

“Do you always carry murtlap essence in your school bag, Granger?” His teeth clicked closed as she stepped back up to him once more.

“It just became a habit after everything that happened last year,” she explained as she carefully dabbed the mixture onto his bruises. His skin was so pale and smooth, and she couldn’t help but continue tracing her fingertips up his jaw towards the back of his neck. Was his hair as soft as it looked?

The moment her hand slipped up and into hair, he tilted his head to press into her hand. Hermione’s eyes snapped back to Malfoy’s. His own were shut as he leaned into her touch. Taking his actions as permission, she turned back to her earlier explorations, kneading the scalp and marveling at the slippery tresses spilling over her hand. She didn’t realize she was moving closer to him until her chest brushed up against his and he breathed in sharply, the sound slicing through the heavy silence surrounding them.

This time, their eyes met, his own as unreadable as a gathering storm. Neither of them moved closer, nor did they shift away. For all Hermione knew, they might have stayed there frozen for everyone to find in the few hours remaining until morning.

The sound of a log splitting in the fireplace startled them from their moment, and Hermione was the first to step back, twisting the container in her hands to and fro.

“I can’t get rid of all the bruising—that will just take some time.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Again, she stilled. The apology was completely natural given the circumstances yet still unexpected. She was hesitant to pry, but the question bubbled out of her again despite attempts to suppress it.

“Draco, who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His lips set into a line, jaw clenched.

“It does matter.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because we’re better than this.”

His eyes widened, and she took it as an invitation to continue.

“We survived through hell and we’re here now–damaged, yes, but alive and, Merlin-willing, healing. We’ll never change anything for the better if we don’t move past all the shite: the hate, the resentment, the old-world entitlement.”

“Pretty words, Granger, but I’m not exactly the one you should be trying to convince. I’m already a believer.”

“Are you?”

“You kind of make it hard not to be.”

And for a moment, so brief that Hermione might have considered it seeing what she wanted to see rather than reality, a glimmer of Malfoy’s smirk reappeared. This time, the idea that it was for her rather than at her expense made her stomach feel all sorts of wonderfully strange and unsettled.

“Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Was that the start of a drawl she heard in his question?

“I’ll just have to keep you company from now on, your own personal bodyguard.”

“What is it muggles say…a ‘guardian angel’?”

“Where in the world did you learn that phrase?”

He shrugged shoulders that had filled out nicely over the past several months, scanning her appraisingly from beneath a lowered gaze. This time, she let him brush by uninterrupted on his path towards his room, the warmth of his arm leaving a pulsing sensation along her shoulder, his cologne lingering in the air.

“Granger?”

“Hm?” She turned slowly, still caught in a daze of woodsmoke and spice. This time, the smirk on his lips was undeniable, accentuating the roguish charm of his still visible bruises and tousled hair.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

WC 1073 I started this while on vacation not realizing how difficult it'd be to focus and finish what I started. I thought the trip would afford me plenty of time to relax and squeeze those creative muscles, but instead I walked more than I have in months and ate way too much food >.<