#petunia's show jumping course

[yallthemwitches]

The Act of Listening

She has to admit  that their time together—definitely not a date, but a time nonetheless—is going smoothly. So smoothly that when he offers to buy her another butterbeer, she accepts. Smooth enough that when he returns and pulls his chair just a tad closer to her, knees touching and staying rubbing together under the table, she doesn’t complain either.  So smooth that she doesn’t notice Emy Trona walk into the pub and make a beeline for their table. 

Because we always need more of jealous Lily---Here's @jilytoberfest Day 15 prompt:" you can kiss me, you know" because I mixed up the prompt order yesterday.

AO3 Link Here

“It’s not a date.”

“Dunno, kinda feels like a date.”

“Well it’s not.” She takes a furtive sip of her butterbeer, punctuating her sentence. 

“We are all alone…”

“---yeah because Sirius and Mary ran out to watch Roy and Margot’s explosive public breakup.”

“We danced...”

“You sang two lines of a song and I swayed in mock admiration.”

“Well, color me an optimist but mock admiration is one step away from real admiration.” 

She gives a long defeated sigh, knowing he is not going to let up until either their friends return or some force of nature steers him off course. The worst part about it is, every time he uses that word—the d word—her heart jumps a little in her chest, making it awfully hard to keep a straight face, much less drink her butterbeer like a sane person. 

James takes a swig of his butterbeer, relaxing his arm on the back of his chair. He tugs at his tie until it loosens around his neck, making his shirt open a little wider on his chest and she tries not to let her eyes linger on the space. 

“So—how’s Vernon?”

Lily chokes on air. Hearing Vernon’s name in this environment, from James Potter of all people, was not something she had anticipated.

“Excuse me?”

James blinks at her like he said the most normal thing, not the name of her muggle sister’s muggle fiancé.

“Vernon. You know, the muggle bloke who shows up at your house and regrettably snogs your sister—-“

Lily makes a noise of disgust. “How’d you—“

In the library. She had been complaining about Petunia and Vernon earlier that week—-venting mostly to herself more than talking to any one person, but James had been around and apparently in enough earshot to make note of it. 

It catches her off guard just as much as all the other times James has proven that he’s listening. Like when he always knows to pass the cream and sugar to her for her morning tea, or when he left her a copy of Rubber Soul on her desk after lamenting to Remus that she misplaced her own.. 

And it isn't just that he is attentive, but how he is—-like it is the most obvious and normal thing in the world for him to commit everything she has ever said in his general area to memory. Most blokes she’s snogged or dated didn’t have the brain elasticity to remember her birthday, much less her shitty brother-in-law to be. 

“...you always hold out your e’s when you say his name. Veeernon.” James adds, now timid. He must have sensed how shocked she was—that or the bloom of pink on her cheeks was giving her away.

“He’s horrible,” she responds, cutting through the feeling that her heart is about to flop right onto the table as his eyes do that thing that says I’m really listening.

  “--And I just got news that I will have to spend Christmas holiday with him and my family at a bloody theme park of all places.”

James' eyes widen. “Theme…park?”

“Yeah—-you know the places that have rides with really expensive themed food and people assaulting you in costume.”

James blinks. “No—-I don’t know.” A small smile cracks on his face. “But will you tell me?”

She doesn’t know when time starts to slip away from her, but quickly she is knee deep in explaining the finer points of muggle attraction parks; Sirius and Mary’s return completely forgotten. It's something else that she has come to find frustrating with their newfound friendship—time just disappears when she talks to him, eaten up quickly by laughter and snarky quips and cheeks hurting from smiling so much because he is also smiling too much for any given topic. 

She feels she will be forever egged on the attention of James Potter in more ways than one, swearing they could be talking about cement drying and he would listen in complete rapt fascination, peppering in jokes and overtly idiotic questions just to keep it going. Even now, she doesn’t know how explaining a merry-go-round could be funny, but she finds herself laughing more than talking by the end, him constantly interrupting to act out rhetorical scenarios he creates on the spot (“But what if—and just humor me Evans—this Marieee-go-round was able to make you old the more times it turned –I mean, I think this has potential.”) 

She has to admit  that their time together—definitely not a date, but a time nonetheless—is going smoothly. So smoothly that when he offers to buy her another butterbeer, she accepts. Smooth enough that when he returns and pulls his chair just a tad closer to her, knees touching and staying rubbing together under the table, she doesn’t complain either.  So smooth that she doesn’t notice Emy Trona walk into the pub and make a beeline for their table. 

“Hey James.” Emy pulls her long braid of black hair over her shoulder, pursing her lips in a coy smile. 

James sits up a little, and the noticeable drop in temperature makes her realize how close they actually were to each other. 

“Alright, Emy?” He flashes her his signature grin, cocky and full of confidence. A cold chill catches a wave up Lily’s spine.

“Didn’t get to talk to you about the last game. You played really well out there– as usual.” The last part makes Lily scoff into her butterbeer and Emy’s eyes dart warily over to her, sizing her and her proximity to James up before focusing back on him.

She has to hand it to her, Emy doesn’t waste her time finding avenues to flirt. She starts a rapport about quidditch and James immediately becomes engaged, using terms that Lily realizes she has no idea what they mean. It isn’t like she doesn’t know what the sport is, but in the presence of two players, she finds herself out of her depth—an advantage that she is sure is not lost on Emy. Feeling more and more like a third wheel, she sits in silence, wishing Emy would take her batting eyes and silky hair elsewhere. 

“Why don't we practice together sometime—- like a one on one?” 

 All the blood in Lily’s body starts to congeal—she understands that lingo. A burning sensation starts to bubble in her stomach, her whole body tensing like it's ready for impact.

Glancing over at James, she sees that his expression is unchanged—-forever cool as though this fit girl who plays quidditch is not asking him to make some time out of his schedule to snog her. 

Suddenly Lily has the urge to run, her leg bouncing with the anxiety of just having to stew in the image of whatever debauched thing James and Emy could possibly do around the quidditch pitch. Their knees knock. She moves to switch angles but warm fingers curl over the top of her thigh, effectively freezing her entire body.   

“Hey, you haven’t even gotten a drink yet! Mind getting Evans and I a refill?” His hand continues to rest on her, giving a small squeeze at the mention of her name. Emy flashes a smile and sings out an I’ll be right back before sauntering off, turning back to cast a coy smile at him while not so subtly leaning against the bar top so her arse sticks out.

“Alright Evans?” She knows he is looking at her, but she stares into her empty bottle, his hand feeling like the only thing keeping her tethered to the spot.

“I was actually just thinking about looking for–”

“Don’t abandon me Evans–not with her.” 

Lily whips her head up. He has red blooming under his glasses, but his gaze is strong and sincere.

“I’m not following. You both seemed to be hitting it off rather well just a second ago…”

James takes a deep sigh, skirting his eyes to the bar to make sure Emy is still preoccupied with getting drinks. “I don’t want to snog Emy, alright. She’s been after me all month and—ah fuck maybe its my stupid ego, but I haven’t had the heart to properly tell her off yet.”

 His eyes are shifting, moving his hand off her thigh and into his hair out of nervous habit. She wishes it would return to her. 

“Oh.” There’s a rush inside her, the feeling of air coming back into her lungs, all body systems returning to proper functioning. 

James starts to fiddle with the label on his empty bottle, looking more sheepish than she ever thought possible. At the bar, Emy finishes paying, eyes continuing to glance back with pursed lips. 

Lily’s leg begins to flutter again, and he reaches out to stop her quivering for a second time, offering her a soft smile. It’s a welcome jolt of confidence that propels her voice forward.

“You could kiss me, you know.”

She feels his hand constrict on her leg. He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Uh—what?” 

Emy is turning away from the bar, drinks in hand. The window for action is closing fast, and she feels time slow, hovering them between indecision and direct action. She wishes she had more of it to decide, to deliberate the pros and cons, turn the scenario around and study it for possible outcomes. But she doesn’t have that luxury. All she has is James’ hot, perfect hand gripping the anxiety out of her leg and a wild predator sauntering back with her refill. 

She doesn’t elaborate for him. Instead, she grabs his jaw and turns his head until she finds her lips with his. 

Time falls away completely as she feels his mouth freeze, then slowly start to move under hers, soft but strong. She doesn’t know how long they are connected, but by the time they break apart his other hand has moved to her jaw, cupping her face while his thumbs graze her cheek. If Emy is still there, neither of them seem to care, their intermingling breath making anything beyond their touching bodies lost within a thick fog. 

He fits their mouths back together and miraculously it's even better the second time, now both familiar enough to get lost in each other’s rhythm, soft and yearning. She lets herself melt into him, curling her hands into his hair, completely high on the scent of spice and earth and unmistakable him.

When they part again, James lets out a soft oh, as though answering his own question, making her burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Sorry, I just—” She doesn’t know what to say. His forehead is pushing into hers, nose nuzzling her cheek, mouth drifting back. “---wanted to be helpful.” 

He smiles against her mouth, then pulls back to make a full barking laugh, cheeks red with utter joy. When he swoops back down to find her mouth again, his lips move fast and hungry, begging for more with each second. 

“I can’t believe you just said sorry to me,” he pants out between kisses, utterly lost in the feel of her. “--Also can’t believe this is how you kiss when it’s not even a bloody date.”

She snorts but he just continues to weave his hands in her hair, pressing her as close as their little spot in the world can afford. Across the table, three drinks are left opened and untouched for quite some time. 

[cup1dt3a]

Heeeeeeeeey I saw you write about wally, I was wondering if you could do one of wally the stalker? the reader watched it since he was young then he stopped watching it but still wally chased him, i think he writes right english is not my native language

Tysm for the request! Hope your day is going well or gets better!And don’t worry your English is pretty good mines also bad sometimes T_T

“ Please be a bunny Wally please!” You said crossing your fingers.

“ I think I’ll paint a bunny! What a great idea!” He cheered.

You were watching your favorite show “ Welcome Home”. The best show in your opinion! You’ve loved the show ever since your parents left you alone to put in whatever you wanted while they went somewhere else sometimes watching the show with you or to the kitchen one or the other mostly. You were too busy watching Wally and his friends. Wally was your number one favorite! Along with Julie!

This show was all that you would talk about and sit through for hours on end. Unless you had school or wanted to go outside. You loved the show and vowed to never stop watching it it was sooo amazing! Who would ever not want to watch this it’s too amazing!?

“ Yay! You’re so amazing Wally!” You exclaimed jumping up and down.

Everything was so amazing right now you’ll never stop watching this show youd rather die than stop watching this!

Everything was so horrible! Right now you are regretting so much and so many choices that led you to these horrible migraines!

You stared up at the ceiling not wanting to get out of your bed. Groaned as your alarm clock squawked at you again to get up. It’s not like you had anything to do today so you don’t know why you set an alarm. Must’ve been out of habit. That’s the second time this week when an alarm went off when you just wanted to sleep in. It’s only 10am so you decided to go back to sleep shutting the alarm off. After a few hours you finally woke up without the annoying alarm to disrupt your slumber. It was now 12:30 so you did what anyone would do. Sit in your room all day and watch TV.

That was until you suddenly got a text from your parents. They have been so paranoid since you got your own house. You agreeed either way to come over just to ease their worries and see them. You had lived at least 3 hours away from them so it’s rare you ever really saw them. You stretched out popping your back before going to get dressed.

“ Oh! How’s my baby been?” She exclaimed with opened arms to a tight hug you think she might even be picking you off the ground.

“ Very well actually a little sleep deprived but well.” You said as she rolled her eyes with an “ of course.”

You chuckled at her “ enthusiasm” just happy to see her and your father you had no idea was at the moment. As you asked she just pointed out the window with him tending to his garden. Ever since you had gotten your own house he’s done nothing but treat his garden like his own child. Good for him to have a hobby but you were convinced he literally thought of it as his baby. You literally once saw him having a full on conversation with his damn petunias.

“ So how’s it been? “ you asked her while she replied “ It’s been well just missing my baby.”

You sighed as you both chatted for a while. A few jokes here and there and just catching up. You hadn’t been at the house in two months so it was refreshing to have some familiarity. Your mother then went onto talking about your fathers “favorite child” a.k.a what you called his garden and just remenicing over what you would do as a child.

“ Oh come on _____ you used to just love Welcome home you’d make so many drawings. You even spray painted your hair blue! And made us pain your room the color of what’s his name…Walter? No Wally! Yes Wally’s pants!” She laughed as you frowned in embarrassment.

“ Uh that blue spray paint was such a dumb idea though. Blue really isn’t your color honey. Plus you turned all the bathtubs blue. ” She said looked at a picture of you with blue hair spray paint.

Now starting to remember all the cringey things you did as a dumb kid. Jeez! You were literally obsessed with that show! You wondered how you even forgot it form how much you idolized it. The your mother took a picture you had drawn out it was of you and Wally. As stick figure’s wow you were such a Picasso. An art exhibit would want this in the garbage.

“ It’s my favorite along with the pictures of you trying to hug the Tv.” She giggled.

“ Why Yes! Mother dearest it fucking fell on top of while while you laughed your ass off. Such amazing memories.” You sarcastically announced.

“ Listen just because you moved out does not mean I won’t shove a bar of soap into your mouth.” She stated upset for you using such ill language.

You apologized with a chuckled before hugging her seeing it was getting late. You went outside to try and find your dad. You went over to his garden to see him chattering with them while watering his favorite marigolds. He had waved over to you upon seeing your arrival hugging you as you came over. You both just quickly chatted for a bit due to your long trip. It wasn’t anything your mother couldn’t fill him in on so eventually after saying your goodbyes as you hugged them.

You got into the car taking off just before a pair of dark eyes watched you in though the corner of your mirror.

While you told your parents everything you hadn’t told them one thing. You had a bit of a stalker situation as you’ve been calling it. Every morning you’d receive an envelope with a heart shaped sticker keeping it together sometimes red or pink. But every time you checked them out they had the weirdest thing written on them. Things such as

“ My sweet dreamer you looked so beautiful sleeping I couldn’t help but never take my eyes off you” red meant they would be very creepy.

“ I miss you my sweet dreamer. Do you miss me? I love you so much. Do you love me?” The pink ones were sweet but just…so odd because you hadn’t been seeing anyone at the moment and they always said I miss you.

But this time when you got home it had and apple sticker on the envelope and was here a lot earlier than expected.

“ I see you went back home. Did you miss me? Do you remember me now? I love you <3.”

“ Wow another letter from my stalker how lovely.” You sighed.

You brought the letter to the police station as always.

“ This is the 7th time this week and they know I went to my parents house. Shouldn’t this be enough to have some kind of investigation?” You asked as they shook their head saying what they always did “ I’m sorry but there isn’t enough evidence for us to make it an investigation of any sort.”

You nodded before stomping off once you got outside. This was ridiculous. Everytime you were trying to get help they turned you down. It’s like you with your ex Timmy. Like seriously Timmy Turner Who? But besides that you just wanted to know if someone was either in your house or somehow got access to it. You didn’t have the money for cameras or for the power bill to run your phone all night while it charged. Sure you were a bit of a cheapskate but what if you need the money. You’d rather die than be in debt to the power company! You refuse to be their bitch!

You angrily poured plopping yourself down onto the sofa to watch Tv. As you flipped through the channels you saw a familiar logo show. You hurriedly flipped back to it. The Welcome Home logo and theme song suddenly appeared. The bright and colorfully vibrant show blinded you for a second before you eyes adjusted to it. As you watched the episode you had started to unlock old memories. Such as those being your favorite episodes and two Wally Darling.

“ Omg! I remember this!….Wow Frank is such a mood and underrated. Ha! And they say he’s the straight man? He’s done nothing it give Eddie bedroom eyes.” You chuckled chatting throughout the show.

All was going well before Wally asked what to paint.

“ Well Neighbor what should I paint today?” He asked tilting his head looking at the audience.

“ Eddie and Frank kissing!” You shouted getting super pumped up from the show like you used to.

It was relaxing really to think back to your old childhood memories. Remembering all the fun you had and innocence you once had too. But your mindset was now back onto it.

“Hmmm? Eddie and Frank kissing that such a bold thing to request but I’d rather it be me and you my sweet~.” He smoothly said while you where left speechless.

“ Damn the writers were thirsty for this episode.” You said fanning yourself wondering how it was so smooth.

“ Oh no my sweet no one had written these lines all of them were made by me. I’ve been so sad without you won’t you stay around longer neighbor.

Oh shit

Two posts on one day Yay! I’m on a roll will it be three next? Not sure but this turned into a crack fic so quickly hope @blu3n you enjoyed it and it was up to your standards! And ty all sm for supporting me! I really appreciate you all for the sweet comments you leave! Hope you are all doing well or that things get better for you <333

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a 💌

[drarry-is-totally-cannon]

Drarry & The Goblet of Fire: 4th Year Rewrite

Chapter 8 ~ The Quidditch World Cup

Harry arrives with the water, having only sloshed a bit onto his jeans, which he counts as a win. Outside the deceptively small tent, Mr. Weasly struggles with a pack of matches. At least twenty of the small sticks lie discarded and broken at his feet, still, he shows no signs of frustration, merely curiosity.

Taking pity, Harry heads over to him, setting his pail carefully down.

"Would you like me to show you, Mr Weasley?"

Ron's father nods enthusiastically, "Oh, yes. I'm no Molly, but I'd like to have something passable on the table before we head over to the arena."

Harry chuckles. Arthur Weasley talks about his wife as if he fell in love with her yesterday. Harry can't even remember Aunt Petunia saying anything about Uncle Vernon at all.

Harry doesn't bother asking him to just use the perfectly good fireplace inside the tent. He already heard him scolding Fred and George for trying to open the windows. "We must appear as muggle-like as possible." He reminded them, despite the blatant magic that fills the air around them.

"Well, it takes a bit of practice, but what you've got to do is . . ."

-

A quick learner, Mr. Weasley gets the fire started in only three more tries. Harry carefully stores the matches in his pocket, safe from Mr. Weasley's innocent destruction.

"Where should I put this?" he asks, gesturing to the pail.

"Oh, right, Ginny told me you were fetching water. You were gone a while you didn't get lost did you?"

"Oh, no. I was with Dean and Seamus."

"Good, yes, I saw Mr. Finnigan earlier. Poor man, he said he was used to all this, but these things are a bit much for anyone. He seemed alright though. He may be a muggle, but he's still Irish. Ah, right, just leave the water here, Molly packed ingredients for soup. 'Said there's no way I can mess that up. Ron and Hermione have gone to get souvenirs, you probably find them at one of the stands."

"Thanks." Harry nods and runs off again, not missing Percy telling some poor little girl and her nana off for shooting fireworks. Something about the statute of secrecy.

"All this noise? How can anyone work? Of course, Mr. Crouch is having no trouble, I must strive to be like him. I cannot be late with this report!"

-

It's easy to spot the cart of Bulgaria merchandise even through the mass of tents. The whole thing sparkles red.

"Hey!" Harry greets his friends, causing Hermione to jump. 

"Harry! Where have you been? We haven't seen you since we got here." She frets over his glasses, still askew from ducking and dodging sparklers. 

"And what are you wearing?" Ron asks, aghast. he'd been eyeing the Bulgaria scarves.

"Oh, never mind that we were looking for you." Hermione continues to fret, sounding an awful lot like Mrs. Weasley, while Ron glares at Harry's gaudy Irish pride-wear. Truth be told, he'd forgotten he still had it on.

"I was just getting water for the soup." It's part of the truth. "Seamus gave me this, I didn't exactly want to say no. The Irish are scary when they're excited."

This distracts them. "Soup?" Ron's face pales slightly, "You mean, dad's cooking?"

"Yeah, is that bad or something? He said he wasn't that good but . . .?"

"Be afraid Harry, be very afraid."

-

The soup went mostly untouched, which was probably a good thing seeing as it was an odd green-ish colour despite containing only carrots, beef and potatoes and some herbs, nothing that should've resulted in that colour. In Harry's opinion, it even slightly resembled the polyjuice that he, Hermione and Ron had brewed only a year and a half ago. He thinks Hermione saw it too because she exchanged a glance with Ron as he passed her the salad.

Only Fred was brave enough to try it after a dare from his twin and younger sister. He's looking a little green now, but he braves the steep arena steps without complaint.

Behind them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione munch on the snacks Harry and Hermione bought from the souvenir cart, hiding them behind their backs when Mr Weasley looks back to ensure they're still following.

As they reach the next landing a new group of wizards join them. With their neat black clothing and nearly white hair, there is no mistaking them.

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron grumbles through a mouthful of Crowley's Crackle N' Pop Crisps.

The elder Malfoys don't seem to hear Narcissa and Lucius chatting superficially with Mr. Weasley, but the youngest turns around, sneering.

"Yes, Weasley."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Rons says, words still slightly muffled.

Draco just laughs, a high and sharp sound, and turns around without a word. If Harry hadn't been watching him so closely he would've missed the wink and slightest nod of his head towards a lower platform.

The group starts walking again, and both Ron and Hermione look expectantly at Harry, usually, he would've said something to Darco by now, some insult or another, but after hearing Mr. Malfoy in the woods, the words don't come easily. Certainly, they're there, he knows in his head exactly what to say. 'Yeah, sod off, you slimy git!' but it seems so unnecessary a response to what was barely an insult.

Still, it would seem weird if he, a boy known for standing up for his friends, did nothing so he mutters "Arse." just loud enough for Draco to hear but not his parents.

A moment later, as they reach the Minister's box, Harry hears the quietest whisper, "Like my arse, do you, Potter?" The continuation of their joke from earlier makes Harry nearly choke on his crisps with laughter. 

"You fucking wish, Malfoy," he says, the laughter disguising his words just enough. The adults give him funny looks.

"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Potter." Minister Fudge says amicably.

Harry sputters, trying to compose himself. "Oh, er, yes. This is such a wonderful event that you and Mr. Bagman have put together."

The Weasleys and Draco glance at him, the statement is clearly out of character, but both the minister and the Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department are pleased with the flattery.

"Indeed. May the best team win." Bagman cheers, but it isn't hard to tell who he's cheering for. Fudge seems to notice this as well, as he quickly tugs Bagman's flashing team scarf off, trying to maintain composure.

"Take that thing off, Ludo. We're supposed to be impartial." he hisses, before returning to his chat with the Irish minister.

"Hey, it was a gift from him." Bagman points carelessly to the Bulgarian Minister sitting a few seats over, making conversation with Lucius Malfoy. "How was I to tell him I can't take it? He doesn't speak a word of English."

Harry looks behind him to find that the Weasley boys have already scattered around to the railing, preoccupied with the omnioculars Harry bought for himself and Ron. Hermione, meanwhile, is in an odd position.

She sits on her knees, backward on one of the chairs, looking down between the rows.

Understandably curious, Harry walks over. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"This is Winky," Hermione says, clearly distressed.

"Winky? What the hell is a 'Winky'?"

-

The green fireworks are brilliant, but no one is looking at them anymore. Everyone's eyes have been drawn down towards the field where about ten women dance. They're majestic, supernatural, extraterrestrial, and Harry has no earthly idea why but they remind him of Draco. Maybe it's their dazzling white blonde hair or the elegance with which they move. He can't think of the reason. He can't think much of anything right now.

The next thing he registers is a hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him away and down a set of stairs. He wants to protest. He doesn't want to stop watching the dancing women. He feels like were he to do so, something horrible would happen though he can't think of what.

As he's pulled, Harry turns back for a second and sees the other young men in a similar trance-like state, while the older gentleman politely looks away. He sees Hermione, unphased and still trying to console the drunken elf as she covers her large ears against the chants.

He whines when the dancing women disappear from his sight entirely.

A slender finger flicks his nose and the warm fuzzy feeling dissolves, or rather fades, not gone just diminished. 

"Oh, stop drooling, Potter. You're surrounded by much prettier girls every day." Draco, it seems, hasn't missed a beat, his tone is sarcastic as usual.

Absently, Harry notes that the resemblance between Draco and the women has increased in the dark spot under the stairs. His hair seems to glow, lighting the small space. But it's only for a second, and then it's gone. 

'Probably just all the arena's lighting charms anyway.'

Harry rolls his shoulders and stands up. He hadn't realised how slouched over he'd been, watching the women. He feels a little sick from the trance like he'd been drugged. His head swims and he grabs onto the closet thing he can find which is, of course, Draco Malfoy.

Draco blushes. Harry doesn't notice. 

"'The actual bloody fuck was that? What are those things? I was about to . . ." Harry searches for the right words, sifting through the memories tinted by the fuzzy glow, "Jump off the railing or something. Thanks for getting me out of there." He can still hardly believe what he'd been about to do.

"Yes, and I just saved your life, Potter, now you owe me now. You were acting like even more of an idiot than usual."

'Like I wouldn't do anything for you.'

"Obviously." Harry grits his teeth, embarrassed about his reaction. He risks a glance back at the women, but they look entirely different now, snarling, with bony wings piercing through their backs like Renaissance paintings of fallen angels. The fuzzy feeling is gone, replaced by disgust. 

Yet even now, it makes Harry uneasy, like they're something that could be used to distract the masses during an attack. But of course, thoughts like that are merely a side effect of constantly being hunted. Still, Harry jabs an accusatory thumb at the bird-like creatures and asks, "What. The hell. Are they?"

Draco looks almost like he wants to laugh, but then thinks better of it, seadying Harry and explaining calmly. "They're Veela."

"And Veela are?" Harry prompts, a little angry, though he's not sure why. Every other male and a few females were doing just the same as him, all heart eyes and open mouths.

"Veela are one of the few hundred species of humanoid magical creatures. Most of the time they appear as beautiful people, but their true form is that." Draco frowns down at the screeching creatures. "It comes out whenever they get angry or are preparing to attack prey. Don't worry they won't attack now, they're just throwing a tantrum."

"You can understand them?" Harry asks.

Draco ignores the question, pressing on with his textbook-like explanation, "They also go by the name 'Sirens' or 'Harpies'. They're the less prevalent but more violent cousins of the Water Sirens, also known as Merpeople. They're also somewhat connected to the fae evolutionary line. Some live in forests, some live in coastal areas, and some are nomadic. No matter where they live, they enchant prey, lure them, and then go in for the kill. Bulgaria's mascots are female, so they didn't work on me. Obviously."

Harry rolls his eyes, "Let me guess, I was in the hospital wing when we learnt this?"

Draco laughs, "No." then he hesitates, "Actually I only so much because they're part of our family history." He doesn't continue, looking suddenly wary.

"Oh, did your family like to fight with them for land or something?" Harry asks, thinking that this is something Hermione would find more fascinating, or perhaps distressing given her reaction to Winky's treatment.

Draco looks slightly offended, "Who do you think we are, Harry, some band of pillaging thieves."

" . . . Well, we are British."

Draco cocks his head, not understanding the reference to muggle museums that Harry had been dragged to on the occasions Mrs. Fig couldn't take him.

"No, the Malfoy family has always had excellent relationships with magical creatures. Actually . . . my mother is half Veela." He waits, studying Harry's face, waiting for him to make an expression of disgust like he what he gave the creatures earlier.

But Harry is silent, a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn't know what to think, but he knows that it must have taken a lot for Draco to tell him this, to reveal that the supporting pillar of his superiority complex is a lie.

Maybe Harry should feel like his world has been shaken by this revelation, he doesn't know. All he knows is that his first thought is 'That's really cool.' even though that's lame if you're older than 10.

'Potter actually taking time to consider something? This is bad, bad, bad.' Draco can feel himself beginning to shake.

But all Harry says is, "So you're not a pureblood?"

". . . Yes." The words are nearly inaudible amidst the cheers and jeers of the rabid audience around them. After a second Draco speaks up again. "Father doesn't talk about it. Mother doesn't do much either. Mother doesn't have the same mother as her sister. Her father had a short relationship with the Veela who would become her mother when he was in France for his travels. But the Veela didn't want a child or a family, she was a nomadic forest dweller, a friend of the fae, so she left my mother in the care of my Grandad, who was heartbroken. I've never met my mother's mother, but at least Grandad's wife is nice. Mother says it's important to know about your history so we visit Grandad in France a lot. Dad doesn't come." The last part is said quietly.

Harry has the sudden urge to hug Draco but doubts that Draco would enjoy that even if the boy looks sadder than he's ever seen. He does nothing for a moment, then, "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity, Golden Boy." The words lack vitriol, and then gathering his composure, Draco finishes his explanation. "Since Veela are so rare, they don't get talked about much. They're sort of controversial. It's kind of a 'Wizards leave them alone and they leave wizards alone' thing."

"Oh, good to know, I guess?" Harry eyes the hissing creatures as ministry officers escort them from the field. They go less than willingly.

"There isn't too much known about them, and they like it that way. Most wizards, unless they're researchers, never meet one. Professor Quirrel told us he did, but . . ."

Both boys snort.

"Yeah, he probably wasn't the most reliable, after all, he had a lot going on in his head."

With the terrible pun, they descend fully into ache-inducing laughter, not noticing the players of both teams racing onto the field for introductions.

The boys turn to watch the ceremony silently.

Even with the deafening noise, it's still too quiet. Harry's ears ring.

"Have you ever been to a game like this?" It's a stupid question. 'Of course, he has. What's wrong with you?' Harry mentally smacks himself.

Draco doesn't look at him like he's stupid, or scoff, surprisingly. He just nods. "Yes. I sit somewhere in a box like the ministers by myself while Father schmoozes."

'That's sad.' Harry thinks, watching Ireland's chasers without really seeing them. It's getting too loud again, and the feeling of foreboding is back.

"Can you tell me about them? The games, I mean." 'Anything, really. Just to fill the silence, just to make this ringing stop.'

Draco nods and launches off into the story of the latest Magpie's game he attended. His words are coloured with rare smiles. And Harry watches him, taking every one of those smiles in as if he'll never see it again. Maybe he won't.

'He looks so different.'

And when Harry looks away, back to the game he so loves, allowing Draco's voice to blend into the background, it's Draco's turn to stare.

'He never looks at me for long. Like it hurts him to stay in one place for more than a few minutes. Is that because of He-who-must-not-be-named?' He sighs.

Meanwhile, Harry is more than a little annoyed with himself, for paying so little attention to his favourite game when this is probably his one chance to go to an event like this. He barely notices when Draco passes him a pair of Omnoculars he brought from home. He takes them wordlessly.

Events like these are regular occurrences for Draco so he takes this opportunity to stare at Harry unabashedly.

'He's so still now, focused. Merlin, he's something when he concentrates. Summer holiday almost made me forget. But more than anything, he looks at peace, content, and happy. I could never make him look like that, not when the last war drags behind my name like one of Mother's capes. I don't even know what Mother and Father's part in it was and yet that is all he'll ever see when he looks at me. Should I ask him? Would he tell me?'

-

The boys watch in silence for a while longer. Harry watching the field and Dracow watching Harry. But it isn't long before they get talking again, at first about the plays and then about home, or in Harry's case, the Burrow, and then about school.

Harry stops himself just as he almost mentions Sirius. He wants to, so badly he wants to, he's never wanted to tell anyone about his secret so much before. 

'The Malfoy's are related to the Blacks, right?' Harry remembers seeing the two names together when he was searching for Nicholas Flammel in first year. 'That would make Sirius, Draco's cousin. He wouldn't rat out his own cousin, would he? But then there's Snape . . . that complicates things. The Malfoys are close with Snape who hates my father, and Professor Lupin and probably anyone who knew them. Does that carry over? I know they'd hate my muggle-born mother, or at least Mr Malfoy would, but Sirius is a pureblood. No, better safe than sorry. Even if Draco wouldn't snitch his father might force him to, and then the ministry would catch Sirius.'

With Harry's hesitation, the conversation comes back to the topic both boys have been avoiding. How could it not when thoughts of Voldemort swirl violently in both of their heads?

Draco's face darkens. "Harry . . ." He says his first name hesitantly, worriedly, so different from the affectionate 'Potter' that's become a nickname.

Shyness isn't a trait Harry has seen in the Slytherin boy since he first approached him in the Library in second year. It looks wrong on him. Harry looks up, meeting grey eyes with his own green ones. Hoping to stare as intensely as Draco does, though he doubts he will succeed.

"Yes, Draco." Whatever it is Harry just wants him to just spit it out instead of fumbling around the bush. The feeling of bad things on the horizon has Harry on edge, he doesn't want to waste time

"H-has your scar been hurting, or anything like that?" Draco looks down as he says it.

"What?"

"You heard me." Draco snaps, then softer, the desperation he's worked so hard to hide leaking into his tone, "Please don't make me ask again."

"Oh, okay. . . . Yes. How did you know?"

"It's just that you mentioned last year that it hurt whenever He-who-must-not-be-named was near."

"Yeah, I did say that." There's something in Draco's voice that has Harry on edge. He's heard him jealous, annoyed, angry, smug, joyous, but never like this, never so devastatingly afraid.

"Have you noticed anything off lately . . . like any signs?" The question is vague, and they both know it.

"Signs? Like on the road? You know I'm only 14, I can't drive yet, not that the Dursleys would let me." The sass is only meant to fill the silence. The words dissolve into the thick air, almost as if they were never said.

"It's just that . . . I . . ." He stops, opening and closing his mouth a few times only for no sound to come out. The air is thick enough with sparklers and shouts to wrap itself around you and squeeze the air right from your lungs.

"Look, Draco, whatever it is, you can say it to me. I've gotten great at keeping secrets, and if it's about Voldemort I need to know!"

Draco flinches at the name, at Harry's sudden intensity, but nods, exhaling heavily, "I think something is going on, a-and I-I think it has something to do with my father."

Harry's eyes widened. "Your father?" But it isn't hard for him to believe. He saw how easily he'd slipped that book into Ginny's caldron that day, even if he hadn't noticed the practised motions at first. But Draco is his friend, he doesn't want him to have an evil father, impossible as it may be for him to do anything about it.

Draco's lip trembles. He knows it too. He didn't see the slip happen, but he heard whispers at home about the monster deep in the bowels of the castle, heard enough to slip the page to Hermione in the library. He knows, even if he wishes he didn't, even if he wishes he could unhear everything and be happy again like when he was younger. He knows, and as much as anyone would like there's no way he can't.

"Yes." He doesn't continue, not trusting himself to hold it together. He curses the weakness internally.

Harry waits, trying as best he can to tamp down the reflexes that tell Draco to spit it out and listen patiently. When he sees that words are failing him he decides to go first.

"You know, I've been having this dream, but it doesn't feel like a dream." It's the first time he's told anyone, "It feels like I'm really there, like somehow I'm seeing something through someone else's eyes, but I have no idea whose, and no idea why. The dreams are different every night, but they always have the same few things. A snake, and this man who looks about a half step up from complete madness. And they're plotting to kill someone . . . I think they're plotting to kill me."

Draco's looking at him now, focused and thoughtful, calming down. 'Good. I don't like seeing him so worked up, it's wrong.' So Harry continues.

"The latest one was an old house. The Riddle Estate, his estate . . ."

-

When Harry finishes Draco doesn't look calm. He looks even more panicked before, hands gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turn white. He pushes it down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, calming himself before he speaks.

"So you think that he's back." He doesn't even want to say it aloud.

"I don't know what to think. I thought he was gone in the first year, then his diary came back, but the diary was destroyed so he shouldn't be able to, and yet . . ."

Darco nods, looking out at the crowd. 'All those people, thousands of people . . .' He tries to imagine the size of the crowd with all the muggle-borns, and half-bloods gone. It doesn't look good.

"Father has been talking about an event to happen at school this year, but there have been . . . other things as well." He can't look at Harry.

"Other things?" Harry has to prompt Draco again. It's like he can't make himself say the words like he's too afraid that will make it all real.

"He's had these people over."

"What people?" Oddly, as Draco keeps talking Harry grows more patient, not less, maybe because he can see the other boy fraying at the edges, a singular thought eating at him.

'I knew my father wasn't a kind man, but is he an evil one?'

"I- I don't know but they all wear these big black cloaks, like dementors. They go to the basement and lock the door, but I can hear them through the vent in my room. The things they talk about, Harry . . ." It's the second time today he's used Harry's first name, only about the third time ever. "Horrible things. Making Hogwarts more selective is one thing, but torture is-" a sob cuts him off, "I- I think my father is a murderer . . . I think he's one of them! And I think they're planning to do something tonight!" 

Draco crumples in on himself. Normally he looks older than Harry, so much more mature, and polished, but now he's just a 14-year-old boy who doesn't want a monster for a father. He might like to play at it with his friends, but he doesn't want anything to do with real evil.

Harry is deeply confused. "One of whom, Malfoy? Do what?" He feels the slightest bit awkward using Draco's surname after Draco hadn't used his.

"Death Eaters, Potter, Death Eaters. Don't tell me you don't know!" He sobs again, distraught, face buried in his hands.

Harry doesn't know. He doesn't know what Death Eaters are. He doesn't know what to do with the sobbing boy at his feet.

"I don't." he says stupidly, feeling less like 'The Chosen One' than ever. He's said a lot of stupid things today. 'Another pattern.' he thinks bitterly.

This only makes Draco sob harder. "They're his followers, Harry. Who else would they be!?" The words are thick under the tears. Harry doesn't need any more clarification. The dream invades his mind again, the gardener once again falling at his feet, eyes still wide in shock from whatever reptilian creature he saw in that chair before his untimely death.

Struggling to blink away the green, Harry kneels down, levelling with Draco. Normally he's the paranoid one, and Ron is assuring him that nobody is trying to kill him. "Uh, look, Mal- er Dr- Malfoy, thanks for telling me, but even if he is a Death eater, Voldemort is dead, there'd be no point in trying to follow a dead guy. . . . And this event has got loads of security, like everywhere. There's no way anything could happen." It isn't comforting, and Harry knows it. He doesn't even believe what he's just said, after all, Hogwarts is the most protected place in England and Voldemort already got in once.

Obviously, Draco isn't comforted, but neither boy needs to mention that, so he just sinks further into himself. Then after a while, Draco looks up, his face like a small child, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

He should. He knows it. But with Draco looking at him so desperately he can only ask, "Do you want me to?"

Draco shakes his head, then nods, "I don't know."

'He's still Draco's father. Would it be better to have an evil father than no father at all? I'll never know, but we shouldn't rush into this. His father is a respected member of the Ministry, an accusation would likely be dismissed unless there was heaps of proof. I doubt some suspicious meeting would get it.' Harry feels as if he's been momentarily possessed by Hermione with how much careful thinking he's done today.

'What would Hermione do? Hermione would want to give someone the benefit of the doubt. She'd gather as much evidence as she could, analyse it, and then make a conclusion. The Scientific Method. But if there really is to be some sort of attack tonight, then we haven't got much time. And with the way Mr. Malfoy looked at Draco earlier . . . like if he couldn't be useful he shouldn't exist at all. I didn't like it. Having him spy would be definatley dangerous.' He doesn't know exactly why or exactly when the thought of Draco getting hurt became so utterly off the table, the same as Ron or Hermione.

"Okay, erm, I believe you. But let's just take this slow. We need proof. And he's still your dad, so-"

"I know that!" The words are supposed to sound biting, Harry thinks, but Draco's voice is too broken.

Before Harry registers his movement he's against Draco, arms encircling the crying boy, pulling him closer, as if only Harry's arms could keep him safe. 

Draco freezes, then leans into it. They stay like that for a while, neither of them knowing how to end the contact without seeing the awkward look that must surely be on the other's face. Eventually, they do separate, both blushing, and both ignoring it. Wordlessly, Harry helps the still-stiff Draco back to his feet.

Footsteps behind them make both boys freeze like deer in headlights, but it's just an old woman and a young girl.

'Aren't they who Percy was yelling at earlier?'

"Oh, no need to stop on my account," she assures them as she walks by, smiling sweetly as she lets her granddaughter lead them back to their seats.

At this, the boys spring apart, as if having just touched hot metal.

"Sorry." Harry offers dumbly. "It's just Hermione, she likes to be hugged when she's upset, and Ron always hugs Hermione and me so I thought- Whatever."

Draco nods but gives no more response.

The two don't touch again, standing an awkward distance, too close for enemies but not close enough for friends. Strangers.

[athenasparrow]

No. 1 - Sour | Jily Micro March

The 1st of 31 Microfics is here @jilymicrofics

No. 1 - Sour

Read on AO3

“A glass of Syrah please” Lily said smiling up at the waiter.

The waiter was immaculately dressed in black slacks and a chefs button up. The whole restaurant was immaculate down to the last detail, which made a lot of sense to Lily since her sister had chosen it. But appearances aside, it had a very high rating, according to Lily’s quick google search she’d done on her way.

“Of course” the waiter said, smiling at her in what Lily was sure was a well-practised facade. “And you miss?” He asked, glancing to where Lily’s sister sat across from her, her face pinched in a wrinkled look of perpetual displeasure. 

“She’ll take a glass of Riesling, won't you Pet” her fiancé interrupted. 

Petunia nodded politely. Lily bit down on her tongue hard to stop herself from snapping. 

If she had a walrus of a fiancé who ordered for her, she’d probably slap him across his silly face. 

Although, Lily mused. Petunia was rather predictable in her ordering…in all aspects of her life really. Where Lily preferred the excitement of adventure, Petunia preferred the predictability of routine.

“And I’ll have a whisky” Vernon said gruffly, barely looking at the waiter.

Lily found herself biting back a comment for the second time and she’d only just sat down. 

It was going to be a long evening.

“Have you found someone new since Cameron dumped you?” Petunia asked as soon as the waiter departed, her face upturned in an expression as if she’d just sucked a lemon.

Apparently, a very long evening.

Lily resisted the urge to call the waiter back and ask him questions so Petunia wouldn’t dive right into the personal questions.

Instead she plastered a smile on her face as she met her sister's sour one. 

“I dumped him” she corrected her sister sweetly, hoping the conversation would move on. Ignored the hurt that came with Petunia’s continued misrepresentation of the situation. 

“Okay” Petunia said, exchanging a look with Vernon that told Lily she was just appeasing her. 

Lily didn't know why she bothered meeting her sister. Didn't know why she kept trying when her sister obviously didn't care. Didn’t understand what pulled her to agree every bloody time her sister demanded to see her, even when she knew it would involve this.

“You should really try harder Lily” Petunia reprimanded, gesturing for Lily to pass the water jug “you put too much focus into your career. You're going to end up lonely with no children because you don't take the time to settle down with a good husband”

Lily resisted the words that formed in her mouth that wanted to say “I can see you really settled with Vernon”

She really was holding her tongue a lot at this dinner.

But even though Lily knew what her sister was like, Petunia still managed to get under her skin each and every time.

Lily ignored the prickling at the back of her eyes, determined not to show her sister how much her words effected her. 

She glanced to the side to look at the menu so Petunia wouldn't catch the way her face faltered. 

“Hello beautiful” a deep voice greeted her and she jumped slightly as she felt warm lips plant a kiss on her cheek.

She heard Petunia’s water class clatter on the table. 

“Hello” Lily managed as she took their newest arrival in. He was wearing a rather expensive looking suit that fit his chest perfectly. His smile looked rather mischievous and his hazel eyes danced when she met them. 

She felt her spirit lift just from looking at him, his mischief was contagious.

“Sorry I'm late” the fit stranger said “I just ran into the boys on the way in and couldn't resist a chat” he gestured back towards the entrance.

Lily followed his gesture to the entrance of the restaurant where Remus and Sirius where already staring at them. 

Remus gave her a sheepish grin and wave and Sirius bloody winked at her. 

Well. Lily could certainly figure out who this was now. 

No harm in committing then.

“You’re not late babe” she said, quickly recovering and sending him a dazzling smile “we were just settling in, weren't we Tuney?”

“Who is this?” Petunia demanded, her face pinched in that same sour look as she glanced over James.

Lily saw James open his mouth, but beat him to the punch “this is James, my boyfriend” she said smiling sweetly at her sister.

Petunia’s eyes narrowed. 

“Well boyfriend doesn't really do me justice” James smirked, though Lily noticed his soft pleased smile as he wove his arm around the back of her chair “love of her life would be a better introduction”. 

Lily bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Petunia's expression turned even more sour.

Turns out this evening was going to be very interesting.

[silkendandelion]

Pomegranates, A Stardew Valley fanfiction

Pairing: Lance (SVE) x Farmer (male, character sheet here)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Farmer Max didn't listen to the wizard's warning and encounters a spell that shows him a version of his life where he married Elliot, instead of Lance. Hurt/Comfort, happy ending.

AN: Spoilers for Lance's 10-heart event and several late game quest lines, references to the outcome of these quests or rewards. Player is an OC with established characteristics, story, mannerisms. It's fine, we have fun anyway.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content, unsafe situations, characters worried about infidelity (No actual cheating). One-shot. Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

He always saved the best pomegranates for Elliot.

The shiniest fruits of the batch, so heavy with juice they nearly jumped off the branch and redder than wine-stained, kiss-swollen lips. They always got washed separately, scrubbed twice, and packed in a box that had become known as “Elliot’s box” because of the blocky, handwritten label that declared it.

“That time of the year again?” Lance smiled as he set his satchel on the kitchen floor, mindful of the farmhouse’s stone counter-tops ever since they discovered that life elixir is surprisingly acidic. Luckily, the microwave now hides his shame.

“Just in time for his birthday too, since the summer was so cool,” Max said, clicking the crate shut.

“Well, I’m off to the Highlands.” Lance glanced in the fridge while the farmer tugged on his boots. The sticky rice he made the night before was untouched, a cursive note that read ‘goodnight, my love’ still attached to the top.

Poor farmer, he works so hard, he thought. “Actually. There’s not much to do the first week of the season, besides observations. If I only do a half day, I could make it back by say… 8 o’clock? What do you think, love, want to quit early with me?”

His mushy thoughts of hiking up to the bath house and splitting a pot of cider on the couch were dispersed by Max reaching for his coat with a wince. “I’m sorry, honey, probably not. Leah wants to do a brunch thing tomorrow for Elliot’s birthday and I gotta turn in early if I’m gonna finish the chores before I go.”

Lance opened his mouth to point out the flaw in his plan, but settled for a frown as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. “No worries, love, just a thought.”

They parted ways with a kiss, soft and sweet: the farmer’s preferred choice of apology when he knew Lance wasn’t actually looking for one.

“Stay safe up there. And say hi to Marlon for me if you see him,” Max said.

“Of course. Safe travels, farmer,” Lance teased him with a smirk.

He watched Lance leave their homestead and down the road, the smell of freshly-tilled soil washing away the scent of his husband’s soap before he even turned the corner. By the fifth day of the season, the crops were all settled into their neat little rows, the promise of pumpkins already in curly little saplings, and colorful mushrooms peeking up from plush, sleepy grass. The trestles by the fence would have grapes on them soon enough—best to keep an eye out for Petunia then, lest his horse be tempted out of her stall and he find her foundered in her sin.

Elliot loved the fall.

And Max almost slapped himself as he started the rest of his chores.

The wizard had warned him, “you can peruse my library at your leisure, but don’t touch any of the books behind that altar. It’s for your own safety,” and gestured to a menacing golden creature atop a spell circle, the statue’s ruby eyes seeming to follow him around the candlelit room.

It was one book.

A simple spell, just a single, short paragraph among the hundreds of others, found by parting the book to a random number and beginning in the middle of the page. The spell explained itself to have no ingredients, casted only by reading, though Max couldn’t have guessed how literal the instructions were.

“Spirits alive, spirits alike, spirit made flesh. The mind is a shallow cup, cursed to overflow with too many memories, but the soul remembers. Never forget, dear spirit. Recall your journeys, dear spirit… allow us to enter your mind, spirit. And look with us.”

Even Max knew not to speak aloud from spell books, but just reading the words left him breathless, his wheeze condensing in front of his face. He slammed the book shut, quick and careful to replace it on the shelf exactly as it had been found before fleeing back to the warp hall, his fumbling hands yanking at his coat’s zipper.

“Too creepy… Never again,” he said, believing now that Magnus wasn’t exaggerating when he placed the shelf off limits.

But the spell was already cast, brought to life by being read, and Max found himself visited by the most vivid dream he’s ever had—and hasn’t had one like it since.

A farm, what must have been his farmhouse, and an autumn day like today. A striped cat rushed to the kitchen under his feet while the writer hummed at the stove, his ginger hair pulled back to the nape of his neck.

“Good morning! Come eat, darling, I made your favorite.”

He never cared for pancakes but his stomach growled regardless, heart squeezing unbidden when the writer fluttered over to greet him with a milk coffee kiss.

Lance drank his coffee black.

It wasn’t his farm, not his cat, not his husband, so why did it feel so warm?

Why did he wake up missing the rosy lens of that other place? With syrup on his tongue and a pain in his chest for a man he’s never looked at before with anything other than friendship? His heart sank, belly cold as he rolled over to seek the warm back of his sleeping husband, minding the pomegranate hair draped over his pillow.

“Mm—hello,” Lance rumbled with fondness, awoken by the way the farmer squeezed around his middle.

“Go back to sleep, Lance,” he said against his hair. The smell of magic never did manage to wash out, like lightning in a forest. A happy huff was his only reply, though Max would stay awake for the rest of that night, and for days after.

He never should have read from that damn book.

The dream wasn’t anything more than a glimpse. He didn’t know the farmer’s story, who raised him, but he knew why his belly twinged when the writer kissed him. And if this flash of a feeling could haunt his thoughts in broad daylight, he knew he would die if he ever knew the truth about their entire life together, killed gloriously by the knowledge of one single lifetime, out of the thousands this other valley might know.

And he would never recover if Lance knew.

How could he ever say that in another life, some other place just like their valley, he was married to Elliot? And that they were so happy?

He couldn’t, he would rather jump naked into a bath tub of lava slimes than hurt Lance.

Lance, who when he was contemplating giving up farming to be a full-time adventurer declared with that self-assured grin that Max was the only one who could help him with his research.

Lance of the First Slash Clan, seasoned adventurer, who becomes as red as his hair, suddenly shy when Max reminds him that on his first visit to the First Slash Guild Hall, he took off his clothes and suggested they squeeze into the single bed.

The same man who when Max came to him with the insane idea to turn their cellar into a guild hall, didn’t poke holes in his dream or complain about how much the construction would cost, instead swelling with pride to say “My farmer, always thinking of others.”

Lance, whom without the world would have no spring.

Max looked at the crate in his hands, having walked all the way to the beach after his chores, and knocked on Elliot’s door with his boot. What am I doing?

“Max, hello there!” He opened the door with a gasp. “Are those for me?”

“What—yes. Fresh from Haddenfield,” he said reflexively, pulled from his thoughts to follow Elliot inside and put the crate on the piano bench for unpacking.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” he said, holding one up to the window to admire it’s ruby glitter. “Won’t you let me pay you this time?”

“No no, of course not,” Max waved his hands. “I brought it to you without asking, it’s a gift. Happy birthday.”

“Well, thank you.” Elliot bowed his head, but was struck by a thought. “Wait. This is heavy, too big for Petunia. Did you walk all the way here? Let me make you a cup of tea before you go.”

Max remembered the smell of green tea from his dream, knowing what he would offer even before Elliot opened the metal canister. “I’ve got green tea, do you mind a travel cup?”

This life is enough. No memory, intangible and false, will come between him and his valley.

“I’ve actually gotta get going. Somewhere to be. Thank you, Elliot, and happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Max, please be careful. Say hi to Lance for me!” He called as Max was already marching his way up the beach with a wave. ____ ___ __ _

Good, Marlon didn’t take the boat, he thought as he found the dinghy by the mountain dock, tied and ready. The trek to the Highlands always managed to be twice as long when you were in a hurry, and Max prayed the clouds gathering overhead would hold off on their rain until he made it to the outpost.

A distant crackle of thunder caught Lance’s attention, and he paused his note-taking where he was crouched beside a sleeping mushroom sprite.

“That’s enough for today, I guess,” he said, accidentally startling the creature awake and having to cast a recall spell to avoid its tiny rage.

On the river, Max struggled with the frantic sail of Marlon’s little boat, holding his own against the wind despite the way the waves slapped against its fragile sides.

“I can hear the conversation now—Sorry Marlon, I took your boat out into the storm without your permission but it was all for love! No no, it’s in pieces but I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Max yelled to no one as the little boat bobbed and thrashed around the last bend before the dock.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Inside the outpost, Lance closed the line on his emergency phone when no one answered.

“He must be on his way home… oh, I hope he’s all right,” he said, going to pilfer his satchel for supper.

“Oh no,” he groaned, realizing his packed dinner was still in the fridge at home, probably next to the forsaken sticky pudding.

“Crumbs,” he said with a huff. Rain on the stone roof meant it was too late to try to fish, too far to try to go home.

A loud thud came from the direction of the dock, heard clearly even through the heavy wooden door, and the hair on his arms stood up.

Debris from the storm? No, it sounded like a person. Marlon? But why? It could also be a monster.

“The warding should keep them away…” Unless the storm fractured my spell circle.

The lumbering came again, closer now, until both Lance and the mysterious noise stood on opposite sides of the door.

His fingertips sparked with a welling of magic. “Aureus lux—“

The door flew open to crash against the opposite wall. “DAMN it all—”

“Max!” Magic leapt from his hand to scorch across the stone wall, but at least the attack hadn’t landed on his soaked husband, frozen in the doorway.

“Did you just try to zap me?!”

“Of course I did! How am I meant to know you’re the one stomping around like a Golem in the middle of a storm? What are you doing here?” He helped the farmer inside, setting him down at his workbench to begin taking off his boots. His fingers shook on the dripping laces, but not with magic.

“You’re soaked—what were you thinking?! What if the boat crashed, how would I ever even know what happened to you? Drowned, or, or—” Max hushed him with the hand that wasn’t holding his bag.

He pulled him close, uncaring he was likely dampening Lance’s shirt, he needed to feel him before he floated away. “You forgot your dinner.”

Lance blinked at him, watching the farmer open his bag to take out two portions of curry and a bottle of wine. Blue Moon, his favorite. “No hard feelings that it’s not from Haddenfield,” Max said, like every time he gifts it to him with the same cheeky grin.

“Have dinner with me? Maybe?” He tries again when Lance is quiet.

“That was an incredibly foolish thing you did,” Lance finally says, flat, but his eyes are soft when he pulls him into a long kiss. They can hardly tell which one of them deepens the kiss first, lips sliding and tasting of petrichor by the time they part to breathe.

“… So you’re not mad?” Max says, dazed and a little warmer where his jacket collar bows away from his skin.

“Of course I’m angry. But I’m also helplessly in love with you, farmer.” He shakes his head and reaches for the bottle.

“I’ll open the wine if you’d like to change your clothes.”

“You have extra clothes here?”

“No,” he says, flat again, and punctuated by both the pop of the cork and his affectionate smirk.

Well, at least the bed is dry, he thinks as he sits in his underwear. Lance never stayed mad for long, and by the time they finish supper he’s coaxing the farmer under the duvet and into his arms. For body heat, he insists, not because the outpost bed, while bigger than the one at the guild hall, is still a squeeze for two grown men.

“It reminds me of that first night at the First Slash,” Max said, accepting the wine bottle when Lance passed it to him.

“Oh Yoba, hasn’t my heart been through enough tonight?” Lance rubbed his tired eyes, albeit smiling behind his hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you were very charming,” Max grinned and passed the last sip back to him.

“How long had we been dating? Not long at all, and I threw myself at you.”

Max grabbed his hand to invite his gaze. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

Lance waited a beat, eyes softening as he squeezed their hands. “Yes, you did. Handsome farmer, I couldn’t help but need to know how you felt.”

“I promise, the fact that you were pressed up against me with your abs out had no influence on my answer.” Lance’s chuckle made his stomach flip, a familiar feeling he wanted to happen over and over for him alone.

He drifted easily into a useless dream about keeping Petunia away from the grapes, deeper than he’s slept in weeks, and wondered if pomegranates would be important in his next life too.

[princessplantasaurus]

Depending on how much of a VT writing bug you’ve got, I have an idea that could be 1-3 prompts depending how you wanted to take it.

Short Version: Bob/Blueberry and Larry/Petunia Double Date

3-Prompt Version: Boberry picks the double-date location and Lartunia is awkward about it, Lartunia picks the location and Boberry is awkward about it, and what the middle ground that both couples enjoy would be.

Omg so I had to jump on the short version because it reminded me of a silly little headcanon scenario @giacomos and I came up with in 2020

After wrapping Princess and the Pie War, Petunia was genuinely surprised to have been invited back for Minnesota Cuke. Now, of course she was hoping they'd ask her back to read for another role one day - but for a role to be written for her in their very next show? They were really going out of their way to make her feel like part of the family.

And the studio was starting to feel like home, even if she did still feel like the new kid in school. There was a familiarity, and yet there were still moments now and again where she'd be reminded just how long everyone had known each other, and just how little she knew them in comparison.

With the cast finalized for Samson's Hairbrush, the team had their first read through. Petunia was pleasantly surprised to learn that some of the team, such as Pa Grape and Madame Blueberry, were on set for the read through, despite not having a role in this particular episode. Pa explained to her that most of the team did backstage work when not acting, which made sense to the rhubarb, and sparked the hope that she'd fill her own role as a member of the team if not acting, too.

While the initial readthrough was fairly successful, it was, overall, unnoteworthy. What was noteworthy, however, was how Madame Blueberry approached her after they'd finished. "Petunia dear, could I chat with you a moment?"

"Sure, Megan." she smiled kindly. "What did you want to talk about?"

"There's no chance you'd be free tonight for dinner, would you?" The blueberry questioned.

"I am, actually!" Petunia smiled happily, before asking "A girls night?"

"Not quite." Madame Blueberry smiled slyly, thought Petunia wasn't exactly sure what for. "See, I was, well, we were, hoping...you'd join Bob, Larry and myself tonight for a bit of a...double date."

Petunia blinked, confused. Bob, Larry and herself...Bob and Larry were dating? Megan was asking her out? Was that right? "Double date?" she repeated.

"Yes dear." Megan smiled. "I'm sure Robert would've asked you himself, it being his idea and all, but I'm sure by now you've learned...how he can be, at times..."

Robert. Who was Robert? Oh. Bob. Of course. Bob wanted to ask her out? Larry was dating...Megan? Her stomach dropped a bit at the thought, her girlish showmance of a crush now...well...crushed. But then again, Bob seemed nice. He wasn't as cute as Larry, but he wasn't exactly difficult on the eyes, she supposed. She owed it to herself to at least give it a chance. "What time will we be meeting?"

The answer was at around 7 that evening, at a restaurant Petunia felt very underdressed for. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting, given that in the month and a half she'd known Megan, the blueberry's affinity for the finer things had been very well established. Despite her insecurities about wearing a simply turtleneck and tank top, she was relieved to see that at least Bob and Larry weren't in three piece suits. Megan wore a very frilly red dress and pearls, but she would wear that to go grocery shopping.

"Petunia, dear!" The blueberry greeted upon seeing the redhead. "We're so happy you could make it!"

There was on chair left available. Larry on her left, Megan on her right, and across from Bob. Was that an odd configuration? Maybe not, she supposed, as it meant Larry and Megan would be gazing into each other's eyes all night. And her and Bob. Obviously. She needed to cut out this Larry preoccupation. "Thank you for inviting me!"

"We're glad you agreed to it." Bob admitted, sharing a look with Madame Blueberry, before adding "though we had a feeling you might-"

"Oh?" Petunia raised an eyebrow, curiously. Was she giving off interested-in-Bob vibes? Maybe her interested-in-Larry vibes read that way to someone who knew Larry was in a relationship already.

"I've got an eye for this sort of thing." Megan smirked. "Much like Nona, hmm?"

Larry laughed awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Yep, sure hit the nail on the head with that casting-"

"Not the only one in that show." Bob smiled cheekily. "Funny how-"

"Do we really need to talk about that right now?" Larry frantically interrupted.

Once again blinking in confusion, Petunia asked "talk about what?"

"You know, Larry almost gave up the part of Duke." Bob smiled towards the rhubarb, despite the cucumber's high pitched noise of distress.

"Really?" Petunia turned towards Larry, "But you played him so naturally-"

"Yes," Madame Blueberry gave Larry a knowing look "Funny how when a certain redheaded actress came in to read, he could suddenly play a man in love-"

"Guys-" Larry tried to diffuse.

"What?" Madame Blueberry feigned innocence. "She's already agreed to the date, Lawrence."

"Lawrence?" Petunia repeated out loud.

Petunia's echo went unheard as Megan continued to tease. "And you weren't the only one blushing and giggling between those takes."

As the pieces fell in place for Petunia...well, let's just say she was blushing and giggling again. "Oh, I thought-"

"Everyone noticed it, dear." Megan smiled. "We all thought it was adorable. And we all wanted Larry to find such a sweetheart one day-"

"Wait," Petunia leaned in to whisper to Larry "Bob and Megan are...?"

"Yeah, have been since way before you got here." he whispered back. "You didn't notice?"

A quick glance towards the pair - and the lovestruck look Bob was giving the blueberry at the moment, confirmed to Petunia that she really hadn't been paying attention to anyone other than Larry much at all.

Which, it turned out, was okay, she supposed.

[sammmyy223]

I run a shit post dnd game, the players and I refer to it by one of two names. Weednd or the Brewicide Squad. The players and I get inebriated before and during the sessions.

Guppy the clown druid has a successful circus in the world. So of course he and I worked together to create the NPC’s of the circus. As well as some menu items

Slim Shady and Biggie smalls - Giant Octopi

! Fonzi Rondo-Monkey, Monkey #2- Warforged Monkey, Dayle, and Monkey Drill the Mandril wearing a payday mandrill mask

Splits- Homicidal Clown

Sleepy Petunia- a Female Clown Dryder whose entire act is her falling asleep and tripping across the stage. She eats 1 guest per show and people will pay top dollar for it.

! Waterjose-Clownfish-Triton changes nose each performance, Stand up comedy and jumping. Into glasses of water real name Water José

Babreraham Lincoln- A human woman with a body like jessica rabbit and a face exactly like abraham lincoln

! Socks and Mittens-Twin Tabaxi Acrobats, Not tabaxi, shifters who had cat ears and tail like anime, magical girl shift into furries, full magical girl transformation ends with them in fursuits

! Dork Broncho- world's fattest Virgin, slightly overweight, blames woman for being a virgin, is 16. Nobody likes him but his dad runs the food truck and he's great, Pete Broncho is the Goat NO CAP.

Man Spicy, the ork son of Guy Fieri. Guy Fieri was eating a burger and the grease dribbled off his chin into the ground and mixed his DNA with the ork fungus, from this Man Spicy was born. There was also 5 snotlings but Guy spicy cooked them into a hearty stew and won his first missilin star, an actual nuclear warhead. He is currently working the food stall at the new circus tent based in “Nassar Spleefin”

Pete Broncho. The minotaur cook, he is the main culinary expert of the circus, he specializes in the circus’s patented “Infused” Breading allowing the creation of 100 mg Funnel Cake, 30mg Corndogs, and the fabled 1200mg Triple Battered Deep Fried Snack attackerson Carney Asada, it is fabled because if you eat it and survive you get your name engraved on the food truck, there are 5 names, if you fail your soul is trapped in a green out, and you can only be brought back with high level weed priests or hashtral projectionists.

The 5 names

“Guppy

Pete Broncho

Peter Griffin

The Unholy Fiend

Yung King”

1200mg Triple Battered Deep Fried Snack attackerson’s Carney Asada, first we steam a large corn tortilla, then we add a layer of leftover shrimp fried rice, chipotle Mayo, Carne Asada Steak, hatch green chili bacon, Panda Express Orange chicken, Elote Street corn, and Chicken Alfredo, then once the burrito is wrapped a thick bamboo stick is inserted, and then the burrito is triple dipped in the “Green Deep” Batter then deep fried, after this the cook fries the burrito.

LadyBeard - Dwarf with huge beard, 2 Big boobs growing from beard

The boys-Artificer Guild of Goblins-5 guys,

Boss- Gruxly, Snotbag, Grublace, Frank (Green Stained gnome who speaks gnomish and goblin), ! Rumpled Foreskin. The group mostly sticks to themselves except for gruxly who speaks on behalf of his team.

Hamshank- Mascot, has blades for tusks and permanent puppy dog Eyes. Hamshank is canonically best boy, and loves eating berries and hemp.

[threeopennames]

HP1C3

Letters From There's A Sender On The Letter This Is Just Misleading Titling

We start this chapter with some more Harry abuse, and more Dudley hate. This chapter lets us know that Harry is going to a bad school, and Dudley going to a private one, again to layer on the whole abuse thing. I'll make a brief aside here to mention that there's a character named Mrs. Figgs that Harry doesn't like, although we're given no real reason to believe she's a bad person. The Dursley's send him to her when they want to leave him out of something, so maybe he's bitter at that, but it's kind of odd to spare a paragraph to dumb some hate on what sounds like some old retired woman with cats. The author might just not be a cat person.

Vernon and Petunia both heap loads of love on their son, which I think we're supposed to interpret as bad because if they were good parents, they'd be disciplining their son for being an asshole. But, like, it's hard for me to hate someone for showing unconditional love for their child. Yes, the abuse is bad and unforgivable! But I don't think the inverse is true, where if a bad person like, shows love to a small animal, I'm supposed to...hate the animal now? Like, it's twisted for sure, but it's not quite as clear cut as I think the author wants it to be. I would have preferred Dudley not exist at all, and the Dursleys just abused Harry because they hated children or something. What we're shown is not just that the Dursleys are miserable, angry, evil people (which they are), but that they are also fully capable of being loving and caring for one another. That's kind of weird, innit?

Anyway, a letter shows up, and Vernon sees that someone knows he's been abusing Harry, and panics, as is understandable. There's one line in here that I think is telling. The scenes and the following scenes are supposed to show escalating stakes as the Dursleys try to hide the letters from Harry. But what ends the scene is Vernon saying he wants to stamp out 'that dangerous nonsense'. As a first time reader, you don't really know what he's talking about, but if you're rereading you know he's talking about witchcraft and wizardardy and all that. Which, for those who might not be informed, IS actually incredibly dangerous nonsense! The seven books are basically nothing but dangerous nonsense. Vernon might not even be aware of how dangerous, but he knows Harry's parents were killed because of their affiliation with magic, and that Harry himself is possibly a magnet for that kind of danger. With this in mind, him being ridiculously scared of the letter comes off not so much as blind bigotry but like, a legitimate fear of the unknown. The magical world IS terrifying. A natural response to being told you're being watched by omnipotent reality benders who do not respect personal privacy, property, and answer to no one, is fear! That's a very reasonable thing to be afraid of!

Anyway, we're basically treated to slapstick for the rest of the chapter. With a different tone, all this would be the start of a horror short story. We're treated to totally not stalker levels of harassment as 'No One' continues to send letters to the Dursleys. He finally takes them out to an isolated cabin where of course, they'll all be murdered one by one, because that's what happens in stories like this.

The door bursts down and in walks the maniac, so you can play the jump scare track now.

[windpeakofficial]

☀ Waterlily // Akhal-Teke ☀ Scarletrose // Lipizzaner ☀ Cocochip // Lusitano ☀

[alexiswritesandstuff]

Procyon Black Part Four

"Sweetheart." Daddy says gently still wide eyed. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Do you love Uncle Remmy?" I asked curiously ignoring his question.

Daddy sighed but nodded with a small smile.

"Would you marry him?" I asked with a bright smile.

"I can't sweetheart." He says gently. "Now tell me why you're out of bed."

"Why not?" I asked. "I also had a nightmare."

Daddy opens his arms. I walked over climbing into his lap looking up at him with wide eyes. Daddy brushed his fingers through my curly hair.

"It's frowned upon by the muggle world honey." He says gently. "Since I just got set free it will take a while before I can marry in the wizarding world."

"You aren't mad?" Uncle Remmy asked causing me to look over at him.

I furiously shook my head. "No, I've always seen you as a father."

Uncle Remmy smiled tickling my neck causing me to let out a string of giggles.

"Do you still love mom?" I asked daddy.

"Of course I do, sweetheart." He says with a sad smile.

"I think mom would have wanted you to be happy." I say playing with a strand of his hair.

"What was your nightmare about?" Uncle Remmy asked.

"It was the memory the Ministry took out of my head." I say with a sigh. "When they took my daddy away."

"Oh, sweetheart." Daddy says pulling me into his chest as I sobbed.

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

I woke up the next morning and noticed I was laying beside daddy with my face in his chest. I quietly slip out of the bed and walked to the kitchen where I saw Uncle Remmy making breakfast. He turns to me and smiles brightly.

"Hey, cub." He says. "Are you hungry?"

I nodded tiredly rubbing my eye with my hand. Uncle Remmy nodded walking over picking me up and set me on the counter. I smiled as I watched him work around the stove.

"Uncle Remmy, I have a question." I say quietly.

"What would that be sweets?" He asked flipping the pancake.

"Can I call you Papa?" I asked.

Uncle Remmy smiled. "It's all up to you honey."

I nodded happily as I watched him finish making breakfast. Papa lifted me off the counter and set me on the floor.

"Why don't you wake your father?" He asked.

I giggle rushing down the hall to my room. I walk in quietly to see daddy still sleeping soundly. I climb into the bed and jump on him causing him to groan. I let out a slight scream as he rolled us over. I let out loud giggles as his fingers dug into my side. I let out a cry of pain as he acciedently hit a big bruise. I forgot he didn't know about them.

"Puppy?" He asked gently while sitting up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, daddy." I mumbled. "You hit a bruise."

"Bruise?" He asked.

"Uncle Vernon gave them to me." I say lifting my shirt up to just under my chest to show him them.

"I'm going to kill him." Daddy growled before placing a fiinger on the the scar from Aunt Petunia. "DId he do this too?"

"No." I shook my head. "Aunt Petunia did."

Daddy let out a growl as the door opened.

"Everything alright in here?" He asked. "Breakfast is ready."

"I was just showing daddy what Uncle Vernon did for me, Papa." I say.

"Papa?" Daddy asked with a fond smile.

[empresspeacock]

Find the White Wolf Pt. 5

Summary: Geralt goes missing and you’re determined to be the one who finds him and brings him home

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Warnings: Violence, language, slow burn smut

A/N: I have only watched the show on Netflix, I have never played any of the games or read any of the books. If I break canon, that’s why. Plot based on my imagination, so you do not have to watch the show to enjoy.

Sorry for taking so long for the update, life happened

Link to Part 1  Link to Part 2 Link to Part 3 Link to Part 4

Word Count: 1180

Well, running Petunia wasn't much fun. The doors merely opened into a large fenced ring. You jogged her around the perimeter looking for weak pieces of wood, you even tried to make her jump the fence. But there was a magical barrier that prevented her from doing so. Of course that worried you, because that meant you couldn't run out through the stables, you'd have to take Petunia out the front door probably. And that's if the magic barrier let you, cause it would probably stop you from crossing the bridge.

Geralt's horse Roach was there too, but none of his belongings were outside the stall like yours. Did he ride up to the entrance like you did or did he get captured while on horseback?

You put Petunia back up, brushed her down, and checked your saddle bags. The contents were still in there, seemingly untouched. You grabbed a couple daggers and hid them underneath your shirt. You walked back towards the dining hall. It seemed like the hallways hadn't changed, so hopefully that meant any maps you and Geralt made would be reliable. You went to the art room and grabbed some paper and charcoal. A handmaiden was in there, but she didn't stop you.

You needed to find Geralt because if you two spent too much time apart from each other, Mera and the others won't buy your story that you are attracted to him. You wandered around the castle, looking in every room you could, trying to memorize the paths. Eventually Mera walked past you.

"Hey, have you seen Geralt? I've been looking for him since I came back from riding my horse."

"Oh yes, we're holding him for you." Mera flashed one of her dazzling smiles again. Gods her teeth were perfect, how were they so straight and white?

"What do you mean holding him?"

"He was wandering around looking for you, so we were holding him until you asked for him again." She fluttered her eyelashes and slightly brought her shoulders back, bringing more attention to her breasts.

"I see." You could barely get the words out. You were so wrapped up in looking at her beauty. Her breasts were so perky and plump and and. You don't even normally care about breasts, but hers were so-, you couldn't describe them. You didn't know why.

"I can take you to him now if you'd like?" She turned around and looked back over her shoulder. The fragrance from her hair washed over you. It smelled like tropical fruit and made you think of paradise.

"Y-yes please." You managed to follow her to the lush waiting room Geralt was sitting in. He looked relaxed. Good, they didn't torture him any more. He sat with one of his arms resting on the arm of the couch he was sitting on, manspreading, and had a neutral look on his face.

Geralt frowned slightly when he looked at you. He made a slight motion with his hand and suddenly your head cleared up. You didn't even realize it was fuzzy, but it felt like your eyes were buzzing and heavy but then stopped.

Mera looked back at you and was still smiling. "Here he is, as promised. I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Lunch will be served in about an hour if you'd like to come down for that.

"Uhhh thanks, I think I'll be wrapped up in my art though. We may or may not." You held up the rolled sheets of paper you had in your hand.

As you two walked away, Geralt harshly whispered "Don't ever be around Mera without me."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"She tries to use a charm spell on you. I can counteract it, but I have to be around you to do so. She was trying it during breakfast too."

Oh that's why you were so mesmerized by her boobs. "But she failed?"

"But I counteracted it."

"How the heck did you have energy to do that?"

You barely heard him, but under his breath he muttered "I didn't." He sped up slightly and walked ahead of you.

Once in the bedroom, you handed him a couple sheets of paper and a stick of charcoal. "Here, draw maps of what you managed to explore. What's your assessment of our situation?"

He took them and knelt on the floor. He spread out a sheet and began drawing. "Not good. The corridors don't seem to shift, but there are magic boundaries in every doorway. This includes the front gates. Those boundaries can close down into barriers that block you from entering or exiting."

"Same for the stables. They lead out to a large ring with a barrier around it. Couldn't get Petunia to jump the fence."

"Not surprised."

"Can you take down the barriers anywhere?"

Geralt drew silently for a minute before pausing to answer. "Probably not. The boundary markings are pretty thorough. Even if I take down one, the surrounding ones are close enough to cover the gap. By the time I can take down enough to escape, Mera will have definitely noticed and have us surrounded by guards."

"You can take them down can't you?"

"They're not the main issue. And I don't have any weapons. Someone of greater strength is somewhere in this castle. The person who actually moves this castle."

"Mera isn't it?"

"No. She is about the same strength as me with spells. It's why I can take down her charm spell with a little effort."

You lifted your shirt enough to reveal the two daggers tucked into your pant waist. "Well, they didn't take my weapons from my saddle bags. We at least have something."

Geralt looked at them and huffed "Those will have to do. I prefer my swords. We still need to find where the great sorcerer is hidden and take them out before trying to escape. Even if we take down the physical markings, that sorcerer can easily put up another boundary spell around the whole castle and trap us."

"Any ideas where they're at?" You hoped he had better luck exploring than you did. You only found things clearly meant for clients to see.

"No, but if you tell them you want me to sleep with the other companions tonight, I might be able to look around in that part of the castle."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. We need to sell the idea that I am super attracted to you. If I send you down for the night, they may get suspicious and sedate you again."

"Well then what do you suggest?" Geralt was clearly irritated.

You stopped drawing too and paused to think. "Well we could convince them we had a bunch of rampant sex and I'm exhausted now."

"How are we supposed to do that."

"Make a bunch of noise", you said sheepishly.

Geralt chortled. "Great, make a bunch of noise."

"I also need to draw you naked so when they ask what I was drawing, I have something to show them."

"WHAT?? No, absolutely not."

[ashesandhackles]

Deconstructing Harry: The boy we meet in Philosopher's Stone to the man in Deathly Hallows

I have often seen fans talk about how nebulous Harry is as a character, especially in the earlier books. They can't make sense of who he is as a character and other more colourful, more actualized personalities take over our attention from any traits Harry might display. Harry becomes more defined for a lot of people OOTP onwards where he displays traits that sometimes make him unbearable or unlikable.

Harry, as we are introduced in PS, has a very little sense of self. He is narratively self deprecating or plays down his presence or skills, not that he is aware he has any. He grew up without any presence of him displayed in the house - no photos, no idea about his parents or what they look like or what really happened to them and discouraged from asking questions. Harry as we meet him is neglected, rootless about his identity and longs for escape. For him, every day is a battle against Dudley, who bullies him or Vernon, thus setting a worldview that never truly goes away: him vs adults. But just because Harry doesn't attach traits or values to self, does not mean he does not have it.

It's an effective narrative tool though - for Harry to be our eyes of the world. Only in later re-readings can we get a grasp of the traits that become more pronounced as books go on. Also, it's not surprising that Harry develops a better sense of self when he is removed from an abusive home.

Let me begin with this:

1. Harry is a fighter

One of the things that struck me in later re-readings is that how much of a fighter Harry is, from the very beginning. He will not lie down and take abuse. The narrative presents it as no big deal, because Harry doesn't assign any importance to it - it's every day life for him.

-Verbal standing up-

See his reaction to Uncle Vernon and the letter fiasco. He stands up for himself, even if it falls on deaf ears. "I want my letter - as it is mine!". Later on, in the same book, a completely befuddled 11 year old Harry stands up to Snape too, but in a politer way: "I think Hermione knows the answer. Why don't you try her?". He gets less polite with Snape as books go on. Harry's humor is something he employs liberally with Dudley when standing up to him - "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick" and we see this trait manifest into the sass we all know and love.

- Fight or flight-

He is remarkably good at "fighting himself out of tight corners" as Snape put it. And although Snape attributes it to luck and more talented friends, he is onto something about Harry's ability to worm out of tight corners. He lives moment to moment in a dangerous situation - relying on his nerve, very fast reflexes and athleticism. He is also able to notice things in an environment that will get him out of a quick pinch. You see this clearly in Department of Mysteries in Book 5 where he comes up with the idea to smash shelves, the mad idea to escape on a dragon, the ministry escape where he manipulates Runcorn's image (as he noticed how people were reacting to him) to create chaos and get the Muggleborns and the trio out, Chamber of Secrets when he instinctively understood the diary is the source of power and stabbed it.

Where does the athleticism and ability to spot dangerous situation come from? This boy has spent a decade cheeking Dudley and running away from his gang, spotting when he needs to get out of the way as "long experience had told him to be out of Uncle Vernon's arms reach" or "ducking when Aunt Petunia aimed a frying pan at his head". The instinct to see a dangerous situation develops over the course of the books in his adventures - to the point Harry unconsciously brings out his wand in Tottenham road without thinking too much about it. He is almost always wary and less quick to lower his wand.

When hiding/ escaping is not an option, Harry is not above physical fighting - despite how small and skinny he is in Book 1. Both he and Dudley fight for a chance to listen at the door when letter first arrives for Harry. Dudley wins the fight. Later on, Harry jumps Uncle Vernon from behind and hangs on to his neck to get his letter. He even does the same thing to the troll in the same book. ( Then over the course of series, we see him beat up Sirius in Book 3, Malfoy in Book 5, strangle Mundungus in Book 6 - all of these are related to his fury over the dead, so different context. But still).

- Manipulation/ Cunning-

11 year old Harry even tries sneakily - waking up early to get his letter (unfortunately didn't work). The other sneaky methods he has employed throughout the series is - not telling Dursleys at end of PS that he is not allowed magic at home, threatens Dudley with it in COS, not telling them Sirius is innocent to play up the threat of a murderous godfather to keep them accountable, and also the smooth way he negotiates with Uncle Vernon for Hogsmeade letter. ("Well it will be hard work, pretending to aunt Marge that I go to St Whatsits" ,"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her"). He similarly displays his negotiation and playing to what he knows about people with Slughorn in Book 6, Pettigrew in Book 7.

The scene with Slughorn is disturbing, with Harry coercing a drunk Slughorn to give up his memory. You can argue that this is the influence of Felix Felicis, but I think the potion acted more as facilitation. The disturbing way Harry brings up his mother's murder to unnerve Slughorn is his own doing. ("Voldemort stepped over my father's body towards mum" "I forgot - you liked her, didn't you?"). Again, in a life threatening situation, Harry plays to Pettigrew's latent guilt: "You are going to kill me? After I saved your life? You owe me Wormtail!"

2. Relational justice over abstract justice

Harry's concept of justice is relational and based on his high empathy for the underdog. He notices power dynamic in a situation and empathises with the victim. This is in contrast to Hermione, who has more abstract, bigger picture view of justice. It's no wonder that Hermione is the one who is the most political of the three.

His high empathy for the underdog and needing to stand up for them is because he feels responsiblility that no one should go through what he went through. He stands up for Neville in PS and encourages him to stand up for himself. When he sees his father bullying Snape, it is not about an abstract "this is wrong behavior". Harry goes further: "Harry knew what it felt like to be taunted among a circle of onlookers" , Harry focuses on young Snape's mismatched clothes because he himself knows what it's like to wear clothes that are not yours or ones that make you look ridiculous. His empathy extends to Voldemort too - understanding why he may not want to go back to his orphanage and desire to be in Hogwarts, wondering why Merope wouldn't stay alive for her son, his fixation with Voldemort's maimed soul in King's Cross chapter and later asking Voldemort to feel remorse (" I have seen what you will become otherwise"). Even his reaction to Dobby in COS - "Can't anyone help you? Can't I?" when Dobby talks about his slavery. Hermione is usually seeing the bigger picture, Harry sees the individual.

3. Pathological mistrust of adults

He is less likely of the trio to take an adult at their words or be assured by them when they say they are taking care of things. He has learnt, from a very young age, that he is always expected to take care of himself. And the times he does take things to adult, they consistently disappoint him - by patronising him or acting like he is a child, neither of which he has tolerance for or appreciates. This is why he takes to Sirius and Lupin, who exhibit neither of these communication patterns. In some ways, Mr Weasley too.

Umbridge's abuse of him for him is framed as a battle of wills between her and him, as if he is an equal. And he loses if he complains - "not giving her a satisfaction of knowing she got to me". Harry's worldview has always been - adult vs him.

His inability to trust adults even extends to the ability of adults he likes to look after themselves. While Sirius is understandably a wreck in OOTP, he has by and large followed Dumbledore's orders. This doesn't register with Harry (Ron points it out: "Sirius listens to Dumbledore even though he doesn't like what he hears") and Harry's fears about Sirius, excaberated by Sirius's tendency for recklessness, comes to play.

He even showed similar distrust in Lupin's judgement in taking a potion from Snape in POA ("Harry felt the urge to knock the goblet out of Lupin's hands" and tries to hint at Lupin that Snape will "do anything" for DADA job). And he shows this once again with the most magically powerful wizard he knows - Dumbledore. ("if I tell you to abandon me and save yourself, you must do so". Dumbledore has to insist on this before Harry nods reluctantly. It's also Dumbledore's wording, but this is a wizard Harry feels safe with almost entirely because of his power - and yet Harry cannot obey an order like this without reluctance). It's not about Harry's own ability to take care of them - he just innately cannot leave people to it.

4. Humor as a value and coping mechanism

Harry has an established coping mechanism by the time we are introduced to him - quip in the face of danger/ dark humor. There are repeated instances of Harry amusing himself with snarky comments in his head when things are really bad for him. Like in PS, when they are in the hut, Harry wonders if the roof will fall in and then thought that if it did fall in, he might be warmer. In the earlier books (before his growth), he seems to value Ron over Hermione simply because he is more "fun". Harry enjoys being around funny people like Ron, Weasley twins, later Ginny simply because there is some dark stuff happening with him and he needs "fun" people for semblance of normalcy, escape. In fact, this desire is so strong, he attaches it to his romantic relationships: Ginny is a "blissful oblivion" and times with her are "something out of someone else's life". His relationship with Cho failed because her coping mechanism is discussing her trauma and Harry's is escaping it.

-dealing with conflict with people he likes, small digression-

A part of his growing up in later books includes valuing Hermione as much he values Ron and we see it in display in HBP, where he is more willing to stand up for her to Ron (something he kind of did more quietly before in POA - "can't you give her a break?" ) and also get confrontational with her instead of using Ron as a buffer between them to fend off her more boisterous/ bossy tendencies. ("let him make up his mind" "skip the lecture" "don't nag" - Ron took the heat in earlier books. In HBP, Harry is more willing to be irritable with her in a day-to-day interaction - "I hope you enjoy yourself" he tells Hermione when she states her intention to investigate Half Blood Prince. Or when she tests the book - "Finished? Or do you want to see if it does backflips?" "Do you have rub it in Hermione, how do you think I feel now?" at the end of HBP. ) In OOTP, his best method to deal with her when she bothers him was lying, avoiding her nagging and if that doesn't work, explode and treat her to display of his temper. There is more to explore here, of course - even with regard to how he deals with Mrs Weasley in Book 4, 5 and the difference of him hugging her in Book 7.

5. Fascination with the dead/ a passive death wish

Harry feels remarkably little sense of betrayal knowing that he was set up to die by Dumbledore. His self sacrificing streak is rooted in his love, yes, but I also think Harry is a little bit too fascinated by death, not surprising considering most people he loved are dead. Him wanting the resurrection stone in DH, him obsessively spending time at Mirror of Erised (to the point he feels feverish and Ron thinking he looks strange) until Dumbledore stops him, him almost wanting to fail to learn a Patronus because he wants to hear his parents voice, the hearing of whispering voices in the Veil in OOTP which only Luna could hear apart from him, the scene at the grave where he almost wishes he was "lying under the snow" with his parents, the possession scene in the book of OOTP has him wishing to die so he can be with Sirius. You can almost argue the Harry has, in many moments, shown raw desire of death. In fact, him choosing to let go of the stone and not go looking for it is a big character decision for him.

I also want to address Harry's temper and how that develops over course of series, the implications of understanding the people he loved and put on pedestal are flawed - but I am afraid this post is already way too long. So I will leave that for some time later.

[theroomofreq]

can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest.  He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion.  She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER

[pixiedustandpetrichor]

For the @sapphicnovember prompt: Rain

Very much a rare pair, I know, but I had an idea that I just had to write

beneath the cut for mentions of domestic abuse

Come in With the Rain

It is raining when Mary Macdonald first arrives at number four Privet Drive. Petunia likes to think that the raindrops are tears, in honor of Lily. When she answers the door she vaguely recognizes Macdonald from summers when Lily would invite her friends over, and from Lily’s wedding. She takes a moment, just a moment, to admire the way the raindrops don’t touch Macdonald, swerving around her with some sort of magic. It reminds her of herself; the way she won’t let the tears touch her, won’t let herself cry.

Macdonald glares at her and asks fiercely.

“Where’s the boy?”

Petunia knows she’s a witch, and she’ll find her way in anyway, so she leads her into the house, wondering what Vernon will think. She opens the door to the cupboard beneath the stairs, revealing the tears stained boy within.

“You keep him in a closet?” Macdonald asks. Petunia can feel the air around them crackling with magic and she flinches. She hates the feel of magic.

“I-” Petunia mutters softly. “Vernon insisted.”

Something in the way she says it catches Macdonald’s attention.

“You always do what your husband tells you to?”

Petunia bristles.

“Of course! I am a dutiful wife.” If not a good one, finishes her mind. But that isn’t her fault. It’s just that Vernon Dursley will never be enough for her. No man will. 

Macdonald bites her lip, studying her, but she seems to think better of whatever she was going to say.

“I’m taking the boy.”

“You can’t!” Petunia protests, loud enough that Dudley awakes upstairs and begins to cry. “You can’t.” She repeats in a normal tone, and then she outlines the rules of the magical protection around the boy.

Macdonald wavers, but eventually she leaves with the solid threat that she’ll be back.

It is raining the second time Macdonald shows up, but this time Petunia thinks the sky doesn’t cry for Lily. She selfishly imagines it cries for her. But she’s done her makeup, smoothing pale cream over purple, and so she answers the door with a pasted on smile.

This time they sit in the living room, and Macdonald holds Harry and Petunia holds Dudley and Petunia can almost pretend this is normal.

Macdonald comes at least once a week now, but always when it’s raining, and the rest of the time Petunia can pretend that she is just a figment of her imagination; a spirit she created to deal with her own loneliness. They’ve become friends, now, sort of, though Petunia still calls her Macdonald and Macdonald insists on calling her Evans. Petunia prefers it to Dursley, though she’ll never admit it. 

She always knocks and waits at the door, until one day when she appears directly in the hallway. Petunia shrieks and jumps backward before recognizing her. She raises her hands up to cover her face, but it’s too late. Macdonald sees, and her mouth drops open.

“What the hell’s going on up there?” Vernon calls. He’s still angry about Petunia moving Harry to the guest bedroom, but she can’t bring herself to regret that decision. She’s grown fond him, and his little bursts of magic don’t remind her of her complicated, never resolved relationship with her sister anymore, but of the quiet mornings and afternoons spent with Macdonald.

Petunia raises a finger to her lips and puts on her best calm voice.

“Nothing, dear.”

A few moments later, the door slams. Distantly, she can hear the car start up and drive away. Only then does Macdonald speak.

“He did this to you?”

Petunia knows the bruise around her eye is puffy and that there’s a scrape on her cheek. It probably looks really bad to an outsider. She was on her way to put on her makeup when Macdonald arrived unannounced. 

Petunia turns away, gazing out the window at the gently falling rain, and thinks she should have known.

“Only sometimes,” She’s disgusted by how meek her voice sounds. “Only when he’s had a bad day, or I don’t do something right. It’s not a big thing.”

“Petunia.” Her name sounds so precious coming from Macdonald. She never knew it could be so beautiful. “Look at me,” It’s a request, not a command, and she turns around to see that Macdonald’s eyes are filled with tears. Macdonald raises her hand to cup Petunia’s uninjured cheek, and Petunia freezes, heart beating loudly in her ears. Without taking her eyes from hers, Macdonald raises her wand and traces it gently across her face. Petunia can feel the pain fade, the cut stitching itself. A tear slips from Macdonald’s eye, a perfect little raindrop, and Petunia decides she doesn’t hate the feeling of magic after all.

She can feel it now, crackling the air with anticipation rather than anger now. She is poised on a precipice, feeling as though the rain and wind might sweep her away at any moment. Macdonald leans in-

Petunia turns away. 

Macdonald is so, so good, and Petunia thinks it will be a while yet before she’s worthy of her, if she ever will be.

Macdonald stands with her mouth parted, watching her, for just a moment, but she gathers herself quickly.

“We need to go. I’m taking you away from this place, from him.”

“I can’t-”

“I’m taking Harry away from him.”

“Alright.” Petunia’s strength leaves her and she nods.

“Get Dudley and your things and meet me down stairs,” Macdonald tells her, and then she’s gone, a trace of her perfume hanging about the hall.

Petunia doesn’t have much in things; everything she wants to take fits easily in a suitcase along with Dudley’s favorite toys.

Dudley’s in his crib, fast asleep, one hand curled beneath a chubby cheek. He looks so perfect that Petunia’s heart aches. She feels a sudden rush of certainty. This is the right thing to do; to raise Dudley away from Vernon and his influence.

He wakes when she picks him up, burbling happily up at her. 

“We’re going on an adventure,” She tells him, bouncing him on her hip. He smiles, oblivious, and she realizes he’ll never remember any of this when he’s older. And that might be a good thing.

Downstairs, Macdonald is waving her wand about the room, holding Harry close with her other hand.

“Ready, Evans?” She asks when Petunia steps into the room.

“Ready, Mary.” She replies, and Mary beams. Together, they walk to the door. “What were those spells for?”

“Curses, mostly, and a few so that he won’t try to find you.”

“What kind of curses?” She asks, filled with a sudden, bitter, righteous need for revenge.

“A lot of kinds; but for now let’s just say his dick won’t be standing on its own without a crutch anytime soon. Or ever.”

And Petunia laughs in spite of herself. She grabs Mary’s hand and they step out into the pouring rain, droplets caressing their faces like kisses, or tears. Mary holds her hand tightly and suddenly they’re teleporting away, free as the wind and the rain.

[moonawrites]

“Is this the moment that we kiss?” Jily prompt.

When Lily asked James to pretend to be her boyfriend at Petunia’s wedding, she had it all figured out.

Petunia had been completely fucking unbearable all summer, bragging about Vernon like the ignorant walrus was something to be proud of. Bragging about her shiny ring and pretty wedding and not being alone. Making snide comments about what a shame it was for the bride’s sister to attend the wedding on her own. So naturally Lily had corrected her. She would, in fact, be bringing a date. And she knew just who to ask.

James was a good friend and always up for a party, even if that party was to celebrate the union of two of the worst people he knew. So of course he instantly said yes. Free booze and an opportunity to irritate your sister? Why the fuck not?

Never mind that Lily had a bit of a crush on him. If a bit meant a massive, rapidly developing, all consuming infatuation that had taken over her entire life. Real inconvenient for that to start when James had already moved on from his a good two years ago, and was perfectly comfortable being Lily’s friend. Inconvenient and painful. Pretending to date him, even for a night, was probably was not the soundest idea… but it was the best she had, and it fed into her fantasy, so she went with it.

Now, though, with James’ hands on her waist and his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the dancing and the warm August evening, his hair mussed and his eyes bright… she’s not sure she should have done this. Not sure she can bear to leave this fantasy when the night ends and they go back to being friends and she makes up some excuse to explain away their breakup two weeks from now.

“They’re watching us,” James whispers, leaning his head in close, and Lily’s breath catches in her throat.

“Who?”

“Your parents. Your sister.” James smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Should we put on one final show to end the night?”

We’re better off as friends. We tried and it doesn’t work. Some generic bullshit of that sort should work. The song changes to something slow and romantic, and the couples around them who had been taking a break and chatting at their tables offer each other inviting smiles. Soon enough the dance floor is packed again.

“Perfect timing,” James murmurs, pulling Lily closer.

They’ve had so much fun. Drinking and dancing and judging Petunia and Vernon’s awful friends. They always have fun. But it’s a different kind of nice when James pulls out her chair and gushes over her to her family and gets her drinks and holds her close for the slow songs. Lily’s heart aches and her stomach twists. She wants this to be real so bad.

“Do you think they believe us?” Lily asks, just for something to say to keep her from spiralling into her traitorous thoughts.

“Hm. Dunno. I feel like I’m quite a good actor.” James nudges Lily’s nose with his and smiles playfully, unaware of the damage he’s just done to her heart with that one small gesture. It’s just acting. He's playing a part. Relax. “You’re a bit rusty though, can’t you pretend to be a little more in love with me?”

Lily laughs, and it’s actually genuine even if it’s a bit painful. God, if he only knew. Pretend to be in love with him, it’s really quite funny. “What do you want from me, director?”

As if on queue, the song swells and rises, that moment when the music wraps around your heart and the couples around them feel an unseen force pull them closer to one another.

James tilts his head and raises an eyebrow again. “Is this the moment that we kiss?”

Lily’s eyes widen. “What?”

“What?” James says innocently. “Everyone else is doing it. We’re supposed to be a couple at a wedding and we haven’t kissed once.”

“Because we’re not a couple.”

“But don’t you want them to think we are? Now’s the perfect time.”

He’s right. She asked him to do this and he’s trying to help and he’s absolutely right, they’re at a wedding and they haven’t kissed once, how convincing is that? But she can’t. Not like this.

“I… no. I don’t want to.”

“I mean, okay.” James shrugs. “It’s just a kiss.”

“I don’t want a fake kiss with you,” Lily admits, and she wants to clamp a hand over her mouth, because who even asked? Certainly not James.

James snorts. “Why? Would you prefer a real one?” And he’s obviously joking, because that’s James’ way. But Lily freezes up like she’s been caught stealing, her heart racing and jumping into her throat and her face burning up.

She laughs a few excruciatingly long and silent seconds too late, but it’s strained and feels like it’s being ripped from her throat. James’ smile is gone though, and he stares at her in… confusion? Concern? …Belated understanding. And finally, shock.

“No fucking way,” he breathes, his smile creeping back onto his face, and Lily wants to melt into the floor. Pathetic. She’s absolutely pathetic. She couldn’t even last one day, all it took was one joke to crack her.

“Shut up, please. Just… shut up,” she begs. She can’t bear the jokes right now.

James laughs, and the sound of it is beautiful and elated. “Why don’t you make me, Evans?” He leans in close. “Kiss me for real,” he dares.

Lily scowls and shoves him away, heart lurching. “Don’t be an asshole.”

James pulls her back instantly, weaves his arms back around her waist. “I’m not being an asshole. I don’t want a fake kiss either.”

When she says nothing, only stares at him quiet and lost, James sighs. “You’re so daft, Lily. How much more obvious can I be?” He cups her face in both his hands, calloused and gentle, and Lily melts. “Kiss me.”

There’s sincerity in his eyes and his words sound earnest even if they’re whispered and he’s really not that kind of asshole. So what’s a girl to do when the man of her dreams insists she kiss him?

Lily can’t help laughing in some mix of disbelief and delight even when their lips collide.

//

Thank you for the prompt! I had fun with this one. Clearly keeping it short is not my strength, you got 1,054 words out of me! I'll do more tomorrow :)

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Wrong End of the Ithilien Stick (Legolas x Reader)

Requested by: @elvish-sky

could i request a legolas x reader with angst- like she misheard something he said and they have a falling out- but with a happy ending?

A/N: Here you are!! Hope you enjoy :) bon appetit ☀️

They were hopeless – completely, and utterly hopeless. Most who wished to court did so at the first few stolen glances, but not Y/n and Legolas.

Apparently, a year’s worth of peril on the road did nothing to invoke revelations. The Fellowship journey may have introduced them to one another, but it did nothing to bring them together. No, that was entirely up to them – the worst two to be left in charge of their own romantic fates.

Although, that’s not to say they entirely went their separate ways in the aftermath. Y/n had stayed behind with Legolas, in Ithilien, where they sought to restore the trees.

The whole process was full of cleared throats, deep blushes and shy smiles. Gimli, on the occasions he would visit, rolled his eyes, and groaned aloud.

“Ye still on yer dove dancing, are ye?” he taunted one day.

However, all the pair could do, was look away from one another. Y/n simply felt herself too inferior to his royal status, as to make the first move. Legolas, on the other hand, felt himself too high maintenance to even begin asking her if she minded his princely upbringing.

It was a vicious cycle, but one the four Hobbits sought to destroy, following their next visit.

“So, we are all aware of our roles?” Frodo asked, as the four friends strolled across a wooden bridge, and into the Ithilien forest.

Frodo had enjoyed the distraction, and appreciated the time away from his cooped-up desk greatly. Any chance to rid himself of the journey’s memories, was a chance he’d take.

“Aye!” Pippin confirmed. “Merry and I are tackling Y/n, and you and Sam will handle Legolas.”

“By nightfall, those two will be married!” Merry agreed, nodding resolutely.

However, stifling the Hobbits’ laughter, Y/n and Legolas appeared from nowhere – greeting them by the creek’s bank.

“Who’s getting married by nightfall?” Y/n sweetly asked, squinting under the bright morning sun.

“I don’t mind a wedding,” Legolas added on, smiling down at Y/n. “If it’s someone we know, perhaps we ought to go. Could borrow some cake?”

“I don’t think they’ll be wanting it back, somehow,” Y/n laughed, sharing the Elf’s smile.

Watching as they grinned brightly, and laughed together, the four Hobbits nervously looked at one another.

Oh, how desperately they needed their plan to work. Y/n would shrivel from mortality, before they even had a chance to marry themselves!

“Alas, we’re being rude,” Y/n dismissed, immediately moving forwards to hug all her friends. “It’s been so long since our last visit to the Shire! We’ve missed you all so much!”

“Likewise,” Sam warmly replied, hugging her tight. “We quite enjoyed the trek on over here too.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n excitedly asked, pulling back. “Legolas and I have been working on the trail leading in all year! We finally managed to grow the petunias you sent over as well.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Frodo smiled, now walking in tow with the girl and Elf, as they led them away. “So…speaking of news, has anything as of late occurred in Ithilien? Any news of courtship, perhaps?”

“From whom?” Legolas tightly asked, not at all liking Frodo’s sly connotation.

“Oh, no one in particular,” he lied, sharing a smile with the other Hobbits.

“Of course…” Legolas dismissed, nonetheless answering, as he walked through the botanical gardens. “Well, not to our knowledge, no…oh, but a wonderful pair of deer mated recently! We are expecting fawns any season now.”

“So are we,” Merry grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Having heard, with his Elven hearing, what the Hobbit said, Legolas confusedly glanced over his shoulder. Nonetheless, he merely only creased his features, before stealing a glance at Y/n. He then looked back up front, as they pressed on walking.

“Well, there is much ground to cover,” Legolas changed the topic, glancing up at the glittering trees. “We ought to start here first, so that we can make it back in time to-“

“Actually, Legolas,” Frodo interjected, coming to a halt, and causing the others to do the same, “we were thinking, on the way over here, that we ought to maybe split the group in half, so that we might finish earlier this time?”

Blinking down at the Hobbit, Y/n and Legolas knitted their brows. They then unsteadily looked between one another, before Y/n herself piped up again.

“Uh, sure…we can do that,” she said. “Any reason why, though?”

“Well, we do want to see your restoration project, and permaculture,” Merry began answering, chewing on the end of his pipe, “but, we’d prefer to spend some time with just you two as well. You know, at dinner and such. Don’t forget, we need supper as well.”

Looking between one another once more, and silently communicating, the two taller friends discreetly shrugged.

“Very well,” Legolas sighed, returning his attention to the Hobbits. “Frodo and Sam, you two can come with me. Merry and Pippin, you join Y/n. Oh, and Merry? Discard the pipe – there’s no smoking in Ithilien.”

Upholding both palms in surrender, Merry tucked the pipe away. As he and Pippin began following after Y/n, they both shared a sneaky grin with Frodo and Sam. They each all resolutely nodded at one another, before turning around to face back up front.

~

“Oh! Oh! Look!” Y/n excitedly pointed out.

Looking upwards, both Merry and Pippin observed a courting pair of bluebirds. They flew around one another, and landed in a little brown nest, high up in a tree.

Grinning brightly, Y/n breathed in the soft spring air.

“Oh, don’t you just love this time of year?” she wistfully sighed. “The courting animals, the romantic lighting, the little boats on the lake-“

“THAT’S IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Merry exclaimed. He clamped his ears tight, with both hands, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Merry?” Y/n asked in concern, swiftly turning around to observe him. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s WRONG?” Merry seethed, finally re-meeting her eyes. “YOU ARE, Y/N, THAT’S WHAT!”

“I beg your pardon?” Y/n bit back, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. “What did I do?”

“It’s more like what you haven’t done,” Pippin elaborated, ever-so-casually. “Actually, both you and Legolas, to be perfectly candid.”

Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, Y/n stammered over her words.

“I-I don’t understand-“ she tried to say.

“Yes, you do,” Merry interjected, using a series of hand gestures to further his point. “You like him. He likes you. It’s been like this since Rivendell – BEFORE we all set out for Mordor, mind you! Somehow, destroying that little ring was easier than getting you two to admit your feelings!”

Y/n was at a loss for words. Had it all really been that obvious?

“Yes, it really has been that obvious,” Merry piped up again, apparently having read her mind.

Slumping her shoulders, Y/n ran a hand along her face, and complained.

“This is really humiliating…” she said. “Do you think Legolas knows too?”

“Y/n, not to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure all of Arda knows,” Pippin winced.

Finding a park bench, Y/n sat herself down in a flush, and groaned.

“Well, whatever am I to do?” she asked, as her two friends each took a seat beside her. “I ought to tell him, I know that much, but I just simply cannot muster the courage.”

“Y/n, I’ve seen you slowly decapitate an orc’s head with a picnic knife,” Merry deadpanned, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I think you can handle telling your one true love how you really feel.”

Rolling her eyes at his choice of cheesy words, Y/n soon reeled them into her lap, where she picked at her thumbnail.

“Aye, that is true, but…” she pressed on, “well, look at me, guys. I’m a commoner, and no amount of true love is going to change that. He’s a prince, at the end of the day…what would everyone think?”

“What does it matter what everyone thinks?” Pippin encouraged, holding her other shoulder. “We, the Fellowship survivors, know above all else just how short life is. You can’t spend it worrying about what others will make of your happiness.”

Seeing the cogs turn in her mind, Merry squeezed her shoulder harder, and urged her to look at him.

“You love him, Y/n…you can’t delay any longer,” he said.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Y/n creased her brows. It was true, she loved him, more than anything else. Why should she deny herself that, based purely on what others would think?

“You know something? You’re right!” she resolutely declared. She stood upwards quickly, and squared her shoulders. “I love him, and I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks of my status! I’m going to tell him – today!”

Whooping and hollering, Merry and Pippin also both jumped to their feet. They pushed her along, as she began jogging away, to where she knew Legolas would be.

“That’s the spirit, friend!” Pippin cheered. “Go and tell him! And please make the cake red velvet at the wedding!”

Waving over her shoulder with a grin, Y/n pushed her legs faster, as to find Legolas, and finally reveal her heart to him.

~ In the botanical greenhouse, Legolas, Sam and Frodo all stood around – inspecting the many different pot plants.

“And this one is a young fern,” Legolas explained, holding a tiny plant up high. “I grew it myself from a seedling. I’m hoping it’ll soon have sprouts of its own, and raise a family, and-“

“Oh my goodness…” Sam sighed, folding his arms, and shaking his head. “You really are hopeless, you know that, right?”

“Pardon?” Legolas confusedly asked, lifting his eyes from the fern. “My apologies…if you do not like ferns, I could show you the-“

“Legolas…I think you ought to sit down for a moment,” Frodo interjected, gesturing to a wooden chair in the middle of the greenhouse.

Furrowing his brows, Legolas warily glanced between the two Hobbits. They stood in front of the chair, and folded their arms – very serious, indeed.

Slowly, Legolas made his way on over towards the chair, and sat down.

Instantly, the two Hobbits closed the greenhouse curtains all around, save for one. The only window left open served one ray of sun, which purely basked Legolas, and Legolas only, as if he were under an interrogation spotlight.

Squinting his eyes, and craning his head to move out of the light, Legolas spoke.

“Is the chair really necessary-“ he tried to say.

“Right, let’s cut to the chase,” Sam interjected, standing in front of Legolas with Frodo. “Y/n. You like her. She likes you. Now, why haven’t you courted her, and made beautiful children yet?”

Staring wide-eyed for a moment, Legolas parted his lips. However, swift in his archer’s mind, he soon sighed. Next, slumping his shoulders, Legolas responded.

“I suppose I haven’t been as discreet in my fondness as previously thought…” he mused.

“Not in the slightest,” Sam and Frodo said at once.

Twitching his lips to one side, Frodo softly stared down at his friend, and pressed on.

“Legolas…why haven’t you told her of how you feel yet?” he asked.

Lifting his eyes, and wincing them, Legolas considered his thoughts. He knew how much Y/n enjoyed her freedom, and he knew how restricting a royal life could be. He loved Y/n enough to not impose such a confining lifestyle on her – that was why he held back.

Exhaling again, Legolas knew he could no longer hide his feelings from his friends, and responded.

At the same time, just outside of the greenhouse, Y/n ran up to the door. Stumped for a moment, as to why the curtains were all drawn back, she nonetheless moved closer. However, upon hearing muffled voices on the other side, speaking of her in particular, she halted, and listened in.

“Are you jesting, Frodo? She’s a commoner,” Legolas said in frustration, shocking the girl outside. “Y/n and formalities simply do not mix. How could anyone ever love someone so different from themselves? Nay…I wouldn’t brew that situation.”

Having stumbled backwards in hurt, Y/n felt tears prick at her eyes. She raised both hands, and held them over her chest.

Before she could freely cry, she turned on her heel, and ran away. However, as she did so, she failed to hear the end of Legolas’ sentence, which defined the entire context.

“That’s why I can’t marry Y/n…she deserves better than what I could give her,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish for someone so free to be tied down to someone like me...I’m far too different from her.”

“Does Y/n not also get a say in the matter?” Frodo sincerely asked, studying his friend apologetically. “Y/n loves you, Legolas…you ought to at least give your courtship a chance, regardless of formalities.”

“Aye, Frodo is right,” Sam added on, nodding at his raven-haired friend. “You ought to at least speak to her. It can’t hurt…well, it can, but you’ll never know until you try.”

Sucking on his lower lip, Legolas knitted his brows. He considered his friends’ words, and mulled them over. It was true, he loved Y/n, and he was almost certain she him. Perhaps Frodo and Sam were right – simply talking couldn’t do much harm, could it?

Nodding his head, Legolas met the Hobbits’ eyes again.

“Aye,” he agreed at last. “You’re right, I ought to at least ask her!��

Swiftly standing, Legolas moved out from the chair, and headed towards the greenhouse door.

“We’re proud of you!” Sam cheered, giving a mighty few claps of his hands.

“Good luck,” Frodo smiled, nodding at his friend.

Nodding back once, Legolas beamed bright, and headed outside.

~

Having run away far enough, Y/n now trekked angrily through the forest. Her jaw was set, and her eyes burning. How could he be so nice to her face, only to say such horrible things behind her back? She cared not, for she would maintain the entire other side of Ithilien, from now on.

She, a commoner, would not dare stay with someone who cares so little for her. However, she soon heard a bright voice calling from behind. Turning around, she spotted Legolas swiftly jogging towards her.

“Y/n!” he called, wearing an excited smile.

The moment he jogged up to her, Y/n grew cold in her stance. She revered him with distrust, and anger.

This did not go unnoticed by Legolas, whose features dropped, and his mind wiped. He now sought to ensure she herself was okay.

“Are you alright?” he sincerely asked, brimming with concern.

Laughable, Y/n thought. How dare he pretend to care – right to her face as well!

“Never been better,” Y/n seethed, turning on her heel.

Stammering over his words for a minute, Legolas shook the odd mood in the air away. He followed after her, and shyly spoke – though, his words were hasty.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he began. However, Y/n wanted none of it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, your highness!” Y/n snapped, turning around once more, and angrily pointing at him. “I heard enough earlier.”

“You heard what I said?” Legolas repeated in horror, suddenly feeling his palms grow clammy – for more than one reason.

“Every last word,” Y/n replied, glaring across at the Elf.

Shocked by her attitude, Legolas was simply at a loss. He shook his head at the ground in confusion, and spoke.

“I-I thought you would have understood?” he said, lifting his puzzled eyes once more.

“Oh, I understand!” Y/n sarcastically started, rolling her eyes. “Just like you said yourself; how could anyone love someone so different?”

Truly hurt by her words, Legolas parted his lips. His eyes brimmed in anguish, as all his hopes were suddenly stomped on, and buried beneath the dirt.

“But…I thought that wouldn’t matter to you?” he said in a small voice.

“Yeah, well…I guess you thought wrong,” Y/n replied, scrunching her nose in disdain.

Turning on her heels, Y/n stalked away. Where she was heading? She didn’t know – all she knew, is that she could find some better and more loyal company, with just herself.

Left alone, Legolas stood in silence. What had just happened? She truly did not wish to court him, purely because of his royal status? Very well, then – he could do just as fine by himself.

Matching her anger, Legolas too stalked away, but in the opposite direction.

~

Sat down in the grass, and enjoying a picnic by the lake, Frodo and Sam basked in each other’s company. Merry and Pippin were off who knows where, and doing God knows what. However, all tranquillity soon came to an end, the moment a furious Y/n stomped past.

Staring between one another, and blinking in confusion, the two Hobbits quickly dropped their sandwiches. They rose swiftly, and chased after her.

“Hey! Hey, Y/n!” Frodo called, jogging to meet with her. “Have you found Legolas yet? There’s something you need to know. We spoke earlier, and-“

“Yes, I know you all talked earlier,” Y/n snapped, now recalling exactly whom Legolas spoke with before. She halted, and glared down at the two friends. “You’re all very good comrades, aren’t you? Well, if you are all such good brothers in arms, how about you go find him instead, and leave me alone?”

Noticing that she made a move to stalk away again, along the edge of the glistening lake, both Frodo and Sam confusedly looked between one another once more.

“I beg your pardon, Y/n,” Sam tentatively spoke up, watching her leave, “but I think you may have the wrong end of the stick here?”

“Oh, no, I think I have the exact right idea,” Y/n seethed, rolling her eyes. “I hope you all had a lovely time, speaking about me behind my back – and just a commoner? Really? We can’t all be from Bag End, Frodo.”

Confused, but only for a moment, the context suddenly clicked in Frodo’s mind. Racing forwards, he held Y/n’s hand, and kept her in place.

“Wait! You DEFINITELY have the wrong idea!” he exclaimed. “I know what you’re angry about, but you have to listen! He wasn’t talking about you in that regard – he was referencing his distress over taking you from your farming life, and placing you in royal formalities!”

“What are you talking about-“ Y/n had gone to say, with a yank of her hand out of his. However, Frodo’s words quickly met her mind, and ceased her tongue.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, now that made more sense.

Feeling a wave of shame wash over her, Y/n bared her teeth in cringe, and winced her features.

“Oh my…” was all she could say.

~

A little further off, but still heading towards the lake, and Legolas could be found in the same situation – however, only a few steps behind.

“You all come into our home, and plant ideas in our heads,” Legolas seethed, striding away from Merry and Pippin, “only to leave poisonous weeds instead! I don’t know what you’ve all done behind the scenes, but you’ve certainly made nothing better since your arrival!”

“Please, Legolas! Just tell us what happened!” Merry begged, struggling to keep up.

“Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I don’t know!” Legolas exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “One minute, the last time I was with Y/n, mind you, and we were happy! But the second I see her again, after she spent her morning with you two, and she turns like the tide on a wintery day!”

“That just doesn’t make any sense…” Pippin whispered, creasing his brows. “When she left us, she was on her way to tell you all about how much she wished to court you, and-“

Halting in his tracks, Legolas paused. Snapping his head over his shoulder, the Elf questioned the Hobbit, who quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“What?” he pressed. “What do you mean she was coming to tell me of courting?”

Looking between one another, Merry and Pippin sheepishly bared their teeth. Figuring the cat was already out of the bag, Merry turned back first, and revealed their agenda.

“Well, we somewhat…nudged…Y/n, to tell you of her love for you,” he said. “Last time we saw her, like I said, she went to find you in the greenhouse.”

Knitting his brows, and mulling the new bouts of information over, Legolas responded through a confused shake of his head.

“But that just doesn’t make any sense,” Legolas continued. “What could have soured her perception, from her journey between you, and the greenhouse-“

The greenhouse.

Oh.

Oh.

Having caught his own words, Legolas immediately knew what went wrong. She had thought him to be insulting her status, and he thought her to be rejecting his.

Running a hand over his face, Legolas growled in frustration. Why must love be so hard? Surely, beyond courting, marriage and children, things would be easier, would they not? Well, Legolas wasn’t so certain he’d find out now – not unless he tracked down Y/n in time, before their rift planted roots too deep.

“I need to find her,” Legolas frantically began, looking all around himself. “I have no idea where she’d be – she could be on the other side of the forest, for all I know!”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Merry interjected, staring behind Legolas with Pippin.

“How would you know?” Legolas confusedly asked, though, his frustration edged his tone.

“Just a hunch,” Merry said again, pointing behind the prince.

Looking over his shoulder, Legolas’ formerly hardened features softened. Y/n stood in the near distance behind him, and anxiously stared in his direction – like a deer caught in the headlights. She chewed on her lower lip nervously, and waited by the lapping water’s edge.

Catching both Frodo and Sam’s eye, Merry and Pippin each awkwardly began stepping away, as did the other two Hobbits.

“Okay, we’re just, uh…gonna go now, yeah…good luck,” Merry said, dragging his younger cousin away.

Swallowing his nerves, Legolas suddenly felt his knees buckle, and his palms grow clammy. Nonetheless, if he was old enough to court, then he was old enough to resolve relationship issues.

Breathing in a shaky breath, and releasing it through pursed lips, Legolas forced his feet across the grass, to where Y/n stood.

Feeling her own heart hammer, and sweat cling to her temples, Y/n shifted on her feet. She frequently looked between an approaching Legolas, and the lake beside her. Was love meant to be this scary? Would it always be like this? Or was this the end?

She figured she would soon find out, for the prince now stood before her.

Both said nothing. Instead, they merely stole glances, like so many times before, and looked at the rippling lake.

The sun basked them in a warm glow, and the wind blowing through the leaves nearby met their ears. Soon, however, a chilly afternoon breeze rolled through, and darkened the sky overhead.

With a shiver, Y/n wrapped her arms around her form. She rubbed up and down, as to bring the warmth back. She hadn’t been wearing a cloak that day, for she figured she needed none. This was, of course, against Legolas’ advisement earlier that morning.

Sensing her cold, Legolas finally studied her again. With a sigh past his nose, he shed his own cloak. Next, stepping forwards, and accelerating both her heartrate and his, he wrapped the green material around her shoulders.

Immediately, the cold of the world was blocked out. It even appeared as though the sun above had made a comeback – breaking through the otherwise grey clouds.

He held her shoulders, as he adjusted the cloak, and secured it over her form. Y/n watched his features, as they creased in both concentration, and consideration.

“Why would you do that?” Y/n asked, after a moment of quiet study – breaking the silence finally. “Won’t you now be cold?”

Although he did not feel the cold the same way she did, Legolas used the moment as an advantage – a hoist to deliver his most inner thoughts, in a way.

“Perhaps, but…I’d prefer you to be warm,” he said, having initially jolted at her sudden words.

“Why?” Y/n tightly asked. She knew why, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Swallowing down his nerves, Legolas slowly met her eyes. They brimmed with nerves, but also adoration – a combination of which Y/n shared. However, hers also bore eagerness, and anticipation.

“Because…” he began in a small voice, swallowing once more. “I…I, uh-“

“Yes?” Y/n whispered, leaning in closer.

Sighing, Legolas buried his nerves away, and did the most un-Elven thing possible. He swept Y/n into a tight embrace, and hugged her warmly.

Shocked for a minute, Y/n widened her eyes. However, she soon melted into his touch, and hugged him back.

“Because, I believe a partner should ensure theirs is okay,” Legolas finally revealed.

“Partner?” Y/n repeated, in a very small voice. “And by partner…you mean?”

“Someone I love dearly, and care about most ardently,” he softly replied, kissing the top of her head.

Stunned by his small gesture for a moment, butterflies fluttered in Y/n’s stomach. She then hid said nerves with humour.

“Well…that is definitely hard to misinterpret,” Y/n attempted to joke. However, her joy overwhelmed her, and she squeezed the prince harder. “If it’s any consolation, I love you too…and I’m sorry for my brash behaviour earlier.”

“Aye, I am as well,” Legolas grinned, swaying her in the sun. “So…this may perhaps be an ambitious request, but…will you court me? Royal status and all?”

“Of course,” Y/n grinned back. “But, will you court me, commoner status and all?”

Smiling brighter, and closing his eyes contently, Legolas continued on hugging the girl by the shore. He then softly answered, whilst the sun basked them both in a placid glow – perhaps a tell-tale of the many good days to come.

“Without question,” he said at last.