#or noticing the changes in merlin is a good indicator because it is so completely opposite his nature

[myoonmii]

I keep thinking about Merlin’s love for Arthur and how it’s so clearly portrayed in the show to the point that it practically drives the plot of the show. However when it comes to Arthur’s love for Merlin it’s more subtle and sometimes difficult to even grasp, and I started thinking why that was, aside from the obvious fact that Arthur has a lot of trouble expressing his emotions affection or otherwise. I think it also lies in the fact that Merlin knows Arthur intrinsically throughout the show; he is one of the closest people to Arthur, and sees him for who he really is. Arthur admits as much.

Sure, Arthur knows Merlin but the main part of the plot is that he really doesn't know Merlin. Merlin wants him to desperately understand him and “see me for who I am” but he can't yet. And I think this subconsciously creates a barrier in the way in which Arthur can care for Merlin, and how Merlin can let himself be seen by Arthur.

Which is why I think he was also so hurt when the magic reveal happens because more than the betrayal of Merlin having magic, it was the betrayal of Merlin not letting Arthur see him for who he really is and for hiding a main part of himself. Arthur says it himself “why did you never tell me” that’s what hurt him the most.

I think the most damning piece of evidence for this is the fact that while we see snippets of Arthur’s feelings for Merlin thought the show, the biggest signs are in the last episode after the magic reveal; in which he finally gets to understand Merlin, and this time REALLY know Merlin, and as the barriers of what held them back from understanding each other truly fall away, Arthur evidently “falls in love with Merlin all over again”. We see him actually express himself to Merlin.

This is another reason why I think if anyone was ever to create another season of Merlin after Arthur’s return, it’s physically impossible not to make it about Merlin and Arthur acknowledging their feelings for each other. Because there is no way forward without them acknowledging how deeply they care for each other, obviously anyone is free to argue what kind of love that is, but its impossible not to see the deep love there either way.

They always knew they loved each other, just maybe never realising how much and what that means, because its almost second nature to everything that they do.

[pippin-katz]

Immortal Merlin’s Deaths

So we know Merlin is immortal, but we’ve also seen him die, at least momentarily. In the Poisoned Chalice, his heart does stop. There’s no canon explanation for how his immortality works so we can interpret it in a lot of ways. I personally like the idea that he can die and come back, rather than not die at all.

So, here’s a list of the times I think he most likely could have died:

Death 1

Season 1, Episode 4 “The Poisoned Chalice”

Like I said in the little intro, his heart momentarily stops as a result of the poison. Gwen and Gaius are certain he’s dead for a moment before he “recovers”.

Death 2

Season 1, Episode 7 “The Gates of Avalon”

The Sidhe staff literally obliterates everyone else in the show besides Merlin. He’s out for a while before Gaius finds him considering the Sidhe and Arthur were already at the lake when he wakes up. Gaius says it’s only thanks to his “powers” that he survived. Even when he comes too, he’s completely disoriented and stumbling. 

Death 3

Season 1, Episode 13 “Le Morte d’Arthur”

This is one I talked about in my post about the fight between Nimueh and Merlin. He’s hit center chest by a fireball from a high priestess. Anyone else would’ve been killed, and we see him go pretty still before he opens his eyes again. When he does, there’s a shift in his physicality, which I mentioned could be part of his magic “restarting”.

Death 4

Season 3, Episode 1 “The Tears of Uther Pendragon: Part 1”

This one is pretty obvious, considering how much the serket venom fucks him up. I wouldn’t be surprised if he died on the way to that cave and Kilgharrah gave him the enchantment to help revive him.

Death 5

Season 4, Episode 1 “The Darkest Hour: Part 1”

This was originally an honorable mention, but a lovely person ( @eruthiawenluin ) in the comments made me change my mind. I had initially included this, then removed it because we see him responsive and awake after the Dorocha hits him, but they pointed out that he could’ve died when the Dorocha touches him. The moments instantly after he’s hit, he could’ve died, and then slowly started to revive because of how powerful and deadly the attack is; it would be quick enough for the knights not to notice while they’re moving him.

Death 6

Season 5, Episode 8 “The Hollow Queen”

This boy has an affinity for getting poisoned/stung. The poison that Morgan gives him in this episode does a lot of damage, plus she basically pushed him off a small cliff. Even with Daegal’s help, he convulses really violently before going very still.

Death 7

Season 5, Episode 11 “The Kindness of Strangers”

This is another one where I think he could’ve died during Kilgharrah’s rescue. A crossbow bolt to the abdomen is definitely a fatal wound to a normal person. He struggles during this episode, even with Finna’s help. When he calls for Kilgharrah, his voice is basically a whisper because of how much it strains him.

Death 8

Season 5, Episode 12 “Diamond of the Day: Part 1″

This could be the first instance of Merlin being aware of his death. He’s dying during his conversation with Balinor. He genuinely thinks there’s no point in trying anymore. Balinor talks him out of it and tells him to walk “toward the light”. Then he wakes up in the Crystal Cave completely fine.

Honorable Mentions

Here’s some moments that he got very injured or really close to dying in that I wasn’t sure if I should include. The ones on the list are pretty easy to argue, and I could make a case for these too, but they’re not as strong.

Nonetheless, here you go:

Mace Hit

His wound from the mace has Arthur complimenting and being sincere with him, which is a damn good indicator of how bad the hit was. I could argue that he could’ve died between the rock fall and Morgana’s hut, but it felt like a stretch to say Morgana wouldn’t notice if he actually died. His wound is also still there when Morgana wakes him up, which usually he comes back mostly if not entirely healed.

Morgana’s Sneak Attack

Yeah, he’s still alive when they bring him back to camp, but the fact that Gaius had to use healing magic to wake him up says how bad Morgana hurt him. I don’t think he ever actually stops breathing, so I didn’t include it.

Falling Off a Cliff

You’re telling me, that he fell off that, and lived?! That’s a pretty high fall and some pretty rough rocks. We don’t see him directly after, though I’ll point out that he’s miraculously uninjured during their campfire talk. A fall like that should break a LOT of bones at least. Still, can’t confirm that he couldn’t survive.

Second Hit from Sidhe Staff

He gets hit with the Sidhe staff again when that guy uses the mage stone to reflect it. He’s knocked out for what seems like a lot less time though, and maybe having experienced it before his magic adapted against it.

General Being Thrown Into Things

They really should’ve come up with a clear indicator between when a character gets thrown against something and dies, versus when they get thrown against something and knocked out. The number of people that Merlin, Morgana, and Morgause kill by throwing them into a wall or a rock is a LOT, but Merlin has the same thing happen to him all the time, but he’s fine. This is more of a “he should’ve died” thing than “he could’ve died”.

Alright that’s all I could come up with, but let me know if you think I missed something and I’ll update it.

[wartsandwarlocks]

Change

“He’s not himself James I’m telling you!”

“What are you on about of course he is himself, dickhead. It’s Moony, we would have noticed way sooner if he were another person.”

“Did you speak with him this past week? Like at all?”

“Of course I have he’s my best friend!”

“About anything other than school or homework?”

“I mean surely we must have-“

“See! You wouldn’t be able to tell! I swear Prongs something’s up with him!”

“He’s probably just stressed, you know how Moony gets during exams.”

“No, it’s not that. When he’s stressed he gets like all fidgety and laugh-y, but now he’s just… mean.”

“Sirius. It’s Remus Lupin we’re talking about, he’s always mean.”

“Not to me he is not.”

“Well maybe you’ve done something to upset him.”

“Really? Me? Upset Lupin? No way.”

“No way? Come on Pads you cannot be serious.”

“I am actually, Sirius Orion Black if you insist, but Sirius is fine.”

“Hardy-har-har.”

“I’m telling you Prongs, he’s not only mean, he’s distant and weird and I feel like he’s getting away from me and I-“

“Right, because Remus has always been so open with his stuff.”

“You’re not even listening!”

“I am! You’re just not saying anything! Come on Pads, there’s no indication Remus has been swapped with someone else.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“What are you talking about Padfoot?! Have you honestly lost your mind!?”

“So you do!”

“Oh Merlin, I’m calling Pomfrey.”

“You flared your nose James. You only do it when you lie.”

“I do not!” Said James, flaring his nostrils.

“See! There it goes again! Spit it Potter, or you’ll be the one getting replaced.”

“Stop that! I don’t know anything, I swear! I solemnly swear Remus hasn’t come up to tell me anything in months! I miss him quite a bit if I can be honest, we had this moment like right before the summer where he would walk me to practice so he could smoke and we talked soo much I loved it, but then he stopped doing it this year and like-“

“look Prongsie I don’t mean to interrupt your beautiful trip down Moonery lane, but I am a man on a mission here, did he or did he not talk to you about actual stuff this week?”

“Like I already told you, no!”

“Alright then help me out!”

“Sirius please, I need to get to practice. If you’re so desperate to find out go talk to the man himself! Strap him down and interrogate him until he’s begging to be killed, I couldn’t care less!”

Oh how he’d like to do just that. But there was no time to indulge in such fantasies, Moony, his Moony was potentially in danger and Sirius was the only man who could rescue him.

“Wow Prongs, I’m impressed with how little concern you have for your best friends! If this is how you deal with Moony going missing I don’t even want to think about how you’ll react when I do!”

“Why would you go missing?! Merlin you’ve actually gone mad! Remus is fine! Everyone but you is fine!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve gone mental! Honestly, just stop thinking so much and ask him! Go and ask Remus what his deal is!”

“What my deal is with what?” Asked Remus as he closed the door.

“Oh Moony how I love you. Perfect timing!” Said James as he launched over to hug him “I’m leaving, good luck Moons, Sirius has gone completely mad.”

“Oh well that makes sense.” Remus laughed dropping down to his bed.

“Be nice to him.” James warned as he left the dorm.

“Me?” Asked both boys at the same time.

“Precisely.” James laughed closing the door behind him.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 54: There Was Only One Bed

The case had been absolutely brutal.

Draco was completely exhausted, every muscle in his body ached, and it felt like every step might be his last before he simply passed out and fell asleep on the ground. And he was still so bloody cold, there weren't enough warming charms in the world to help him get warm.

Trudging along beside him, his feet dragging across the ground, he knew that Harry must be feeling the same. "The hotel's just up ahead," Harry murmured. "I can't wait to get a nice hot shower and then sleep for the next eight to ten hours."

He nodded in agreement, by morning the DMLE would be able to get a portkey to them so they could get back home, for now the room they were providing at the local muggle hotel would have to suffice.

The girl at the check in counter in the lobby was far too cheerful for Draco's taste, chattering away about the festival that was coming to town tomorrow and the weather (the weather of all things). Harry didn't help with his polite responses and his bloody adorable smiles.

It felt like an eternity but they finally made it upstairs and stumbled through the door only for both of them to draw up short.

"There's only one bed," Harry said.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, Potter," Draco drawled, quietly panicking.

After a beat Harry suggested, "Why don't you go shower and I'll check in with the desk about it."

Draco looked over at him, "Are you sure? You're the one who got dunked into that icy water."

Harry nodded, "Your lips are starting to turn blue."

He rolled his eyes but gave Harry a little smile, "Thanks, savior."

"Fuck off," Harry laughed. "I'll be back," he added as he headed out of the room.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco turned the water as hot as it would go and climbed in under the spray, his body shivering as he slowly warmed up. By the time he got out and wrapped himself in a fluffy bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door, Harry had returned. He'd stripped out of his wet clothes and put on the other bathrobe and was sitting at the desk, working on their report.

"What was the verdict?" Draco asked.

Harry turned and looked over at his shoulder, his eyes sliding over Draco's body covered only in a bathrobe and making Draco feel warm all over before he reminded himself that they were professionals. The other man couldn't possibly be interested in him like that, he chastised himself. He needed to get his head out of the clouds before he ruined everything.

"This is literally the only room left in the hotel," Harry said. "It's a queen size bed, though," he said with a little shrug, "We should be okay, right?" he asked, voice soft and strangely vulnerable.

Draco cleared his throat and put on his usual masks, the ones that kept anything more than friendship hidden, "Oh, I suppose," he replied and Harry gave him a relieved little smile. "As long as you promise not to steal all of the blankets."

"Promise," Harry replied, crossing a finger over his heart in a gesture that was decidedly not adorable.

Draco nudged him up from the chair, "Go shower, I'll finish these."

Harry nodded and rose, Draco watched his retreating form until he disappeared from sight. Then he turned to the reports Harry had started and picked up where he'd left off, steadfastly not thinking about Harry's naked body just on the other side of the door.

When he came back out, his long curly hair was hanging loose around his shoulders, weighed down by the water. He didn't let himself stare, didn't let himself wonder what it would be like to wrap his fingers through his hair and cover Harry's mouth with his own.

"I have some extra sweatpants," Harry said, completely oblivious to the way Draco was slowly dying inside, as he sorted through the muggle jacket he'd been wearing for the case and pulled out a little pouch. He reached inside, his arm disappearing to his elbow.

"Merlin," Draco said, watching him dig around in the bag, "Hermione's spellwork is really second to none."

Harry grinned at him over his shoulder as he dug deeper, "Right? Here," he said tossing a pair a of navy sweatpants at Draco, "These have a tie at the waist so at least they have a chance at staying up around your skinny body," he added before tossing him a DMLE t-shirt that was soft from all of the times it had been worn before.

"Thanks," Draco murmured, throat thick with the intimacy of wearing his clothes. He was fairly certain he was never going to recover from this.

"No problem," Harry replied, his dimple flashing at him.

Without another word, Draco headed back to the bathroom to change and to get a hold on his emotions because honestly, this was all feeling a bit too domestic and he needed to get a grip before he said or did something stupid.

When he came out, Harry was standing in just a pair of grey sweatpants, still digging around in the bag.

Draco's jaw literally dropped, it should be illegal for the other man to wear grey sweatpants, especially without anything else underneath. Lust spiked hot through Draco's body and his fingers itched to touch.

Harry turned to look at him, "I cannot find another tshirt in here," he said.

Draco tried to click his jaw closed and get the fucking blush that felt like it was covering his entire body under control before Harry noticed. "Sorry?" he managed.

"I can't find another tshirt." He repeated as he scratched the back of his neck, "Is it going to bother you if I sleep without one?"

Yes! Draco wanted to scream, Circe, yes. How was he meant to sleep when all of that skin and those muscles were right there?

"Draco?"

"Do you want this one?" he asked, indicating the one he was wearing.

Harry shook his head, "You get colder than I do," he said. "I run hot."

Yes, you do, Draco thought because Merlin, Harry was attractive.

"What?" Harry asked.

"What?" he replied.

"What did you say?"

Panic, absolute panic, flooded his mind when he realized he must have said that bit aloud, "Nothing," he said. "Just yes, you do run warmer than I do."

"So, it's okay for me to just sleep without a shirt?" Harry asked, sounding confused and uncertain and if the floor could just open up and swallow Draco whole, that would probably be preferable to this.

"Merlin," he said. "Sorry. No, it's fine, of course it's fine. I'm just exhausted."

Harry hummed sympathetically, "Me too." He nodded to the papers on the desk, "these can wait until tomorrow."

"Great. Bed then?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied as he tossed the bag onto the pile of his clothes in the chair. He climbed under the covers on the right side of the bed and let out a low moan as his body sank into the mattress, "Godric, that feels good."

It was karma. It had to be, Draco was paying for every single misdeed that he'd ever committed.

"What?" Harry asked, sitting up on his elbows in bed to look at Draco, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

Harry's brow furrowed, "I don't know. What's bothering you?"

"Aren't you going to do something with your hair?" he blurted because it was the first thing that came to mind.

"My hair?"

He nodded, "Doesn't it dry funny if it's wet when you go to sleep? Do you ever, I don't know, braid it or something?" That seemed reasonable, didn't it?

Harry tilted his head at him, "No. Honestly, I don't know how to braid my hair."

"Let me," Draco said, then immediately cursed himself. Was it possible to just die from embarrassment?

But Harry didn't seem to think anything of it, "Yeah, alright," he said, sitting up cross legged, and turning his back to Draco.

After taking a slow deep breath and willing his racing heart to slow, he climbed on the bed and knelt behind him, "Tilt your head back a bit," he murmured and he started french braiding the other man's hair, his curls still damp but surprisingly soft.

Harry hummed softly as Draco's nails scratched lightly at his scalp as he gathered new sections to draw into the braid. "Feels nice," Harry murmured and Draco's mind was flooded with images of Harry laid out on the bed as Draco touched and kissed every inch of him; images of heady, hazy pleasure that made the back of Draco's throat feel dry.

"Good," Draco whispered as he continued to work his thick hair into the braid. "You have really fantastic hair," he said, "My mother has thick hair, I was always jealous, mine's so fine and wispy."

"I like your hair," Harry protested. "It's so shiny and it looks so soft. You've had nice hair since third year when you stopped slicking it back against your head."

He couldn't help but smile, "Just the personality that was a bit lacking."

"You turned out alright," Harry teased softly and something in Draco's chest warmed at the praise.

He summoned an elastic from the tray of office supplies on the desk and wrapped it around the end of the braid. "There," he said, "Now you won't wake up with your hair in your face."

"Thanks," Harry replied softly.

"No problem," Draco responded.

They stayed still for another long moment before Harry said, "Right, I'm half asleep just sitting here. Ready for the lights to be turned off?"

Draco shifted and slipped under the covers, "Yes."

Wandlessly, Harry turned off the lights and slid under the blankets, "Good night, Draco," he whispered.

"Good night." And there was a longing that settled deep in his chest to simply roll onto his side and pull Harry close. His fingers twitched to reach across the mere inches between them and hold Harry's hand in his.

He didn't know how long he laid there, listening to Harry's breathing, feeling the heat radiating off of the other man's body and aching to bridge the gap between them, all he knew was that, for the first time in his life, his feet weren't cold as he drifted off.

---------

Draco was having the most amazing dream.

He was laying in bed with Harry, their bodies all tangled together, as Harry kissed him. Draco's arms wrapped tighter around him, hands caressing, the broad, smooth planes of his back.

"Mmm," Harry hummed as he sucked on Draco's lower lip. When he drew back, he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses along Draco's jaw, licking and sucking as he groaned, "Mmm, Draco."

Surely, Draco had never heard his name before, it resonated down to the core of his being and made his entire body shudder as he arched closer and tipped his head back to give Harry easier access to his neck.

His fingers slid into Harry's hair, catching on the braid. And in that instant, he realized this was not a dream and his eyes snapped open. "Shite," he managed, shoving Harry back, "I'm sorry," he gasped, even as Harry flailed and fell on the floor.

"Ouch," Harry groaned.

"Shite," he repeated, "Fuck." He ran a trembling hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands as he tried to come up with some way to fix this, to salvage their partnership, to salvage their friendship. "Salazar, Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry sat up, on the floor, "Just to be clear, what are you sorry for?"

"Kissing you," he said. "Harry I never meant for you-"

"That's what I was afraid of," Harry groaned.

"Sorry?"

Harry shook his head and summoned his glasses so he could shove them on his face, "No, I'm sorry. This is all my fault." He looked up at Draco from where he was still sitting on the floor, "Can I be honest with you?"

Draco nodded.

"I have an embarrassingly massive crush on you."

He stared at Harry uncomprehendingly.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Harry continued, "And I know that you couldn't possibly feel the same," he hastened to add, "But I'm sure that sleeping so close to you made my subconscious-"

"I feel the same," he blurted because he couldn't possibly wait for Harry to finish that sentence, not when he looked so heartbroken.

"What?"

Draco tried to get off of the bed, got tangled in the sheet, and ended up sprawling on top Harry on the floor. "I," he said, rubbing at his rib cage where it had banged into the nightstand, "Ouch. I feel the same."

"Yeah?" Harry breathed, his fingers clenching in the tshirt Draco was wearing.

Draco nodded, "For absolutely ages. I-"

Harry's mouth covered his and stopped the flow of words but that was just fine with Draco, obviously his mouth had been made to kiss Harry and nothing more. Harry started trailing kisses all over his face and Draco couldn't help it, he started to giggle.

He could feel Harry's smile against his skin but he growled teasingly before Draco found himself quite suddenly flat on his back on the mattress with Harry's body over his.

"Did you just apparate us without a wand?"

Harry's head popped up from where he was sucking what Draco was sure was going to be a fantastic bruise on his neck, "It's not like it was far."

"That is ridiculously hot," Draco said, arching up against the hard planes of Harry's body.

"Let's see what else I can do to get you to say that," he said with a wink.

Unsurprisingly, there was no shortage of things that Harry could do that Draco found ridiculously hot.

---------

On their way down to complimentary breakfast the next morning, they were greeted by the man covering the check-in desk, "Good morning, gentlemen, I trust you slept well. Especially since you didn't have any neighbors on your floor," he added with a smile.

"We slept great, thanks," Harry called as he hurriedly ushered Draco toward breakfast.

"Wait a minute," Draco said, looking over at him. "You said that every room in the hotel was full!"

Harry cringed, "I lied."

He stared at him in shock for a moment, "You Slytherin!" he accused. "Look at you, using your cunning to get what you want."

"Well, I'd say it worked out just fine, wouldn't you?" Harry asked with a pout.

And he took pity on him, because he was honestly the most adorable thing Draco had ever seen and he was pretty sure he was in love with him. "Better than fine," Draco replied, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips.

And it was better than fine, in fact, it made a fantastic story for their wedding just over a year later.

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

Ho boy. This one got away from me. Sorry it's so long!

Day 53: First Anniversary | Day 55: Music

[midgardianweasley]

GEORGE WEASLEY X PLUS SIZE READER MY SOUL NEEDS IT IT NEEDS IT NOWW

ofc ofc bestie, i hope it’s okay <33

All of your bodies are absolutely beautiful guys <33 

All of you

George Weasley x Plus Size fem!Reader

Summary: It’s summertime and Y/N is spending her weeks at the Burrow with the Weasley family, invited by Molly and her boyfriend of 5 months, George. The family all decide to go to the local lake to cool off from the sun, Y/N isn’t confident with her body/stretch marks and says she just wants to stay home to avoid anyone else seeing them. George notices and convinces her that her body is beautiful the way it is.

Warnings: Body insecurities, stretch marks, anxious thoughts

Word Count: 1769

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist lovelies <3

Over the past week at the Burrow, the sun had been blazing, heat becoming a common frustration in the home. They had all tried everything they could to try and cool down, extra ice in their drinks, standing in front of fans, they’d even played quidditch so that they could feel a slight breeze, the air proving to be unhelpful by being at a complete standstill, the humidity was unbearable. Everyone was gathered in the living room, scattered around the room to avoid any possible extra body heat. Even Y/N and George who were always sitting together at any given opportunity had sat themselves a good couple of feet away from the other, the thought of being cuddled up with George had made Y/N grow incredibly warm. Upon hearing Fred groan about how boiling he was for what felt like the millionth time in the last half an hour, Ginny had had enough.

“Fred, for the love of Merlin, will you shut up?”

“I can’t help it! It’s like a bloody fire in here” He argued, tilting his head back against the sofa, quickly regretting it when feeling the fabric against his neck.

“We’re all feeling it Fred! we’re all hot, we’re all bored, we’re all agitated, you repeating the same thing over and over, isn’t helping.” You could hear the frustration in her voice, quickly replaced by the sound of Arthur Weasley standing up and walking around frantically

“Right, we’re not sitting around here for any longer, everyone, pack some swimming gear, we’re going to the Lake!” He announced, everyone cheering, everyone except Y/N. The thought of showing more skin than normal, sent a bolt of anxiety through her. She hadn’t felt comfortable in her own skin for a long time, imagining herself in a swimsuit had made her internally cringe. She was so used to wearing jeans and at a push, a short sleeved t-shirt, knowing what lay beneath. Y/N had never been a fan of her stretch marks. Her parents had always told her that they were signs of her growing, that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. She had always viewed them differently. Over the years, she had seen plenty of girls show their stomachs, their legs, and she hadn’t seen them. Or if she had, they weren’t like hers, their ones were white or clear or smaller. She thought something was wrong with her body. Why were hers not white? Why were hers a mixture of red and purple? She was soon brought out of her thoughts by George standing in front of her, placing his hands on her hips gently before speaking.

“You alright Love? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost” He chuckled

Y/N and George had only been dating for about five months, being close friends for a previous two years. He wasn’t aware of Y/N’s insecurities about her body, she always appeared so confident, she hadn’t let it show so to not bring any attention to it. Y/N stepped away slightly when feeling his hands lie on her hips, feeling him touching where she knew the marks where. Trying her best to ignore the frown on his face at the sudden loss of contact, she spoke up quietly.

“Y’know George, I think i’m gonna sit this one out, I’m not feeling so good.” She lied, briefly meeting his eyes but not maintaining the contact for long. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at her comment.

“Oh. That's okay, I’ll just go and tell mum we’re stay-” He went to leave, but Y/N caught his wrist, gently tugging him back.

“No no, you go have fun Georgie, I’ll just see you when you get back”

“Are you sure you want to stay? Will you be alright on your own?” He questioned, not entirely convinced by her suggestion, she seemed okay when they were all sat down? She never gave up an opportunity to spend time with his family?

“Of course my love, you go and cool down. Tell everyone i’m sorry though, I was excited to go” She lied through the grit of her teeth, pulling a tight lipped smile. ‘There it was’ George thought. Over the years, Y/N had a tell for when she was lying. Her smile was always different when she was telling the truth. This one didn’t quite meet her eyes, why was she lying? He didn’t mention it, he didn’t want to cause a scene or embarrass her, so with a simple nod of his head, he kissed her cheek and waved her up the stairs, going over to Fred when he’d heard the door click shut.

“Hey mate, where’s Y/N gone?” Fred asked, looking around to see if he’d just missed her in the flurry of people gathering their things together.

“She’s just gone upstairs, you lot crack on, we’ll follow after you guys.”

“You sure? I can get mum to go up if she needs some, y’know, woman to woman discussion.” Fred spoke awkwardly, unsure of how to help.

“Nah mate, we’re good, i’ll head up. Honestly, you guys go ahead” George waved him off, watching him meet with the rest of his family, Harry and Hermione included as they were staying with Ron for a bit during the holidays. When he saw them all walking off on their way to the lake, he ran up the stairs, taking two stairs up at a time, coming face to face with his door, he raised his fist and knocked gently.

“Come in?” Y/N spoke with a hint of confusion, she was so sure she’d heard the downstairs door shut. George opened the door, popping his head round first before stepping in, briefly seeing Y/N pull down her top, hoping that he hadn’t seen her stomach before approaching her. Deciding to keep his hands to himself this time, he began to speak. “What’s the real reason you don’t want to go?” He spoke, with only concern and love in his voice.

“I told you, i’m not feeling well.”

“I know what you told me love, but I also know when you’re lying, I want to know what’s troubling you so I can help.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” Y/N spoke, but quickly jumping backwards when she’d caught eye of George beginning to reach out again. He picked up on her reaction again.

“Have I done something princess?”

“No, you haven’t done anything Georgie.” She sighed, feeling defeated knowing that he could read her like a book but had come to the conclusion that it was something against him.

“You can talk to me you know, if it is something I’ve done, I-”

“It’s not aimed at you, I just, I don’t like it.” She spoke, causing George to tilt his head slightly, not entirely sure what she meant. Seeing this, she spoke again.

“I..I don’t like people touching my stomach, or my hips, or my legs.”

“Is there a reason why? If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t need to answer, but i’m here to help if you do”

Y/N thought about it for a few minutes, George standing silently, giving her time to think it over. Instead of speaking, she lifted her top slightly, not a lot, but enough for George to see what in his eyes looked to be like red and purple lightning bolts. He looked fascinated by them. Shying under his stare, but not pulling her top down yet, Y/N mumbled

“They’re called stretch marks, if that’s what you’re wondering.” George looked up at her

“And you don’t like them?”

“No.”

“How come?” He spoke, being patient with her responses. She sighed again, taking a minute before answering

“They look weird, almost angry. They’re not faded and white like other girls. They just make me feel like my body is..wrong. I don’t know how else to explain it” She spoke, feeling vulnerable under his eyes, knowing he was looking at them, something she had always avoided. George’s gaze fluttered between her stretch marks and her eyes, feeling fully captivated by her. “May i?” He spoke, indicating that he’d wanted to touch them, she hesitated, but eventually nodded her head, trusting him to not judge her. He softly stroked them with his thumb, feeling slightly proud that she was letting him be this close to her, not just physically, but emotionally. He knew she felt vulnerable, she was trusting him with her insecurity. Because of this, he chose his next words carefully.

“I think they’re beautiful”

“George-” She went to reply, but he quickly cut her off

“No no, just listen to me for a minute, okay?” She stopped speaking, taking this as a sign to speak, he continued. “I think they’re beautiful. They’re a sign that you’ve grown. That your body is changing, a sign of something good. They don’t have to look like everyone else’s, your body, and every mark on it, is unique to you, just like your personality. All of it makes you the Y/N we all know and love. I know not everyone has seen them, but I can guarantee nothing would change if they were to see it. These are nothing to be ashamed of.” He spoke, still stroking the marks. Meeting her eyes again, he saw tears falling and heard quiet sniffles.

“Hey hey, what’s with the tears, Princess? did I say something wrong?” She smiled and chuckled softly

“Not a thing Georgie, I’ve just never heard of anyone speak of me so fondly before. Do you mean all of that?”

“Of course I do my love. Every word. I understand if you don’t want to go to the Lake, but, I think it would be a nice idea. You don’t need to wear anything you’re uncomfortable with, just having your company would be enough for us.” Wiping her tears while speaking. She shook her head.

“I think i’ll go, but I’ll just go with what i’m wearing, if that’s okay. I don’t want to wear a swimsuit.”

“That’s absolutely fine, princess. Whatever you like.” George smiled, about to turn to lead both of them out, before he was tugged back again. She leaned up to kiss him, just a peck, but it spoke a thousand words.

“Thank you for staying and helping me Georgie, it means the world to me.”

“Anything for you.” He spoke, kissing her again before the both of them walked out hand in hand, ready to go to the lake and meet the rest of the family, hopefully without Fred’s grumbles.

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @dracofknmalfoy @gaycatlord-stuff

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

End of His Rope

Prompts: Don't know if you're in the mood to write some Merthur but if you are, being the hurt/comfort royalty that you are, may I humbly request a little "shatter my soul" misunderstanding? If not that's fine too. - alittletoo-obsessed

So, I've been rereading some of your Merlin fics, and I was wondering if you could maybe write something where Merlin's experienced some sort of trauma before he came to Camelot, and so he's always avoiding things or reacting strangely, but Arthur assumes that's just his personality, but then something seemingly innocuous happens and he just breaks down completely in front of Arthur, & Arthur can't understand why. Cue Arthur trying to help him and Merlin eventually having to explain everything. - anon

Our BOYS i did miss them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: childhood trauma, flashbacks, drowning

Pairings: merthur, platonic or romantic don't care

Word Count: 3682

It’s always the water in his dreams.

Dark. Lapping at the stone walls. Bottomless.

The chain clanks heavily against the sides.

It’s so deep.

The rope is never long enough.

—————

Arthur has no idea why he had to get assigned the weirdest servant in Camelot.

Sure, it’s not like he asked for Merlin to be his servant—and he’ll kill you if you tell him this, but he’s not changing Merlin for the world—but come on, he could’ve at least gotten someone normal.

But no, he has to get this clumsy fool of a bumpkin that insists on tripping over his own feet, stumbling into walls, spending days at a time who knows where—he’s good friends with the tavern owner so he knows Merlin’s not there—and occasionally spouting great wisdom seemingly off the top of his head. And to top it all off, he’s endearing enough that Arthur panics whenever Merlin’s not right next to him.

It’s terribly annoying.

But that—well, most of that—he can forgive. Merlin’s a clumsy fool but he’s a good distraction. He’s a forgetful sod but he’s witty enough to make up for whatever time he’s lost with some sort of solution. He’s a disrespectful clot pole but it’s a welcome relief from all this ‘yes, sire,’ ‘no, sire,’ ‘would you prefer pork or poultry, sire?’ It gets a bit grating every now and then.

And alright, maybe Merlin’s not entirely to blame for how endearing Arthur finds him. Maybe.

But the whole thing about water Arthur will never understand.

The first time he asked Merlin to draw him a bath he thought the man was about to fall over. Merlin had gone pale and stammered out that yes, he would do that, how does he do that? He’d assumed it was because Merlin was shirking from his duties or whatnot but he hadn’t asked any of the other servants to help him, instead drawing the water for Arthur all by himself. Bemused, Arthur had told him he’s allowed to get help, only for Merlin to go on one of those impressive rants about how servants were people too, and interrupting their jobs seemed rude. Which, alright fair enough but it didn’t erase the pale and shaken expression from his face.

The first time he walked in on Merlin trying to clean the floor, he stopped and stared at the bucket sitting in the farthest corner of the room.

“You know it’s more efficient to keep the bucket with you, right?”

Merlin shrugs. “You have an issue with how I clean the floor, you are more than welcome to do it yourself.”

Arthur had scoffed and turned to leave but the tension in Merlin’s shoulders had stayed.

The first time he met Merlin in the courtyard and tries to walk past the well was the first time Merlin had strayed from his side.

“And of course, you’ll need to make sure all of my armor is…” Arthur trails off, looking around for Merlin, only to notice him a few paces away. “What the hell are you doing over there?”

“Walking.”

“Get back here,” Arthur barks, “I’m not done.”

“I can hear you perfectly fine over here.”

“Merlin—hey!”

“Sorry, sire!” A carriage blows right by them, Merlin reaching out to yank Arthur closer by his sleeve as it goes by. “Didn’t see you there!”

Arthur mutters a curse and brushes himself off.

“That’s why,” Merlin says, helping him dust himself off, “don’t want you to get run over by a wagon, now.”

Arthur cuffs him half-heartedly over the head and keeps walking.

He tries again a few times but Merlin studiously avoids the well with a grace that he scarcely applies to anything else.

It hits him when they’re out hunting once that Merlin might just hate getting wet.

So he pushes him into a pond.

Merlin splutters and curses at him and purposefully dumps all the arrows into the pond with him so they’re useless for hunting but he knows how to swim and if the way he slings his sodden neckerchief at Arthur is any indication, he’s not entirely opposed to the water.

And yes, the day was hot and maybe a water fight was the best way to cool off.

It only ever happens when they’re in Camelot. Sometimes Merlin will accidentally kick one of the buckets and it looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Arthur chuckles at him and calls him a delicate pansy but it’s only ever that loud noise. Not when the bells are going off—they really need to get better security for the dungeons—not when Merlin drops another tray, only the bucket.

And he still won’t go near the well.

Merlin must just not like it. That’s fine.

Doesn’t mean he’s going to get out of his chores, though.

He watches Merlin go about his day, watches him change the sheets, do up the rest of the room, get the laundry, but he never goes into the courtyard. He frowns when Merlin does ask someone else—Lilian, he thinks her name is—to go get a bucket of water for him, but there’s nothing quite like the way that Merlin lingers at the very edge of the courtyard, his gaze on a constant swivel, trying to see something that isn’t there.

It’s unnerving.

But it’s Merlin, and Merlin is strange, so Arthur just shrugs and moves on.

—————

Merlin wakes up in a cold sweat.

He wraps his arms around himself and scrambles to the floor. Dust cakes itself over his shins and forearms and he heaves a sob.

The hand on his shoulder that branded him so many years ago hums with the feeling of Arthur’s glove.

—————

“Leave it,” Arthur says, patting Merlin’s shoulder as he walks by, “we’ll get the next one.”

He steers Merlin away from the well toward the castle door, the dropped bucket rolling across the stones. Behind them, Lilian lowers another bucket into the well, the soft splash-thunk of the water and the creak of the handle. Arthur shakes his head.

“Why does it have to be so bloody hot?”

“It’s summer,” Merlin mumbles, clearly feeling the heat too by the sweat beaded on his brow, “it’s supposed to be hot.”

“Not this hot.” Arthur shakes his head, dismayed when his hair sticks to his forehead. “We should be inside.”

“You’re the one that dragged us out here, sire.”

“Enough. Come on. I’m sure there’s somewhere cooler we could be sitting.”

They make their way back into the castle, Merlin immediately going to draw the curtains to block out the hideous light of the sun as Arthur flops down onto his bed and scrubs his hands over his face.

“You’ll get your sheets all sweaty.”

“Everything in this castle is already sweaty,” Arthur mumbles, “what’s a few sheets?”

“Well, when you have to sleep on them tonight, that will be your problem.”

“Please. I’ve slept in worse.”

“Mm.” Merlin swats him with a pillow. “You’ve also complained about your room being too hot more times than I can count. Move.”

“You move,” he manages as he peels himself off the bed and onto the floor. “Why is it so hot, Merlin?”

“I told you, it’s summer.”

Arthur squints. “You’re wearing so many clothes.”

“It is polite to wear clothes, Arthur.”

“But you’re wearing a jacket and long sleeves and a scarf and long trousers! How are you not hot?”

Merlin shrugs. “I run cold.”

“C’mere then.” Arthur holds out his hand. “I’m too hot. Cool me off.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You’d have better luck sticking your head in a casket of mead.”

“Merlin.”

“You would,” Merlin sings, “but then you’d be even stickier than you are now.”

“Fine.” His head falls back against the bed with a thud. “Maybe I’ll just jump in water next time.”

He’s too hot to notice the way that Merlin stiffens.

—————

Merlin pants and heaves and scrabbles at the floor. It’s real, he’s really dry, it’s safe, there’s nowhere to go down.

He shivers on the cold floor and reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself in it tightly and clutching the fabric to his face. It scratches horribly and he rubs his cheek into it.

Rough is safe. Dust is safe. Warm is safe.

There’s nowhere to go.

High above Camelot, dark clouds begin to swirl in the sky, carrying with them the promise of rain.

—————

Arthur sighs as he slumps under the edge of the stable. Really, a rainstorm? Right now? The air had a weight to it, hanging over the courtyard like a dirty rag, right up until the heavens burst open and decided to pour over the city. They’d barely made it to the safety of the stable in time before it looked like the storm was doing its best to wash the courtyard clean.

“Well, there goes the plan for the rest of the day.”

Merlin huddles against the stable, shying away from the gutter. “Are we going to try and make it back inside?”

“Unless you fancy a mad dash through the storm, I’d say we’re better off waiting it out.”

Merlin glares at the water like it’s personally insulted Gaius in front of him. Arthur follows his gaze to watch one of the horses finally drag its cart under an overhanging section of roof.

“Seems everyone wants to get out of this rain.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Arthur sighs before something hits him in the forehead. He glances up.

A raindrop hits him square in the eye.

Biting back a curse, he glances around and spies a bucket.

“Aha!”

“What’re you—Arthur?”

“This should show you,” he mutters, shoving the bucket under the leak, “there. Now try it.”

He looks up to reassure Merlin that he’s fine, he just got hit in the eye with a raindrop, only to see Merlin’s face.

“…Merlin?”

Merlin’s face is ash. His mouth hangs open, his lips dry despite the rain and his lower lip starts to wobble.

“Merlin!”

And Merlin is gone, tearing through the rain like a bat out of hell. Arthur mutters another curse and races after him, barely flinching at the deluge as he tries to keep his eyes on Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, as they dart into the castle and up the stairs.

“Merlin, where are you—slow down, you’re going to—Merlin!”

Merlin trips. He falls.

Arthur reaches out and wraps an arm around Merlin’s waist, just saving him from careening down a staircase.

“Merlin, shh,” he tries, only to have to grunt and struggle to keep a hold of the man as he claws at the air in front of him, “come on—Merlin!”

His room. They need to get to his room.

“Sorry, Merlin,” he mumbles, before swinging the man up—why is he so light?—and making a break for his chambers.

The door slams shut behind him and he lets Merlin go, his chest aching as he watches him fall to the floor, scrabbling madly at the stone until his fingers start to bleed.

“Merlin,” he cries again, dropping to his knees and taking Merlin’s hands in his, “Merlin, look at me!”

His…his eyes…

Arthur has never seen Merlin look like this. He’s never seen him in so much pain.

“Merlin,” he tries, softer this time, “Merlin, it’s alright. You’re safe, I’m right here.”

Finally, finally, Merlin stills. Though still is almost worse, he looks frozen. He swallows.

“…’rthur?”

“Yes, Merlin, it’s me, I’m right here, it’s alright.” He gives Merlin’s hands a gentle squeeze. “What’s—oh!”

Merlin throws himself at him, all but knocking him over as he wraps his arms tightly around his waist. Arthur catches him with a huff, letting him bury his soaking wet face in his jerkin.

“Easy, Merlin, it’s alright,” he laughs nervously, “you’re—well, alright, you idiot, if you…if you need to…”

He says as if he’s not cuddling Merlin already.

Arthur sighs, the dampness of their clothes making it more than a little uncomfortable but not caring in the slightest when Merlin starts to sob into his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, Merlin, it’s alright, I’m right here. You’ve got me, I’ve got you, we’re not going anywhere.” He rubs Merlin’s back firmly and presses his cheek to his wet hair. “I’ve got you.”

Poor Merlin is still shaking like a leaf. Arthur frowns, glaring at the storm with the intent to stare it down until it tells him why the hell it thinks it can hurt his Merlin like this.

“The rain can’t hurt you anymore,” he growls, “we’re inside. You’re safe. Everything’s alright.”

Merlin hiccups. “We’re—it’s—over?”

“The storm isn’t quite through yet, but we’re out of the rain, yes, Merlin, you’re safe.”

“Don’t—want—fall—“

“You can’t fall here, I’ve got you, we’re on the floor.”

“Rope—too short—won’t reach all the way—hurts—“

The roaring protectiveness in his gut starts to give way to confusion, what rope? Where is Merlin trying to go?

“Calm down, Merlin,” he says instead, rubbing his back, “it’s alright, there’s no rope—“

Merlin lets out a howl.

“No, no, no! That’s not—there is a rope,” Arthur tries desperately, “and it’s long enough, we can reach, it’s alright, everyone’s safe, you’re safe, shh, shh…”

The howl buries itself in some soft part of Arthur’s chest. His hands are itching for his sword, something, anything to fight what’s causing Merlin this much pain but he can’t, there’s nothing, so he wraps his arms tighter around Merlin and glares at the storm.

After a long, long time, when their tunics have done their best to meld with their skin, Merlin stills. There’s one more soft hiccup before a cold nose presses itself to Arthur’s neck.

“…Merlin?”

“‘Rthur? Arthur?”

“It’s me, Merlin, I’m right here.”

“Arthur…” Merlin tenses and before Arthur can protest, pulls away. “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Arthur says sharply, only for Merlin to flinch. He softens his voice and reaches for him. “Don’t pull away, don’t apologize. Are you hurt?”

Merlin lets him wrap an arm around him, thank god. “No. Not hurt.”

Arthur opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes. Get dry. Yeah?”

The word ‘dry’ seems to unlock something, Merlin’s limbs flowing looser around his body. “Yeah…”

“Dry it is then,” Arthur says quietly, “come on, there are towels for us to dry off, we can get dry, we’ve got dry clothes here.”

Concern chases its tail around Arthur’s chest as he carefully tousles Merlin’s hair dry as Merlin peels himself out of his soaked clothes. They end up in a sodden heap in the corner, ready to be taken to the laundress’s as Arthur offers Merlin one of his nightshirts.

Merlin looks like a drowned puppy, blinking warily at the proffered shirt.

“Just put it on, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “it’s dry and warm.”

There’s the magic word again. Merlin tugs on the shirt and wraps his arms around himself. Arthur glances behind him at the bed and prods Merlin’s shoulder.

“Under the covers now,” he murmurs, smiling a little at Merlin’s confusion, “come on, I want to be warm too. And if you still run cold you’re going to need more than that to warm you up.”

Merlin lets him tug them both up to the other end of the bed, under the covers, pulling the sheets up to their chins. Arthur reaches out to take Merlin’s hands and examine them.

“You’re hurt,” he murmurs, “but it shouldn’t last very long. We can go to Gaius if you really need it.”

He glances up to see Merlin’s exhausted little face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tugging Merlin a little closer, “are you alright?”

“Tired, now,” Merlin mumbles, “and embarrassed.”

“It’s okay.” Arthur pulls him closer. “C’mere.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Warming you up.” And hugging you because you’re still looking like a drowned puppy.

“Oh.” Merlin is all elbows and knees and wet hair, scrunched up under Arthur’s chin, but he relaxes a little. “Thanks.”

“Mm.” Arthur runs a hand over his back. “Want to talk about it?”

Merlin hums. “Not really.”

Arthur bites back a curse and takes his lip between his teeth. “Can I ask what it was that set it off? So it…doesn’t happen again?”

Something warm flares against his neck. “It’s stupid.”

“You just had a breakdown in my arms, Merlin, it’s not stupid.”

“They can both be stupid.”

“Well, they aren’t.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“It makes you upset,” Arthur says firmly, “it’s not stupid.”

Merlin is quiet for a few moments. Then: “you can ask.”

Good. “Was it the storm?”

“Not really.”

“Was it the rain?”

“Not really.”

Arthur frowns. Then what could it have been? Merlin had been glaring at the storm like he wanted it to go away.

But he was the one to suggest they make a run for it.

As a matter of fact, he’d been fine up until…

Up until Arthur had moved the bucket.

“…Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“Was it the bucket?”

Merlin stiffens. Then he lets out a long sigh and tucks his face deeper into Arthur’s chest. “Yes.”

“…can I ask why?”

“Do you have to?”

Yes. “No, I don’t, I just…” Arthur takes a deep breath. “I don’t like seeing you like this, Merlin, it…you’re upset and I can’t help and I can’t do anything. It hurts.”

He holds Merlin a little tighter.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he confesses in a whisper, “I want to help.”

Merlin shudders in his arms. “Well that’s not fair,” he says hoarsely, “but…thanks.”

And the story comes spilling out of him.

There is a well on the outskirts of Ealdor. It is old, built before Merlin’s mother can remember, and it has one metal bucket on the end of a long, fraying rope. When there is a drought, the bucket has to be lowered further in order to reach the water.

One year, there was a very bad drought. The well was running dry. So the people of the village decided to build a new well closer to the river with a much longer rope. The old well was not used.

Merlin’s job used to be to fetch the water for the animals at the end of the day. So he would walk to the well. One night, he forgot that the old well wasn’t being used.

He found a pack of the village boys around the old well.

They were laughing and pointing at something inside.

Merlin wandered closer to figure out what was going on.

The bucket sat useless outside the well.

There was a boy inside the well.

Merlin couldn’t see him, it was too dark.

The splashing sounds were getting weaker.

The cries were getting quieter.

The other boys laughed at him when he threw his own bucket down and raced for the other one.

One of them grabbed his arm.

“Don’t, or we’ll throw you in too.”

Merlin had to watch.

The boys left when they couldn’t hear the cries anymore.

Merlin threw down the bucket.

The rope wasn’t long enough.

His mother found him the next morning, the metal bucket by his side long forgotten, his hands all but frozen to the old crank, still peering down into the water.

Arthur’s mouth runs dry as Merlin keeps talking. Unbidden, his arms tighten around the man mumbling into his chest.

He couldn’t have known.

He couldn’t have known.

How cruel those boys must have been, how awful it must be for Merlin to keep seeing that, over and over and over…

“I’m sorry,” he says in a strangled whisper when Merlin’s finished. “I’m so sorry.”

Merlin is quiet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he continues, “it wasn’t, Merlin, it’s—it’s not your fault.”

“The rope wasn’t long enough,” comes the mumble, “I couldn’t save him.”

“Shh, shh, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself for the cruelty of others.” Arthur holds him tighter. “I’m sorry, Merlin, you don’t have to go near the well ever again, I promise, we can get someone else to do it.”

Merlin just curls further into his chest.

“You’re safe, you’re dry, everything’s alright, you’ll be fine—“ Arthur can’t stop blabbering on, trying to reassure the poor man in his arms— “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur too and holds tight. “Don’t have to go near the well?”

“No, no, Merlin, never.”

“Don’t have to use the buckets?”

“No. Only wooden buckets and only when you need to.”

“Don’t have to be wet?”

“You’re dry, I’ll keep you dry.”

“Is there still rope?”

“The ropes are long enough, they’re always long enough.”

“Good,” Merlin mumbles, the exhaustion finally bleeding into his voice, “good…good…”

When they wake up, they’ll have to talk about what else Merlin needs, how to deal with this. Arthur will have to grit his teeth and resist the urge to storm back to Ealdor and teach those boys a lesson. Merlin will curl his fingers into Arthur’s jacket every time they walk past the well.

But for now, Merlin will drift off to sleep in Arthur’s arms, Arthur will hold him, and they’ll stay safe and dry out of the rain where they don’t need a bucket to stop any leaks.

[bjornthorsson20]

All I Do Is For You

"Just one drink."

Ron Weasley was not having the evening he had planned out. He had gotten home earlier today, surprising his wife Hermione, excited to deliver her the news of his recent resignation from the Auror Corps. With his wife now pregnant, Ron thought it would be good to settle down into a less life-threatening job, so he had asked George if the offer to come work with him still stood. George had told him he could start as soon as the month was over, which left Ron at least two more weeks to resign from his post in the Auror office and meet up with his brother at the shop to discuss business.

Harry had, of course, expressed his sadness over the news, no longer having his friend as his partner, but he understood Ron's reasons entirely and reassured him of his support, wishing Ron luck in whatever new endeavors he decided to pursue in this new chapter of his life. Leaving Harry had been the toughest part of this decision, but Ron was absolutely sure of what he wanted, and that was a future with Hermione and their kids with a stable job to provide for them without worrying them sick if he was going to get back home everyday.

He arrived home with the biggest grin plastered on his face, almost bursting into the living room to wrap Hermione into a hug and twirl her around as he told her of his plans. The grin fell off his face as soon as he started rambling excitedly, and realized she wasn't grinning back. Instead, she was frowning deeper and deeper as he went on, looking at him disapprovingly, which Ron had to admit hurt a bit; he felt like he was back at Hogwarts, having told her he forgot to finish his essay with that sheepish smile he knew would get her to help him out.

But the words that came out of her mouth were even worse.

"You can't do that, Ron!" she exclaimed heatedly in that familiar bossy tone.

Ron was not expecting this reaction at all, and it took a moment to register what she had just said, but when he did, all he felt was confusion. It didn't help that his temper had started to rise.

"And why is that?" his voice already had a dangerous edge to it, as he tried reigning in his growing anger he knew would cause a massive blow up.

"You shouldn't make a decision like that just because of me!" she shrieked louder, clearly not trying to control her own temper. Ron knew it wouldn't be good for her or the baby if this situation got too heated, so he needed to try and calm her down.

"What do you mean?" he attempted to keep his voice neutral, only succeeding in hiding his irritation a little bit, but it didn't matter because Hermione seemed to be making no effort to avoid rowing with him.

"You should've consulted me first!" her words pierced him deep, and not just in volume, but the weight of their implication.

You should've consulted me first. Why? He was a grown man, capable of making his own damn decisions! Clearly, she didn't think so, if she thought he had to go to her every time he wanted to take a new step in his life. He thought she had seen him maturing, had seen the responsible individual he had become in all of their years since Hogwarts. They had been married for nearly six years now for Merlin's sake, and he was still being treated like a stupid toddler! All he wanted was to surprise her with a bit of news that should've sent her over the moon in elation; he was doing this for her and their baby. She should've been proud, not hacked off, snapping at him.

He couldn't take this anymore, he needed to get away before he said something he'd really regret.

"Consulted you first? Hermione, I-" he cut himself off before blowing out a large breath, rubbing his hair and his face in exasperation.

"I just th-"

He didn't let her finish. Instead, he quickly turned towards the entrance and told her hurriedly that he needed to be alone for a bit and promised her he would come back before their usual bedtime.

And that's how he now found himself in a little muggle pub in London, a distance away from the Leaky Cauldron. He knew Hermione wouldn't think to look for him here, and since she was pregnant, fast wizarding travel wouldn't be an option, so it would be a while before he was found. All the more time for him to blow off steam and sort out his emotions to confront her in a more level-headed way later.

He was finally served his drink, and was about to down it when a voice from behind made his body tense up.

"Ron?"

He slowly put the glass down before sighing, finally turning towards the source of the voice he'd recognize anywhere.

"Hey." His tone indicated he was still holding on to his previous irritation. But then he noticed her puffy red eyes, which meant she had been crying for a while now, and immediately all of his previous anger and annoyance melted away as he took two long strides, engulfing her in a comforting hug, She continued to sob on his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, love." He attempted to soothe her by caressing her hair and back in that practiced manner he got from years of unwinding her. No matter how hacked off he may have been with her before, he never wanted to see her cry, especially if he was the cause, which was just ten times worse.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, darling." She started to calm down a bit, her sobs subsiding, but she still struggled to get the words out through her hiccups.

"Love, it's okay, really."

"No, Ron, it's not okay, please don't downplay this now just because I'm a sobbing mess. I'm sorry for how I handled all of this. You have to know that I'm very very proud of you, and I'm happy beyond words for your decision, truly, I totally support you." He could tell she was trying to keep her voice steady, though it still came out a little shaky.

He gulped, knowing that there was a "but" in somewhere in there. "I believe you. I do," he breathed in and closed his eyes, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic. "So why did you react like that, then?" Ron tried not to let the hurt resurface, but he couldn't help it.

"Because…" He felt her pull away to lift her head from his chest, and he opened his eyes meeting her gaze. "Because I didn't want to feel like I was forcing you to make a decision you didn't want to just to make me happy." Her lower lip trembled and another tear escaped, trailing down her left cheek as Ron raised his right thumb to wipe it away before cupping her cheeks, which just made Hermione tear up more.

"Hermione, I'd never do such a thing, I can promise you that. I won't ever feel pressured into doing anything I'm not comfortable with. This decision came to me because I want to start a safer job for our family." As he said this, he moved one hand to her belly. “One that won't leave you and our kids worrying for me every day. It had nothing to do with me feeling forced to resign so you would be happier."

She was speaking very shyly now, as if she was embarrassed for being so emotional before. "It's just that you always said you wanted to be a part of the Aurors and you seemed so content with that, so I felt guilty for wanting you to have a less risking job. When you came home earlier so excited about it, I felt so overwhelmed by everything that it just came out all wrong when I tried explaining myself. I take back everything I said. You shouldn't have had to consult me for that. You're not a child, you're completely responsible for decisions such as this and I totally understand that."

"And you know I already forgave you," he offered her a smile that she returned. "I'm sorry, too, for leaving like I did, I shouldn't have done that." He looked away and tried not to think back to that time — he had already let that guilt go and both Hermione and Harry had forgiven him long before that.

She nudged his face to look back at her before speaking in a soft tone, "You don't need to be sorry for that. You did the right thing. Sometimes it gets to be too much and you need to step away and let your mind cool down a bit before you end up saying or doing something you'll regret. As long as you come back, I won't ever hold it against you."

Fuck, he loved this woman. She always knew just when to say the right thing to make him feel instantly better. He lowered his lips gently to hers as he tried to convey just how much he felt for her even after all their years together; he knew those feelings would never change.

She reluctantly pulled away as she whispered, "Let's go home," her voice laced with want.

He nodded, before remembering what he meant to ask her from the beginning, "How did you find me, by the way?"

She blushed then, like a kid caught with their hand on the cookie jar, before muttering, "I knew you wouldn't be in any places I was already familiar with, so I flooed George to ask if he knew where you might've gone, and he told me you came in here with him shortly after the war to talk about Fred. I jotted down the address and headed to Diagon Alley so I could get here through the Leaky and then took a taxi."

She was brilliant, and he told her so for only the umpteenth time, watching as she smiled in that way she did after a compliment to her intellect.

"Let's head home then, so we can dance to those Beedles you love playing on the radio." He gave her his trademarked lopsided grin that he knew left her feeling all hot and bothered.

"The Beatles, Ronald, honestly!" she exclaimed in a tone of mock indignation, but couldn't help cracking a small smile from the corner of her mouth.

"You know I love to rile you up." He winked to convey to her he knew exactly what the correct name was.

"Oh, yeah? Well, two can play that game," she bit her lip while grinning, something she knew very well left him wanting her immediately.

"Hermione…" He all but groaned her name, his body already responding to her.

"Yes, darling?" Her seductive tone paired with that endearment she knew drove him crazy was making it very hard for him to control himself out in the streets.

"C'mere," He growled, already stepping closer to her.

She shook her head and started backing away still biting her lip and giggling, clearly having way too much fun torturing him like that.

He wasn't having it, though. He grabbed her, making sure to be gentle, and started carrying her bridal style.

"Ronald! Put me down this instant! You're going in the wrong direction!" She tried sounding reprimanding through her fit of laughter but all it did was make him walk faster.

"Nope, we are heading to an inn nearby, because I'm not waiting to get home to have you. You've been very naughty, Mrs. Weasley." He knew she loved when he did his version of the "McGonagall voice."

"Oh, is that so? Then I suppose you will hand me a punishment?" She slid into the role of innocent student very well, even now.

He dipped his head to whisper in her ear, "It ain't a punishment if you enjoy it, huh?" Feeling her shiver at his tone made him want her even more urgently.

Before they entered the inn, he said, "You were actually right about one thing, love."

"Oh?"

"I was content with being an Auror. But I'm truly happy just being with you, no matter what my career might be. All I do is for you."

And he meant every word.

As Hermione beamed at him, already tearing up once again, she captured his lips in a heated kiss. Ron considered how incredibly lucky he was. He had survived a bloody war, went through so much heartbreak and grief, but now had a whole new journey ahead of him about to begin with the love of his life by his side for the whole ride. Because it never truly ends until it's all over.

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, angst

Chapter 11

Charlie

I woke up the next morning wishing I was dreaming. I felt like not getting out of bed at all but I will not allow my feelings to interfere with my job. It was the only good thing I had going for me now that I lost all hope of ever being more than friends with Rhylee.

I got up and thanked Merlin when I saw that it was cloudy. If I would go to watch the sunrise and she would be there, I don’t know what I would do. I was so upset last night that I forgot to check my team’s schedule for the next month.

I was still determined to fix my relationship with Bill. I simply have to. It’s time to return to my roots. Being grateful for my job and being the best sibling I can be. That’s what I was all about before I met Rhylee and my world turned upside down.

I sighed and got out of bed. I sat down at the kitchen table, the timetable in front of me. Theo has two days off this week and so does Evan. John and Andrew are free the week after that. And then I could take time off when Rhylee comes back. It was hard to be two people short at once during mating season so we had to plan accordingly.

It’s settled then, I will go and visit Bill at work in three weeks. Hopefully, he won’t slam the door in my face. I still can’t believe what an idiot I am. I really messed up.

I decided to go to the nearby village and check out their library for books I could give Rhylee for her case. I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore but I didn’t want to show her how much she hurt me either. The sooner it’s over the better. And I wanted to help the dragon. I don’t want a single one to be executed if there is anything I can do to prevent it.

I could apparate to the library but I decided to walk instead. It’s supposed to be my day off anyway and why not take it for once. I don’t remember the last time I had a day off and if last night isn’t good enough of a reason for me to take a little break then I don’t know what is.

My mind was completely blank walking there. I didn’t have the energy to think about anything. Every time Rhylee or last night came to mind I tried to shake it off. I can’t think about it because it breaks my heart all over again and I can’t keep doing this to myself.

I only had a broken heart once before. It was when Emma and I broke up the summer after we graduated from Hogwarts. We started dating a month before our sixth year and we were very happy together. She was my first love and I wouldn’t change a thing. When I found out I got a job at the Sanctuary we started to talk about our future. She applied for a position to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Ilvermony and when she got her letter we knew it will be very difficult for us to see each other.

We both started right after graduation and we barely had the time to write to each other during summer. I was busy learning, getting acquainted with all the dragons, and getting assimilated to the working schedule and she had to train all summer and prepare to start the semester in September. When we finally had a chance to see each other in August, we both knew it’s not going to work out no matter how much we would like to try long-distance.

We agreed that it’s better if we go our separate ways and broke up. The only time we communicate now is when we send each other a birthday card.

It hurt, letting her go, but at least I had a choice. At least I knew what I was doing and I had a clean slate. This was nothing like it and it terrified me that I was still so attracted to Rhylee even though I don’t know what she was playing at. It’s like I just can’t let her go.

I spend a few hours in the library, going through books, making notes, trying to think of anything that might provide evidence of the dragon’s innocence. I was glad I decided to go. It was a good distraction and I forgot just how much I love reading, checking facts, and learning something new, especially if it had to do with dragons and other creatures.

I found a book on creature trials and one called Dragons and the Law. I decided to give them to Rhylee so she could see if they could be of any help. I dreaded not knowing when the trial is going to happen because it meant I didn’t know for how long I will have to pretend that I am okay with us being friends. I was planning on distancing myself from her as soon as everything is over.

Besides those two books, I took a few for myself. If I wanted to find myself again, I have to start reading as I used to. It made me happy and I think I will need a lot of those moments if I’ll be working alongside Rhylee for what can be the rest of my life.

I went for a run when I came back and paid Ernie a visit. His positivity and cheerfulness were something I needed to surround myself with. I don’t think I ever spent so much time in his office but damn he made me laugh. He gave me a letter from my mum and Ron and a package from Fred and George. At this point, I wasn’t even expecting anything from Bill.

I am glad that I’ve opened mum’s letter first as she warned me that the twins might send me something from their newly opened shop. They did it! They finally did it! They told me about it in one of their letters and made me swear I wouldn’t tell mum. I wanted to give them some money as I supported their dream but they said they are well taken care of.

I have no idea where they got the money from but I just wanted to be there for them. It made me feel good to be a good older brother to at least 2 of my siblings.

Because I was so ecstatic for them I decided to open the gift they sent me anyway. I carefully unwrapped it and slowly removed the cover with my eyes narrowed and my head leaned back just in case something would jump out. I have learned through the years that with them, you have to be prepared for anything.

It looked like candy. They were joking, right? I took it out of the box and found a little note at the bottom.

Something to prank your mates with.

Thank you for being on our side, Charlie.

Love, Fred and George

I felt like crying. I know to them it was a simple gesture but this meant so much to me. It was right what I needed. At least I did something right. It warmed my heart that they felt supported by me and I couldn’t wait to visit their shop.

Something to prank my mates with, huh?

I picked up one of the wrappers. It looked like regular candy. I squinted my eyes to read the label.

Ton-Tongue Toffee.

That didn’t sound so bad. If it wasn’t their invention I would dare trying it but I knew better. Perhaps I will give one to Theo. He always liked to talk too much, maybe these could fix that.

I spent the rest of the day reading on the sofa. Merlin’s beard did I miss it. How could I not have an entire wall of books in my home? I need to write to Hagrid if he still has that one book about dragons he used to lend me when I was still in school. I would love to reread it and I loved the illustrations in it.

When I finally tore my eyes off the book to check the time, I couldn’t believe it was time for dinner already. I decided to put on some clothes.

Yes, I was reading naked.

I live alone and I felt like it and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

It was the new Charlie!

I tucked the books for Rhylee under my arm and exited my hut.

I knocked on her door and the second I did I heard movement inside.

“Charlie, hi.” She looked even more upset than she did yesterday.

The dark circles under her eyes indicated that she slept almost as little as I did.

“I don’t want to bother you.” I started. I saw something shift in her eyes. “I was in the library this morning and found these two books that I reckon could help you with the case.” I explained.

I couldn’t believe how calm I was. I don’t know if it was because I was still mad at her or I simply didn’t have the energy to care anymore. My heart was still bumping against my rib cage but it was easier to ignore it this time.

“Thank you.” She carefully took the books from my hands, her eyes on mine.

I hated the way she was looking at me. As if she was sorry. As if she felt bad for what happened last night. I hated that I could read her like a book and I hated how much I wanted to ask her what’s wrong and why is she so upset as it was clear, something was going on in her life.

We might be friends but I can’t be there for her right now. I have to get my life in order first. I have to take care of myself and my family. As much as I wanted to, I can’t make her a priority again because I know the second I do, I will fall right back in and I can’t trust myself with getting out.

And she has Nick for that, right?

“Want to come in?” She said as she went to put the books on her coffee table.

“No. I’m going to go have dinner with the guys.” My voice was completely emotionless.

“Oh. Okay.”

Don’t sound so disappointed, Rhylee. You don’t get to sound like that. I can’t feel sorry for you.

“Look, about last night…”

“Don’t.” I shook my head.

I don’t want to talk about it ever again. Especially not with her.

“It’s okay. I understand.” I smiled awkwardly as I didn’t know what else to do.

“It’s just…” She bit her lip and bowed her head. “I…”

“Look, Rhylee. It’s really not a big deal.”

It was but okay.

“I have to go, they are waiting for me.” Without waiting another second I turned around and walked away.

Fuck, why was it so hard! I just left her standing there in the doorway. It was killing me but I knew it was the right thing to do…for me at least.

I sat next to Andrew and started eating my dinner. I just remembered that I haven’t eaten at all today. They were all waiting for me to say something but I pretended I was too busy eating to notice.

“Charlie, we’re sorry about yesterday.” Evan was the first to speak.

“Yeah, it wasn’t our business and we shouldn’t have told you to go and see her.” John followed.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did it.” I mumbled with my mouth full.

“You are?” Theo looked puzzled.

“Yeah.” I finally swallowed the food. “If you didn’t I don’t know when I would make a move and it already took too long for me to find out she was dating someone.”

“I still can't believe it.” Andrew shook his head. “I know she’s very private but one might think you would mention your partner at least once.” They all nodded in agreement.

“Or at least that she would tell you.” Peter spoke for the first time.

“Why me?” I looked up at him.

“Well, you’re better friends with her than we are. You went running together and you trained her and…you have history.” The lot nodded their heads again.

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” I tried not to sound too disappointed.

“We’re sorry, Charlie.” Evan said gently.

“We promise, we won't mention it again.” Andrew put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.

“Thanks.” I really appreciated that they understood and didn’t press the matter further.

I couldn’t be angry with them. They only wanted me to be happy and they couldn’t know it would turn out so bad. I definitely didn’t expect it.

“What are you going to do now?” Theo asked after a brief pause.

“I’m going to talk to Bill.” I put my fork down. “Rhylee told him that we slept together so that confirms why he hasn’t been writing to me for so long. I haven’t seen him in two years and I can’t believe I let this happen.” I pressed my fingers to my temples.

“Charlie, everybody makes mistakes. You’re only human.” Peter said slowly.

“Do you think he’ll be able to forgive me after such a long time?” I lifted my head.

“Get off it, Charlie!” Theo slammed the table with his fist. “He’s your brother. Of course, he will!”

I wish I had Theodore’s confidence in that. Bill is the nicest, sweetest guy I know and he didn’t hold a grudge against anybody.

But two years!

I would kick my arse if I was him. And then I would heal myself and do it again.

“Peter, I will take two days off in three weeks to go and see him.” I remembered that I have to tell him if I leave the Sanctuary.

We could take a day or two off if we scheduled it in advance without saying anything like I did today. But if you plan on being outside of the Reserve we had to tell Peter so that he knew that if anything goes wrong or if he would need another pair of hands that he can’t come and knock on your door for you to help.

“Charlie, if you want we can switch days and you can go in two days.” Theo offered.

“That’s very nice of you, mate.” I smiled.

That meant a lot to me.

“But I have to figure out what to say to him anyways and I need to find a way to ask one of my siblings to tell me where to find him. I don’t want mum to know that we aren’t talking. It’s a miracle I was able to keep it a secret for such a long time anyway.”

“In three weeks it is.” Peter made a mental note.

“You’re going to be fine, Charlie.” John said. “Just give it time.”

“Yeah, I know.” I sighed.

First I get my brother back and then I’ll focus on mending my heart.

[forthehpfanboys]

Two Years

Pair: Fred Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You got back to Diagon Alley after the war and desperately wanna talk to him and explain why you were basically non-existent during the war. But is Fred ready to talk to you?

Warnings: Swearing.

Notes: Reader is Draco's Cousin! Hope you enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Complicated couldn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the Weasley’s. 

For to start, you were related to the Malfoys which automatically meant it was rocky. You were Draco’s cousin. Your family didn’t believe in the same ideology as Lucius and Narcissa, leading to family feuds being normal during literally any time of the year. Your family didn’t exactly want the attention of the Malfoys or the Dark Lord once the war reared its ugly head, so your family fled to America, dragging you with them. They wanted to get as far from the war as possible. 

And two, well, you were Fred’s partner before the war broke out. Since your family was absolutely dedicated to being hidden, you lost communication with him when your family decided to just get up and go. You didn’t even have time to tell him goodbye or really anyone and it hurt. You knew you hurt him too and no matter how you begged, your parents wouldn’t let you see him, let alone send him a letter. Owls couldn’t travel across whole seas and you were basically in lock down, even if you were a grown adult. 

You stayed up most nights because of nightmares. You’d wake up in a cold sweat more times than you could count on both hands. After these tear jerking visions from hell, you’d usually climb from your bedroom window to the room, gazing out at the moon like a love struck teenager, hoping maybe even praying Fred was gazing at the moon at the same time you were.. Most nights he actually was.

During the war, Fred had come into a.. Complication. He ended up fracturing his leg, resulting in a cane and physical therapy. George took up fixing and running the shop with Ron while he was borderline trapped between surviving at the Burrow and physical therapy. 

Fred spent most of his free time sketching out ideas of products to tire his mind long enough to ignore the stupid nightmares and gazing out the window, hoping you’d apperate across the field and come comfort him, but you never came. Everyone in the Burrow avoided mentioning your name around Fred, anyway.

When the time came, Fred went straight back to work with his twin, spewing out ideas about different treats, potions, trinkets, anything and everything he came up with while bed ridden and they both got to work quickly. 

It was nice, relaxing, normal again. Everything was normal to Fred but a piece of him was missing. You were across the world and you held a piece of his heart and he hated you never gave it back. 

No matter how badly he missed you or longed for you to hold his hand, he wasn’t ready to face you when you entered their shop. He literally wasn’t ready to face you. He turned around when the bell went off, ready to say the shop wasn’t open yet but dropped the box he was holding. He ignored the sound of shattering glass and immediately booked it back into the room, where he nearly knocked over his brother. 

“What’s wrong?” George asked, swiftly setting the box he was holding down on the shelf. “Are you going into another attack? Do you need to go upsta-” He was silenced when Fred's hand covered his mouth.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out, causing George's eyebrows to furrow before his eyes grew wide. Fred moved his hand, using it to slowly shut the storage room door, making sure to turn the handle so it shut silently. The separation allowed the twins to whisper to each other in peace.

“Isn't that-” 

“Yeah.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“..You’re not ready? Blimey, Fred, it’s been 2 years since he left.” George ran a hand down his face, the other landing on his hip sassily. “What do you mean you're not ready? You always talked about how you missed him but now you aren't ready?”

“You wouldn’t understand-” 

“Don’t even give me that, Freddie. Talk to me.” George smiled, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. “I know you're older by like, 1/4 a second, but you don’t have to be a rock. Come on, don’t bottle it up.”

Fred let out a sigh, his eyes casting downward before he let out the smallest of chuckles. His hand came to rub the back of his neck.

“Fine.” 

George almost squealed with joy when his brother decided to open up to him. He wanted to clap his hands and jump around like a child, but opted for not compromising their position. 

Fred went on to tell George about how you left, how you didn’t even leave a note, how he didn’t know how to ask if you two were still together and if you loved him anymore. George has already known all of this, causing his face to melt into an unamused expression.

“.. You realize you're being ridiculous, right?”

“Gee, thanks George. I will most definitely come back to you when I have emotional turmoil.”

“No, no, mate, listen.” George wrapped his arm around his older brother's shoulder, gently guiding him away from the wall. “Listen, ok? You’re such a top notch guy, not as handsome as me,” George smiled wider when his brother snorted, “but you’re trying! So why not at least talk to the bloke, yeah? You guys were snogging before he left, so why not try to snog after?”

“I just told you why I can’t.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Fredrick Weasley?” George put the back of his hand across his forehead, being the dramatic shit he is. 

“Don’t call me that, you prat-”

“I thought I knew you! Confidence was your middle name! Frederick Confident Gideon Weasley!” The youngest twin only became cockier when the older one groaned and covered his face. “Oh, Frederick, where did you go?” He wrapped his free arm tighter around his brother and dragged him out the door, ignoring his protests and grabby hands reaching to hold onto the door frame. 

“George, wait!” Fred’s hushed whisper floated in the air, completely ignored by the other red-head.

“Fredrick! Where did you go, Freddie?!” He called out, knowing damn well you were still in the shop. Neither of the twins heard the shops bell ring a second tie, indication your departure.

“George?” Your voice echoed in the closed shop, leading George to dramatically turn to his brother and smirk at him. “Is that you?”

“Why yes, my dear friend! How are you?” George let go of his twin, allowing him to scurry off to the side and hide behind one of their many filled shelves. You walked up to him just after Fred hid, much to his delight and George’s dismay. George’s smile faltered ever so slightly when he took in your appearance. 

Your hair was a nest fit for Scabbers, the bags under your eyes would need to be checked with baggage at any muggle airport and your clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with a hoodie and sweatpants, but it was summer for fucks sake. He could see the sweat across his brow and wondered if he should turn the AC on.

“I’m as well as I can be, I guess..” You fiddled with a stray strand hanging from your hoodie. George noted the fraying hand made thumb holes and his eyebrow raised in confusion. “I um-” You ran a hand through your hair, “I wanted to talk to Fred, do you know where he is?” While your eyes were darting across the top level of the shop, George’s eyes flashed to his brother.

The shop owner shot his brother a glare when he shook his head back and forth fast enough to make anyone dizzy. 

“Um, no.. I haven't.” George grumbled out, his hands going to his pockets. He looked down at the floor deciding it would be better than the disappointed expression on your face. “Um, do you want me to give him a message for something?”

“No, yeah, if that’s ok?” You went back to fiddling with the stray thread. You didn’t notice Fred peaking at you through the products lined on the shelves. “Just um- Could you tell him I’m sorry for me? I’m sure he’ll know what I mean..”

“Yeah, sure thing, (Y/n/n). Anything for you.” George ran a hand through his hair after you turned on your heel and mumbled a thank you before exiting the shop. “You owe me.” The red-head turned to his identical and sighed when he saw the longing expression. “Merlin’s left tit, you’re fucked, mate.”

“I should’ve-” Fred hit his forehead against the wood of one of the shelves, a yell of frustration leaving his throat.

“Say it.” “..You were right. I should’ve talked to him.”

“Damn right I was. Now, go get your bloke before he cries in the street or worse, goes to Malfoy for romantic help.” George faked a shudder at the idea. George watched his brother turn, slamming his back into the shelf and slide to the floor. “Ok, Fred, seriously, this is getting kind of sad.”

“I can’t go talk to him, George!” Fred was pulling at his own ginger locks, his knees coming up to his chest. “I- No, I can’t.”

“Do you want me to do it?” George’s voice was soft. He plopped himself on the dusty floor right next to his brother. “I can talk to him as you? See what all of this is about?” 

“I don’t know, Georgie..” Fred’s voice was softer than his twins. He looked at his brother with a hopeless expression and glossy eyes. George figured from this it would be best to tackle the problem tomorrow so he just pulled his brother into his side and held him for a good while.

-

The next day was easier for Fred. The store was bustling, as it was Monday, morning and all the happy customers provided a great distraction. He took over the register while George focused more on the floor work: answering customer questions, restocking shelves. It was a lot for two twins to handle, but they managed, especially when Ginny or Ron offered their free days to come down and help. 

Fred had just finished closing the drawer, handing a youngster his change back when the bell above the shop's door caught his attention. He shifted on his feet when Draco was practically dragging you into the shop wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The red-head was starting to wonder if you were ok.

“(Y/n)!” George yanked you into a hug before you could even blink, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles that left Fred absolutely yearning to have you by his side again.

“Hey Geo!” You briefly hugged him back before pulling away, causing his attention to shift to your cousin. 

“Malfoy.” George looked the blonde up and down. He’d throw hands if he had too, even in his own shop.

“Hey, be nice. He’s on our side now.” You punched the tall suited man lightly in the arm before shoving your hands in your pockets.

“It’s unfortunate but true. Most birds did appreciate my bad boy ages.” Draco ran a hand dramatically through his hair while George snorted. “But that isn’t why we’re here. Is your brother around?”

“He’s at the til, why?”

“I’m just here to make sure (Y/n) actually talks to him like he promised too.” Draco put a hand on your back and gently pushed you forward. “But how is business, Weasley?”

While George went on to talk about statistics and boring old shit, you slowly walked over to the red-head who was trying to distract himself by restocking some of the knickknacks in the class case beneath the counter. You cleared your throat, clearly scaring him. He let out a squeak and hit his head on the underside of the glass case.

“I-I’m sorry, Freddie! Are you ok?” you asked, your hands awkwardly fidgeting in front of you as the male stood up and rubbed the back of his head. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to grab his shoulders and check his head. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He had his eyes squinted so tight he could see stars flashing behind his lids. He couldn’t look at you yet. You’d looked like a kicked puppy yesterday when you left and it pained him so much.

“Did, um.. Did you get my message from Geo?” You were fiddling with the string again. Fred opened his eyes slowly, nodding to you while he played with the product in his hand. 

“I.. Look, I don’t wanna beat around the bush, but I-”

“I already know.” Fred spoke up quickly, louder than intended. “I know, it’s fine.”

“S.. So it’s fine then?” You looked around, a tiny bit confused. Fred wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions, but it seemed his legs weren’t tired yet.

“Yeah.” 

“So, I just wanna be sure we’re on the same page, you know my family dragged me to America?”

“Uh-”

“And basically put me under house arrest so I couldn’t see you or message you or leave or really live? And I haven’t forgotten you and my feelings for you haven’t changed and Godric, Fred, I miss you so much.” Tears pricked your tired eyes as you glanced at him. You cleared your throat over the awkward silence you felt was your fault. Fred was replaying your words like a record stuttering on a player and the bloke was still confused.

“.. Come again?” The red-head blinked stupidly, subconsciously leaning over the counter. Maybe he wasn’t hearing you right over the noise of the shop. You couldn’t help but release a borderline silent chuckle that bubbled into your throat.

“I still love you, Freddie bear.” You twiddled with your fingers, your eyes glancing down to his lips before looking back into his sparkling eyes.

“You do?” The co-owner was trying to keep his joy nestled deep down in his chest.

You nodded your head.

“Oh thank fuck.” 

“Wha- Ah! FRED-”

The male had all but jumped over the glass counter, dramatically picking you up by your waist and slamming his lips to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, while your hands gripped to his shoulders like your life depended on it. You immediately fell under the spell of his kiss and didn’t even hear your cousin and your boyfriend's twin brother whooping/gagging.

Fred soon set you down, his usual cocky grin spread across his face until his knee buckled. The strain of his dumb ass jumping over the counter and picking you off your feet like you were a feather was finally catching up with him.

“Ah, ow, ow.” Fred groaned out, bending over to hold his right knee. You put a hand on his shoulder, worry etched across his face. “Ah, so um.. I should probably explain-”

“We both have a lot to explain, Freddie. Two years is a lot of time to be apart.”

[engie-ivy]

I wrote this fic for the Wolfstar Comfort Mini-Fest, organized by @swottypotter, because I thought it was such a lovely idea😊

(also on AO3 as part of a series of one-shot crush confessions)

19/09: an anniversary

Summary:

Getting older can be a fearful experience, but when you're a werewolf, it's just a tad worse. There's only so many excruciating transformations one's body can undergo before it can take no more. For Remus, the idea of celebrating the day of being another year closer to that inevitable moment is inconceivable. However, his friends teach him that instead of simply having lived another year, his life contains many other anniversaries he could be celebrating: having been part of a close group of friends for another year, having had company during the full moon for another year, and... having a certain friend be in love with him for another year?

Moments in time

Remus Lupin does not celebrate his birthday. Doesn’t like it. Really doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s not a case of modesty, like ‘he just doesn’t want to be the center of attention’, or even a case of bad experiences, like ‘if we can just show him how fun it can be’. No, he has made it clear to the other three Marauders that it’s no use even trying. If they throw him a birthday party, he won’t attend. If they buy him birthday gifts, he won’t accept.

It’s not that he hates birthdays as a principle. No, he’d loved it when they snuck into the kitchens and stuffed themselves with sweets for Peter’s birthday, he’d loved it when they stayed up all night and drank Butterbeer and even a bottle of Firewhiskey that they managed to smuggle in for James’s birthday, and he loved it when they had a sleep-over in the Shrieking Shack for Sirius’s birthday. It’s really his own birthday that he doesn’t like.

You see, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and while he’s now more comfortable with that fact than he’s ever been, with being able to attend school, having people in his life that love and accept him even with knowing the truth, and having friends who became Animagii so he doesn’t have to be alone during the full moon anymore, there are just some things that come with his condition that cannot be changed. The illness on the days preceding and following the full moon, the excruciating pain that the transformations bring, and, probably worst of all, the fact that werewolves age prematurely.

Werewolves do not have a high life expectancy. There’s only so much strain one’s body can endure before it can’t take no more. Remus often reads in textbooks that werewolves don’t get old, but that’s wrong phrasing: werewolves do get old, they just get old really fast. While his friends will still be vital and brimming with energy, Remus’s bones will become fragile and his muscles stiff with constant aching due to the tearing apart and snapping back together necessary for the monthly transformations, his recovery after each full moon will become slower until he’ll never fully recover anymore, he’ll start having trouble walking and eventually moving altogether, his hair will become grey and his skin will become worn and littered with scars, making him look old beyond his years.

It’s bad enough that each year there’s a day to remind him that he’s another year closer to that inescapable faith, so why in Merlin’s name would he want to actually celebrate that day?

Remus never fully explained, so he’s not sure to what extent the other Marauders really understand what getting older means to him, but they can tell that it holds a lot of pain for Remus, and that it’s not something they can fix for him, so they respect his wishes. On the day itself they try their hardest not to give a single indication they’re aware it’s Remus’s birthday. The only way Remus can tell that they do know, is by how they go out of their way to make sure no one else dares to mention his birthday in his vicinity. This may seem weird or even mean to outsiders, but to Remus, it’s the best possible thing they could do.

That’s part of the reason why Remus is utterly confused when he enters their dorm on September 4th and finds Sirius, James and Peter sitting on pillows on the floor surrounded by drinks and candy, and a pile of gifts in their midst.

“Surprise!” They yell in unison the moment Remus opens the door.

Another reason for Remus’s confusion is that it’s nowhere near his birthday.

“What’s this?” He asks carefully.

Sirius presses a card in his hand. The front of the card shows a doodle of four boys sitting at the Gryffindor table. A small boy with peaky hair, a boy whose hair is pointing in all directions, a dark-haired boy with a goofy grin, and a curly-haired boy with large eyes, all wearing red-and-gold colours.

The doodle is clearly drawn by Sirius. Sirius is actually a very talented artist and his drawings are great, though he only ever shows his doodles to his friends. Remus loves the cute and funny doodles, but he wishes Sirius would also show them his more serious drawings sometimes. Remus has only ever caught a glimpse of his work on moments Sirius didn’t notice Remus’s presence in time while drawing, but what he saw was amazing.

Remus opens the card and reads the message on inside.

Hi Moony!

Happy 6-year anniversary of the day we officially became friends with you!

We love you!

Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs

Remus looks up from the card to see Sirius staring at him with the same goofy grin as the doodled boy on the card, but there’s also an unfamiliar expression in his eyes, and he’s toying with a strand of his hair.

Remus realises that he’s nervous. Afraid that Remus will see it as a trick to give him a kind-of-birthday party anyway, and become upset. And of course it is an attempt to make up for lost birthday celebrations, Remus knows that, but it’s a good attempt. It’s not just celebrating a certain amount of years from his life have gone by, it’s celebrating the years they’ve been friends. Making actual friends who love him and who he loves, and keeping them for all that time, that’s something Remus did with his life, something he accomplished, something no one can ever take away from him. It somehow makes the eventual length of his life matter less. It’s celebrating the quality, not the quantity.

A smile spreads across Remus’s face, and he can immediately see the relief on his friends’ faces. “I love it,” he says.

And honestly, how could he not love something that results in Sirius throwing his arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek?

Remus tries to ignore the fluttering of his heart. They’re celebrating five years of friendship, for Godric’s sake. Being friends with someone as loving, bright and cheerful as Sirius is already more than he could have ever asked for. Wanting more, even dreaming of more, would be pushing his luck. See? His brain knows all this, but apparently his heart hasn’t gotten the message.

James gets him out of his frenzy by taking a gift from the pile. “Alright! Lets see who the first gift is for!”

“You got gifts for everyone?” Remus asks curiously.

“Why, of course, Moony!” James exclaims. “Managing to keep one of the greatest persons ever as our friend is really a gift-worthy accomplishment for us! Really something we should be celebrating and congratulating each other on.”

Sirius nudges Remus playfully. “You can see your presents as a reward for having put up with us for so long.”

Remus chuckles. He definitely doesn’t need a reward for one of the greatest things that has ever happened to him, but he’s not gonna say no to the tea, mug and book that lie before him with his name written on them either.

The next surprise comes halfway through October, during their second trip to Hogsmeade of that year. Remus is sitting at the Three Broomsticks with Peter, waiting for James and Sirius to come back with their Butterbeers.

However, suddenly Sirius places a large mug filled with decadent chocolate milk in front of Remus, complete with whipped cream and a chocolate biscuit on top and sprinkled with chocolate chips. At the same time James presses another card in his hands. Remus immediately laughs at the doodle of him in front of Honeydukes, holding a large stack of chocolate in his arms. Wondering what his friends came up with this time, he opens the card.

Moons,

Happy 4-year anniversary of your very first trip to Hogsmeade with us! (Ah, the day Moony discovered Honeydukes...)

Many trips (legal and less-legal) have followed and will follow since!

Lots of love,

Wormy, Pads, and Prongsie

Remus actually wasn’t able to join them on the first weekend they had been allowed to go, as it had been a full moon the night before. Only the next weekend a Hogsmeade trip was planned, they were able to go with the four of them, today apparently four years ago.

The following hour Remus spends reminiscing all his trips to Hogsmeade with his friends. The one when James and Sirius had hidden in the Shrieking Shack and fired hexes at passers-by to convince everyone the Shack is cursed, the one when James tried to secretly follow Lily around to find out what to buy for her birthday and she ended up throwing Butterbeer in his face, the one when Remus was acting cranky because his favourite chocolate was sold out, only to find out Sirius had secretly bought the last bars for him as a surprise, or the one when James actually managed to get a date with Lily, and Peter had asked Mary McDonald, so Remus and Sirius went together (and Remus had to actively tell himself that it was not a date for the entire day, though he doesn’t discuss that last bit with his friends).

Before they leave, the other three Marauders want Remus to pick out all the chocolate he loves most from Honeydukes as his anniversary gift, but Remus refuses, not wanting to be selfish by letting his friends buy him his treats. Back in their dorm, however, it isn’t long before a bag filled with Honeydukes’ finest just mysteriously appears on Remus’s bed.

It isn’t until January, right at the start of the new year, Remus is surprised one again. He steps into the kitchens, where the others had told him to come to prepare for a prank, and finds his friends sitting at a table around a huge chocolate cake.

“Moony!” Peter calls out, while James and Sirius shoot confetti from their wands.

“What’s this?” Remus asks, grinning while he’s shaking the confetti out of his hair. This time he’s more excited than nervous.

Peter hands him the card. Remus chuckles as he sees the little deer with a rat hanging from his antlers, closely followed by a wolf and a dog walking side-by-side, doodled on the front. He opens the card, fully prepared for another odd anniversary his friends managed to come up with, but not prepared in the least for the wave of emotion that washes over him.

Dear Moony,

Happy 2-year anniversary of the day from which you’ll never again have to spend another full moon on your own!

Love, your animalistic friends,

Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Remus reads the card a couple more times, until his eyes start tearing up and his vision becomes blurry.

The short message is not only a reminder of what his friends have done for him, how they’ve gone and made an aspect of Remus’s life immeasurably better, an aspect Remus had always believed to never get any better.

And then the words ‘never again’, meaning that his friends will continue to help him once they’ve left school, meaning that it doesn’t end when school does, meaning that his friends will always be there for him.

Remus doesn’t even realise he’s crying until two arms wrap around him and Sirius pulls him into a tight hug. His head resting on Sirius’s chest and Sirius soothing him: exactly how he’s been waking up after the full moon for the last two years, and how he’ll be waking up after the full moon for the years to come.

At the end of March, it’s promising to become the first soft spring day after the winter, though the nights still have a chill in the air.

The Marauders are sitting on a blanket in the grass, wrapped in sweaters watching the sun slowly rise over the lake. They’d snuck out in the middle of the night through one of their secret passageways, and spent the rest of the night drinking, talking, star gazing, and now watching the sunrise.

“Cheers!” They cluck their mugs filled with hot mead together in the golden light of the rising sun. “To beautiful spring days and good times!”

“And to Moony,” Sirius adds. “On this special day.”

Remus laughs. “I should have known!” Though he feels this night has already been special enough.

Though he immediately starts reading the card, with a pretty doodle of the castle on the front.

To Messr. Moony,

Happy 2-year anniversary of the day you discovered the last secret passageway and finished the Marauders’ Map!

We solemnly swear to always remain up to no good!

There’s always more mischief to manage,

Yours sincerely,

The Messrs. Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Remus fondly shakes his head. The season is changing, life at Hogwarts is slowly coming to an end, but the Marauders’ days of mischief making are not ending just yet.

On the 17th of May, Remus is sitting at a table in the common room, surrounded by books, parchment, quills and ink. He’s waiting on Lily. He has a Potions essay due, and horrible in potions as Remus is, he really needs a good grade. Luckily, Lily has agreed to help him, as she’s the absolute best in Potions. Lily is not great because professor Slughorn adores her, professor Slughorn adores her because she’s great.

Remus sees Lily step through the portrait hall carrying a large pile of books, and immediately jumps to his feet to help her carry the load.

However, when they return to Remus’s spot, a beautifully wrapped gift is placed on top of his parchment.

“They came up with another date?” Remus mumbles, slightly embarrassed, but Lily just looks excited. Word has gotten around that the Marauders have been throwing Remus all kinds of parties for all kinds of reasons and everyone just loves it.

“Open it, open it!” Lily claps her hands and Remus tears the wrapping paper off.

Lily sucks in her breath. “Oh!”

Remus himself is unable to form any words as he’s holding up a frame. All he can do is stare wide-eyed at the framed drawing in his hands.

It’s definitely Sirius’s work. Not a doodle this time, but a completely finished, serious artwork. Remus recognizes himself in the drawing, curled up in an armchair, one hand holding a book, and the other holding a mug with steam circling upwards. The scene is seemingly illuminated by soft sunlight falling through a window on Remus’s left, giving his eyes and hair a slightly golden glow. The drawing is somehow comforting, in his ability to capture such a calm, serene moment. Though Remus thinks the boy in the drawing must look much more beautiful than he ever has, he has no problem recognizing himself, as the composure, radiance and expression are so typically his, that it makes him feel strangely vulnerable that someone has looked at him and seen him, really seen him.

“It’s beautiful,” Lily whispers.

The only thing written on the drawing is a date scribbled in the bottom right corner: 17/05/1977. Exactly one year earlier. Remus’s heart is thumping as he picks up and reads the small note that came with the gift.

Dearest Moony,

Happy 1-year anniversary of the day I fell in love with you.

Yours, now and always,

Padfoot

Remus can hardly breath. The more he reads the words, the more his brain stops functioning. He looks at Lily, who has been reading over his shoulder, with a pleading look.

“Lily, what do I do?” He asks desperately.

“Well,” Lily says uncertain. “I’m sure if you tell him you care for him, but see him as just a friend, he’ll-”

“Why in Merlin’s name would I want to say that?” Remus stares at her like she has grown two heads. “Why would I want to turn him down?”

“You looked so panicked!” Lily defends herself. “Why in Merlin’s name are you even asking my advice if you feel the same way? Just go find that boy and bloody snog the living daylights out of him! Merlin, Remus, it’s not Advanced Potions!”

Finding Sirius and snogging him sounds scary, risky, dangerous, and absolutely wonderful, so Remus decides to embrace his Gryffindor courage and go for it.

He barely nods at Lily before dashing away. He bumps into Peter while rushing through the common room.

“Oi, Moony! I just wanted to ask you, are you-”

“Sorry, Wormtail, gotta run! I have to go and snog Padfoot!”

He hears Peter’s voice echo through the room as he climbs through the portrait hole. “Yeeeeesssss!”

In the corridor, he passes James.

“Moony…”

“Sorry, Prongs, no time!”

“He’s up in the Owlery!” James calls after him. “I thought you might like to know you’re going the wrong way.”

Remus immediately turns around and runs in the other direction. He hears James mumble when he passes him again.

“About bloody time.”

Remus’s courage wavers a bit as he steps into the Owlery. Sirius is standing with his hands resting on the ledge, and he’s looking out over the Hogwarts grounds. His pale skin, his grey eyes reflecting the sky, his long hair with strands blowing in his face. Surely there has to be some sort of misunderstanding. Surely a boy this beautiful can’t possibly have feelings for someone like Remus.

But then Sirius turns around to look at him, and Remus can clearly see the love and affection, mingled with fear and uncertainty, in his eyes.

“The twenty-third of September,” Remus blurts out.

Sirius looks at him questioningly.

“That’s my date,” Remus clarifies.

There’s hope in those eyes now. “As in the date of your one-year anniversary of having feelings… for me?” Sirius asks tentatively.

Remus shakes his head, and Sirius drops his gaze, looking embarrassed. “Two years,” Remus quickly clarifies.

Sirius looks up at him again, his eyes now the way Remus likes them best: sparkling.

“Really, Moony?” There’s unconcealed happiness and relief in his voice. “Two whole years and you never said anything?”

Remus huffs. “It’s not an easy thing to say! You know that, took you a year as well.”

“That’s still twice as fast,” Sirius teases.

Remus sighs in defeat. “You’re right. And there’s no way I can give you something so special and amazing as you’ve given me today.”

“You can forget about your date anyway,” Sirius says.

Remus raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

Sirius reaches out his hand towards Remus. “I was rather hoping we could share this date? As the date we officially became a couple?”

Remus hearts stops for a moment, but then he knows just what to do.

He takes the hand Sirius is offering, and in a moment of bravery pulls him close, so that they’re standing chest to chest.

Remus tugs a strand of hair falling over Sirius’s face behind his ear. “I would love to.”

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 55: Movie Night

Lots of quotes from the movie Lilo & Stitch ahead! Fewer quotes, but some, from Trolls and Frozen.

Bold italics are trollish, ~tildes~ indicate goblin.

Content warnings for this chapter: Swearing. Here we reach the story's first F-bomb.

Also, there is some talk between characters about the harshness of life in the Darklands, how Changelings are treated by the Gumm-Gumms, and mentions of cannibalism.

This was supposed to be a light-happy chapter that got feels-y at the end, but then it went and got all dark on me.

Oh, also-also, (Not) Enrique finds out Claire flirted with Jim a while ago and misinterprets what exactly happened between them, but that gets cleared up fast.

Becoming The Mask

Once again, Javier and Ophelia Nuñez were out for the evening, leaving Claire in charge of Enrique. Claire had gotten permission to invite "some friends" over to watch movies. Jim and Toby arrived to find Mary and Darci already there – Jim suspected, like the time he'd 'babysat', that Claire had purposefully asked him to arrive after she knew her parents would be gone.

They set up piles of cushions and blankets on the floor between the couch and the TV. Jim propped the Amulet up on the coffee table they'd pushed to one side. Maybe some of the ghost Trollhunters would be interested in human movies.

"Finally get your fill of the touchy-feelies?" Enrique teased Jim, seeing how they were all seated separately. Jim snorted.

"Not hardly." He pulled the smaller Changeling in for a hug. "Humans just have different rules about casual touching, is all. Freezing to death's not really a concern in this climate."

"Wait, what?" said Toby, dropping the pillow he'd been holding. Jim looked up to see all the humans staring at him.

"Darklands thing," said Enrique easily. "Gets cold there."

"We'd sleep in piles," Jim explained. "I had a bit of a reputation for being … clingy."

"If you weren't good at finding food and soft stuff, we'd never've put up with ya." Enrique proved himself a liar by climbing onto Jim's shoulders instead of jumping back to the floor. He fluffed the hair on Jim's scalp. "Jimmy-boy got his first nickname for that."

"Shut up," said Jim playfully. "Anyway, humans get weird about touching around puberty. I can still hug Mom whenever I want, but Toby gets embarrassed if I hug him around other people, and Claire, Mary, and Darci haven't given me permission to touch them casually yet."

"… Did you … want permission?" asked Claire. "You, kinda, said you were uncomfortable with that, I thought."

"No, it was more wondering if you were flirting with me that felt weird," Jim assured her. "After that conversation I felt like it'd be awkward to bring up that I was open to hugging and such."

Jim thought he felt Enrique growl, to quietly to properly hear. His hand, still in Jim's hair, changed position so the tips of Enrique's claws were on Jim's scalp.

"When exactly did this happen?" Enrique asked.

"Claire kissed Jim on the cheek on his birthday and then Jim said he wasn't interested in dating her," said Mary.

"Also that I realized she might not have meant it in a flirty way and if I was misinterpreting things she could ignore what I was saying," Jim added. The claws retreated.

Claire looked away. "So what movie did we want to start with?"

"Lilo & Stitch!" exclaimed Darci, looking through the shelves. "I haven't watched this in forever!"

"That's a good one." Jim tilted his head to get Enrique back in his peripheral vision. "Enrique, have you seen it yet?"

"… Yeah."

"Isn't that the one that always makes you cry?" asked Toby.

"It's beautiful. Of course I cry."

Stitch was a constructed 'abomination', who shapeshifted to blend in, and his adopted family found out what he truly was and still wanted him. How could Jim be expected to keep his composure in the face of that?

"So, quick question," said Jim. "Is talking during the movie a crime, or is commentary what makes it a group activity?"

"Commentary," said all three girls together.

"Okay, good." Jim and Toby usually talked during movies, unless one or both of them were seeing it for the first time. Sometimes even then.

+=+

"Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries."

"We believe you actually created something."

"Created something? Ha! But that would be irresponsible, and, unethical. I would never, ever – make more than one."

"What is that monstrosity?"

"Monstrosity?! What you see before you is the first of a new species!"

"You have to wonder if she and Merlin ever had a talk like this," Enrique muttered in Jim's ear. Jim snickered.

"And as for that abomination … it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."

Jim stopped laughing and cringed. He loved this movie a lot, but some of it stung.

+=+

"A quiet capture would require an understanding of 626 that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"

"… Does he have a brother? Close grandmother, perhaps?"

"Fun fact," said Darci, "in early drafts Stitch was a career criminal and Jumba was an old accomplice."

"Friendly cousin? Neighbour with a beard?"

+=+

"Surely the teacher won't notice I was late if he doesn't see me come in!" Claire narrated sarcastically.

+=+

"I'm sorry, Scrump!" Mary wailed, as Lilo ran back to retrieve the doll she'd angrily thrown aside.

+=+

"Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong. And things have indeed gone wrong."

"As a cook, that kitchen horrifies me," said Jim.

+=+

"If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you – except on special occasions."

"Tuesdays and bank holidays would be good."

The entire group cracked up.

"How does kid Lilo's age even know what a bank holiday is?" said Claire. "I don't even know what a bank holiday is!"

"Maybe she saw it printed on a calendar?" said Toby.

+=+

A raindrop fell on Stitch's head. He fired his ray gun into the sky. It started raining, hard.

"Oh, no, I broke the sky!" Darci cried.

+=+

"Does it have to be this dog?"

"He survived getting hit by a truck, how much more sturdy and not-gonna-die do you want?" asked Jim.

"Yes. He's good. I can tell."

+=+

"I'm sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."

Mary nudged Claire. "Remind you of anyone?"

Like sunflowers, everyone else popped up and turned towards them.

Claire blushed. "We got into a fight in first grade and for like two days we decided we didn't want to be friends anymore, then our moms made us say sorry."

"He will be irresistibly drawn to large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyone's left shoe."

"It's weird they get in trouble for everything but this," commented Enrique. "Human grown ups might not believe a dog stole a trike, but wouldn't they think Lilo did it? She's fought the other kid before."

"It's nice to live on an island with no large cities."

+=+

"It's not an angel, Lilo, I don't even think it's a dog!"

"Isn't that the rolling thing Draal can do?" said Toby.

"Yeah, more or less," said Jim. "I mean, I don't think Draal bites his feet – but maybe that's the trick."

"At least with those stick legs you've got," said Enrique. He curled into a ball and rolled in a circle around the group. "Face it, you're out of proportion for this move."

+=+

"626 was designed to be a monster. But now, there is nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like, to have nothing? Not even memories to visit, in the middle of the night?"

"Now, this next bit I don't care for," said Jim. "The Ugly Duckling is a messed-up story."

"What've you got against The Ugly Duckling?" asked Mary.

"The blatant segregationist propaganda? 'A swan will never fit in with ducks and everyone is better off sticking with their own kind'. You don't even have to read it as a race metaphor. Between that and The Little Mermaid, I thought for while that Hans Christian Anderson was a Changeling writing cautionary tales about why we shouldn't get attached to humans."

"… Was he?" asked Claire.

"Probably not. I couldn't find any real evidence and the rest of his work doesn't match the pattern."

"Counterpoint," said Darci. "The Ugly Duckling is pro-integration. Everyone thought he was an ugly duckling because they didn't know what swans look like. If he'd grown up with ducks and swans around, they could've judged him for what he was instead of what he couldn't measure up to, and he might've had a happy childhood instead of only finding a community that accepted him as an adult."

Jim considered this, and nodded. "I guess I can see that, too."

+=+

"Heard you lost your job."

"Well, uh, actually, I just quit. That job. Because, you know, the hours are just not conducive to the challenges of raising a child –"

"Nani, no!" Jim begged. "I know almost nothing about Social Services but I'm pretty sure choosing to leave your only source of income looks worse to them than just losing it!"

"Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbour of my patience; but I cannot ignore you being jobless. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"And next time I see this dog, I expect it to be a model citizen. Capiche?"

"Uh … yes?"

"New job. Model citizen. Good day."

+=+

"So, we saw Cobra on the beach after all the tourists got scared off … D'you think he was just standing there watching them the whole time?" Mary wondered out loud after the surfing sequence.

+=+

"Until we meet again …"

Lilo was about to tell Stitch about her parents. Without thinking, Jim grabbed the remote – on the coffee table, next to the amulet – to fast forward.

"What are you doing?" Darci cried. "This is one of the big emotional turning points of the film!"

Jim paused it. "Sorry. Uh … Tobes and I usually skip this scene."

"I think I can handle it," Toby assured Jim. To the girls and Enrique, he explained, "My parents died in a storm when I was two. A cruise ship, not a car accident. I got kind of upset the first time we watched this as kids, and, we got in the habit fast forwarding this part. I think I'm okay with it now."

"You're sure?" asked Jim.

"I'm sure."

"Okay …" He rewound to the point where he'd started fast forwarding.

"That's us before. It was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours?"

Jim watched Toby more than the movie for the next few minutes.

"I'll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves."

"Do you remember them?" Claire asked quietly.

"Only the stuff Nana tells me." Toby shrugged, and readjusted the cushions he'd propped up his arms on. "I've seen lots of pictures. A couple home movies."

+=+

"Don't run. Don't make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes, yes, that's it, come quietly."

"I'm … waiting."

"For what?"

"Family."

"Ah. You don't have one. I made you."

"Maybe … I could –"

"You were built to destroy. You can never belong."

Jim blinked fast to keep the tears back. He sniffed, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him.

+=+

"Okay, talk! I know you had something to do with this, now where's Lilo? Talk! I know you can."

"Claire?" said Mary. "You okay?"

Jim looked over. Claire's jaw was clenched, and her hands were tight on the blanket, and her eyes were huge and fixed on the screen, and she was shaking.

"Ah … maybe the little sib getting snatched by otherworldly forces wasn't the best movie choice," Enrique said. He reached out like he was about to go to Claire, then pulled back his hand and hunkered down where he was.

"LILO! She's a little girl this big, she has black hair and brown eyes, and she hangs around with that THING!"

"I'm. Fine," Claire insisted.

"You're sure?"

"We can just fast forward."

"I said I'm fine!"

"Okay …"

Mary and Darci each scooted their blanket and cushion piles closer to Claire's, bracketing her on either side. Jim tactfully retreated to the Nuñezes kitchen to microwave a few more bags of popcorn. Enrique went with him. They could still hear the TV.

"What? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just like that?!"

"Ih."

"Fine."

"Fine? You're doing what he says?"

"Ah, he is very persuasive."

"Is it normal to feel bad for her?" Enrique asked.

"I think so? It's an awkward situation for both of you." Jim selected the white cheddar flavour. "But it's not like there's an alternative. You're not a polymorph. And really, the only reason she's upset is because she found out."

The Nuñezes had the same microwave as the Lakes. Jim didn't find the popcorn setting especially useful for this brand of popcorn – it tended to burn a third of the kernels– so he used the timer instead.

"I never apologized to you for that, did I?" Jim asked.

"It wasn't all your fault."

"Still, I'm sorry for my part in getting you caught."

The Changelings got back to the living room in time to see the unfortunate tourist lose his ice cream for the third time.

+=+

"Does Stitch have to go in the ship?"

"Yes."

"Can Stitch say goodbye?"

"… Yes."

Like he always did during this scene, Jim cried. He let himself do it this time.

+=+

"Wait, how is Little Mermaid a cautionary tale?" asked Enrique during the credits. The camera panned over a photo of Stitch reading to a flock of ducklings. "For getting attached, I mean. I thought the moral of that one was to control yer temper and be careful who you made deals with?"

"Sure, the Disney version," said Jim. "They adapted it to make a more dramatic, less depressing story. And give the characters names. In the older version, the sea witch is actually a neutral character. The terms of the mermaid's transformation are that she's traded her tongue for legs, but walking on land hurts, and she'll become fully human if the prince marries her, but if he marries anybody else, she'll die."

"That doesn't sound neutral."

"Wait for it. The prince gets engaged to a human princess, so the mermaid's older sisters trade their hair to the sea witch for a magic knife and a loophole; if the little mermaid kills the prince before the wedding, she can turn back into a mermaid and survive."

"Kay, I see it now."

"Except she doesn't go through with the kill, so she dies, and because she wasn't really human, she doesn't have a proper soul, so her spirit's not allowed to go to Heaven."

"… Whoa."

"I know, right?"

"I mean," Mary commented, "not murdering somebody is kind of a low bar for moral decency. It's not as if the prince owed her anything just because she was attracted to him."

"No, no, whether the prince deserved to die or not is irrelevant," said Jim. "The point is that the mermaid had a chance to, objectively, trade one life for another, and because she was attached to the particular person she'd have to kill, she didn't prioritize her own survival, and therefore suffered."

"Wouldn't the guilt of murder have caused suffering anyway?" Toby pointed out.

"Not if she wasn't attached," Jim insisted. How were they not getting this? "If she could've just cut the throat of any random human, she'd've been fine. The moral of the story is that caring about people causes pain. That's what makes it depressing."

"Do you like any fairy tales?" asked Darci.

"Sure. Just not most of Anderson's work."

"What should we watch next?" said Claire hospitably. "If we're on a 'sister movies' theme, I've got Frozen."

"Isn't that one also based on an Anderson fairy tale?" said Mary.

"Not really," said Jim. "The Snow Queen was more 'inspiration' than 'source material'. Elsa never kidnaps anyone, and they left out the broken enchanted mirror. Plus it's fun to see all the different ways humans think trolls are like."

"We also have the Trolls movie," said Claire. "I haven't watched it yet. My dad got it for Mom's birthday because she used to collect the dolls."

"I haven't seen that one yet, either," Darci commented.

"Should we?" said Mary. "Any other votes?"

"I'm game for whatever," said Toby. "This one's a musical, right? Those are always fun."

Jim squirmed.

He hadn't watched this movie despite his curiosity, after an online clip of the opening had explained the premise. Getting eaten alive was his greatest fear. Did he want to watch a movie about trolls narrowly avoiding being eaten? Did he want to explain why he didn't want to watch it?

While he debated, the movie got put in.

"Once upon a time, in a happy forest, in the happiest tree, lived the happiest creatures the world has ever known: the trolls. They loved nothing more than to sing, and dance, and hug, and dance and hug and sing and dance and sing and hug –"

Enrique started laughing.

Oh, shit, Jim hadn't warned him.

"Uh, Enrique –"

"Ssh! This is ridiculous. I mean, the huggy bit's kind of like you, but the rest of it – ha!"

"But then one day, the trolls were discovered by – a Bergen!"

"The trolls are gonna –"

"Ji-im! Spoilers!" Toby hissed.

"They were the most miserable creatures in all the land."

Jim grabbed Enrique and covered his eyes. The smaller Changeling yelped and squirmed. Jim switched forms so his fingers wouldn't bleed from the clawing.

Enrique got his eyes uncovered just in time to see the Bergen flick a troll into its mouth.

The onscreen troll's exclamation of "Oh my god!" was drowned out by Enrique's much more lurid cursing.

"What the –?" The girls and Toby all turned to stare. Claire pointed at Enrique accusingly. "I knew that didn't mean 'I'm sorry'!"

"The hell kinda movie is this?! Why would you watch this?!" He twisted to look at Jim, who let go of him rather than risk yanking his scruff by accident. "You knew?!"

"I saw a bit of it on the internet when it first came out. That's why I froze up when Claire suggested it."

That … that was the wrong thing to say. Enrique rounded on Claire. A techno-rock cover of In The Hall Of The Mountain King boomed from the movie soundtrack.

"Why in FUCK'S NAME would you think we'd WANT to watch trolls get EATEN? Is this some kind of threat?"

"How the fuck would it be a threat?" Claire shot back, stealing some cushions from Mary to prop herself up taller without getting out of her blanket cocoon.

"Most Changelings –" Jim started to say.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE ALMOST BEEN EATEN?" Enrique roared. "I DON'T! CAUSE IT'S A LOT!"

"We've all had close calls," Jim finished. "Nyarlagroths, Hellheetis, goblins if you catch them in the wrong mood, Gruesomes if you're already hurt, Stalklings, and it's a … popular threat from Gumm-Gumms."

"You forgot the sloorbeasts," said Enrique bitterly.

"Nobody's gotten lichen patches that bad." At least, they hadn't when Jim got out. "Have they?"

"Still counts."

"Uh, excuse me." Toby raised his hand. "I think I speak for us all when I say, what?"

"The Darklands are a hostile environment with predators and scavengers," explained Jim. "That's the other reason we slept in groups."

"Bigger targets, but we could have lookouts."

"Okay, that's its own kind of horrifying, but I was more reacting to the cannibalism?"

"Changelings don't count as real trolls," Enrique said sarcastically. "We're Impure."

He left out the part where they'd eaten their own dead. Jim didn't add it.

(It wasn't like they'd hunted each other for food. Sometimes a Changeling just died, somehow, in a way that didn't get them eaten by something else, and … well, food was scarce in the Darklands. They couldn't afford to be picky.

It also paid to keep watch over the sentry posts. Gunmar occasionally used the Decimaar Blade to post a sentry and then forgot to order them to rest and eat. Once they died, the average adult Gumm-Gumm was a meal for twenty Changelings, easily, if they could get to the body before the Gruesomes did.)

"Okay, we're switching to Frozen." Mary made the executive decision. "Wait," she said, while exchanging the disks. "If Changelings aren't trolls, how does Jim's adoption work?"

Because of course this was the perfect moment to tell Enrique about that, right in the middle of a squabble with his adopted sister.

"For one thing, most of Trollmarket still thinks I'm human." Jim switched back to human shape to illustrate the point.

"You got adopted?"

"AAARRRGGHH and Blinky thought I should have legal standing in Trollmarket outside of my job."

Enrique stared at him. Green diamond-shaped ears were pinned back. Buggy, slit-pupil eyes were wide and hurt.

"You get everything," he grumbled. "Two nicknames, and the goblins liked you, and you could always find food, and here you're the boss's favourite even when you're a traitor, and your human family still likes you, and now you get a troll family too? S'not fair."

"Hey, the goblins liked you, too." Jim was fully aware that wasn't much comfort compared to all the rest of it. "They gave you your nickname, remember?"

"They gave you one, too."

"Yeah, but you got yours first."

They probably weren't supposed to hear Darci when she muttered, "I feel like we're missing a lot of context."

"Shit," Claire muttered back. "Not Enrique told me a bit of the name part. They don't remember their names from before they were Changelings, and they don't get real names until they have Familiars, so they use nicknames instead. From each other or from goblins, he said."

"They don't get names?" Darci's voice went squeaky at the end of that.

"We're trying to come up with something other than 'Enrique' for him."

"You're trying," Enrique corrected. Darci squeaked again.

"Can we maybe circle back to the cannibalism thing?" said Toby. "That feels like the kind of trauma that should get unpacked at some point."

"I would rather leave it packed," said Jim.

"The way you blurted it out like that feels like you need to talk about it."

"Not all psychology is Freudian, Tobes."

"Do your parents still have baby name books from when they were picking Enrique's name?" Mary asked Claire. "Real Enrique, I mean."

"They didn't use one. He was named after our abuelo."

"Okay, so what about your other grandfather? What was his name?"

"Jose María." Defensively, "It's gender neutral in Spanish."

On the television screen, the movie menu finished another loop and started again.

"I tried spelling my name like it sounds, en are ee kay, but Claire said it spelled 'Nrek'. You get why I couldn't use that."

Jim laughed.

"What's funny?" asked Toby. "Is that an insult or something?"

"No, it's goblin, in English it means 'bottle'," Jim translated. "Or possibly 'container of food'." The only bottles he's seen them use held formula for the Familiars, and the word hadn't come up on the surface, so the distinction was unclear. "It's either a silly name or a really morbid one."

"Aaand we're back to the cannibalism."

"No we are not!"

"Na na na heyana, Hahiyaha naha …"

Either somebody had decided to start the movie, or the DVD had that feature where it automatically began playing if nothing was selected after a few loops of the menu.

The conversation went in circles a couple more times, then faded out.

+=+

"And who's the funky-looking donkey over there?"

"That's Sven."

"Uh-huh; and who's the reindeer?"

"… Sven."

"Oh, they're – ? Oh! Okay! Makes things easier for me."

"~Riot~," said Enrique.

"Huh?"

"My nickname. Before. It meant 'riot'."

What are you doing? Jim wanted to demand. Was Enrique just – just giving up on a real name?

"You can call me that for now. Till we work out a for-real one. Better than 'Not Enrique'."

Jim stuffed some burnt popcorn kernels into his mouth to keep from protesting. He couldn't undermine Enrique's – Riot's – chosen name, right in front of a bunch of humans, when he'd been arguing with them about how rude that was for weeks now.

"Oh. Okay." Claire half-smiled. "Riot."

Jim shut his eyes to hide the flaring glow.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Angor Rot gets treated much better, and more sensibly, than in canon, and is correspondingly less vengeful)

Table of Contents 

Next Chapter (Featuring either Otto or Gatto)

A quick thank you to Taycin on AO3 for providing some name-gender context when this chapter first went up.

[cheshiresense]

Hadrian/Orion (I just can't let go of them, I love them so much) with an added Soulmate AU to everything else, please ?

Lmao Hadrian/Orion, what a surprise~ Let’s go with a classic ‘the one where you have your soulmate’s name written on your body’ AU.

1. In all 22 years of his first life, Hadrian never finds his soulmate. Plenty of people try of course (tattoos are a thing even in the magical world and people can be seriously weird), and even more of them want, to be the Boy-Who-Lived’s destined soulmate, but none of them were born with Hadrian’s name on their wrist, and Hadrian promised himself a long time ago when he was still a little boy in a cupboard under the stairs with no family and no real home, when he’d seen the name appear at seven years old and then learned that the person whose name was on his wrist belonged to him and no one else, he’d sworn he would never love another, not the way one should love a soulmate. It didn’t matter when Aunt Petunia muttered about freakish names, didn’t matter when Uncle Vernon told him his soulmate would be better off without him - Orion Black was Hadrian’s soulmate, and nobody in the world could ever take this one thing away from him.

It’s considered even worse manners to ask to see someone’s soulmate than it is to ask to see Hadrian’s scar, so nobody asks, not even Ron. There are shops that sell wristbands in all colours and designs, and in the magical world, those designs even move. Hadrian gets a solid black band with the constellation Orion stitched into it, and for years and years to come, when he was scared or hurt or alone, even just seeing the tiny silver stars winking back at him in the dark of night would make him feel safer.

The first time he shows someone the name on his wrist is… well, he doesn’t actually show anyone. But Sirius hugs him, tight and fierce, at the top of a Hogwarts tower after he and Hermione rescue him from Dementors, and when he pulls back, for a moment, his gaze catches on the band around Hadrian’s wrist. His face goes a little funny, recognition coiled with bafflement, but there’s no time for anything else, and sooner rather than later, Sirius is gone with Buckbeak.

(Sirius lives another two years before he dies. Hadrian is fifteen and angry at a world that would rather be led like sheep to a slaughter than face their fears, and his godfather pulls him aside and shows him the Black family tapestry and the only Orion Black on it.

“I recognized the constellation so I thought I’d check, just in case,” Sirius explains, and in this first life, he is the first and only person Hadrian bares his wrist to. The script is still there, solid blue and visible, so they’re definitely still alive, but there are no other Orions on the tapestry aside from Sirius’ dad. Sirius grins anyway, optimistic and encouraging in a way that momentarily wipes Azkaban from his face. “Who knows, maybe there’s a bastard out there who escaped my family’s attention. Or maybe it’s a muggleborn. I hear Black isn’t that uncommon a name in the muggle world.”)

The war begins again when Hadrian is fourteen. It ends when he’s twenty-one. The name on his wrist never fades, and he spends every day hoping his soulmate lives, that they don’t attend Hogwarts, that they’re not even on the Merlin-damned continent.

And then Fate comes calling, and Hadrian thinks maybe his soulmate had been much farther away from him than even he ever guessed.

2. Orion is born with Harry Potter on his wrist. He’d been dumped at a muggle orphanage shortly after his birth, and then that orphanage had been ravaged by a werewolf pack when he was two. Maybe that’s why nobody ever wondered exactly when his name came in. Nobody who might’ve known stuck around long enough to tell the orphanage, and with green script the colour of Harry’s eyes, everyone just made the most logical assumption after Sirius and Remus adopted him. But the truth of it is this - he was born five months earlier than Harry, with a name already etched into his wrist. Harry Potter - this Harry Potter - could not possibly be his soulmate.

But nobody knows that. Instead, their families see the name on Orion’s wrist, and then they see a completely different name on Harry’s wrist, and Orion becomes one of the very few destined for an incomplete soul. It’s just a figure of speech of course, his soul is as whole as anybody’s, but it sets him apart from the very beginning, garners pity as much as being a werewolf garners contempt, and his only saving grace is the fact that not even Harry would stoop to blabbing about Orion’s soul-name in public, even if it does make for very easy ammunition against him. Besides, it’s easy enough to sneer “no one will ever want to be your soulmate” and pretend it’s only because Orion is a werewolf.

So Orion spends the next ten years and change following Harry around like a dog begging for any small scrap of affection. It had been fine at first, for a few years, before Harry found out about the werewolf secret and changed. Even though he didn’t have Orion’s name, Harry had told him it was fine, they were still family no matter what. It was fine, until it wasn’t, and by the age of fourteen, Orion had almost convinced himself that he didn’t care. Didn’t care that his soulmate hated him. Didn’t care that Harry had turned most of their school against him. Didn’t care that most of the world would rather his kind didn’t exist.

But then Hadrian Evans had swept into his life like a natural disaster, changing everything he touched without even trying, pulling everyone into his orbit whether they liked it or not, and refusing to live in a world where Orion was treated as lesser, so he demanded the world change for Orion instead.

And for the first time in his life, Orion looks at his own wrist and wishes it was someone else’s name, because however much Harry had hurt him, broken him, left him feeling something very close to hatred, he’d never quite managed to stop wanting Harry to accept him, to like him, to finally see Orion’s loyalty and bring him back into the fold, not until he’d met Hadrian and realized that yes, he did deserve better.

3. The first time Hadrian lays eyes on Orion and Neville tells him his name, he knows, absolutely knows, straight down to his bones - yes, this is the one, this is my soulmate, this person was who I was waiting for.

He doesn’t march right up and reveal all, obviously. For one, it takes weeks to get past Orion’s icy exterior, with good reason. For another, the whole dimension travel thing is hardly something Hadrian can just go around telling people about. And for a third… well. Orion has given no indication that Hadrian Evans is what’s written on his wrist. He could be hiding it, like Hadrian, but Hadrian likes to think he would’ve noticed. Orion’s not actually that hard to read once you get past his walls. On the other hand, if he has Harry Potter written on his wrist, that’s a bit of a problem too. Which Harry Potter does it mean? Is that why Orion was so loyal to Harry even though the other boy had done nothing to deserve it?

But Fate gave Hadrian Orion Black, printed out in vivid blue the colour of Orion’s eyes, and surely Hadrian wouldn’t have been plucked out of his own world and dropped into this specific universe if the only Orion he’s ever met isn’t his soulmate.

Fate of course is no help at all.

In the end, he decides it doesn’t matter. Orion is fourteen - Hadrian isn’t putting a finger on him until he’s legal, and even then, it has to be Orion’s choice. Just because the universe has matched two people together doesn’t mean it always works out, and Hadrian isn’t going to be one of those arseholes who tries to force their soulmate into a relationship just because of what’s written on their skin. And soulbonds aren’t always romantic. There are plenty of platonic ones in the world as well.

Besides, he knows Orion feels a measure of gratitude to him for befriending him in the first place, which is just wrong, but the point is, Hadrian doesn’t want him latching onto the soulbond out of any kind of obligation. He wants Orion to like him - and possibly even fall in love with him one day - for him. Just because it’s him.

(Just Harry. A sham of a childhood, too much blood on his hands, and a whole war down the road, and in the end, just Harry is still all he can really be.)

As for Hadrian himself, it’s not as if it’s hard to like Orion. He’s standoffish and cold to those who’ve bullied him in the past or those he’s wary of because he doesn’t know them, and that’s his right, borne from years of bearing the weight of Harry’s verbal abuse. But he’s also overwhelmingly, heartbreakingly devoted to Hadrian once Hadrian proves that his kindness is genuine, and isn’t that sad? A little bit of kindness - eating meals together, studying together, decent manners and a smile - and that was all it took because underneath the frigid exterior, there was just a boy desperate for somewhere to belong.

So Hadrian is fine with simply befriending him. Even if Orion never figures out they’re soulmates, even if they aren’t soulmates, Hadrian can be content with what he already has. It’s not like he’s in love with Orion at this point anyway, he’s never been in love with anyone so maybe theirs will be a platonic bond in the end. Orion deserves the world, and that may or may not include Hadrian in the long run, but in the meantime, Hadrian will be damned if he lets anyone continue treating Orion with one iota less of the respect he deserves.

4. Of course, life rarely works out the way anyone plans it, and Hadrian has always, always been Fate’s bitch. In the end, it’s his wristband that gives him away, which Hadrian should’ve predicted, because Orion is Sirius’ son, and just like Hadrian’s Sirius, he recognizes his namesake instantly the moment he spots it one day, when the two of them and the rest of their friends are out by the Lake, enjoying a summer afternoon after their last exams of the year. Even Hermione probably can’t identify constellations at a glance the way the Black house can.

Orion goes preternaturally still, half bent over to spread a towel on the grass. Hadrian is sprawled out on a towel of his own, bisected by the shade of some nearby trees, and he’s down to shorts and a shirt, for once foregoing his robes. The wristband stands out starkly, and nobody else is around, all of them splashing around in the water instead. Orion had just come back up for a break, and it takes even Hadrian - relaxed as he is - a few seconds to realize the air has grown tense around them.

“Orion, what-” He half sits up, ready to hex someone into oblivion, and then he follows Orion’s line of sight, only to freeze as well when he sees his own wristband.

A strained minute of silence follows, like a breath caught and held, waiting for the drop.

Orion is in his sixth year, seventeen already as of February. It’s not like he hasn’t already realized - probably as far back as fourth year if he’s honest - that there’s something really off about Hadrian. Prodigy he might be, but there are some things you can’t learn just by being smart or good with magic. Hadrian duels like he was born for war, as terrible as that sounds, but he’s been tutoring them in Defense for almost two years now, and he has the reflexes and muscle memory of a veteran Auror. Orion would know - he’s seen his dad and Uncle James duel before. And the things he knows - he can brew everything from Anti-Paralysis Potions to Blood-Replenishing Potions to Veritaserum and make it look easy, but he doesn’t know even the most basic of household charms that a magical child would’ve grown up around, had to be assured that faerie lights at Yule didn’t actually hurt the faeries, and just last year when he’d moved into Orion’s house for the summer, he’d spent whole afternoons sitting in the children’s section of their library, looking at Orion’s old picture books - with miniature characters that reenacted the story live like a play when you opened the book - like he’d never seen anything more amazing.

(Remus had just looked sad when Orion had quietly mentioned it out of Hadrian’s earshot. Sirius had disappeared into the duelling chamber and blown things up for a few hours.)

Of course, those were things Orion had observed over time, the details you only knew if you were Hadrian’s friend and took the time to get to know him. But even a stranger on the street could probably tell you something was up if they saw Hadrian and Harry standing side by side and you told them they weren’t related.

Black hair, green eyes, the same nose and jaw and knobbly knees. The only difference between them, physically speaking, were superficial - Harry was a little taller, Hadrian didn’t wear glasses, Harry had messier hair, Hadrian had scars that Orion hadn’t quite plucked up the courage yet to ask about.

Even Hadrian’s surname was suspicious. Evans? What are the odds that his family name would just so happen to be Aunt Lily’s maiden name?

But it was such a far-fetched idea, that they could be related at all, when - personality-wise - they were so wildly different. They were even the same age, so unless the Potters had secretly given away Harry’s twin at birth, there was just no way.

And yet.

Orion slowly sinks to the ground. He drags his eyes away from the wristband to check Hadrian’s expression, only to be met with guarded stone features and eerie Avada Kedavra eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just watches Orion in return, but saying nothing is an answer in itself, isn’t it?

Orion releases a long, careful breath, feeling like a single wrong word now might actually get him obliviated. He knows Hadrian has it in him, has a lot worse than a memory charm in him, but Orion has never worried that it might turn on him one day. That he thinks it now, that he can look at Hadrian and see the warrior staring back - it just means this is important, and Orion cannot mess this up.

It’s not like he’s never thought it before. Common sense and logic usually buried the clues and dismissed his what-ifs, but when he’s alone and awake at night and can’t sleep, and there’s really nothing better to do than think of Hadrian, sometimes, he does wonder.

And it’s starting to look a lot like he might’ve actually been right.

He inhales and exhales again, looks once more at the wristband - silver stars on a black night sky, for Merlin’s sake, it might as well be his name wrapped around Hadrian’s wrist - and then he meets Hadrian’s eyes again without flinching. “I’ve wanted you to be my soulmate since before fourth-year Yule, when we both said we’d go the Ball without a date, so it pretty much felt like we were going together.”

His ears burn red, but he keeps his chin up and his gaze steady, and he gets the pleasure of watching some of the ice recede from Hadrian’s face as his eyes go wide and his lips part with genuine surprise.

And then he blushes, and Orion stares, brain stalling, and all he can think is, oh, he’s pretty, which Sirius must never know.

“Bloody hell-” Hadrian mutters, slapping a hand to his forehead, and then a twitch of his fingers and a mumbled Muffliato fizzles up around them to give them some privacy. And then he drops his hand, looks around, and promptly rolls his eyes before dismissing it again with another wave.

“Come on,” Hadrian says as he rises to his feet, looking simultaneously fatalistically grim and recklessly determined. “I’m not talking about this here. We’re going to the Room of Requirement.”

He pauses though, teetering from the balls of his feet to his heels and back. And then he sticks out a hand towards Orion, and Orion feels almost clumsy as he lurches forward to take it, letting Hadrian haul him to his feet, easy as anything.

“Wait, are you really-” Orion stammers out, because holy fuck is he actually right, and he knows he shouldn’t talk about it here, and he sounds like some half-wit, but-

Hadrian heaves a sigh, and then he lifts their joined hands and uses his free one to peel back the wristband.

Orion stares. Orion Black, stamped out in the looping cursive of his handwriting, as blue as his eyes will ever be, stares boldly back at him.

“Come on,” Hadrian repeats, hiding the name - Orion’s name - away again and tugging at his  hand. “I have some things to tell you, about- about who I am, and where I come from, and I’m not doing it here.”

Orion nods faintly, feeling dazed, but he follows when Hadrian moves, close enough to crowd him.

When Hadrian - Hadrian Evans, Harry Potter from another bloody universe - glances at him, as scared as Orion’s ever seen him, like this isn’t literally everything Orion has ever wished for, miraculously come true, and all Orion can do is press closer and clutch tighter at the hand in his.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever let go.

5. It’s a while later before everyone knows. Literally everyone - there’s a dimension-traveller in their midst, blessed by Fate and Magic, and nobody wants to mess with that, although there has been more than a few letters from the Unspeakables since they found out.

But before everyone, their friends and families find out first. Harry looks like he’s swallowed a lemon, but at least he keeps his mouth shut, for the time being, and for weeks, James and Lily go around looking equal parts shocked and awed and a little like they’re not quite sure how to treat Hadrian anymore.

Sirius and Remus don’t give a damn beyond listening closely to everything Hadrian decides to tell them. Orion’s father looks achingly relieved every time he sees Orion and Hadrian together, and his dad beams ecstatically every time he spots them holding hands. Sirius isn’t quite petty enough to flaunt it in front of James, and not quite mean enough to say it in front of Harry, but in the privacy of their home, Sirius calls Hadrian “my godson” a lot, and every single time, Hadrian protests, but his face also scrunches up a bit like he wants to cry. He also melts and pretends he doesn’t whenever Sirius ruffles his hair or pulls him into a hug. That’s probably half the reason why Sirius keeps doing it.

On his part, Orion doesn’t care if only he and Hadrian knows or if the whole world knows. He has Hadrian’s name on his wrist, even if it’s not the name he uses now, the name he’s embraced along with the life he’s made for himself here, and Hadrian has his, jumping an entire universe to meet Orion, but more than that, so much more, Orion has Hadrian, and it wouldn’t have mattered even if their names hadn’t matched, he would’ve loved him regardless.

Because here and now, he has the way Hadrian looks at him in the morning when they wake up, soft and lazily content. He has the way Hadrian trusts him to have his back in battle, and the way Hadrian turns to him first, always, finding him in a crowd or asking for his opinion or just to know he’s there. He has the way Hadrian calms when Orion wraps him in his arms after waking from nightmares, and even when he can’t fall back asleep, he learns he can depend on Orion to stay up with him.

He has the sight of Hadrian wearing the Black family engagement ring, offered the morning after Orion turns eighteen, pressed firmly into Hadrian’s hands because Orion’s feelings won’t ever change no matter how many years Hadrian gives him to reconsider.

“What if you’re not ready though?” Hadrian half-pleas, because this is somehow still something he worries about, that he’s taking advantage, that Orion will want someone less broken, less sad, carrying less baggage.

“I am,” Orion says steadily, because he has never been more sure of anything. “I’m ready. But maybe you aren’t yet, and that’s okay. I’m just making my intentions clear. But however long you need, I can wait. I will wait. I promise.”

Hadrian looks at him after that like he can’t believe Orion is real, and Orion will treasure it forever.

Two years later, he has his own engagement ring on his finger, secretly crafted and given to him when Hadrian - clear-eyed and confident - proposes at their favourite diner in the magical district of Rome. Orion can’t stop grinning all night.

[nearlymanaged]

2. Falling Out and Crushing

“Did anyone else notice that Snivellus hasn’t been hanging around Evans all the time lately?” James plopped down into a seat at the Gryffindor table at lunch, halfway through their first week back at Hogwarts.

“They don’t even sit together at Potions anymore,” Peter added. 

“In fact, it appears that they try to sit as far away from each other as physically possible without leaving the classroom.” James’ eyes gleamed with mischievous excitement.

“That’s all very well, but if you haven’t noticed, Evans did not reject you three hundred times because of Snivellus. She’s just not into you,” Sirius shrugged.

“Yes, she is. She just doesn’t realise it yet.”

“Bordering on creepy a bit there, James,” Remus mumbled without tearing his eyes off his copy of The Standard Book of Spells that he had propped against a jug of pumpkin juice.

“I think you meant romantic, Moons.”

“No, I think I meant creepy,” Remus replied happily. “Either way, I’d have to disagree with SIrius this time - this turn of events might, in fact, lend itself to helping you woo her. I happened to overhear her talking to her friends after Care of Magical Creatures. She was telling them she’d first go out with that vile James Potter before making up with Snape. Apparently, they fell out at the end of last year and it sounded like she categorically rejected his only attempt at making amends over the summer.”

James goggled at Remus with a half chewed mouthful of food, then quickly swallowed with some difficulty, and frowned. “Why am I only hearing this now!?” 

“I haven’t seen you since I found out… I’ll send an owl next time.”

“This changes everything…” A strange, dreamy yet still mischievous smile returned to James’ face and he spent the rest of lunch not contributing to the group’s conversation much.

“Moony,” Sirius sat up and turned his whole body towards his friend. “How do you always know about these things?”

“I’m in the right place at the right time a lot. It’s easy when people don’t really notice you.”

“What are you talking about? Who doesn’t notice you?”

“Nothing…” Remus waved him off. He didn’t feel like diving into a tirade about how he feels invisible most of the time, and the rest - people just gape at his scars as though he’s some grotesque old antique collecting dust at Borgin and Burkes. He wasn’t even sure why he started thinking about that now.

“I think I’m going to ask Lydia Rooks out,” Peter said vaguely, gazing at a dark haired Hufflepuff girl across the Great Hall.

“Good for you!” Sirius patted his friend on the back, causing him to spill juice down his front. “Oh, sorry. You can’t really see it, she won’t notice,” he added, inspecting the damage done.

“Wh-- Oh, I’m not doing it now!”

“Why not?”

“There’s people around! What if she says no?” Peter gaped at Sirius and then at the girl again.

“I don’t know...you walk back here?” Sirius offered, sounding confused as to why that was a concern for Peter.

“Have you ever been rejected in front of the entire school and then had to walk back to your seat? Again, in front of the entire school?”

“Hm. Nope, not that I can remember.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so...”

Remus didn’t really hear the rest of that conversation because his thoughts were hurtling down a memory lane filled with all the girls Sirius had ever asked out or been asked out by. For a fleeting moment, he’d wished he could like girls too, instead of boys, not to mention - one of his best friends. But then he had to admit to himself that just that thought alone felt wrong and weird. Almost as wrong and weird as his actual experiences with girls.

“Are you okay, Moony?”

“Huh?” Remus lifted his eyes to Sirius’ face.

“You’re scowling. Is the school year already taking a toll on your pretty face?”

Remus rolled his eyes, now feeling a little annoyed. He thought it was a bit of a low blow, but of course, he knew Sirius didn’t mean anything by it. Either way, what did it matter whether he was pretty or not, there were more important things in life. Or so Remus tried to convince himself...

“What do we have now?” Peter asked just as they were getting up from the Gryffindor table.

“You two,” Remus indicated him and James. “Have some free time to catch up on your homework. While me and - miraculously - SIrius are off to History of Magic.”

“Miraculously? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I suppose I never realised you harboured a secret passion for listening to Binns for forty-five minutes to an hour and a half at a time.”

 * * *

This was the third History of Magic lesson of the term that professor Binns began with the same spiel about the grave importance of their N.E.W.T.’s; Sirius was pretending to listen, holding up his head in his hand, but his mind was completely elsewhere. In fact, his mind kept wandering to the same thing, over and over again, since the morning at King’s Cross station…. 

How come Remus was five or six inches taller than him all of a sudden? And why did Sirius kind of like that? And how come his long, freckled arms were so nice to look at? And why did his voice sound so mesmerising? It’s as if Remus spent the summer drinking some kind of a potion that turned him from one of Sirius’ best friends into a beautiful, enigmatic creature that Black could not ignore, no matter how much he tried. 

As a matter of fact, he didn’t try to ignore Remus at all. Quite the contrary, he was giving in to this new-risen curiosity. He was comparing how he saw James and Peter, his best mates, to the giddy happiness he felt when he was around Remus. And, frankly, it didn’t take a genius to deduct that Sirius had a crush on his friend. Just as he formulated this thought in his head, he glanced around the classroom, as if to make sure that no one was watching him, reading his mind. Then he leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two hind legs, his gaze landing on Remus’ concentrated profile. Yeah, he’d had enough experience with these sort of things to know it - he had a crush on his friend.

SIrius was notorious for developing crushes in seconds, sometimes multiple times a day even. He’d snog a girl one day and then go out with her best friend the next week, and the truth was that he genuinely liked them all. It wasn’t a game, as some of his previous romances had accused him of. But he was having loads of fun and enjoying himself immensely. He’d just never had a crush on a boy, which made it all the more exciting.

“Well, well, well…” He mumbled under his breath, wondering what changed about Moony to make him so attractive out of the blue. Perhaps it wasn’t completely out of the blue; naturally, he’d always felt a certain kind of love and admiration towards his friend...

“Huh?” Remus cast him a distracted glance but then took a double take. “What?”

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Have you been going out with anyone this summer?” SIrius blurted out without thinking.

“No…”

“Hm. Didn’t think so. You would have mentioned it in your letters. You seem the type.”

“Excuse me, what type?” Remus snorted.

“The swooning type.”

“I am not the swooning type!” Remus whispered loudly, causing a few people to glance around in confusion. “What in Merlin’s beard are you talking about?”

“Have your eyes always been this green?” As soon as the words left Sirius’ mouth, he sobered and landed his chair on all four legs. He flashed a quick grin at Remus, who seemed to still be trying to figure out what was going on, and pointedly turned to look at professor Binns.

He shouldn’t be doing this. This is his friend Remus. Moony. He’s not a random girl from one of the other houses, or a pretty Muggle next door. This is Moony. Sirius can’t be so flippant about it...or else, it would result in a friendship-destroying disaster.

And anyway, not like Moony ever showed any interest in him, or any other boy. This was similar to all the other crushes SIrius had had, but also very different - it was highly unlikely to ever turn into anything. Perhaps Sirius just needed to wait it out, become interested in someone else (as he always eventually did), and move on.

But his thoughts refused to move on from the topic for the rest of the lesson. Remus had never been girl-crazy, as long as they’d known each other. He’d been on a few dates here and there, but he was never the one initiating them. Sirius had always assumed that his friend was just really picky, but maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe the problem resulting in a series of mediocre first dates was the fact that… No, it couldn’t be it. Maybe it was just that Remus was such a poised, controlled person - maybe he simply didn’t care for something as reckless and trivial as teenage emotions and urges. But maybe…

[nikibogwater]

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter One (Author’s Commentary)

(read the fic here)

General Notes:

(So I kind of stole this idea from my friend @unexpected-possibilities after she made an author’s commentary post on one of her fics, and I was like “Oh. Wait, I actually find this kind of stuff SUPER interesting to read." So...yeah, here’s mine for anybody who feels similarly lol)

I have been dying to write this kind of story pretty much since the completion of my second Wizards/ToA fic back in August, but it took me a while to suss out the plot. I generally try to keep my fics as canon-friendly as possible (not that I have anything against AUs, that’s just not a direction that I usually go in) so it was tricky to create a high-stakes adventure story that didn’t mess with canon too much. 

That being said, Chapter 1 is pretty chill, apart from the scene at the end. But it is incredibly important to the plot, because it sets up elements that will be very relevant later in the story. It also serves to re-establish the three-way relationship between Douxie, Archie, and Nari, which will give their interactions in the future chapters more weight. 

One last general note before we get to the passage-specific stuff: The song “Protector” by City Wolf has always been my go-to theme for the Douxie-Archie-Nari relationship, but I think it really captures the feel of this story in particular (or at least, it will once the whole thing is posted lol). I’ve never associated a particular song with any of my other fics before, but this one really was a huge part of what inspired this story, so I highly recommend that you give it a listen, if you are so inclined.

Passage-Specific Notes:

Two pairs of luminous golden eyes were hovering uncomfortably close to his head and staring at him fixedly. Douxie yelped and threw off his covers, scrambling upright and fumbling for his magic vambrace nearby. A small green hand held it out to him politely, and after a bit of confused blinking, Douxie finally registered the faces of his companions. Nari and Archie were sitting on the floor next to his mattress, looking at him eagerly. 

Two short things: One: I had no idea how I was going to start this scene, and then I remembered that one Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin wakes up to find Hobbes hovering over him menacingly, and I was like “Yes, that will do nicely.” Two: I still have no idea what Douxie’s magic bracelet-thingy should technically be called, so I settled on vambrace. I know Merlin refers to it as a bracelet in the show, but Merl, I’m sorry, but you clearly know nothing about jewelry. That thing is NOT a simple bracelet. (Also I had to research the difference between bracers and vambraces in order to determine which word to use. Bracers are apparently protective gear that is exclusive to archery, while vambrace is a more general word for any kind of armor worn on the forearm).

“It’s also the day you promised to bring Nari to Central Park,” Archie informed him.

This is a callback to a previous entry in the series, Home Away From Home. Although each entry in the Immortal Bonds series is written in such a way that it can be enjoyed as a standalone, I do weave tiny threads of continuity throughout all of them.

Mornings for Nari looked very different than they used to, she realized as she set the kettle on the stove, stepping back so Archie could light it (due to her somewhat complicated relationship with Bellroc, she was still wary about anything that involved fire). As a demigoddess who had existed for hundreds of millenia, she had never had much experience with something as human as family domesticity.

The scene where Nari and Archie make Douxie’s tea was originally going to be much longer and feature a lot more introspection on Nari’s part (I even researched the British tea-making process for it, since I’m fairly certain Douxie is the one who taught her how to make tea). I was going to start exploring the idea that Nari is still insecure about her place in this little found family, but I realized after about three paragraphs that there’s no way Nari doesn’t know how much Douxie genuinely loves her--she is already proficient in reading his emotions at this point. So that’s an internal conflict for another day.

“Keep very still for me, Nari.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his aura flowing out and wrapping around her like a warm, familiar cloak. “Celare,” he murmured, and Nari felt a sharp tug on her spirit as the spell washed over it, cool and comforting like the shade of an old tree.

If you’ve read previous entries in this series, you know that I can wax poetic about the physical sensations of magic for DAYS. It is one of my favorite aspects of writing Tales of Arcadia fanfiction. Also Celare (kel-ahr-ay) is Latin for “Hide” or “Conceal.” I had to get outside help for this because I don’t speak Latin, and Google Translate is (as I found out) completely unreliable for even the simplest, single-word translations (it gave me the word for “clothe” when I used it 😑)

The first time she had walked the streets of New York City, Nari had been on the verge of tears. There were so many sensations assaulting her mind at once, the feeling of countless souls buzzing around, a crowd of spirits so thick that sometimes it felt like a wall. Even without tapping into her roots, she was drowning in a sea of tangling energies, as hundreds, even thousands of voices echoed in her soul all at once.

Oooooops, is that a parallel for Sensory Processing Disorder? Well, how did that get in there??? *shoves my own mental health issues under a rug with my foot* I have no clue.

This is probably as good a time as any to discuss auras vs. life energy. Basically, aura is the energy radiated by the presence of magic. Magical creatures who share close bonds can become very sensitive to one another’s aura, and because magic is so inextricably linked to emotion, Nari is able to read Douxie’s aura to pick up on whatever he’s feeling (though this is because she is extra sensitive to magical presence--Douxie is attuned to her aura, but he can’t read hers the way she can his). Life energy, meanwhile, is the energy given off by every living soul, magic or otherwise, and that’s what Nari is able to sense via her powers as a demigoddess. I sometimes interchange the word aura with spirit or soul or something similar, but if Douxie or Nari are sensing one another in any capacity apart from their actual physical senses, it’s their auras. Archie also has an aura, but it’s not as intense as that of a true magic-wielder.  

He was fashionably dressed, (“business casual,” the humans called it), with an elegant black trench coat hanging nonchalantly off of his arm. He had dark brown hair, handsomely trimmed and styled, just a bit shorter than Douxie’s, and was wearing a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. He looked thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and had the appearance of someone who was waiting to meet up with a particularly tardy acquaintance. But Nari couldn’t sense that he was waiting. She couldn’t sense anything from this man. He emitted no life force, no aura or energy of any kind. He was like a standing, breathing corpse.

I have had this character floating around in the back of my mind since August, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to use him. Also fun fact, he was originally conceived as a sort of prototype for who I thought Mordred Le Fey would be in the ToA universe. But since canon is technically still ongoing and the ToA writers could still bring Mordred into the picture, I decided to adapt him into the original character Rivan (whose name will be properly revealed in the next chapter).

Beside her, Douxie’s aura was rippling with unease. But a moment later, his spirit stilled, and he put an arm around her to turn her away from the alley...

...A minute later, the crosswalk signal changed once more, and they continued on their way. Though Douxie’s spirit was radiating a placid energy, Nari couldn’t help noticing that he kept his arm around her for the rest of the journey.

It was important to me that Douxie not look like a complete idiot in this scene, which was a little difficult since this part isn’t told from his perspective. Homeboy absolutely knows better than to ignore something suspicious like this. But he is also acting as Nari’s brother/guardian in this scene, so he tries to play it off to keep her from worrying too much. He promised her a fun day in Central Park, and he’s not willing to bail on that just yet. But I’m hoping that the fact that he has to force his aura into a state of calm and physically holds Nari close to him as they walk are good indicators that he has gone on high alert.

And that’s a wrap for this week! Next Friday, all hell is gonna break loose, so definitely come back for that. If you have any questions/comments, definitely hit me up either in my Ask Box or over on Ao3. As always, thanks for reading! ✨💕

[mfingenius]

Hello beautiful human! I just read through a lot of your works (I’m in love holy shit) and I think it was in Post Breakup you mention Draco having and relapsing into an eating disorder and I wondered if you could maybe explore a bit more on that topic? I completely understand if you don’t want to bc it’s quite a sensitive topic but I thought I’d ask anyways. Thank you! And thank you for your contribution to the fandom, you’re amazing!!!!!

Uf babe this is literally perfect for the angsty mood that I’ve been in :) 

Please don’t read this if it might trigger you. That is the last thing I want, for anyone.

This is the fic that this ask is referring to, in case anyone hasn’t read it,, and this is going to be like a sort of prequel thingy about when they’ve only been dating for a year, before Draco started going to the therapist

(also omg i’m so flattered you called me a beautiful human thank you so much

Trigger Warning: Explicit mention of Eating Disorders, depressing and disordered thinking, mentions of self harm

***

“I’ve made Lasagna!” Harry says proudly, and Draco’s stomach sinks. 

“Right,” He says, faintly.

Harry looks so proud of himself, and Draco knows Harry hates cooking. And it’s their anniversary, and Draco doesn’t want to ruin it by angering Harry, he really doesn’t, but he’s already gone past his calorie limit today - or he thinks he has, because of that Merlin damned muffin that Pansy made him eat could’ve easily had 600 calories, but Draco doesn’t know, does he, because it had only been wrapped in plastic - and he can’t can’t can’t binge again, he’s already gained half a kilogram because of the last time him and Potter had dinner together, and he hates it, all of it, why don’t they ever do another fucking thing?

“Are you alright?” And Harry, damn him, has the nerve to ask if he’s alright. If he’s alright. How could he be alright, when the only thing he wants more than to avoid eating is being with Harry, and apparently he can’t have both. 

“I’m fine,” Draco says. He’s not. Harry knows, and Draco knows he knows because of the crease that forms between his eyebrows. Draco presses their lips together to distract him, and when they pull away he gives his best fake smile, walking past Harry and towards the kitchen. “Smells delicious. You want me to prepare a salad?”

Salad. He can control the salad. He knows exactly what he’ll put into it, he can know - approximately, since he can’t very well measure items without Harry noticing something’s up - how many calories he’s eating. If he eats a lot of salad and a small piece of lasagna and fasts for the next three days, he’d be fine. Not good, not well, but fine.

“I already made it,” Harry tells him, and Draco thanks that they’re not looking at each other because of the thunderous look that he knows crosses his face.

“Right,” Draco says, again. Harry’s hand is on his hip - and really, why Harry would want to touch him is entirely beyond him - and he squeezes lightly.

“Draco, are you sure you’re alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” He says.

“Alright,” It’s Harry who says it this time, because he knows better than to push. “Wine?”

Wine. And Lasagna. And Salad, and dessert, too, if the strong scent of chocolate and the can of whipped cream that Draco can see in the trash is any indication. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I-” Draco feels his eyes prickle, and he hates it, because he’s not supposed to ruin this. He wants a fucking normal relationship, doesn’t want to come home to a dinner like this - wonderful, and thoughtful, and mouth watering - and be angry. He wants to be able to have a fucking normal dinner with his boyfriend.

Before he knows it, his shoulders are shaking, and he’s trembling all over, tears running down his face. He wipes at them furiously, tries - and fails - to get control of himself. He sniffles, and a sob escapes him. 

He hears shuffling behind him - and that’s it, Harry’s leaving, surely, all of it is over, because why the fuck would he have wanted Draco anyway? It’s already been too long for it to be real, no one could possibly stand to be around him -

Harry’s not leaving.

Harry’s hand is on his shoulder, turning him around, pulling him into his chest.

He doesn’t say anything as Draco cries, only holds him.

After a long time - a long, long time, since whatever it is in the oven begins to smell burnt and the lasagna goes cold - Draco pulls away and wipes at his eyes with a tissue.

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner.” Draco whispers.

The crease between Harry’s eyebrows is back, deeper this time.

“It’s alright,” He says. “I don’t care about dinner. I care about you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Draco shakes his head. He’s managed to hide this from Harry for an entire year, he can hide it for however much longer he needs. Or maybe he doesn’t need to; maybe he could break up with Harry, save himself the trouble-

Immediately, he shakes his head to himself. No. He’s not going to break up with Harry. He can’t.

“I-” He swallows. “I can’t.”

"You can talk to me about anything, love.” He says.

Draco’s eyes fill with tears again, but he blinks them back, this time.

“I-” He can’t raise his voice above a whisper. “I don’t - I have - I don’t like to eat.” Harry frowns, and Draco speaks again, because he needs to get it all out before he loses his nerve. “I like to eat. I love to eat, but I hate - the calories, and the - I ate a muffin today, and I can’t - I don’t have - I can’t eat again, it’s too much, I don’t deserve-”

Don’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve to occupy the space he’s in, doesn’t deserve to need as much as he does, doesn’t deserve to live without pain. He can change it all he wants, pretend he’s better, he’s changed, but however it is that he’s self harming - and there have been many, many ways before this - it all comes down to one thing. He doesn’t deserve to be alive. Doesn’t feel like he should be.

But he can’t explain that, because Harry would be hurt by it and the last thing Draco wants is to hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, and his voice is unsteady. It’s not what Draco expected him to say. “That I didn’t notice. That I didn’t - fuck.” He rubs a hand over his face. “All those times, since our seventh year.” 

He’s wrong. Draco has been doing this on and off since he was about fifteen, but they hadn’t been friends, then, so Harry had no way of noticing. He’d thought it’d be over by now, one way or another. If he was honest, he’d never thought he’d see seventeen, let alone nineteen.

“I thought you were just - picky.” Draco had pretended to be; only Pansy and Blaise, who’d known him before, had known that, when it came to food, Draco was the easiest person to please. He’d loved it, all of it.

Draco sniffles, tears welling in his eyes again when he thinks about it - because fuck, he did love it, the scent, and the warmth, and the taste, all of it, how loved he felt whenever anyone cooked for him - and Harry pulls him close again, hesitantly.

Draco practically throws himself on him, wrapping his arms around him as tight as he can, and Harry does the same, whispering reassurances and sweet words in his ear, the meaning of which Draco can’t process but appreciates anyway.

And he knows it’s not over - any of it; Harry will want to talk of mind healers, later. will want to know how he can help, what he can do, and even then, even if Draco goes to a healer - and he will, because he can’t do this anymore, he can’t keep living like this - there will probably be a long, hard road ahead of him. 

He’s not excited for it, he couldn’t be. But if he recovers, he could stop torturing himself, and that’s all he wants.

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

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Commissions

[casshasfangs]

Cassius Halestorm's life was now divided into two sections: Pre-Stevie Nicks, and Post-Stevie Nicks. Of course, Pre-Stevie Cass had cared immensely about the band and put time and effort into making things sound good, but after the White Witch herself had written them a letter, things kind of blew up. They had to redirect fan mail to Piper, because the school owls were getting frustrated. The Slytherins were getting mad at him because Gryffindor first years kept trying to sneak into his dorm. Piper was owling them albums to sign, for fuck's sake. And then there was the practice, the writing  the furious injection of energy that the illustrious Stevie Nicks had thrust into the band. It was exhausting. Like the recording day, but every day.

So, when Cass crashed at night, he crashed hard. He was asleep by ten, which never happened, only because Shosh had the foresight to let him feed before practice that night instead of after. Even so, Cass was exhausted when he felt someone shoving his shoulder in the early hours of the morning.

Cass started, squinting as his assailant pointed his wand in Cass's face, the bright light blinding him. "Merlin's beard, can you fuck off? Put that light out." 

The prefect pursed his lips, then shoved Cass again. "Professor Izaak needs to see you. Come on, put your shoes on." 

"What? Why? What time is it?" Cass grumbled, still groggy as he rolled over in bed, convinced this was a prank from jealous Slytherins who were sick of the aforementioned first years.

"It's 3am, so you best not keep me up anymore, you prat." His roommate waved his wand and Cass's blanket was stripped off him. Cass literally growled and then leaned down to shove his feet in his converse sleepily. He was already wearing a band shirt and his flannel pyjama pants. He couldnt be arsed changing just for a prank.

He followed his roommate out to the common room, and Cass yawned as he walked out of the dungeon, covering his mouth and pausing, freezing in his tracks when he realised that this wasn't a prank. Professor Izaak stood at the entry to the Slytherin common room. It was odd seeing him in casual robes. 

"Professor?" Cass was wary when he noticed another witch with him. She wore auror's robes- and had a look about her that Cass was certain he'd seen her somewhere before. In the paper? With his Dad? "Professor  what's going on?"

"Evening, Cass," His Head of House looked more scruffy than usual, like a late evening shadow had appeared on his face. It made Cass uncomfortable, because Professor Izaak was always so put together. "The Headmistress needs to see you in her office, she's asked me to take you there now."

And then they left, with no mention of why the auror followed them. Cass kept looking at her out the corner of his eye, still slightly dazed from just being woken. He swallowed as he walked, trying hard to keep calm. They knew he was feeding from Shosh, surely that was it. Or that he hadn't signed his Census. They knew and he was getting thrown into Azkaban late at night. What would happen to the band? To his guitars? Who would tell Shosh? His Dad?

All of this fretting built as Cass was led up to the Professor McGonagall's office, and Cass heard the heartbeats of more humans than just his Headmistress. No, there were... Five people in her office. 

Cass swallowed, panic rising in him. The only calm constant he had was Professor Izaak, who he was certain would not lead him into danger so calmly. He'd been one of Cass's strongest advocates since day one.

This anxiety was not abated, though, when he was led into the room and realised that three of the people in the room were also aurors. Four, when you counted the one who had been following them. The auror at the door was particularly intimidating when gangly, awkward, pale Cass passed by him, about half the man's size. They were going to take him to Azkaban. He was done for. This was it.

He paled when Professor McGonagall turned, stepping towards her desk, revealing the other adult in the room.

Duncan Armstrong.

The Minister for fucking Magic.

"Thank you for fetching him, Gerolt. Take a seat, Mister Halestorm." His Headmistress said, and Cass blinked, nodding mutely. 

Cass's knees practically knocked as he moved to the indicated seat and sunk into it.

He wondered if maybe he should apologise, if admitting anything outright might win him some favour, or if he should go down denying that he’d ever fed from Shosh. Maybe he’d get some sympathy if he explained what happened with Pomonia. The Slytherin swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked between the adults in the room, eyes wide and terrified as they watched him.

The Headmistress spoke again, her tone unchanging from when she’d spoken earlier. “I’m afraid there is no easy way to deliver this news, Mister Halestorm, but it has come to our attention that your father has been the victim of a fatal attack on his return home from the Ministry. I’m very sorry you had to be told in such a manner but we thought it prudent you be made aware immediately.”

Cass blinked. What?

Maybe stunned silence wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting, because McGonagall pursed her lips into a very thin line as she informed him, “The Minister insisted he come and inform you directly.”

Cass was still staring straight ahead. What? What had she said? His father? Fatal attack? He blinked drearily, watching through hooded eyes as the Minister stepped forward, pulling his shoulders back. “Thank you, Headmistress. Cassius, I would, if I may, express my deepest sympathies to you. Your father and I have been working very closely over the past year and I am shocked that such a thing has occurred; rest assured when I tell you that we are doing everything we can to find out who is responsible. I also want you to know, from myself directly, that I’m willing to make this time for you as comfortable as I can. I’ll admit that I feel partly responsible, what with it happening so closely to the Ministry itself, but I feel obligated to your father to offer as much support to you as I can."

The boy frowned at the floor, and tilted his head. Partly responsible. The Minister for Magic felt partly responsible for what had happened? Not because he did nothing but fueled the flames of hatred that had been burning brighter than ever- but because apparently his Dad had been murdered in a politically inconvenient location. The first emotion Cass felt since he’d heard the news ripped through him as he looked up, gaze teary and hot and angry. The feeling didn’t go through to his voice, apparently, because it was flat and monotone by the time Cass looked up at the politician. “You are… Completely responsible. You did this. You want us to register like fucking dogs? You practically put the stake in their hand.” 

Heightened by the intense feelings he was experiencing, Cass heard the soft footsteps of his Head of House behind him. Professor Izaäk cleared his throat, eyeing the aurors carefully. Cass was not usually this brash- but the Minister had brought his personal aurors for a reason. They thought the boy was a threat. It was written all over Mirilla’s face and countenance. She had not moved from her position behind the Minister, but she also hadn’t moved her eyes off Cass. Watching him like he could lash out at any moment. Cass was oblivious to it.

It physically ached him when the Minister continued to speak. “I understand your frustration, Cassius, but your father and I were working to come to an agreement about the new regulations. It’s one of the reasons why it’s been taking so long; I wanted to be confident he was happy with the proposal before we moved forward with any action.” Cass closed his eyes and curled inward, trying desperately to continue breathing. His chest had started to ache- and every word from this man was twisting in his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

There’s silence for a moment, and Cass can sense them all watching him. The sound of so many heartbeats echoing in the room was maddening, so the teen opened his eyes and looked around. His Head of House was watching him with a soft, sympathetic look. Professor McGonagall was stoic as always, unreadable. It was a comfort to have nothing change. "How did this happen? He… he was staked, right? There's no other way. Who.. What happens now?" Cass asked his teachers, looking between them.

His shoulders hunched when Professor Izaäk opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the Minister. It hurt. It hurt so badly that Cass could barely comprehend what he was saying. Tears gathered in his eyes. “We’re not sure who is responsible, but I can promise you I have my very best from the Ministry’s Law Enforcement investigating the incident as we speak. As for our next move, our,” He gestured around the room while Professor McGonagall conjured a tissue, and Professor Izaäk brought it forward for the boy. Cass bunched it in his hand, almost like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “biggest concern is your safety. I’ve some arrangements to make with Professor McGonagall - should you allow it, Headmistress - in regards to a few things we could do--”

“My safety? Why wouldn’t I be safe here? This is Hogwarts.” He frowns, his voice quiet and low. “I don’t want any arrangements. I wanna see my dad.” He says the last bit quietly, self-conscious now he’s noticed the aurors staring at him. “Can I see him? I’ve got.. There are things I’ve gotta…” He looks back at Prof Izaäk hoping for any kind of back up.

“We’ll sort that out for you, Cass, don’t worry.” The man said, giving him a reassuring nod.

The Slytherin was looking to him for that reassurance that they’d be able to do what needed to be done, when the Minister spoke again. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, Cassius—”

“There is no obligation, Mister Halestorm, to assume a regular school week. Should you wish to have the rest of the week absent from lessons, we would be happy to oblige...” The Scottish woman said clearly, having had rather enough of the Minister’s tone-deaf nonsense. She continued speaking, interrupting the Minister whenever he chose to open his mouth. Cass didn’t absorb most of it, honestly. She was talking about bereavement leave and who he could speak to, where he could go. A Professor being available to take him home, he could choose to bring a friend to support him, if their family gave permission. All he had to do was ask.

Cass nodded mutely, looking up and sniffling as he realised that despite being in a room full of people, he was completely and utterly alone.