#please do not mistake this for excusing merlin's actions because it is not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mavkasilas · 3 years ago

Text

Soft spot.

@1littleshippergirl1

Might have some grammar mistakes but hope you'll like it

Prompt 15, 16 & 18

“Oliver, are you mad at me?”

No answer.

“Oliver?”

Again, no answer. Usually, it’s always Percy being the grumpy one but oddly, today’s Percy seems very concerned and on the contrary, their friendly Gryffindor’s quidditch captain seems very grumpy towards the head boy.

No one knows what happened between them, even though the twins claim that they’re the encyclopedia of Hogwarts.

“What have you done to our captain, brother?”

“Yea, spill the tea please brother.”

After Oliver walks away without giving any look to Percy, George and Fred immediately sit beside Percy.

“I… It’s nothing. Don’t be so nosy, don't you guys have an assignment to do?’

Percy wipes his face fretfully. He can’t say why Oliver is mad at him, if he told the twins Oliver must be madder at him. You can say it’s all about Percy’s pride, but most of it is about Oliver.

He can’t tell them that the reason Oliver is mad at him is that he broke Oliver’s flying broom. Yes, you didn’t hear it wrong. Percy broke Oliver’s flying broom.

“I got to go, Prof. McGonagall told me to see her. Don’t make any trouble when I’m not here, or else…”

“We knew, we knew.”

“Come on, have some faith in us. You got Harry and Hermoine here watching us.”

George and Fred shrug their shoulders in sync, giving out two big grin face making Percy more concerned about leaving these two pranksters without any big chain on them. Hope Merlin will help Hermoine stop these two greatest pranksters from blowing up the common room.

“I doubt that. Hermoine-”

“I will.”

With Hermoine’s promise, Percy can finally leave the common room. He feels his heartbeat is beating so fast that he thought he might be having a heart attack if they didn’t slow down. For Merlin’s beard, although this is not his first time using Prof. McGonagall as a leaving excuse, it still makes him nervous.

When Percy arrives at his dorm, he stops in front of the door. Not gonna lie, his hands are shaking. He doesn’t know Oliver will forgive or not, he wishes he could but deep in his heart, Percy knows the chance of him forgiving him is super low.

Thanks to his clumsiness and stupidness, now he might lose his only friend.

“Oliver?”

He pushes the door and spots Oliver’s lying on his bunk bed. Percy can’t see his face because he buried his face in a pile of his pillows.

“Ollie… I know you can’t forgive me but I'm sorry for what I’ve done to you. I don’t beg for your forgiveness but please, can you say something to me? At least a scold or anything.”

Percy sits on Oliver’s bed, gently pokes his shoulder.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?’

Finally, Oliver answered.

“I know you’re still very mad about me, but at least can we talk?”

“If you stop poking me.”

“I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me attention.”

“Then, leave.”

Percy couldn’t take it anymore. He sits on Oliver’s bed, crying like a helpless child. Tears pour down his eyes like torrential rain.

When Oliver heard him sobbing, he quickly get out of his blanket. He didn’t expect Percy would cry in front of him. Inside his memory, Percy will never shed a single tear in front of people or when he’s alone.

“Oh no. Shit, ok, ok. Erm- hey- No- Perce-”

Seems like today it’s not only Percy got scared but also Oliver. He never handles a crying Percy before. At this moment, he feels like his brain is stuck in a cauldron of mandrake’s potion.

“Hey, Perce. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No. I- I should- I should be the-the one who apologizes to you.”

“Ok, ok. I accept your apologies, ok? So, could you please stop crying for a moment?”

Listen to Percy’s little sobbing and stutter, which Oliver finds a bit cute.

“I-I can’t stop them coming out from my eyes.”

“It’s ok. Take your time, no need to rush ok? Just take your time.”

Oliver took Percy in his arms subconsciously and gently pats on his back, just like his mom always did to him. Oliver couldn’t believe that his actions will make him cry. His boy, his Percy, his little soft spot that no one knows.

Now, his heart is full of remorse.

At first, Oliver was really mad at him when he knew his flying broom is broken by Percy. But then when he started to calm down, he didn’t know how to face Percy after shouting those hurtful words to him.

He knew it was an accident and Percy didn’t mean it, but he just couldn’t hold it. Now, Oliver can finally understand the advice that is being told to him by his nanny.

“One of the most difficult things to do is to have your own a piece of cake and eat it.”

There’s someone who used to warn him about his passion for quidditch. They say if you can’t strike a balance between your life and things you are passionate about, one day you’ll lose both. He didn’t know what worst could happen if the prophecy comes true, but now watching Percy crying Oliver wish he could take back his words.

The boy he used to hate now has become a world he can’t lose it.

“Hey, do you feel better?”

“...I- I guess so?”

The small uncontrollable hiccups immediately blush Percy’s ears. He couldn’t believe he just had to cry in front of Oliver, like a child being abandoned by his parents. Now, he couldn’t do anything but buried his face into Oliver’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Perce. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I didn’t aware that I will cry too.”

“Honestly, you scared me so much.”

“Your ignored scared me too.”

Listen to the boy’s mumbling, Oliver feels more guilty about what he has done to him.

“It’s just… I don’t know how to face you, you get it? I just can’t believe how rude I’ve treated you. If nan and ma knew it, they definitely will send a howler to me. ”

Finally, something caught Percy’s attention. He lifts his head and stares into Oliver’s eyes full of curiosity.

“Why would your nan and ma send you a howler? No, wait- why would they know?”

“Well…”

Oliver scratches his head and avoids having eye contact with Percy. How could he tell him that every letter’s content he used to write to his family, most of them are about Percy? If he’s smart enough, surely he wouldn't open his mouth no matter whether Percy puts him under a crucio curse or not.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“So, does it mean you’ve forgiven me?”

“Not really, I'm still kinda sad about it. I didn’t know how to tell my dad about my broom’s condition.”

Oliver let out a big sigh then fell back on his bed.

“If you’re willing to let me help you, I can tell your parents it's my fault. I should be the one to take the accused, not you.”

“Really? What if you cry in front of my dad again? My dad is not like yours, a very serious person.”

Watching Percy blushes slowly became one of Oliver’s hobbies. It’s too cute to be seen by someone else, a shy Percy.

“Are you blushing right now? My, my, quick! Hide before Fred and George spread it!”

“Shut it, Ollie!”

“Merlin, you’re quite adorable sometimes. Did you realize, Perce?”

“I say shut it! ”

The more Oliver teases Percy, the more his face blushes. Percy hits Oliver with a big pillow as revenge, then it becomes a pillow fight. A pillow fight to celebrate their reconciliation.

For Oliver, seeing Percy shed a single tear in front of him has become his worst fear. As for Percy, being ignored has always been his worst fear and nightmare. He thought he has used to it but when it happens to Oliver, it turns out that he’ll never be used to it.

#percyweasleywritingchallenge #oliver wood #percy weasley #perciver #percy x oliver #percy weasley x oliver wood #harry potter fandom #harry potter #percy

96 notes · View notes

lisinfleur · 4 years ago

Text

Misunderstood

The request:

Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW Ivar II, posted for HTGI Event Words | 1415 ⁑ Warnings: Ivar’s self ableism again.

When you were dragged back to that hall, you were sure that, more than your father's image, you destroyed your husband's pride.

Putting a maid in his bed on his bridal night and running away the way you did was definitely not the smartest of your plans. But what could you do?

Entering that corridor like a dog brought back to its owner seemed better than ending up like a tattered doll, shared by her husband with all his brothers and the gods know who else.

So, although escorted by the men of Kattegat, you entered that room with your head held high, ready to face the consequences of your attempt to get rid of that cruel destiny.

"So, this is the woman who was supposed to be behind the veil of that over-covering dress in my marriage ceremony..."

That wasn't the voice you were expecting to hear.

Your husband would surely be the elder one! Your father said you would sit beside a king!

Who would be the king among the sons of Ragnar if not the elder one alive, Ubbe Ragnarsson, the sharer?

"I would have been pleased. Perhaps, if you'd chosen to be gentler, I would have spared you from the night by my side once it seems to be a nightmare in your eyes."

No!

The younger one walked forward, speaking imposingly. His sharp blue eyes freezing yours as he approached.

"But you chose to flee..." he said, standing in front of you.

Making regret fill your veins instead of blood, spreading like a cold sensation when you were able to read the deception inside his blues.

"I thought..." You gasped with the words.

Your eyes oscillated from him to Ubbe's figure, resting bothered beside the throne, leaned against a pillar as if the whole scene wasn't his business.

Ivar has not lost that detail. His eyes followed her gaze, trying to understand why, suddenly, the determined woman who entered her salon was shaking on her legs, exuding nervousness through her pores.

You watched as he followed your eyes towards Ubbe, curiously looking at you before he frowned, surprised.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

His voice sounded a little shrill, making you lose your composure even more than the discovery of your big mistake had done a few seconds earlier.

"I didn't know! I ... My dad told me ... I ..." You gasped again.

And this time, even Ubbe moved away from the pillar. Thoughts of him doing the obvious math of how absurd and surprising that moment was.

He'd calmed his younger brother when the discovery of your plan, but part of him had been hurt by Ivar's acid words about your decision.

What woman would do it differently under the obligation to marry a cripple like him?

However, it seemed that his younger brother was wrong for what could be the first time since he could remember.

"Did you think you would marry me?" he said.

Making it even more outrageous for you with that sarcastic smile on his lips.

Once again, you straightened your posture, looking at him on top of your arrogance as a woman proud enough to face her actions.

"I would rather die dry and shame my family than put myself under a womanizer like you, Prince Ubbe!" you answered.

Making his lips curve a little more, opening his smile when Ivar took a step back, and your father squeaked like a dying squirrel struck by your words.

"Mighty Odin! What did I do to deserve this curse?" he cried. "Forgive my daughter, Prince Ubbe, she ..." he began with his usual conversation about how you were as crazy as your mother was.

Of course... Because facing men or spitting out the truth, however crude, was crazy! It had to be!

You rolled your eyes.

"I am not a sharer, nor a doll to be shared!" you cut your father, maintaining your position concerning Ubbe, irritated his smile was bigger and bigger as you spoke. "I'm not going to submit to stupid games to your satisfaction, and I don't see what's so funny about what I'm saying, Prince!" you raised your tone when Ubbe couldn't help giggling.

"Well, brother," he said, not looking at you but at Ivar, whose eyes were fixated on you, surprised by your statements. "It looks like she didn't leave because of you, after all," the elder one giggled again.

And there it was again: your posture was completely destabilized by the realization of your grotesque error.

Your fiancé was neither Ubbe nor Hvitserk - another one you knew: he would follow his brother wherever the eldest went!

But you had tried to deceive Ivar, The Boneless. Just the most brilliant mind of its time! Just the only one among the children of Ragnar that you had sworn to accept without reservation.

"That's it?" Ivar asked, still shocked by the realization of what was really going on before his naked eyes. "Did you think your fiancé was Ubbe and were you trying to refuse my brother?"

You bowed your head, defeated.

"Gods!" your father exclaimed again. "What a shame!"

"If you only knew ..." Ivar started.

His eyes on yours like sharp blades, certainly ready to see clearly any lie in your next words.

"If you had known that I was the man you were going to marry, what would you have done?"

You lifted your head, looking him straight in the eye.

Your answer came so direct and clear that it was impossible to doubt your conviction.

"I would have been late for our ceremony, as I certainly wouldn't have been able to finish in time all the sacrifices I believe the gods would deserve for their benevolence regarding my destiny, my lord."

It was easy to see that your answer shocked him.

"Did you... Want to marry me? Were you refusing Ubbe on my behalf?"

"What's so surprising about that?" you asked, confused by his reaction. "Forgive me, my lord, but what has Prince Ubbe done with his life besides becoming famous for sharing his wives like toys? There is nothing about him to do in the halls of history, except the things he did under your brilliancy, my lord. You, on the other hand..." you said.

Feeling your cheeks slightly warm as you spoke.

"Your achievements are counted as legends wherever our steps can reach. How you've won York not once, but twice from the hands of the same Christian king that your plans bent to his knees. How could I not be flattered to be the chosen one of the man who defeated the untouchable Björn Ironside?"

"With my indispensable help," Ubbe finally spoke, feeling slightly diminished in his ego by your words.

A manifestation that you almost completely ignored.

As if Ivar the Boneless was not going to find a way to win that war whether Ubbe had turned against his older brother to help him or not! The news said that he was already winning even when all the brothers were against him!

You could bet that Aslaug's two eldest sons had only changed sides in the face of the obvious defeat!

"I think the first ceremony was worthless, and I believe that we can ignore this shameful moment in the history of our alliance if my father-in-law agrees to fund a new ceremony, so my fianceé and I can celebrate our wedding with real vows and in the right way this time. No more mistakes," Ivar said.

Almost blaming your father for the mistake you made.

On second thought... If he hadn't kept that secret about who he was engaged to...

"Oh, without a doubt!" said your father. "But allow me to introduce you to my second daughter. She is more like me than Y/N, who took after her mother."

You crossed your arms, ready to defend yourself against that absurdity.

But it was your future husband who touched your chin, smiling with satisfaction.

"I like this one. And I don't accept alliances if I'm not sure that my wedding will be with Y/N. By the way, no more veils." he completed, stroking your chin. "I want to be sure that I am marrying the woman I want this time."

You smiled. His eyes were full of satisfaction this time.

Your manner had somehow captivated him, and your smile followed the increase of his on his lips.

What was a terrible marriage had just become a dream for you.

And you definitely wouldn't miss your wedding a second time.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff || @ivarswickedqueen || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @elysias-temple || @alicedopey || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @readsalot73 || @rekdreams247 || @naaladareia || @laketaj24 || @therealcalicali || @grungyblonde || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake || @vikingsbifrost || @wallabieswisher || @cyarikashakira || @chinduda || @isthat-tyra98 || @xinyourdreamsx || @thiahilmarsdottir || @queenbeeta || @winchesterwife27 || @gold-dragon-slayer || @mzliterarydreamer || @youbloodymadgenius || @marvelouuse || @tgrrose || @lif3snotouttogetyou || @lordsexmachine || @deathbyarabbit || @ietss || @thorins-queen-of-erebor || @didiintheblog || @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r || @heavenly1927 || @alexhandersenx || @alexisshoto || @letsloveimagines || @astrape-the-weatherwitch || @destynelseclipsa || @charming-merlin || @violetidk || @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie || @ghvsts || @littlemoonchildbear ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #HTGI #shot

172 notes · View notes

lonelyghosts-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Peppermint and Pinewood

Peppermint and Pinewood (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Premise:

Draco Malfoy x muggleborn, Slytherin! Reader

Although the time setting isn’t too important, I envisioned it taking place somewhere in the fifth year.

Warnings: none really? I mean, I guess bullying, mild angst, and fluff lol. I dunno if Draco goes a little off-canon character wise here but I tried to make his personality as close to the source material as possible.

Word count: 4,581

Note: This is my first ever fan fiction I’ve ever written so yea.

Read it on wattpad too:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/244556691-peppermint-and-pinewood

It was another bad day. After getting yet another berating from Snape due to putting one too many dried lavender flowers in the Calming Draught potion and subsequently losing five house points from Slytherin, y/n found herself once again the target of insults and sneers. As if being a muggle born placed in Slytherin wasn't bad enough, it seems like every single mistake made, no matter how simple or innocent it may have been, was held against her as if it was the highest insult to the wizarding world.

Following a long walk down the hallway to her next class, a cold and judgmental presence drew near. With his steely gray eyes, Draco Malfoy looked down upon y/n.

"Well well... looks like the mudblood lost us even more points! As if it wasn't enough of a plague upon wizard kind and the Slytherin House to have a mudblood part of it..." Draco leaned in towards y/n towering over her by at least 15cm (about 6 inches rounded up) and continued "we have to further suffer your utter lack of any practical skills in class. I mean, bloody hell y/l/n! We've been learning the calming draught for what, the past three days? And you still managed to screw that up. If it was up to me, your kind wouldn't even be allowed in the magical world much less Hogwarts; as pathetic as this school is."

After the cacophony of insults and belittlement, Draco continued onward, gesturing his cronies to follow...

Only, they didn't follow right away. Crabbe and Goyle decided that it was their time to shine and decided to push y/n around, knowing full well she wouldn't do anything to stop them. With some rude comments and pathetic chittering of a laugh, Crabbe gave y/n one final shove sending her onto the ground and spilling out her supplies including books, quills, and a jar of ink. Despite the squawking coming from Crabbe and Goyle, Draco looked more bemused than anything. While he should be laughing at a lowly mud blood getting what they deserved, he felt empty. He almost pitied y/l/n.

"Crabbe, Goyle, hurry up or we'll be late to D.A.D.A. and I sure as hell am not losing any house points because of you buffoons." Draco demanded, leaving y/n on the ground, scurrying to clean up the mess.

Eventually one Slytherin classmate and their Hufflepuff friend spotted y/n and helped her clean up.

"Scourgify! There you go! All better now!" The Hufflepuff chirped as the Slytherin handed y/n the last of her things.

"Are you sure you simply tripped and fell?" The Slytherin doubted y/n's story. "I mean, you aren't the most popular nor liked in Slytherin."

"Oh uh yea. I know where you're coming from but I promise it was just a little trip. Just me being clumsy is all!" Y/n fumbled through her response. "But thanks for the concern Mallory!"

Mallory was one of the few Slytherins who didn't despise y/n for her blood status. Coming from a home where her dad is a wizard and her mom's a muggle, not even muggle born, she found herself sympathizing with y/n.

"Hey y/n, promise us you'll come for help if you really need it, okay?" Susan Bones the Hufflepuff, a caring and hardworking witch who, while maybe initially coming across as weak and a pushover, is not one who is past fighting someone in order to defend her friends.

"Yea yea I promise I promise." Y/n chuckled. If only Mallory was in y/n's dorm room. Things would be a lot better for sure.

After a couple more minutes of reassuring Mallory and Susan that she was alright, y/n begrudgingly made her way to her next class with her fellow housemates of the same year, Defense Against the Dark Arts. While not her particular favorite due to the inconsistency of the instructors, y/n found herself enjoying D.A.D.A. more than most classes due to not only the wide variety of skills and spells learned, but the hands on approach of applying said new skills in practical situations. It was certainly a sight to behold when she transformed her boggart from Voldemort to a mere Pansy Parkinson, shackled by her ankles no doubt by Filch. Of course this only earned y/n more nasty comments hurled her way as well as an unappreciated "gift" from an owl left on her bed, but y/n felt that the site was worth it nonetheless.

D.A.D.A. was unfortunately highly uneventful that day as the class merely reviewed the basic defensive and combative spells from previous years (a shocking amount of students performed poorly on the review exam and thus the whole class had to suffer). On her way out of the class, y/n was met by another Slytherin, none other than the she-devil herself, Pansy Parkinson. As if on cue, the moment y/n stepped out of the classroom and was out of sight of any faculty, y/n was roughly pulled by the hand and pushed into the neighboring, empty classroom by Pany who promptly closed the door behind her, holding it shut.

"Hey let me out of here! Pansy you downright insufferable git!" Y/n burst out, an uncommon instance that was released due to pent up rage from days of harassment.

"Nuh uh! Maybe when you learn your lesson that Draco is mine and you'll neeeveeer be more than a pathetic, weak, and intolerable mudblood!" Pansy chortled in a sing-songy voice.

"Pansy I swear to Merlin..." y/n started before stopping themself to recompose and calm down. "Pansy, I'm asking nicely... please, open the door. I have no clue what you are talking about with Draco, but you don't need to worry. I want nothing to do with that cocky, rude, hair-gelling bastard, okay?!"

"Augh?! You think that pathetic excuse for an apology is gonna cut it? Nuh uh! Maybe you need some more time alone to think about your actions, y/l/n. Colloportus!" And with that, y/n heard the doors click locked, Pansy mumble the anti-alohomora charm, and the ever fading footsteps of Pansy proudly striding away.

Feeling all of her built up emotion come to a boil, y/n allowed herself to blow some steam off while she was alone. Casting one destructive spell after another, the classroom suffered greatly from the y/n’s rage.

"BOMBARDA! STUPEFY! DIFFINDO! INCENDIO!" Y/n proclaimed with much fervor before stepping back in fear.

The last spell carelessly cast quickly caught the ratted tapestry curtains over the windows, sending them ablaze. In the panic, y/n stumbled back to the door before pounding on it wildly for help. Fortunately for her, her absence in her next class and last class of the day was reported and McGonagall was passing by to look for her. Quickly reversing the rushed anti-alohomora charm on the door and then following up by unlocking it, the door swung open as y/n fell through, almost onto the ground before catching herself.

After extinguishing the fire with a quick flick of her wand and a mutter of 'aguamenti' and long winded conversation filled with explanations, denial, and intense pleading, McGonagall decided it was in the best interest to remove 100 points from Slytherin for the utter lack of safety and human decency.

Of course this didn't go well for y/n. That evening she found herself locked out of her own dorm room as her roommates found the blame for the points lost resting solely on y/n. Making her way to the empty common room, y/n sat on one of the couches in front of the green, crackling fire. Equipped with nothing outside of her button up, vest, and pants, y/n used her robe as a blanket and cuddled up on the couch.

At that moment, y/n's bottled up emotion overflowed and she sobbed into the couch cushion. Feeling more like a burden than a human, y/n repeated in her head the insults she's heard many times. "Hinderance. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless..." she choked out between sobs. "Filthy... little... mudblood."

Before y/n could even get one wink of sleep, a door creaked open revealing the prince of Slytherin himself, Draco. Only, unlike most other times, Draco was sans henchmen. Presumably, Draco snuck out for one reason or another and was only returning about now. As Draco stepped into the light, he noticed a covered figure on the couch. Draco glimpsed at y/n h/l h/c hair, quickly deducing it was y/n.

"What are you doing out here this late, y/l/n?" Interrogated Draco. "Shouldn't you be in your room?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Wandering about this late at night, you could lose us house points or worse depending on what suspicious activities you are into." Y/n mumbled as she tried to tune out the excess noise, not caring anymore about how she responded to Draco.

"Harsh, but fair." Draco let out a rare chuckle.

For some reason, hearing Draco chuckle sent warm tingles throughout her body from one hand to another. This is just barely a fraction of a side of Draco she wished she could see all the time. Before getting too caught up in daydreams, y/n remembered it was Draco's fault in the first place that she's even locked out of her room at all.

"Well, to put it short, I'm still a, as you say, a filthy mudblood and it would appear as if torturing me and locking me in an abandoned classroom wasn't enough for them so they decided to lock me out of our own room." Y/n vented with both a sense of exasperated relief as Draco stood silently, stiff as a board, as if he was shocked as to what he was hearing.

Draco took a moment to drink in y/n. Her e/c eyes, red and glossy from tormented crying. Even in this state she was still breathtaking. Wait, what? Breathtaking? Draco suddenly forgot how to speak as his mind raced from his sudden observation. She's not pretty, right? She's just a muggle born, a disgrace to the wizarding world! Is that all she is though? And only a muggle born, not a mudblood? Draco panicked internally for a brief moment before finally recollecting himself and regaining his composure.

"Oh." Was all Draco could manage at the moment. Appearing deep in thought, Draco organized a response. "As much as I would love to hear more of your life problems, I have a room to go back to. So... um... good night..."

Draco awkwardly turned around and shuffled towards his room, pausing only for a brief moment and throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as if he was contemplating something. He quickly shook off any feeling of turning back and entered his room for the night.

The school year progressed without much of anything significant happening outside of the common bullying and stress of the holidays approaching. It was almost winter break and, as usual, y/n would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Her parents always took a long vacation over Christmas break and figured they would save money by leaving y/n at school where she would still get food and housing without them having to pay for an extra plane ticket. Y/n didn't mind too much. She had always been pretty independent from her parents, but she loved them nonetheless. They all loved each other but they weren't very affectionate about it, a factor that probably contributed to her apathetic approach to most things. While always hopeful to be invited to one of her parents annual holidays, y/n also looked forward to the more or less peace and quiet of having the common room and school mostly to herself with the exception of the other few students who also remained for the holidays.

Unbeknownst to y/n, ever since their interaction at night in the common room, Draco has been secretly watching her. While seeing her in such a devastated state should logically make him happy as she is only a muggle born, Draco felt anything but happy. It was almost like looking into a mirror for him, seeing her broken. It reminded him of his many nights of anxiety and depression after getting an earful from his father about how he wasn't "good enough" or constantly feeling inadequate compared to the "chosen one", Potter. From that moment on, Draco avoided y/n. Y/n didn't really think anything of it except that she appreciated the extended periods of peace and silence between the other students' insults. This of course only prompted Crabbe and Goyle to try to make up for their ring leader's apparent avoidance and growing distaste of picking on y/n. Fortunately for y/n however, Crabbe and Goyle were quite dim witted and easy to outsmart or avoid. Another development for y/n was that, after her time in the abandoned classroom allowing her to let off some steam, followed by her mini rant to Draco, she found herself able to stand up for herself a bit more, much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson. Now when Pansy strode up to y/n with a cocky and mischievous smirk plastered on her face, y/n simply looked on with a strong and unavoidable expression of mere annoyance and anticipation of disappointment. Pansy would try to insult y/n only for y/n to retort with a simple motion of dismissal or a clever comeback.

"Well if it isn't the local mudblood of Slytherin!" Pansy would shout with falsely placed pride.

"Well if it isn't the local tramp of Slytherin!" Y/n would respond with a mock curtsy. "What an absolute honor to be in your presence. Oh, and of course the presence of all the guys you try to hook up with."

Pansy would only stare on, gobsmacked and dumbfounded. She would walk away trying to act as if y/n's responses meant nothing to her, but her embarrassment would be evident with the bright red burning at her cheeks. Y/n would always take a silent pride in herself when she managed to hold her composure and deliver lines to Pansy that would shut her up without the need to stoop down the Pansy's level herself.

The days progressed even more until it was eventually the last day before the Christmas holiday. As the other students were packing their things and saying their goodbyes, y/n spent her time in the library or in the Slytherin common room, sitting next to one of the many windows looking out under the Black Lake. Y/n would often sit by the windows and look at the fish and grindylows swim by, almost entranced by the aquatic life that resides within the lake. Y/n always hoped to spot the giant squid someday, but outside of the rare silhouette of a tentacle, she was disappointed. Of course her biggest achievement of her many nights of lake gazing was when she spotted a mermaid right outside the window. The mermaid smiled a soft and ethereal smile before singing a peaceful song, lulling y/n to a restful sleep. Y/n would constantly be on the lookout for that same mermaid each night, even more so than the giant squid, but was unfortunately commonly met with mere fish or the occasional grindylow that would give her a wicked smile. At the end of the day, students began to turn in for the night in preparation for leaving bright and early in the morning to go home or wherever for their Christmas vacations. Y/n, on the other hand, stayed up, sitting on the couch and watching the green flames dance and in the fireplace. A wave of contentment washed over her as she looked forward to a peaceful break. She had just been told by Mallory that, while she was leaving for the holiday, Susan Bones would be staying as her she had no family to return to (her family having been killed personally by Voldemort in the First Wizarding War) outside of her aunt Amelia Bones who was attending to business all holiday. Y/n looked forward to spending some time with Susan, especially knowing how hard the holidays are for her due to her family's past. She has already planned on taking her to Hogsmeade for some quality time as a “girls’ day” together and to make sure that, despite her circumstances, she would still have the best Christmas possible.

As y/n sat alone, mesmerized by the fire and picturing her plans to hang out with Susan, none other than Draco Malfoy once again stepped into the picture. He didn't directly approach y/n, more or less standing off to the side and looking outward at the lake. Y/n eventually directed her attention away from the fire and noticed Draco staring out at the lake. He seemed a lot more fidgety than usual, almost as if he was nervous or dreading something. 'It couldn't possibly be he's not looking forward to going home, could it?' Y/n thought to herself as she observed Draco's body language. After a brief minute, Draco turned around as if to head to bed only to notice y/n staring at him.

"Ah! W-what are you doing here y/l/n?" Draco jumped slightly, caught off guard.

Y/n quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment from being caught. "I, uh, well..." she calmed down and recomposed herself, "if you don't remember, despite yours and most everyone else's wishes, I'm still in Slytherin so I have just as much of a right to be here as you!"

"Oh. Yea. I mean, that's not what I meant." Draco fumbled through his sentences, his nervousness becoming more and more obvious. "I meant, what are you doing here, here. Shouldn't you be in bed so you'll be ready for the holidays?"

Once again, y/n found herself saying, "I could ask you the same thing." Y/n gave a playful yet unconfident smirk.

Defying anyone's best guess, a faint pink rose to Draco's cheeks, completely catching y/n off guard. He quickly tried to laugh it off before continuing to uncharacteristically stumble his way through the conversation. "Uh, yea. My bad, sorry."

Once again, y/n was caught completely off guard. 'Did the Draco Malfoy just say, "sorry"?' Draco didn't even seem phased by the absurdity of what he just said.

Quickly moving on from what just happened, y/n spoke up, "Well, to answer your question. No. I'm not leaving for the holidays. I'll be here all Christmas break."

Almost as if without a second thought, Draco made his way over to the couch area, sitting on the chai directly across from y/n. His previous nervousness seemed to fade away as he responded, "So, why are you staying here? How come you're not going home or traveling somewhere?"

"Well, my parents like to go on big fancy trips for the holidays and they figure that they can save money by leaving me here."

"Oh. Does that bother you at all? That they just leave you behind while they go and have a great time?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to ignore how weird this whole situation is. "Not really. It's always been like this. They never really went on vacations outside of an occasional camping trip with me when I was still living at home and they wanted to take advantage of the situation of me being at a school away from home to go on a nice trip while I was being cared for. We still go camping over the summertime though, so that's fun."

Draco was amazed, listening intently to every word that came out of y/n's mouth. The concept of needing to save money was pretty foreign to him, but he found himself able to relate to her situation of not having the most affectionate family.

"So, what about you, Draco? Why aren't you in bed? No doubt your family has some extravagant plans for the holiday." Y/n asked, turning the tables on Draco.

As soon as she asked this, the previously present nervousness and dread returned to Draco's face. "Oh, uh, not tired yet. A lot on my mind..."

"Well, surely your family has something exciting planned. I mean, you are a Malfoy after all."

As if she just pushed a button, Draco seemed to flinch away at the mention of his family name. For a brief moment, his nervousness was overcome with an irritated, defensiveness as he snapped, "Well it's not all perfect like you so clearly think!"

Y/n flinched back as he shouted this, confused by the sudden change in attitude. Draco noticed her almost immediately shut down, losing any joy that previously graced her face.

"I-I'm... sorry... I didn't mean to shout." Draco sighed. "It's just that-"

"No, I'm sorry." Y/n interrupted. "I saw you were clearly uncomfortable at the first mention of your family and I shouldn't have asked again... you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

"Thank you." Draco simply said. He began to stand up to head to bed before y/n got to say one last thing

"Draco. I-", y/n cut herself off, questioning if she should really finish her sentence. "I'm... always here if you need anything. Okay? I may not know of your family's background or yours, but I'm no stranger to hardships. I'm always here if you need help with something or even just someone to talk to."

Draco looked at her with a face full of mixed emotions. Uncertainty, confusion, fear of letting someone in, fear of pushing her away, and more. He was quiet for about a whole minute as he stood there, looking at y/n.

"But, why? Would you care about me? I've been nothing but cruel and rude to you. Why would you care how I feel?" Draco suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"Just because you may not be the most pleasant person in the world to be around doesn't mean you don't have your own battles and issues in life, nor does it mean your issues are any less valid than anyone else's. You're still a human and... I care about you just like anyone else...", y/n looked down at the floor as she quietly said the last part.

Draco stood there, silent and uncertain about how to respond. Another minute of silence passed and, without a second thought, Draco turned around and walked to his room. Y/n kept looking down, berating herself in her head. 'You went too far you idiot! You just had to push it and make him feel uncomfortable...'. Y/n lied down onto the couch and closed her eyes as she tried to fall asleep.

As Draco walked away, he stopped for a second and whispered under his breath, "Thank you... y/n. Merry Christmas."

The night was rough for Draco; he couldn't sleep as he replayed the conversation in his head over and over again. When the time reached 1:30 am, Draco decided to get up and go for a brief walk to clear his head. He opened the door from his dorm room and quietly snuck out so as to not awake his roommates. Making his way down into the common room, he spotted y/n still there, only asleep on the couch. He quickly deduced she must have been locked out of her room again and that was another reason she wasn't in bed yet when he first came across her. He quietly walked over to her and looked at her. Despite her messy hair and unconventional sleeping position, she had a peaceful look on her face as she slumbered. As he turned away to continue his short walk, he heard a noise come from y/n. When he turned around, he noticed her shivering in her sleep. The fire had died down since he was last here and y/n was without a blanket or anything else to keep her warm. He wanted to relight the fireplace but he also didn't want to risk the sudden light waking her up. He eventually turned back to head to his room as y/n laid there.

The next morning, Draco and his friends were getting ready to leave the school and board the trains. A smirk was plastered on Draco's face, one which did not go unnoticed by Pansy.

"Hey Drayyyy!" Pansy cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. "What's got you so happy this be-a-utiful morning?"

Even Pansy's annoying presence couldn't dampen Draco's mood. "Oh it's nothing. Just looking forward to leaving this joke of a school is all." Draco proudly lied, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Despite many more attempts of learning what the truth was from Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, Draco remained silent on the truth.

Back in the Slytherin common room, y/n began stirring awake. Surprisingly, she slept through the commotion of the other students leaving for Christmas. Stretching and yawning, y/n stood up off the couch, accidentally dropping the jumper that was draped across her onto the ground. Without hesitation she picked up the sweater and slid it on, quickly leaving to brush her hair and get ready for the day to take Susan to Hogsmeade.

Once in Hogsmeade, y/n lead Susan to Honeydukes to pick out an assortment of sweets.

"Thank you so much for all of this, y/n. I really appreciate it." Susan beamed as she grabbed a chocolate frog with one hand as her other held a box of treacle fudge.

"Of course. It's my pleasure and it's a nice change of pace from a normal school schedule. And one never needs an excuse to go to Honeydukes!" Y/n responded gleefully.

After they made their way back to Hogwarts with their bounty of sweets and a few items from Zonko's, Susan led y/n to the Hufflepuff common room so they could indulge themselves.

After taking a big bite from a liquorice wand, Susan spoke out, "oh I've been meaning to ask you, when did you get that jumper? It's been cold all winter but I haven't seen you wear it all!"

Y/n looked down at the jumper. It was green and silver in the Slytherin colors with a big, snake S in the center. "You know what? I don't know... I just woke up this morning and it was draped over me. I'm not sure how I got it."

"Weird. Maybe you made an impulse purchase and completely forgot?"

"No, I don't think that's it. It's a little big for me too. Maybe Mallory bought it for me and left it as a surprise? I know she's a bit bigger than me so that would explain it."

"No that can't be. She got you a new scarf and matching mittens for Christm-shoot!"

"Susan!!!" Y/n burst out laughing.

"Oh no I'm so so so sorry!!! Please don't tell Mallory I told you! She's been planning this for a week! Please act surprised when you get it! Aghhhh I'm so dumb!" Susan panicked as her face flushed from embarrassment.

"Don't worry don't worry!" Y/n chuckled loudly. "I'll act surprised I promise!"

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Susan cried out as she stuffed her mouth with a pumpkin pasty.

The rest of the Christmas holiday was full of fun and funny times like this. For the first time in a while, y/n looked forward to getting up in the morning and seeing people. She would always wake up bright and early, brush her hair and her teeth, and slip on the mysterious oversized jumper. While it still bugged her and Susan as the jumper's origin remained a mystery, y/n was grateful to have it nonetheless on these cold, winter days.

It also had a pleasant scent of peppermint and pinewood cologne too.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #fanfic #fantasy #magic #fan fiction

213 notes · View notes

adenei · 4 years ago

Text

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 8

AO3 // FFN

Adjusting

“Mum, I really don’t think all of this is necessary..” Hermione said the following day. Her parents had both taken the day off to spend time with them, and Jean had whisked her daughter away for lunch and an afternoon of shopping.

“What? Being able to spend time with my daughter? When’s the last time we went shopping together? Hermione, dear, you are desperately in need of some new clothes! Plus, I want to help you find something special for your date tonight,” Mrs. Granger smiled knowingly.

Hermione sighed. Her mother was right. The clothes she did have were ragged from being on the run for almost a year, and it was nice to be able to spend time with her again. This was the kind of thing she’d hoped to do with her mother before sixth year started, when she thought she and Ron may be on the verge of something then. Speaking of…

“Mum, what did Ron say to you last night to change your mind about things?” she asked again, hoping she’d crack on the fourth try.

They’d been out much longer than Hermione had expected, which made her nervous, but when they’d returned, Ron looked relieved and Mum had a smile on her face. Hermione looked at her dad for help in gathering an explanation, but he simply shrugged. Even Ron was tight lipped about the exchange last night. That annoyed her, and subsequently cut into their ‘getting to know you’ time she was hoping for.

What Ron did admit was what her mother was planning for tomorrow evening. “She called to make a reservation at some posh seafood restaurant for us tomorrow evening.”

“All four of us?” Hermione asked for clarification.

“No, just you and me. She wants us to go on a proper date. Said something about checking the cinemas, too, whatever that means. Would you be alright to join me for dinner tomorrow evening, say, around 6:30?” he said with a chuckle.

“I’d be delighted,” Hermione played along. “But I’m not sure I have anything to wear,” she frowned.

“Right, I forgot that bit. Your mum’s planning to be here around eleven tomorrow to take you to lunch and shopping.”

Hermione smiled at the recollection as she browsed the current boutique they were in. They already had several bags between them of new clothes for Hermione. Several new shirts and jumpers, a couple pairs of jeans, trousers and skirts, and even new undergarments, which Hermione had been resistant towards at first. She was secretly happy, though because when she was ready to take that step with Ron, she wanted something cute or sexy and not just plain old boring cotton. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of wanting to be ‘sexy’ for someone.

She’d even caved and allowed her Mum to purchase a new swimsuit. It felt like ages since Hermione had worn one, not since their trip to France all those summers ago, and it took several choices (of both her own and others her mum tossed over the dressing room door) before Hermione had decided on a bright blue two piece with white polka dots. The top was modest enough with a twist front that had string ties in the back, and the bottom was somewhat high waisted, which made her feel more comfortable. Her mum had also picked up a couple beach towels and insisted Hermione buy flip flops, or thongs, as the Aussies called them.

“The weather is supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. You and Ron absolutely need to experience a beach day, so you’ll be prepared!”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Mum, are you trying to plan the rest of our stay here?”

“Of course not! I just want you both to experience everything we’ve grown to love about this little corner of the world. Plus, you both deserve a bit of a holiday after everything you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Hermione said, as she felt an overwhelming need to hug her mother right then and there.

Their last stop found Hermione the perfect dress for her date tonight. It was teal, and flowy with wide straps and a keyhole opening. A satin band gathered at the waist to provide some shape on her body, and the flowy skirt came to her mid thigh. It was the perfect balance of elegant, yet beachy, and her mum had found a wedge, peep toe sandal to finish off the look.

“Thank you again for all of this, Mum. Even after everything I did…”

“Hermione, you’ll always be our daughter, and I’ll always love you. I only want the best for you, and even though Ron’s made mistakes in my eyes, he’s certainly proved to me that he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, and I respect that.”

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve him.”

“It’s all about balance, my dear. Tell me, did you ever apologize to him about the canary incident?”

Hermione felt as though ice had been poured down her back at her mother’s words. She knew that she and Ron had gotten past the whole Lavender debacle, but thinking back on it, she realized that there never was an explicit apology for that.

“I- erm-” she stuttered.

“You really should. I raised you better than that.”

“You’re right. And I suppose I probably should apologize for attacking him when he came back as well..” she hesitantly admitted.

“Excuse me?” Her mother stopped on the sidewalk and looked at her. “I did not raise you to react with violence, young lady.”

“I know, I know! I just- I let my emotions get the best of me. I promise I’ll do better about keeping them in check.”

“I’m not the one you should be making that promise to, but I appreciate the intent.”

“You’re right.”

“Dare I ask what you did to that poor boy when he came back?”

“Umm, I used him as a punching bag, as Dad would say,” Hermione admitted.

“Oh, Hermione..I know you inherited my anger, but please don’t take it out on him like that.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.”

She knew it was wrong, and even though it wasn’t something she talked about often, she was ashamed of her actions. Pride and embarrassment had forced her to ignore bringing it up, but if they were going to start off their relationship properly, it needed to be discussed.

Hermione noticed her mum checking her watch. “We’ve got just enough time to get you cleaned up and ready for your date. I had your father bring a few items over to your flat when he went to pick up Ron.”

“Items? What do you mean?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Hair product and makeup, of course!”

“But-”

“No buts! We have an hour to get you ready before Ron’s due to pick you up.”

“He’s not already there?” Hermione was having trouble keeping up with her mum, both in walking speed and conversation.

“Heavens, no! It’s a proper date, remember? Now, let’s go!”

~o~

Ron was standing in the guest bedroom of the Granger’s home. He was looking in the wall mirror at his own reflection. His afternoon had been spent out with Hugo. He’d gotten a haircut at a local barber, found swim trunks for their ‘beach day’ tomorrow as Jean kept calling it, and an outfit for his date tonight. He was wearing a nice pair of trousers with camel colored dress shoes. His shirt was light blue with faint, thin pinstripe lines to give the illusion of texture.

For the first time since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, he was proud of the way he looked. Mr. Granger had a knack for muggle style, and even though he was older, Ron trusted his judgement. He reminded himself of one of those business lads that flooded the sidewalks on the morning and evening commutes. He felt bad, and had tried to pay for the clothes himself, but Hugo had insisted. Mr. Granger had offered to purchase more for Ron when he caught him eyeing a new pair of trainers, and jeans that might actually fit his long legs, but Ron politely refused.

“Ready to go?” Hugo called from the bottom of the stairs, drawing Ron out of his thoughts.

He couldn’t wait to see Hermione. It’d been a long afternoon without her. Especially because he’d grown accustomed to being with her day in and day out. They made the short drive over to the flat, where Jean was waiting by the door. She held the door open for Ron as she wished them well for the night and reminded him of how to get to the restaurant, which was about five blocks away.

He watched them go and then bounded up the stairs. He was about to just walk into their shared flat, but paused and remembered that this was a date, so he knocked on the door. Ron barely had to wait for Hermione to open it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the sight of her in front of him made his jaw drop and he was pretty sure his heart stopped briefly. She was gorgeous. Her mum had no doubt helped her tame her wild curls, and it looked like she was wearing just enough makeup to accentuate her features. Not like the grams of it Lavender would plaster on her face every day. Her chocolate brown eyes were brought out by a light layer of deep purple, which were staring at him in much the same way he was looking at her, with adoration. And Merlin, that dress. She wasn’t one to wear dresses casually. Not that this was casual or anything, but he’d only really ever seen her in her school uniform or formal wear. He needed to say something to snap himself out of it before he lost his senses completely.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“And you cut your hair,” she responded. “It suits you. You look really nice in muggle clothes.” Hermione smiled shyly at him.

Ron smiled back at him as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. Why did this feel so weird? This was Hermione, his best friend. “Should we, er, get going? We’ve got a bit of a walk.”

Hermione nodded as she grabbed her purse and locked up. Ron held out his hand and she took it as they made their way down the sidewalk towards the restaurant. They were quiet for a while, until Hermione finally said, “Is it just me, or does this feel…”

“Weird?” Ron finished.

“Yes!” Hermione said through an exhale.

“Yeah...what’s wrong with us? We haven’t changed or anything,” Ron joked.

“I know,” Hermione said. He noticed her blush in the soft glow of the streetlight.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that- nevermind, it’s rubbish,” Hermione talked herself out of saying what she was thinking.

“No, tell me. Please?” Ron urged gently.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just worried I’m going to mess this up. I don’t want to do or say anything wrong,” she admitted.

“Me too,” Ron agreed. They walked another block or so, double checking street signs so they didn’t miss a turn.

“Do you think it’s like this for all couples who were friends first?” Hermione asked him.

“Er, yeah, could be. Never really thought about it, though.” Ron admitted.

“So, then, maybe we should just act like nothing’s really different. Let’s not put extra pressure on anything,” Hermione suggested.

Ron chuckled. “That works for me. I think this is it.” He pointed to a sign just up ahead.

They checked in at the hostess stand and were seated at a table on the edge of the main dining room. It felt more private than some of the other tables in the center of the room, and gave them a spectacular view of the ocean lit up by the moonlight.

As Ron began to look at the menu, he noticed the prices. It was expensive. They ordered their drinks from the server, and then they were alone again to look over the menu.

“Er, Hermione,” Ron said, getting her attention. She peeked at him from over her menu. “I don’t know if I have enough to, er…”

He saw her eyebrows raise in understanding. “Don’t worry, Mum gave me her credit card. It’s taken care of.”

“But your parents have already done so much for us,” Ron protested. “And it’s our first, er second, date. I should pay..” That’s what a true gentleman did, wasn’t it?

“Please, it’s okay. They want to spoil us,” Hermione told him.

He sighed and gave in. It was either that or insist they leave, which could cause a scene and he didn’t want that either. “So then, what would you suggest for a meal?” he asked her, looking at the varieties of shellfish that he’d never had.

He ended up settling on a pasta dish that included a variety of seafood. Scallops, shrimp, and clams in a light wine and butter cream sauce. Hermione had chosen a salmon dish over risotto, and they’d split an appetizer of crab stuffed mushrooms. The meal was delicious, despite Hermione having to help guide him through eating so he wouldn’t accidentally consume any shells.

They were browsing over the dessert menu as Hermione said, “Seafood always tastes better when it’s fresh, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure it does, not that I have much to compare it to. We’ll have to find a place when we’re back in England so I can see if there’s a difference.”

His heart skipped a beat as he watched her face light up at his suggestion. “I’d like that.”

Their desserts came shortly after as they talked about what they wanted and needed to do when they got back to England. Ron had opted for a chocolate mousse cake, while Hermione chose creme brulee. She began picking at it about halfway through.

“Everything alright?” he asked her.

“Yes, of course! I’m just getting full, that’s all.” He could tell when she was lying because she didn’t make eye contact.

“Hermione…”

“I’m sorry about attacking you with the canaries sixth year,” she said through a grimace. “It was, um, brought to my attention that I never actually apologized about it.”

“That’s what was bothering you? It’s ancient history, Hermione, it’s fine.”

“See, you always say that, but it’s not. I can’t just physically hurt you when I’m angry at you. Like when I punched you after you came back to the hunt..”

“It’s...alright. I was a prat, too,” Ron tried to make her feel better.

“Yes, but you’ve never physically hurt me. I promise I won’t do that ever again. I’ll keep my emotions in check.” She met his eyes this time, indicating her sincerity.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ron smiled. “Now, can we discuss something a bit more light hearted?” He suggested.

Hermione smiled gratefully as she took another bite of her dessert. “Did you want to go to the cinemas?” She checked her watch. “If we hurry, the one Mum suggested starts in twenty minutes just down the street.”

“I don’t know. As much as I’d like to experience it, I think I’d rather take a walk on the beach if you wanted to.”

“I like that idea so much better,” Hermione smiled. “Mum will forgive me for not following her plan completely, I’m sure. Besides, I’m sure some movie will be playing on the telly when we get back.”

“Brilliant!”

After they paid for their meal, they exited the restaurant and crossed the street to one of the many public entrances to the beach. They chose to walk along the water where the sand was a bit harder, and headed in the direction of their temporary flat. Hand in hand, they meandered along.

“The waves are so much calmer here than at Shell Cottage,” Ron remarked.

“That’s because the weather is much nicer. Every body of water can be rough and choppy or smooth with gentle waves,” Hermione explained.

He knew that, of course, but sometimes he loved to listen to her explain things. It had become a sort of comfort to him years ago. He just pretended it annoyed him to get under her skin. “Do you know how many times I hoped that we could experience something like this, but was convinced we’d be dead by the end?” he asked softly.

“I know. We nearly were...several times,” Hermione said.

“How’d we make it out? How’d we get so lucky. We shouldn't have..” Ron had to catch himself before he went into a spiral as he was reminded of who they’d lost. Fred, in particular.

“Don’t think like that,” Hermione said gently as she squeezed his hand. “We are still here, and you know he would want us to make the most of that.”

She somehow always knew what to say when it counted the most. Ron felt a rush of emotion flood over him. He loved her so much. His feet stopped right there, and he pulled Hermione back when she kept walking and was caught by her fully extended arm, their fingers still intertwined together. “You’re right. And I’m the luckiest bloke alive to have this chance with you.”

The setting was perfect. Sand beneath their feet, the moon and stars shining down on them, creating a soft glow of light, and the gentle crashing of waves close by. He pulled her close to him, bending down to kiss her. Ron felt her arms snake around his waist, while his own split duties. One hand cupped her face while the other snaked in her hair.

He deepened the kiss and allowed himself to forget they were on the beach as he became lost in her. All he could feel was her, as he hesitantly grazed her bottom lip with his tongue. She opened her mouth further, granting him entry, as his tongue gently moved in and explored her mouth. She eagerly met his tongue with her own as Ron’s hands began to move down her body.

He wanted more. Not that he wanted to rush things, but he was so overcome with want that it was hard to think straight. It took a car horn blaring from the streets to draw them back into reality. They reluctantly broke apart as he sought her eyes with his own.

“I think we should get back to the flat,” Hermione said breathily.

Ron simply nodded, not trusting his voice. They’d have plenty of time on the beach tomorrow.

#ROMIONE #hp post war #hp australia #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione

34 notes · View notes

winnsmills · 5 years ago

Text

right out of a book (1) - draco malfoy x reader

this is my first fanfic ever aaahhh idk i’m such an amateur lol

also english is not my first language so if you stumble across any mistakes language-wise, feel free to inform me and please (please please) let me know what you think since this will probs be about a couple of chapters. (three to five-ish? i’m not really sure we shall see hehe)

plot: draco malfoy thinks the reader doesn’t know anything about him, and is determined to keep it that way. that might change once she actually learns he is rather similar to a character in the books she’d read...along with the rest of the world. muggle!reader. sulky!draco (although i’m convinced this doesn’t really need an exclamation mark haha). enjoy!

warnings: not really...one or two curse words, draco being rude lol

word count: 1169

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy could safely say that he could believe whatever was thrown in his face. All sorts of plot twists, espionages, even the weirdest conspiracies (he had once read that Harry Potter was actually an alien and was here to report all the secrets of Wizarding World to the fellow members of his species – and he thought that it would certainly explain his lack of brains). But if someone had come along and told him that he would have to live in Muggle London for Merlin knows how long, he would’ve told that person that they were absolutely bonkers.

Alas, that was exactly where he found himself.

“Come on, this won’t be that bad, Malfoy,” Zabini had told him, “Even if you stayed in the Manor, you wouldn’t be able to roam the streets anyway. After the Battle, your face might as well be on posters that say ‘Wanted’ in all capital letters. At least no one will know who you are here. No one will know about your past.”

Draco liked to think of himself as at least somewhat logical. Unlike certain Gryffindors, he knew there was a fine line between courage and stupidity, and he was adamant not to cross it. But there were expectations that came with his infamous surname, some kind of fate even, determining his actions even before he was born. All the things he did, he did out of desperation. He didn’t have much of a choice anyway.

So he became a Death Eater. And tried to kill Dumbledore. And helped other Death Eaters break into Hogwarts. His criminal record…was not the best, to say the least. So yes, he knew Zabini’s words made sense. He knew that was the logical thing to do.

But there was not a single bone in his body that agreed willingly to what he said.

He certainly did not look forward to mingle with those sorts, let alone not being able to use his wand. Maybe he could redeem himself, he thought. Maybe he could go up to Potter and tell him that he did all of what he did because he wanted him to be seen as a bigger hero. He could potentially tell him I was always on your side, mate, but the words weren’t convincing even in his brain, let alone coming out of his mouth.

So, it was down to one single option. As usual.

On his first day, he had sat in the couch and just frowned until evening. He didn’t know what to do, how to make things work without magic. Maybe he could actually die out of boredom and get this whole runaway thing over with.

His frowning session got rudely interrupted with a continuous sound of doorbell, and he just groaned and waited for the person at the other end of the door to go away. He gave an exhausted breath when the ringing stopped, but he was too optimistic, especially for a pessimistic sulking arsehole like himself. Ringings turned into knocking and eventually a female voice.

“I know you’re in there!” you called behind the door. “I heard you groan so don’t even attempt to pretend you’re not home.”

So he unwillingly got up and forcefully opened the door with an unamused look on his face. “Could you stop ringing the door for Me- fuck’s sake! What the hell do you want?”

“Not a nice way to greet your neighbour for the first time, is it?” you asked, with an offended look on your face. “I just wanted to bring you some food since you just moved and I figured you didn’t have anything in your fridge-

Fridge? he thought. He technically knew you spoke English, but he could barely understand half of what you were saying. Everything seemed foreign and unusual, and he was once again reminded of the fact that he was in a world he was not familiar with. Not that it ever got out of his mind.

-I may have ringed the doorbell a few times more than usual but that was because I knew you were home and it certainly does not excuse your behaviour! Especially when I am the one with the food in my hands!” you finished rambling with an angry tone. He had just realised that you were holding what looked to be as some sort of a pasta dish, and even though he really, really thought you were very annoying and intrusive, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was also very hungry. So he did what every Slytherin with some self respect would do – he played his cards accordingly.

“Look…”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Look, Y/L/N. I’m sorry, okay? I just moved here as you have kindly noticed and I am not in a very good mood – you constantly ringing the bell did not help either. But again, I’m sorry, alright? You didn’t really deserve that.” – he didn’t believe his last words, but he was saying what he had to say. He had learned ever since he was a child that you couldn’t say what you genuinely think all the time. You need to know when to speak and when to shut your mouth, his father used to tell him. Words have power. It is up to you to use that properly.

“Anyways, thanks for the food.” As he finished his words, he grabbed the baking dish from your hands before you could change your mind and tried to close the door, but he should’ve known that you weren‘t going to leave so easily.

“Wait!” you called after coming out of your state of shock, which was just before he was closing the door, and it took Draco all of his willpower to not roll his eyes and huff with annoyance. “You didn’t tell me your name,” you said with a hint of blush on your cheeks.

“Doesn’t really matter,” said Draco, not finding the power in him to even utter his own name out loud to someone who didn’t know it. You were that someone, someone that didn’t have a single clue about his name, fortune, past, present and possible future. You were just someone that had brought him food (like a saviour, but he would never admit that, especially to you) and annoyed him. It was actually refreshing.

So that was how you found yourself as, standing in front of your new neighbour’s door with your lips slightly parted. You had never met anyone that rude in your life, and even thought about not actually giving him the dish since he had oh so nicely put that you ringed the doorbell a bit longer than usual – no more than 15 seconds, might you add – but you were actually intrigued about your new neighbour. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why, but you tried to reason with yourself that he actually did seem very upset, and he did apologise in the end, which resulted in your next action:

Ringing the doorbell. Again.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #x reader

94 notes · View notes

hogwarts-riddle · 5 years ago

Text

Eternalism: Chapter II

The trip back to Gryffindor Tower was just as rushed as the trip from. Hermione couldn’t help but glance back every now and then, halfway convinced that death eaters were going to appear out of nowhere. Deep down, she knew that she was most likely being paranoid as there had yet to be any real signs that the school was under attack. The warning bell would have surely gone off if it was.

While Professor Slughorn hurried her off to the Hospital Wing, which was where they had decided to prepare to send her off, Professor McGonagall went off to fetch Harry and Ron as per her request. She wasn’t about to leave them behind without at least saying goodbye.

If she was going to leave this time behind to correct Dumbledore’s mistake and save the world, she wanted to at least say goodbye to her best friends. Dumbledore had said it himself. She wouldn’t be coming back. And if, by some chance she did get to see them again, she would likely be old and grey.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them when they got there, looking rather worn and tired. It was almost as if the medi-witch had aged ten years since the last time she saw her. Clearly she too was suffering under the effects of the school’s lock-down.

“Is everything ready?” Pomfrey asked.

Slughorn nodded. “Minerva will be arriving soon with the time turner. She just went to collect a few things for Miss Granger.”

The nurse nodded her head, casting a sympathetic look at Hermione before moving past them into her office.

As Slughorn escorted her over to sit down on one of the beds, Hermione couldn’t help but note how his usually big rosy cheeks had lost all color, and how his eyes held a slightly haunted look to them. He was worried, and she honestly couldn’t blame him.

“You, my girl, might just be one of the bravest student’s I’ve ever known,” Slughorn broke the silence that had washed over them. “I don’t know many who would have been willing to take on such a task as this.”

She managed to give him a weak smile. Despite his propensity to show favoritism, she couldn’t say that he was a bad man. He certainly made a better Potions Master than Snape. Unlike Snape, he actually cared about the well being of his students.

“Do you really think I can do this? Do you think I can save Vol- er, Tom?”

Professor Slughorn got a far off look in his eyes, as if remembering something from a long time ago. No doubt it had something to do with Tom.

“I believe that there is hope for him, especially with you in his life,” he explained. “Tom never had any real friends. Those he surrounded himself with were only there because he was powerful and charismatic. He was good at getting what he wanted and they knew that.

“It might not be easy, but if anyone can save him, I reckon it’s you.”

She thought about her potions master and how he must feel. This was one of his favorite students, or so she had been told, that she was going back to try and save. And if it worked out as she hoped it would, she might be able to save Harry’s mother, Lily, as well. He too was counting on her to succeed.

“I’ll do my best for all our sake's, sir.”

He smiled over at her appreciatively.

They sat there, returning to a comfortable silence as they waited.

Just then, the door slammed open and in came Harry and Ron, followed shortly after by McGonagall. Scanning the room quickly, it didn’t take long for their eyes to find her and hurry towards her.

“Hermione!”

“Please tell us it’s not true,” Ron pleaded.

“Read for yourself,” Hermione told them, handing them the scroll.

The boys read through Dumbledore’s last words with increasingly widening eyes. By the time they were finished, they both looked as though they were ready to resurrect Dumbledore just to kill him again with their bare hands.

“He’s mad if he thought for one second that we were gonna let you go off and do this on your own,” Harry declared, his fists curling up into fists.

“I mean, it’s Voldemort for Merlin’s sake!” Ron exclaimed. “He’ll rip you to pieces as soon as he finds out you’re muggle-born!”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off before she could do so.

“How dare you dishonor Dumbledore’s noble sacrifice!” McGonagall snapped. “His greatest concern was the well-being and safety of everyone in this school! I highly doubt he would ask this if he thought we had any other choice.”

As much as Hermione wanted to take sides with McGonagall in defending the late headmaster, she found herself unable to do so. After everything that Dumbledore had put her and her friends through over the last six years, all for the so-called greater good, she couldn’t help but doubt the nobility of his actions.

“Come on Mione, surely you can see how dangerous this task is?”

She nodded her head. “I know exactly what it is he’s asking of me, and honestly, had it been just for his sake, I probably would have refused it, but think of all the good I could do if I succeed. All the lives I could save.”

She forced herself to look away, fearing that she might change her mind if she looked at their faces for even a minute longer.

“I’ve always wanted to make a difference, to make the wizarding world a better place for everyone. This is my chance to do that. Please, let me take the burden of saving the world off your shoulders for once, Harry.”

She waited for one of them to continue arguing with her, to make another excuse as to why she shouldn’t go. Moments passed yet no one spoke. She lifted her head back up just in time to see Harry step forward and pull her into a tight hug.

“You truly are the best friend I have ever had.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him back. It definitely made it a bit harder to go, knowing that she might never see him again, yet at the same time it also gave her a new source of determination. She had to go, not because anyone was forcing her to, but because people like Harry deserved more than what life in this broken war-torn world had given them.

Pulling away, he reached out to wipe away her tears with his fingers before he stepped back to Ron’s side.

“I’m going to miss you Hermione,” he said with a sad smile.

Meanwhile, Ron was staring at the two of them as if they were speaking some sort of foreign language. “Are you serious? You’re just going to let her go?”

He nodded his head, “It’s her choice.”

She couldn’t fight the tears that continued to come. “Thank you for understanding.”

With that out of the way, preparations for her journey began.

While McGonagall filled everyone in on what was going on outside of the castle and the death eaters that had been spotted marching towards the school, Madam Pomfrey returned from her office with a set of vintage looking children’s clothes and a letter, setting them down on the bed beside Hermione. Slughorn pulled out a vial filled with what looked like murky green water from the lake, handing it to her.

It was then that McGonagall stepped forward to explain the plan.

“The potion before you is something of an aging potion, rather with the opposite effect. With this potion, you will be aged back down to that of a child, around the age of ten we’re thinking.”

“Why would you turn her back into a child?” Ron interrupted. “Wouldn’t it be easier to save the world as she is?”

McGonagall glared at the red-headed boy, causing him to shrink back.

“I assure you, Mr. Weasley, we are doing this for a reason,” she told him before turning to face Hermione again, reaching into her pocket and holding up the silver time turner. “For you see, this time turner is set to place you just outside of Wool’s Orphanage in London on the date of June 15th, 1937.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her as to what they were planning. “You want me to meet Tom Riddle before he comes to Hogwarts?” she assumed.

McGonagall and Slughorn nodded their heads.

“The potion has been charmed to be more permanent, making it so that you will age alongside him,” Slughorn added.

She had to admit that it wasn’t a bad plan. The idea of meeting a child version of Voldemort was a lot less intimidating than meeting him as a sixteen-year-old, who had probably already made at least two horcruxes. Though, she couldn’t say that she was particularly eager to go through puberty a second time.

McGonagall explained a bit more. Once at Hogwarts, she was to try and remain as close to Tom as possible in the hopes that her friendship might be enough to lead him down a different path, hopefully a better one.

“Let’s get on with it then.”

Shooing the men away from the bed, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall put up dividers all around her bed as they urged her to undress before taking the potion. As grateful as she was for the dividers, she still felt rather embarrassed about stripping naked in front of the medi-witch and transfiguration professor. Though, she supposed that she had no real reason to be.

“I warn you, the transformation might hurt a bit,” Pomfrey warned her as she handed her the vial.

Shutting her eyes tight and pinching her nose, she brought the vial up to her lips and downed the murky liquid as fast as she could, willing herself not to think about it or the fact that it tasted vaguely like seaweed. After a few moments, she managed to swallow it down.

Madam Pomfrey plucked the vial from her grasp. “Brace yourself!”

No sooner had the medi-witch spoken, then she felt herself begin to change. Pain shot through her whole body, forcing her to collapse back onto the bed. Her bones felt as though they were slowly breaking apart one by one. Her skin felt as if it was on fire, melting clean off of her.

As her brain became overwhelmed by panic, she couldn’t think of anything to compare the sensation to. Only that it was ten times worse than the time she accidentally turned herself into a cat.

In her agony, she couldn’t help the scream that tore out of her lungs.

“Hermione!”

The two older witches had to hold her down as she thrashed about, clawing at her skin. They tried to comfort her as best they could, reassuring her that it would be over soon and apologizing for making her go through this in the first place.

Gradually the pain began to dullen to a manageable ache. Flooded by relief, she began to breathe deeply in and out to calm herself.

“It’s over now.” She felt the older witches release their hold on her.

She delayed in doing so for a few moments as she waited for the pain to pass completely, a feeling of numbness taking its place. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she slowly opened her eyes, starting with one and then the other.

The first thing she noticed was that both McGonagall and Pomfrey seemed to have grown. She was about to question it when she remembered the reason for the pain. Her eyes snapped down to look herself over.

To say that it was weird seeing her body reverted back to that of a child was… weird, to say the least. Her legs were short and not as slim as they were, same with her arms. The weirdest part was probably the fact that her breasts were gone. They had never been that big to begin with, but it was a bit frustrating as she had been just starting to get over her body insecurities.

Opening her mouth, she could feel that her two front teeth were back to being several sizes bigger than they ought to be. “I don't suppose you could…”

Madam Pomfrey nodded her head, understanding immediately what she meant. With a wave of her wand, she cast a shrinking spell on her teeth. It felt a bit weird, but not nearly as bad as the de-aging process itself. The next time she reached in to touch her teeth, she could feel that they were back to being the same size as all the others.

“Thank you,” she gave the medi-witch a small smile.

With a sigh, she got up and started to change into the child sized clothes she had been provided with; a pair of simple black buckle shoes, a pair of white socks and a floral print dress with a sash fastened around the waist and a bit of lace trim around the collar and sleeves.

Then McGonagall took on the seemingly impossible task of styling her hair. With some time and no small amount of effort, McGonagall managed to tame her wild curls, tying it back with a ribbon to keep it out of her face.

By the time she was handed a mirror to look herself over, she barely recognized herself. She looked like one of the old dolls she had as a child, which she supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The goal was to make her fit in with the time period, and as far as she could see, they had done a good job.

Pleased with her appearance, the dividers were pulled away, revealing her new appearance to the men waiting on the other side.

Slughorn smiled at her, nodding his head in approval while Harry and Ron just stood there staring at her with their mouths gaping open.

“Bloody hell…” Ron muttered.

She rolled her eyes at them. “It’s not polite to stare, you know.”

It took them a few moments to recover and shut their mouths, and even longer to find their tongue’s.

“You look great, Mione.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at Harry’s compliment. Even she had to admit that she wasn’t completely hideous. Although, it still felt rather weird for them to look so much taller and more grown up than her.

“Now, we shall go over the cover story we have come up with for you,” McGonagall said, carefully slipping the time turner around Hermione’s small neck. It was a bit big on her child sized body, but she didn’t worry about it too much. “Your name is still to be Hermione Granger and you are a muggle-born whose parents have recently died in a car accident. With no other family to take you in, your neighbours brought you to the orphanage and gave you this note to give to the Matron.”

Madam Pomfrey held the letter out to Hermione.

Reaching out, she took the letter and turned it over in her hands to examine it. It was written in an elegant spidery handwriting that she didn’t recognize. She assumed that it was Madam Pomfrey’s.

“Is that agreeable to you?”

Hermione nodded her head. It was simple enough, without deviating too far from the truth.

“You will not have your wand with you, so I would advise that you head straight towards the Orphanage upon your arrival, but before you do so, we must ask that you destroy the time turner. No one must know the truth of how you came to be in that time. From this moment forward you belong to that time. The future you come from will be no more.”

She gulped at that piece of information. Deep down she had known that would be the case all along, but now that she was hearing the exact words coming from McGonagall’s mouth, she couldn’t help but be hit by the full reality of it. This was not just some dream that she would be able to wake up from and find herself safe in the Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Ron. This was all too real.

Still, she was determined to go through with it. She had come too far to chicken out now. There was no turning back.

“I understand.”

Everyone stepped back to give her space as she took one last look at those with her.

She wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall would still be at Hogwarts the next time she entered it’s gates. The only one whose presence she knew for certain was Professor Slughorn, and of course, Dumbledore would be there as well. It wasn’t much, but it gave her a small amount of comfort to know that there would be a couple of familiar faces.

Then she turned to Harry and Ron, taking in every inch of their appearance as if to memorize what they looked like. They had been through a lot together and though she wouldn’t wish such dangers on anyone, she had to admit that it had created an unbreakable bond between the three of them. She would always remember how they risked their lives to save her from that Mountain Troll in first year and though she might never see them again, she vowed to keep them alive in her heart.

“I’ll miss you all… so much.”

With nothing left to do, she reached down and started the time turner, watching as it began to turn rapidly.

The world around her vanished into nothing as she felt herself being sucked into a void of nothing but empty blackness. It felt kind of like apparating and yet, at the same time it also felt kind of like that time when she had port-keyed to the Quidditch World Cup. Either way, it made her feel like she was going to throw up.

She was left floating in the empty void for what felt like an eternity before she felt herself being sucked back out and she soon felt her feet land once more on solid ground.

The next thing she knew, she was standing at the end of a darkened city street, a row of identical looking Victorian townhouses on either side of her, and standing straight ahead at the other end of the street was a tall imposing building with a sign above the gates that read ‘Wool’s Orphanage’.

She had made it…

#tomione #tomione fanfiction #tomione fandom #harry potter #harry potter edit #harry potter fandom #hp fanfic #HP #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #eternalism

18 notes · View notes

prijaavery · 4 years ago

Text

PART III.

1:00pm Tuesday; 30 June 1979

{PART I, PART II}

If she could have stopped her hands from shaking, she would have. Try as she might, they tensed and the pages held within them fluttered as one by one she flipped through the parchment. There, on top, a photo of her (and there was no mistaking it was her) on a couch in the Slytherin Common Room, a boy (and there was no mistaking it was a boy) too close to her, his hands Merlin knew (and Atticus too) where. She swallowed the lump in her throat, because she knew who that boy was and she knew what day this was and she knew what had happened on that couch with that boy and she knew that Atticus knew—if not who, then at least what had transpired. Another, from the same day, in that same spot, as she slipped the wedding ring from her finger.

But it was not the worst thing she found in the envelope. Copies of her outgoing owls to Mason (had Atticus put the trace on her? Could he put the trace on her?).; a series of photos as she pulled her wedding dress from the closet in Avery Manor with Alecto and stole it away, and then more as she laughed and laughed at Gobstones club while the fabric was ruined in ink. Next followed transcripts from her classes, nearly all of which she was failing. That was hardly the mark of a girl so dedicated to her studies that she had to stay at school even though she was freshly married and well provided for. A receipt for a spontaneous tattoo, a photo of her dancing with Asher at a wedding, her invitation (unanswered) to the Nott and Travers wedding she had cancelled on last minute faking ill and then evidence she had certainly not been ill, leaving Atticus to attend alone.

The world fell away. The noises of the restaurant, the dialogue in her head, even Atticus across the table were just memories now as she fell into a panicked darkness where her vision was only clear enough that she could see the evidence as it stacked against her, each photo and transcript and stolen letter or incriminating receipt out of the Gringotts vault another nail in a coffin she’d built herself. She didn’t have time to think up an excuse, not for all of these things. Prija stood at the bottom of a mountain, a boulder barreling towards her, only to realize her feet were stuck to the ground and her only protection was a faulty umbrella. Perhaps there was no excuse.

It was Atticus’ hand that pulled her from this internal frenzy, firm on her knee under the table. “Do you like your gift?” he asked her. She wondered if his voice had always sounded like a whetstone, like the thing that sharpened the knife of his actions. He squeezed her thigh, hard, as if worried she’d try to run. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She knew it wasn’t just his hand keeping her there. He’d have his wand pointed under the table, too.

“How did you—”

Atticus laughed then, easy as anything. “You don’t know me at all. And how could you, spending the first year of our marriage away at school? It’s my fault,” he labored a sigh through his nose. “I thought we understood each other. Have you not seen the home we share? I like for my things to be kept in exactly the place I left them. And how do I do that? My elves. Did you think I wouldn’t employ some eyes to look after you? And oh, the things those they eyes saw... But!”

She flinched.

“I understand.” His fingers ceased their digging into her flesh. He leaned back. What? she thought. With heavily ornamented fingers he gestured to himself. “I’m an old man, and you are entitled to your youth. I’m not cruel, Prija.” But she could see now just how cruel he was. “I will forgive you.” She waited for the condition with breath held. “But you won’t step out on me again. In fact,” his lips curled up, he was enjoying this, “you won’t step out at all. You’re leaving school after today.”

Across the table he slid her another piece of parchment. It was a withdrawal form, and at the bottom—she gasped—her signature, and there was no mistaking that it was her signature. The loop of the letters, the haphazardly dotted i. She thought back to how impressed she’d been this morning at his command of a quill, of all things. Now she saw it was her demise.

“Listen to me, and do so carefully.” His voice had dropped, any mirth he’d had before was lost now. She could see in his eyes that if they were not across from one another at this table in public, his hands would be around her neck. “You are mine. I will do what I want with you, you will do what I command of you, and like everything I own you will serve your purpose. If you don’t think you can uphold your end of our arrangement, however.” One brow rose high. Another note slid across the table. Her eyes read the words but she could scarcely take them in as she left her body. It was a suicide note. Her suicide note. Only she hadn’t written it, he had.

Two slips of paper before her. Two ways to repent for her contraventions.

When she looked up and into his eyes, she knew what the options were before her and how impossible of a net they wove. She would live out the rest of her days at Avery Manor, the home she’d coveted, as a silent and dutiful wife. She’d pour him drinks and host grand parties and she would do everything she had dreamt of, and she would walk around with shackles on her ankles all the while. Perhaps literally he might shackle her, when they didn’t have guests.Would he? It sounded ridiculous. She realized without much thought that he would. Already he had one wife locked in them.

He had said he liked his things to stay put, and she believed that to be true and him capable of enforcing it. This was her future, or she had no future at all. He would kill her and play the mourning husband for a week, maybe two. Then it would be someone else in her shoes to replace her, The Wife, in his collection of precious items. He was a curator, Avery Manor his museum. She’d collect dust there, or she’d die.

Prija read the note again, and wanted to weep. What hurt her the most to read was how it (she?) talked of how unhappy she was, how she longed for death and an escape from the mundane life she was trapped in. It hurt because for the first time in her life she’d been really, truly happy. It couldn’t be further from the truth, and yet it was believable. The young, wild girl chasing after older men and money. Unfaithful, ungrateful, a villain taking her own life to repent for all the sins she’d committed against her blameless husband. And Atticus, the tragic bachelor, who had the worst taste in women with one in jail for murder and the other mentally unfit for this life.

As she looked at it she knew he’d offered a choice, but there wasn’t one. Not really. Prija nodded her head in understanding and tucked the envelope under her arm. “I’m sorry,” her voice cracked. Was it truth or was it fiction? She was sorry, but not for this, and not to him. “I’ll come home. I just—”

“—Have to collect your things, say goodbye to your friends,” he finished for her. He truly was smiling now, because he knew he had won. He’d have won either way though. You couldn’t lose your own game. “Please, by all means,” he gestured towards the door. She could see that it elated him even more to set her free, knowing there was nowhere for her to go once he did. She’d come back. He’d made sure of that. “Prija,” he commanded as she stood. “A goodbye kiss for your husband, I think?”

Her skin crawled as she obliged. He enjoyed it more for the fact she didn’t, and kept her close as he hissed out his parting words. “I can’t wait to see you at home.”

#drabble #*#suicide mention

8 notes · View notes

anothertinystory · 5 years ago

Text

A short tale of (In)convenience🎄

[ Dramione Christmas Oneshot ]

» “This isn’t at all convenient.” He lets out a soft laugh. “No it isn’t. Not in the least.” «

*note: I’m not an english native speaker, so please excuse any grammar mistakes. I’ll gladly fix them, if you point them out to me.

It's December. To most people that translates to Christmas season. Hermione Granger can be counted amongst those people and she probably would be in spirit for the holidays, if it wasn't for her current dilemma.

“What is wrong with you, Malfoy?” They're in an empty hallway and the Blonde is currently holding onto her falling frame from behind. “That wasn't me, Granger. Stop blaming others for your lack of capability to walk like a normal person.” “Don't be an idiot. Oh wait, it's too late for that, you already are. Now, would you let go of me, please?” He does as he's told and she tries again, stepping forward in order to get away from him. But apparently fate has different plans, because she doesn't make it very far before, with a swooshing sound, she's catapulted backwards, once again.

“Oh for Gods sake. What now?” Hermione sighs in annoyance, until a second later realisation makes her eyes go wide. Oh, no no no. Please, let it not be what I think. “Dear Merlin. What is it, Granger?” She turns back around to him, focusing on the ceiling above. Hermione closes her eyes in annoyance and tilts her head back, groaning in the process. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Draco, still confused with her behavior, looks up then, eyebrows raised. When he catches up with their current misfortune, he looks away, rolling his eyes and mentally cursing. “Brilliant.” At that, Hermione opens her eyes again, glaring at the Slytherin. “Trust me, I didn't ask for this either.” Mentally, she goes through her options. The problem is - there are none. Except for one. In that moment she desperately wants to hex the twins for coming up with this ‘invention’. An enchanted mistletoe. How much more clichéd could it get?

Draco's voice shakes her out of her thoughts. “What now?” The mild irritation in his tone, aggravates her even more. “You know what. This is a Weasley special. There's no way around this, as far as I know. Those idiots. Can't come up with a useful product for once.” She starts walking in a circle, testing where the barrier starts. It's more to keep her preoccupied than anything. “We could wait and hope someone gets us out of this”, she suggests. Draco scoffs. “Of course. Let others catch us in a situation like this. I'm sure, they won't talk.” He sighs deeply, turning his gaze away from her moving frame. “Seriously, Granger. Don't be daft, it doesn't become you.” Hermione shoots him a nasty look, crosses her arms and starts to shrink the scale of her walking path, circling him.

“I am so sorry, I almost forgot. You have a reputation to lose. There's so much at stake here. Someone could think you and I met in the hallway by accident and got stuck under a bloody enchanted mistletoe.” The brunette slightly raises her voice at the last part. She gives him a sardonic smile. “We wouldn't want that, would we?” He shoots her a wry look before muttering under his breath. “The things I'd do for a little peace and quiet.” Hermione rolls her eyes but doesn't stop walking. She only turns around to circle him clockwise now. “I'll make sure, they get rid of these—”, she gestures upwards, “the minute I get out of here. I wouldn't want for anyone else to have the misfortune of being stuck underneath a mistletoe with you.” Draco raises an eyebrow. “Of course you wouldn't.” The amusement in his eyes vexes her even more. “I'm serious. I already feel sorry for the unfortunate soul that will have to keep up with you one day. I'm not sure anyone has the mental strength for it, truthfully. Remind me to–”

One second she's ranting, the next she feels Draco's hand on her upper arm, pulling her towards him. His hands reach out to grab her face and next thing she knows, he's kissing her.

Hermione's eyes instinctively shut close at the impact. His lips are warm and to her surprise very lovely. It's a stark contrast to the cold hands, resting on either side of her face. Her heartbeat, the traitor, picks up its speed immediately. She can practically hear it echoing in her ears.

She feels the pressure of his lips shift against hers. Automatically, her hands move up to rest against his chest. After a moment Draco pulls away, but only slightly, his eyes remaining shut for a moment longer. When Hermione's eyes flutter open, he's looking at her with an expression she's certain, she won't be able to forget. She lets out a slight breath, staring right back. From up close she can see the flecks in his grey eyes, the paleness of his lashes.

His gaze settles on her lips and she feels herself mimic the action. “What did you want me to remind you of?” His voice is low and it's not exactly helping her to form coherent thoughts. She just continues to stare at his lips. She will curse herself later for not pulling herself together, for letting Draco Malfoy render her speechless, but in that moment she can't help herself. Her eyes find his again and the Slytherin looks both surprised at himself and uncertain about her reaction. He seems hesitant to move and she notices that his hands are starting to get warmer from the contact with her skin. How this plays out, Hermione realises, depends on her now.

“Send my condolences.” That confuses him. He backs away slightly to look at her with furrowed eyebrows. “What?” She gives him a mischievous grin. “You were supposed to remind me of sending my condolences to the person that will have to keep up with you one day.” Draco blinks. Once. Twice. Then he backs away from her with an unreadable expression. “You're insufferable, Granger.” That has her laugh. “Let's not say things we don't mean, Malfoy.”

She moves closer to him and with every step, she feels him tense up more. When they're mere inches apart, he starts striding backwards. One step, then another. They repeat this, eyes trained on one another the entire time until Hermione stops. “You're free to go, you know?” Judging by his expression, he only realises this now. The mistletoe is no longer above their heads, but a few feet away. Draco nods slowly, holding her gaze. “So are you.”

It's only when they hear footsteps approaching, that they break eye contact. They part ways, heading in opposite directions in a frenzy, but Hermione isn't even aware of her destination.

She stops after a while, in the middle of a corridor, her mind spiraling from whatever it is, that just went down between her and Draco Malfoy. He kissed her and she liked it. A lot. Her brain cells must be damaged. She must be either sick, disillusioned or this is all just a very odd dream. Instead of pondering about her mental state any further, her awful brain starts to revisit the memory of his lips and eyes and hands and... Great, just great. She should avoid him from now on.

Hermione stands there, frozen in place, lost in her thoughts. Which is why she doesn't realise someone approaches her from behind, until she's spun around. She almost jumps at the contact. It takes a second for her to realise that Draco stands before her again and when she does, the witch feels herself exhale, closing her eyes in relief. She opens them again and the first thing she notices, is the intensity of his eyes.

The Brunette opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn't get to. One hand encloses around her waist, the other returns to it's former spot on her jaw and in an instant she feels Draco Malfoy's lips on her own again.

It's amazing how fast one can throw their resolves out of the window, if the chance presents itself.

The kiss is more urgent this time. It makes her dizzy and against her will, she feels herself sinking into him. Turning weak in a Slytherin's hands should feel a lot worse than it does. Her own hands find their way to his shoulders. She probably ought to be embarrassed but this feels too good for her to care. His hand pulls her closer, if at all possible. Draco shifts the kiss into something else then, his lips moving excruciatingly slow against hers. It's heaven and hell all at once.

If Hermione were capable of thinking in that moment, she would probably lose it at the fact that they are in a hallway, in plain sight and that she is, as they say, fraternising with the enemy. The thing, however, is that with his lips on hers, she doesn't manage to think at all.

When they part, neither of them is ready to let go yet. Hermione's eyes remain closed. Draco rests his forehead against hers. He watches her, she can feel it. It is only when he whispers her name, that she opens her eyes and sighs.

“This isn't at all convenient.” He lets out a soft laugh. “No it isn't. Not in the least.” His thumb caresses her cheeks and they smile at each other.

“My condolences by the way, for putting up with me.” Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “I hate you.” Draco only grins. “Let's not say things we don't mean, Granger.”

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates and strength to those who, for personal reasons, have a hard time during this time of the year!

#dramione #draco x hermione #harry potter #oneshot #christmas fiction #it's an AU #but then again isn't every dramione story?#i didn't specify their age or the place on purpose #wether they're in hogwarts or at the ministry or somewhere else is up to your imagination #such a cliché #yet here i am #light fluff

44 notes · View notes

futurewriter2000 · 6 years ago

Text

Second chances

A/N: I’ve been feeling this fic all day and I have finally finished it. I really like it tho, idk why but I also feel like it’s kind of crappy. I just read other writers’ fics and they are so much better written than mine. I don’t know how else to feel but that my writing is missing like this big piece of everything that a good work should be. Anyways hope you like it.

REQUEST: Okay so since you are doing requests could you do this one? James potter x reader, super angsty, reader sees James cheating on her. James feels horrible and apologizes to reader 1003939 times but she says no even tho she has feelings for him and soon her friends are like "bruh tf you doing?" And she forgives him. Fluff at the end! It kinda sounds like "friends, love, Nothing" but that was literally my favorite series

A month. A month has passed and he was still persistent on apologies and excuses.

Every day, he has been doing nothing but apologize and as much as it gave you power in the beginning, it now gave nothing more but an annoyance.

“ Look!” you turned around sharply and pressed your finger against his chest. “ I have done nothing but love you, James. No matter your flaws or your arrogance, I loved you and the worst part is that your mouth is saying the same words over and over again yet your eyes don’t show even the slightest bit of guilt.” you kept glaring at him.

“ But I truly am sorry. I should have never-”

But by now his voice became muffled. It was never in the words for you. Everything you believed was in actions, not words. So, as you observed his mouth moving in the repetitive word ‘ sorry ‘ and ‘ I love you ‘ his eyes were telling you differently.

His eyes, the brown and green mass where chocolate was overruled by the emerald - those eyes; they were telling you words such as ‘ It was a stupid mistake. Forgive me already and be mine. ‘ and those words were louder than the ones coming from his mouth.

Without any other thought, your eyes locked with his. His mouth twisted in a devious smirk and without any further warning, tears fell down your cheeks. Your shoulder crashed into his and you started walking forward but before your tears could hit the ground, you took the last chance to look at him.

His eyes - so full of emerald and chocolate color were now like a forest after a storm; filled with guilt.

His mouth was shut, his gaze following the ghost of you when you turned around the corner. Was it the sudden realization of knowing that you might not be coming back to him? To his embrace? To lose the person he told his deepest secrets? Not only the loss of the person but the laughs and the safest place for him?

---

A new day but the same old pain. The same day of grasping the pillow that hasn’t smelt of him anymore and crying in his Corks shirt that lost the wonderful smell of amber.

The memories, no matter if they were about the two of you arguing or laughing, they stung like poison and that kind of pain was the most fatal one. To you, seeing him made you hard to breathe, having him look at you made you want to scream all the agony he put you through.

If he knew how truly hurt being betrayed the way you were.

But if you only knew that on the other side of the tower there was a boy thinking the same thoughts.

If it wasn’t for the Scottish whiskey Remus brought that night. If it wasn’t for the shots he was so keen on drinking, mixing up the previous argument the two of you had over the most meaningless thing and alcohol, he wouldn’t do what he has done that night.

And if it wasn’t for you coming to apologize, the kiss would have gone further but it didn’t. It didn’t yet the thought that it might have if you wouldn’t stop it, was the thought making him clutching one of many shirts you have left behind, the smell still present after a month. His roommates were asleep so the last thing he wanted to do was waking them up by crying. So he brought the shirt up to his nose and taking a deep breath of your shampoo and without notice, a sob escaped him.

---

The next morning, Saturday, you were stubborn of rather starve than to see him.

“ No.” you kept laying on your back and glaring at the ceiling while your stomach let another growl. “ No.”

---

It was still a no when you decided to jump around your room, looking for matching socks and still walking out with blue-white instead.

And the stairs, that usually led down to the common room were now turned into a slide and you thought that every single girl in the Gryffindor tower knew which boy tried to climb those stairs.

The boy that no matter what he did still manage to place a smile on your face.

You sat down on the slide and with your white and blue socks slid down, giggling meanwhile. No matter how old you appeared to be, sliding was still bringing you joyous feeling.

The blue sock was the first to step on the floor of the common room and pushing yourself up, so did the white. You’ve found your mismatched socks quite adorable at the very moment, remembering how you used to dance around your room back home to the radio. With your siblings, parents, friends, alone... or with James.

You walked towards the portrait hole but before you could climb out you’ve felt as someone was there. So, you turned around and found a pair of hazel eyes watching you, his mouth shut.

And now, at this very moment, you saw his mouth shut and his eyes begging you to come closer to him. To love him - to please love him.

“ Why aren’t you down at breakfast?” you tried to sound casual, swaying your feet closer to him.

He put the comic book to his side and sat up, looking at the table in front of him and placing his hands there for no apparent reason. “ I- uh- I thought you’d be there. Why aren’t you at breakfast?” he asked though could not feel more stupid as he said it.

Of course, the reason was too obvious.

“ I thought you’d be there.” you were now sitting on the other side of the sofa, your hands under your thighs and your feet swaying back and forth.

“ I- uhm.” he cleared his throat trying to speak. “ I-” he stopped and took a deep breath in, turning his whole body to face you and trying to catch your gaze. “ (y/n). I can’t say this if you’re looking at the floor.” he spoke softly and with taking a deep breath yourself, you looked up at him and waited.

And as always, your eyes - since the moment he saw them - their colour seemed to charm the safety around him and all that was left in this world was you and him.

“ There was always you and me. Always us.” he started. “ I thought that we will always stay us. That we will always come back to each other because we have always been such great around each other. There were arguments but there was always more love in our relationship that the stupid and meaningless fights we had. I took all of your love- all of it, for granted and I can never forgive myself for what I did. Even when I try to, I hate myself because of it. If it wasn’t for you, (y/n). If it wasn’t for your smile, your laugh, your wonderful eyes and everything you were able to give me - I wouldn’t be who I am. I wouldn’t be the better that you made me and I am truly, sincerely sorry for everything that I have done to make you feel as if I don’t love you.”

“ James-”

“ No, let me finish. “ he cut you off. “ Because I do love you. I love you so much that I’d bleed for you and I don’t deserve a second chance. Merlin knows that all I deserve is some pinhead that will treat me like the shite that I am-”

“ Don’t say that.” you now sat close to him and took his hands in your own.

“ No. If this bloody month taught me anything it was that I should have never done what I did. I should have never betrayed you as I did.”

“ Yeah. You shouldn’t have but you know what my mother told me. She told me that second chances sometimes work out better than the first because you learn from your mistakes. And I know that we were never perfect, to begin with, so I say we turn a new leaf and start over.”

“But-”

“ I’m willing to forgive you, James. I’m willing to let go of the pain you’ve put me through, the memory you’ve done so great of imprinting in my head... I’m willing to let it go for you.” you put your hand on his cheek as he did the same, pressing his forehead on yours. “ And you? “

“ I’m willing to love you with my heart, my body and every single nerve I have. To keep you safe from any pain and agony, caused by anybody, even me. I love you and that’s all I’ll show you from now on.”

#James Potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #sirius black #sirius black imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #peter pettigrew imagine #peter pettigrew #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #the marauders #marauders era

249 notes · View notes

dominant-muses-rp · 5 years ago

Text

Looking for RP to help me through the quarantine! [MxM]

Hello lovely person reading this!

Due to the virus quarantine I suddenly find myself with a lot of extra time on my hand and what better way to spend that time than by roleplaying? I'm really looking for something more fast-paced at the moment, especially since I'm stuck at home with nothing to do. I'll go into just exactly what I'm looking to RP, but first of all, a little about me:

I'm female, 21+ and my time zone is GMT+1. I'm an experienced writer and roleplayer of 10+ years. I exclusively write in 3rd person/past tense and would prefer for you to do the same.

English isn't my first language but I'm pretty comfortable with it and I always try to keep mistakes to a minimum. Despite that, I hope you will excuse the occasional mistake! I would really prefer for you to have good spelling/grammar as well, but of course I'm not super pedantic about it and don't mind typos from time to time. Nobody's perfect, after all!

I'm normally not super available due to real-life obligations but because I can't go to work and uni at the moment I have a *lot* of extra time to spend on roleplaying so while I usually prefer slower-paced RPs (think something between one reply per day to once every couple of days) at the moment I'm mostly looking for a more 'rapid-fire' one, so similar time zones would be great but aren't a must.

I'm a literate RPer who can write posts up to around 1,500 words if this is what my partner prefers but since I'm looking for a fast-paced RP at the moment. I would prefer to stick to shorter posts. I'm fine with any length, as long as your replies aren't just one-liners.

Due to the whole quarantine situation I'm fine with doing a short-term RP, although I usually prefer having long-term partners!

I love chatting OOC, not only to discuss plot-related stuff but also to get to know who I am RPing with but it's not mandatory and if you'd rather not that's A-okay!

I prefer character-focused RPs, I'm not too good at writing action scenes and I tend to get bored of those rather quickly. I'd rather concentrate on my character's feelings and his interactions with your character and focus on exploring their dynamic.

I prefer MxM pairings. I'm fine with smut but it's not a must and we can fade to black. My characters tend to be switches who mainly top but if they do bottom they're more along the lines of "power bottoms". In any case, they won't just lie there and need your character to do all the work for them.

I love conflict/tension in my RPs and I also love exploring more "philosophical" themes in them. Angst, Hurt & Comfort and similar genres are absolutely welcome as well!

Now, let's go to what I'm craving the most right now:

I would very much like a RP that focuses on a (consensual) Dom/Sub relationship. I would like to play the dominant character for this one. This can involve a lot of smut (but doesn't have to!) but ideally I would really like to also explore the non-sexual aspects of the dynamic between our characters.

I would say most of my limits are the "normal" ones you usually see, and I don't think I'm super kinky (I would rather not include too many "out there" ones) but we can discuss more in detail in private.

Some dynamics I enjoy (none of these are a must):

- the sub being rather shy/timid

- the sub being physically stronger/bigger than the dom

- the dom being a little uncertain of what he wants in the beginning/needing to find himself as a dom

Other ideas I'd like to explore:

Soulmates:

I love exploring soulmate AUs, I'm a sucker for all variations of this trope but I've been thinking about an idea for a society that places each member of a bonded pair in one of two categories, and members of one category are treated as lesser in society/expected to serve their other half. For this I would love to explore our characters maybe fighting against such expectations in society but I'm open to other ideas as well!

Royal x Servant, Royal x Knight:

Especially if the characters have known each other since childhood or combined with the soulmate trope! I really enjoy the idea of "devotion", of onecharacter swearing to serve another for the rest of his life.

Androids:

I really love exploring the morality of androids/AI and what makes something sentient. This can be based on established media (e.g. Isaac Asimov, Detroit: Become Human), but doesn't have to be. I do have an idea for this one (would be an Android x Android pairing) but I'd be open for other ideas as well.

Escaped slave:

This has been an idea I've had for a long time. Your character would be an escaped slave (or maybe a slave my character somehow came into possession of) and my character would be an abolitionist who is against slavery and tries to help your character heal. This would be more hurt/comfort-focused.

I would prefer not to RP anything involving child abuse, underage characters in sexual situations, incest and similar themes. (I'm fine with these things being part of your character's back story and your character dealing with the after-effects of them but I don't want to actively RP them!).

I'm also exclusively looking for MxM pairings, so please don't contact me if you're looking for someone to RP a MxF plot with! And please be at least 18+.I don't feel comfortable RPing with anyone younger, even if the RP doesn't have any smut in it.

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Supernatural, Dragon Age, Detroit: Become Human, Vampires: the Masquerade, Merlin (BBC), Kuroshitsuji, Hannibal, DC/Batman, Joker

At the moment I'm also really into RPing as the Joker so it would be cool to play him against someone else! (Of course I'm also completely open to playingOCs or other canon characters)

Other pairings:

Elder Vampire x Fledgling Vampire Vampire x Human Vampire x Human Servant Human x Demon Hero x Villain Villain x Civilian Mafia Boss x Mafioso working for him Mafioso x Civilian ... (Make a suggestion!)

I would prefer for you to already have a plot in mind (or at least a vague idea of what you want to roleplay) before contacting me!

Thank you for reading all of this! Have a great day & stay safe and healthy!

Contact:

E-mail: violetlillies [at] yandex [dot] com Discord: hatshepsut [hashtag] 2330

#rp #roleplay #rp promo #slash rp #smut rp #mxm #m/m #oc rp #d/s rp #dom rp #sub rp

3 notes · View notes

producermokyo · 5 years ago

Text

20cm Part 3. (Akemi, Kaguya, Arthur, Merlin.)

Shit.

This is bad.

Caught with their pants down, literally in Merlin’s room no less.

This isn’t good at all.

“Relax, I won’t say anything.” Merlin says, looking out into the hallway for a moment. “You gave me a meal after all.”

….What?

A meal? What is this mage going on about?

“But, If I were you two, I would hurry and get your clothes on. Change my bedsheets while you’re at it. I would rather not sleep in other people’s fluids, you know?”

Fighting back a gag at the mage’s description, he waits until the mage turns around before slowly getting out of bed, finding his shirt nearby, with Kaguya not too far behind him.

“Ah! My king!” Merlin exclaims, louder than normal.

Shit, shit, shit he has to hurry!

“Come on Kaguya, hurry up. I know you hear my father out there!”

“I’m going as fast as I can Akemi!” Kaguya snaps, shooting a glare at the prince.

“S-Sorry.”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s green eyes greeting the mage warmly. “I’m quite happy to see you.”

“Well,” Merlin begins his voice becoming a whisper. “I doubt you’ll be happy for too long.”

“Hm?”

“Your son, has slept with that girl. Not in the cuddling way they did as children either. Arthur, I feel as if I’ve had a months’ worth of nutrients as an incubus.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s expression darkening.

“I caught them. You think I would lie about something like this?” Merlin asks. “They were fucking like rabbits in my bed! Should I forward my laundry bill to you then?”

Bringing a hand up to his face, Arthur sighs just as the door opens, revealing one Kaguya.

Play it cool, Arthur tells himself

Don’t yell at her. It’s not her fault. Arthur keeps telling himself.

“Your mother was looking for you.” Arthur tells the girl. “I believe her and Hakuno were going into town, and wished for you to join them.”

“T-Thank you.” Kaguya says softly, bowing before running off.

Waiting until the girl is out of earshot, Merlin asks a question:

“What are you going to do Arthur? If they did not use protection…”

“I know.” Cutting his court mage off. “He’s going to go tell Solomon what he did, and how he plans to own up to his mistakes.”

“Oh? I am not sure that’s the best course of action….” The mage muses. “What if he blames you?”

“I will deal with that obstacle when we get to it.” Arthur states, opening the door to Merlin’s room.

“Somehow, I have a bad feeling about this.” Merlin whispers, following behind his king.

“Drogon.” Arthur calls.

Hopping from the bed, adjusting his hair a bit Akemi smiles a bit.

“Father.”

“I know what you did.” Arthur tells the prince.

Akemi’s eyes widen, before glaring at Merlin. “Merlin!! You promised!”

“I said I wouldn’t tell, but I never promised I wouldn’t tell your father.”

Ignoring the back and forth between his son, and his mage, Arthur asks a simple question, hoping for some good news.

“Please tell me you at least used a condom.”

“N-No…”

Dammit.

Maybe he should throw the kid in the lake near Camelot, and let the Lady of the Lake give Akemi a piece of her mind….

No, Hakuno would have some protests about that.

“Akemi, do you know what could possibly happen, because of your carelessness?”

“K-Kaguya could get pregnant.” Akemi answers.

“So, you did know of the risks, but went along with it anyway!”

“Well, I brought Kaguya this perfume, and then one thing led to another.”

Raising an eyebrow, as Akemi reaches down a grabs a small bottle, Merlin takes the bottle from Akemi.

“Can I see this?”

“You already took it liar.” Akemi points out, frowning.

“Drogon!” Arthur snaps.

“It’s fine.” Merlin tells Arthur, unscrewing the cap on the bottle. “He’s just mad.” Sniffing the bottle for a moment, he passes it Arthur.

“Smell that, and tell me what you think.”

Taking a big whiff, Arthur ponders for a moment before his heart sinks.

Lavender, and Mandrake.

Aphrodisiacs.

He basically drugged Kaguya with this perfume.

“You brought this yourself yes?” Arthur asks.

Nodding his head, Akemi confirms Arthur’s worries.

“Yes, I saved up all my allowance and brought that in Camelot.”

…This is worse than Arthur could have imagined.

#drugs mentioned #and no not the weed i smoke kind of drugging #my writing

3 notes · View notes

inkstainedfanfics · 7 years ago

Text

I Hate These Feelings

Request: Could you please do 22 reader x harry potter? [”Choose Me”]

Word Count: 1970

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Tag: @drdanwrites ik you’re a fan of his

“Maybe you should just choose me.” It’s a joke, half-hearted at best, lazy at worst. But in your defense, who can really blame you? It’s been a lazy evening spent sprawled across the common room’s maroon couch, ignoring the very important fact that you have an essay due tomorrow that you haven’t even begun to think about. Harry, however, has spent the evening blathering on and on about how Cho rejected him and how he’s going to be alone at the Yule Ball, without any dance partner or date even though he’s the champion. Oh Merlin, what if he has to dance with McGonagall? Though you snicker at the thought, he just sighs and snaps that it’s not funny.

It isn’t anymore, you think, shoving a hand beneath your head as you stare up at the ceiling. Harry’s a bit irritating right now, if you’re being honest.

“Just take me.” You say again, not bothering to look at the boy when he snaps his mouth shut. It’s not that preposterous of a proposal, is it? You’ve been friends for years, after all, and he does need someone.

But he shakes his head, hand falling dangerously close to the fire that he’s sitting next to. “I’m not taking you.”

“Why not?” You count the stars on the ceiling for the third time tonight. There’s an abundance, all twinkling, winking down like they’ve just shared some ridiculous secret or gossip with you. Ugly decorations, they are, but no matter how many times you pester McGonagall, she refuses to have them changed. Ugh. At least they serve as some sort of distraction as Harry stumbles his way through some sort of stuttered excuse.

“Because you’re… you.”

“Excuse me?” Stars be damned. What did he just say? “And what,” you ask, flipping onto your side and propping yourself up on one elbow, cheek in hand so you can glare at Harry, “exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not anything. It’s just—you’re—y’know.”

“No, Harry, I don’t know. So please explain.”

His cheeks blaze a brilliant red. With that messy, tousled hair, he could very well pass as some mangy mascot for the house right now. “It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing. Is it something about me you don’t like? You could just tell me, you know.”

His cheeks have never been so red before. “No, I can’t, because there’s nothing to be said.”

“Oh, I totally believe that, Mr. I’d-never-ask-you-out.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you, but I’m not exactly in the mood for this fight right now.”

His words are sharp, but yours are sharper. “Oh, you’re right, I forgot the dream girl is already going with Diggory. Poor Harry can’t go with the girl he’s too scared to even talk to.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“What?”

“Have you asked Seamus yet?”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to burn. “Seamus? You think I fancy Seamus?”

Harry rolls his lips together, silent but clearly fuming.

You break into a fake laugh, short and forced, even to your own ears. “I’m not into Seamus, believe it or not.”

“Oh really? Then how do you explain all the days you spend wandering the castle with him?”

“You mean our study dates?”

“Exactly.”

You shove yourself into a sitting position. “Merlin’s beard, Harry. Those are just to study. I do not fancy Seamus.”

“Then who do you fancy?”

“Nobody.”

“I don’t believe that.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Well excuse me for not falling into your expectations. Guess I’ll just pick myself a guy to ask out because you’re so sure about my feelings.”

“Like Seamus.”

You stand, movements jerky and fast, heart thudding in your chest. The nerve. The absolute nerve of this boy. “Whatever. I don’t have to put up with this.”

Harry stands too. “Go ask Seamus to be your date.”

You run your hands through your hair, dragging in a breath. Thank Merlin the common room is empty. “I am not going to ask Seamus to be my date.”

“Shame. He’ll be disappointed.”

You grit your teeth. “You’re absolutely insufferable.”

“Beats being in denial.”

“Of what?”

“Fancying Seamus.”

“For the last time, I don’t fancy Seamus.”

“Then who do you fancy?”

“You, Harry. I fancy you. There, are you happy?” The weight of what you’ve just said, what you’ve admitted, tugs at your thoughts, but the anger flowing through your blood dulls the nerves prodding you.

“Me?”

“Merlin help me, you’re so blind sometimes. Yes, you. Okay? But it doesn’t matter. I’m over it already.”

All the anger’s drained from his chest as he slumps against the fireplace, hand on his forehead. “But you just said—"

“It doesn’t matter. You’re into Cho, anyway, which is fine. I’m fine. You’re just a boy, Harry.”

Though your words are meant to cut and sting, Harry hardly reacts. His eyes don’t waver from the couch’s foot as he soaks in the confession you’ve just made. It’s hard to believe, you understand that much. The feelings had been a surprise to yourself when you’d realized them the month before. But they don’t matter because Harry’s your friend first and foremost. Friend above all else. Besides, feelings like these will fade with enough time, anyway, so it’s not even like it’s a big deal.

Right?

Harry’s reaction is anything but convincing, though. “I need to go.”

“Oh my gosh, Harry. Are you serious?” Though you’re still high on the anger flooding your veins, the nerves are wiggling their way back in, followed closely by those thoughts. The ones that had always stopped you from confessing in the first place. What if this is the end of your friendship? What if Harry doesn’t treat you the same? What if he tells everyone and you just become another laughingstock that’s into the Boy Who Lived?

But it’s Harry. He wouldn’t do that. You hope.

He swipes all his things into a messy pile and wrestles them into his bag as you stare at him with raised eyebrows and burning cheeks. Oh Merlin, it was a mistake to tell him.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“It’s almost curfew.”

“I’ll take the cloak.”

“Really? Just because I told you I fancy you?”

He pauses at this, the bag slung over his shoulder, a hand frozen in his hair. “Listen, I really appreciate it, but I’m a little stressed to be dealing with this now.”

It’s a punch to the gut, pain undoubtedly flitting across your features, but you simply wave a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when you get caught.”

He shrugs off your words, shuffling to the painting, out the hole, and into the castle hallways. You’re left behind, alone with nothing but an unfinished essay and a chest full of pain.

Blowing air from your mouth, you try to unwind. It’s ridiculous, his reaction. Just because you have a tiny crush on him, he has to jet off to some nook in the castle? Probably off to the forbidden forest, if you know him, just to try to find some silence.

You shake the thoughts from your head, glancing at the clock on the wall. 8:02 PM. Barely enough time to write your essay even if you stay up late, but you have no other choice, and the focus on the assignment will hopefully be enough to shove away the useless nerves plaguing you.

You trudge up the dormitory stairs, telling yourself over and over that it’s just Harry. Who cares if he knows? It’s just Harry.

By the time you reach the top, you almost believe yourself.

It’s three days later when you see Harry again. He’d somehow avoided the Great Hall, common room, and every single hallway that you’d been in since your argument. So when a hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you into an empty classroom, you’re shocked to look up and see a familiar scar peering out from a messy pile of black hair. Harry.

“I need to talk to you.” His voice is low, eyes downcast as he nearly whispers the words to you. It’s as though he’s ashamed to speak with you. Which, honestly, you do not, at all, deserve.

You tug your hand from his grip, maybe a little rougher than necessary, but it’s deserved, you think. “Did another girl reject you? You’re such a charmer when they ask you out, I can’t believe it would happen twice.”

His cheeks and ears tinge red, but he doesn’t snap like you expect. Not even a hint of anger colors his tone. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what? The argument? Or the walking out on me thing? Or, oh, I know, the laughing at me when I suggested we go to the ball together thing?”

His jaw tightens, but his green eyes flash up to yours. For a moment, guilt hangs in them, heavy and shamed, but it vanishes with another flash. “For all of it.”

“And I should believe you because…?”

“I want to ask you to the ball.”

You scoff. He’s kidding, right? After all he’s done, he wants to ask you now? “Why? Because you don’t want to go alone?”

“No,” he says. He takes a breath, meeting your eyes, hands digging into his pockets. “I want to go with you.”

You study him. He’s serious, it seems. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs, frustrated, a hand reaching for the back of his neck. “Because you’re you, I guess. I don’t know.”

Your heart sinks again, somehow. You’d had so little hope in him, in his actions, and he’d still managed to disappoint. Stepping away, a scowl forming, you readjust your bag on your shoulder. “Whatever, Harry. I don’t want a pity date. I’ll ask someone that actually cares.”

His hand is around your wrist again in a moment, jerking you back before you can reach the door. “Would you just hear me out?”

You want to say no, to tell him off, but he’s still your friend, above all else, even this stupid argument, so you press your lips together and nod.

“Look, I don’t know what to say. I’ll admit that much. I don’t know what to say because you’re you and this is—this isn’t right. I mean, not that, I just…” he sighs, hand running from his neck to tangle in his hair. “This is weird. You’ve been my friend and now you’re… something more. I don’t like it.”

“And you think I do?” You ask before he can begin stumbling on about how that’s not what he meant again. You know what he means. You feel the same, have for the past month. “You think I like getting tongue-tied around you? You think I like waking up and immediately wondering if I’ll see you? I hate it, Harry. I like you, but I hate these feelings.”

“So go out with me. If it’s horrible, we go back to being friends. Nothing more. Everything’s normal again.”

Heart crawling up your throat, breathing unsteady, you ask, “And if it goes well?”

He shrugs, though that determined glint you know all too well fills his eyes. “Then we go on another.”

“So we just go on dates until one goes poorly?” A delirious laugh bubbles in your throat. It’s silly to think that it’s just that easy. That after a month of useless pining, you’re finally getting what you wished for.

There’s a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “I suppose we could do that.”

You roll your eyes, though your heart about leaps through your chest when he does smile. “Fine. But the second something goes poorly, I’m flying back to Seamus’ arms.”

Harry’s grin splits wide open now. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #harry potter fic #hp fic #this was supposed to be shorter than this again #like 1200 words shorter ugh #also please forgive me if it's super cheesy #most of it was written between 1-2 AM #and I've been wanting some cheesy stories as of late #I hope anyone that reads it likes it!!

125 notes · View notes

winglesscrows · 6 years ago

Text

I’m Yours Ch. 9

First I Previous I Next

Merlin (BBC) I T I Merlin & Arthur I 61k

“Arthur used to think he knew everything about his servant, and to an extent he still did. As shocked as he had been about the incident, this wasn’t exactly something that was unlike Merlin. It was dumb and it came from a place of kindness with a total disregard of himself. The action itself, Arthur understood. What he didn’t understand was why Merlin had kept it to himself.”

In which Arthur slowly unravels the mystery that is Merlin, and begins to realize just how much he doesn’t know.

Read on AO3 I Patreon I FF.net or under cut

Arthur pulled himself together as he took his unconscious manservant and sprinted to the physician's quarters. He passed a pair of guards on his way to the other side of the castle, frantically yelling at them to get Elyan to Gaius as fast as possible, and only heard as the guards too started sprinting down the corridor to get the knight. Despite Arthur's quick steps and frantic breathing echoing down the empty hallways, nothing seemed louder than the sound of Merlin heaving for air, sounding like nothing entered his lungs. Arthur didn't look at him as he ran, afraid of what he would see should he look. As long as he could hear Merlin breathe, it would be okay. It would be okay.

Gaius was rightfully startled when Arthur burst into his chambers at such a late hour, but didn't get to ask any question as he saw the state of his ward. He immediately gestured for Arthur to put Merlin down on the bed, and Arthur held up a candle to light Gaius' field of vision.

"He's been poisoned," Gaius said, working through the unpleasant surprise by stating the obvious, "How did this happen?"

"He drank a truth serum," Arthur tried to explain, his voice morphed into something he couldn't recognize. He wanted to scream and yell that this wasn't supposed to happen. That this wasn't his fault. But now wasn't the time for excuses. They just needed to find a cure. "I don't know why this happened. It was fine before."

"Truth serums are fickle things," Gaius explained, as he kept examining Merlin, going into full physician mode to prevent his emotions from take over. Arthur should be thankful for that. As soon as Merlin was better, Gaius would be nothing short of angry, "Many of them will lose their properties after less than a day, usually developing into something different."

They should have researched that. They should have known, taken every precaution. They should have-

Elyan appeared by the door and hurried to Merlin's side as soon as he saw him.

"I need to know what was in the truth serum," Gaius said urgently, and Elyan shook his head, getting into a less worried state as he recited the recipe.

As the two of them worked together, Arthur took a few steps back, giving them space to move freely, and collapsed on the bench. This was not meant to happen. It might not have been right to use the truth serum, but what cruel fate had dictated that for his actions, Arthur would poison his servant, his closest friend? Was their friendship the prize for breaking Merlin's trust? Arthur wouldn't be able to bear that. All he had done, he had done for Merlin, to stop him from getting hurt.

But he had gotten hurt. Arthur had hurt him. Poisoned him, tricked him and betrayed him. And if he died- no! Arthur refused to let that be an option. Merlin wouldn't die, but what would happen then? Merlin had always been loyal, but what reason would he have to remain? And what would Arthur do then? If there was no Merlin, then surely, there was no Arthur either.

It was perhaps an hour later when Elyan moved Merlin from the patient's bed up to his own room to rest. Arthur wanted to follow them, but Gaius blocked his way.

"What were you thinking?" Gaius accused and Arthur felt smaller than he had in years. It was never pleasant to have the ever patient Gaius yelling at you, "Did it never occur to you that you didn't know what you were dealing with?"

"No, we-" Arthur wanted to say they had tested it, that they had made sure to not give Merlin something they wouldn't know what was, but what knowledge did they possess? They weren't physicians. They were knights. Stupid, foolish knights who thought there was a simply solution to everything, "I don't have an excuse," Arthur said quietly, "I made a mistake, and Merlin had to pay for that. I'm sorry. I never meant-"

"I know you didn't," Gaius interrupted, "God knows that you would never do something like this intentionally. But even if your intentions hadn't backfired, do you still think you did the right thing?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. He couldn't look at Gaius as he spoke, "I was… angry, scared. It seemed like an easy way to be rid of all my problems. I knew it wasn't right. I didn't want to use it, but I just got… frustrated and, God, I wish I had never done it," Arthur looked up at Gaius, "But please, don't blame Elyan or Gwaine for this. I was the one who chose to use it. They aren't to blame."

"At least you're responsible," Gaius scoffed, still very angry with Arthur, "I would send you back to your chambers, but I think it would do more harm than good. Stay as long as you like."

"Thank you, Gaius."

None of them slept that night. Elyan stayed with Merlin in his room, watching over him, sometimes apologizing for what had happened. Arthur had told him it wasn't his fault, but Elyan didn't listen. Arthur couldn't stand to stay with Merlin for long and eventually settled on sitting by the small staircase leading up to his room instead, the door open just enough for Arthur to be able to see Elyan sitting against the wall. Gaius sat by his bench, half focused on a book and some of the work that was yet to be finished. Gaius didn't speak to any of them, and the quiet night turned to morning after what seemed like an eternity.

The peace was disrupted when Gwaine waltzed into the physician's chambers, asking for Merlin.

"One of the maids was asking for him," Gwaine said, and Arthur looked at Gaius and then back at Gwaine when it became clear that the physician would not explain what was going on. Arthur stood up and went over to Gwaine. Almost wanting the knight's response to be punching him in the face. He deserved that.

"I used the truth serum," Arthur said, and Gwaine's face dropped as he realized that Arthur spoke of this freely in the presence of Gaius, because it had gone wrong.

"What happened?"

"It-"

"It poisoned him," Elyan interrupted as he emerged from Merlin's room, "He barely survived."

Gwaine looked between the two of them, waiting for the punchline to the joke, but was slowly forced to realize that they were speaking the truth. As he did, he pushed past them to get to Merlin. Arthur and Elyan didn't follow him, merely looked at each other, surprised that Gwaine's first instinct hadn't been to throw a punch. It usually was.

Gwaine stayed with Merlin for roughly ten minutes before he came back out, not stopping as he left the room: "Fetch me when he wakes up," he said on his way out, "You know where I will be." And with that he was gone. Arthur promised himself that if Merlin hadn't woken within a day, he would at least stop Gwaine from drinking himself to death.

Another hour passed, Arthur and Elyan still unsure what to do with themselves and startled as Guinevere burst through the door looking for Gaius.

"Lancelot's party returned," she panted, trying to regain her breath, talking rapidly to Gaius and possibly not even having registered the two other people in the room, "But sir Lucan is badly injured. Lancelot is bringing him here."

"What manner of injury, Gwen?" Gaius asked as he cleared his work bench for sir Lucan.

"A stab wound in the leg," she informed, still slightly out of it, "But it's been some time. Lancelot said that it's probably infected, even though they tried to keep it clean."

"I'll examine it. For now, fetch me some water. Take your brother with you, and bring me a bowl of hot water as well."

Gwen spun around and finally looked at Elyan and Arthur, who were awkwardly stood to the side, "What…?" She began, but then snapped out of it as she just grabbed her brother, sprinting down to get the water.

"Sire," Gaius began, "If you won't leave, stay with Merlin. We don't want this place to get crowded." It was Gaius' polite manner of telling him that since he couldn't assist, he should just leave. Arthur did as he was told, and closed the door to Merlin's room just as he heard more people entering the physician's quarters. Arthur leaned against the door, listening to what was happening on the other side of it.

"Put him down here," Gaius instructed, "What happened?"

"This was yesterday," Lancelot began, "We decided to take a detour on the way back, through the forest of Ascetir. There had been signs of sorcery only a week before and though we had been investigating during the harvest, Lord Agravaine needed us to stay close, so a thorough investigation was never allowed. As it would delay our arrival in Camelot only by an hour or so, I convinced Lord Agravaine to let us investigate on our way back. I didn't expect us to find anything, but it was worth a try. At least it would put the citizens at ease, as they had been too frightened to even venture close to the forest.

As we searched through the forest, sirs Lucan and Kay went off on their own. I urged them to stay together, but they must have separated for Lucan suddenly let out a scream, while Kay was both uninjured and had no idea of what had happened. We hurried back as quickly as we could, kept the wound clean, but it's been almost a day now."

"Do not blame yourself, Lancelot. Sir Lucan is a knight of Camelot, being injured comes with the job."

"I just can't help but feel that there was more I could have done."

"Lancelot..." Arthur was immediately on his feet and rushing to Merlin's side, as his servant seemed to slowly regain consciousness, the name of his most honorable knight on his lips. It took Merlin a moment, but he slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Arthur, before he immediately looked away, "Leave," he spat weakly, trying to turn his head away from the prince, and while Arthur wanted nothing more than to stay and talk, apologize for what he had done, he stepped away.

"My lord?" Lancelot said as Arthur emerged from Merlin's room, taking the knight by surprise.

"He woke up," Arthur informed Gaius, "And he's asking for Lancelot."

"Woke up? What's going on?"

"He was poisoned," Arthur explained as Gaius moved past him to get to Merlin, leaving the two of them alone.

"How?" Lancelot was getting more distressed by the second. Learning that Merlin had gotten hurt, while he was away on a mission, where he already blamed himself for an injured knight wouldn't be easy on his mind, and Arthur was about to make it so much worse. Arthur had always wondered, if Lancelot was forced to choose between him and Merlin, who would be cast away? Under the current circumstances, Lancelot's choice shouldn't be difficult.

"I made a mistake," Arthur began, "I wanted him to talk, got my hands on a truth serum and used it on him. It backfired."

The look on Lancelot's face was somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. He looked at Arthur for a while, before pushing past him and joining Gaius in Merlin's room. It wasn't like Lancelot to act on anger, or even show his anger, but more than anything, Arthur really wished that someone would just punch him. Punish him, free him from this hellish situation and just give him the push to do something about it.

Arthur looked down at sir Lucan on the patient's bed. His wound had been treated, and though it looked like he had a fever, he didn't look in pain. Arthur should demand reports from Lancelot and Agravaine, figure out what had happened on the mission, but Arthur wasn't in the right headspace to do so. Instead, he left the physician's chambers and headed towards the Darkling Woods with nothing but his sword and a small empty basket.

Arthur came back hours later, and the first person he bumped into was none other than Leon.

"Sire!" He exclaimed as the two crossed paths in a hallway, "Where have you been? The king has been asking for you."

"Doesn't matter," Arthur said, "Inform him that I won't be available for the rest of the day."

"Sire?" Leon asked, more concerned than before, "What's going on?"

"Nothing the king needs to worry about." At some point, Arthur would let Leon in on what had happened, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to tell more people.

Before Arthur made it all the way back to the physician's quarters, he met Guinevere who was just leaving, possibly after having assisted Gaius (After Morgana had left, her duties had varied depending on where the castle was the busiest, and if you wanted to find her, going to Gaius was the best guess). Of course, when Arthur said that he met Guinevere, he meant more the sort of; they bumped into each other and after taking one look at him, she walked up to him, anger apparent in her features and firmly slapped him so hard he thought he heard ringing in his ears. She looked like she had something to say, but decided against it, wanting Arthur to know he wasn't even worthy of hearing her voice - even if what she would have said would surely have been nothing good - and left him alone on the staircase leading up to his destination.

"I see you met Gwen," Gaius commented as Arthur entered through the door. At first, the comment confused the prince, until he reached up to the cheek she had struck and found it sore. There was probably a red mark in the shape of her hand.

"Is he awake?" Arthur asked carefully, and put the now filled basket on the table before removing his sword to put it away. He wanted to look as harmless as possible.

"He is," Gaius said, his back turned to the king, not wanting to give him attention, "But I can't promise that he wants to see you."

"I can imagine," Arthur said, trying to force a smile. It didn't work, "I just want to explain what happened. Even if what I did wasn't honorable, at least I want him to know that killing him was not the intent."

"If he was smart,, he would know that already," Gaius remarked, and Arthur managed a small, real smile.

"But he's an idiot," Arthur answered, and took the basket as he headed up to Merlin's room.

Arthur entered the small room and found his servant sitting, leaning against the wall, his feet covered by the blanket, but his knees loosely tucked up to his chest, his arms falling weakly around them. He looked at Arthur as he entered, but looked away just as quickly. Arthur didn't expect forgiveness to come easy, if at all. The crime he had committed was no better than what had happened. Often death was better than betrayal, and Merlin surely thought that. If his reluctance to speak to Arthur came on the cause of thinking his prince wanted him dead, Arthur could hardly imagine what he would think when he learned the truth.

Arthur had never been a man of words, much preferring to show himself through actions and sat down the small basket by the end of the bed, Merlin hardly acknowledging it.

"It's blueberries," Arthur said, gaining no visual reaction from his servant - if he even was that anymore. Perhaps, Arthur feared, that if Merlin decided to stay, that was all he would be. Maybe he wouldn't even be Arthur's.

"Why are you here Arthur?" Merlin asked coldly, never looking at him, his gaze fixed at the small window which revealed the bright blue, cloudless sky. "Here to finish the job? Is that what those berries are for? Or perhaps you wanted me to survive so I would suffer," There was a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone, but it wasn't how Merlin usually talked. He talked like he was a prisoner, taunting his guards to kill him as he would never give them what they wanted anyway.

"I always took you for a merciful executioner," Merlin continued, the disappointment and spite in his voice reminding Arthur of how his father talked about the knights of the round table, "Perhaps I was wrong about that too."

Arthur didn't know what words would be the best to choose. He had hoped Merlin would give him a more silent treatment, letting Arthur speak freely. That was what Merlin usually did when he was upset. He was quiet. Arthur felt like a fool for thinking he could predict what Merlin would do. Hadn't these last few weeks, months even, shown Arthur that he didn't know his servant as well as he thought he did? Merlin didn't give Arthur a chance to think about what to say, as he kept the defying tone of voice with which he stripped away all the courage and confidence Arthur had tried to take with him as he had first entered into this conversation.

"Are you going to burn me?" Merlin asked so casually, Arthur thought that couldn't possibly have been what Merlin has said. He didn't sound afraid, only slightly disapproving. Both of them hated the pyre, Merlin knew that, so why would he think Arthur would have it in him to burn him?

"Why would I burn you?" Arthur voiced his thoughts, truly perplexed by Merlin's thought process, not even wanting to think about Merlin in the flames, about Arthur being the one to have put him there.

Merlin didn't answer. Didn't even so much as move or change his expression, which Arthur couldn't read. His lips pressed in a thin line, but the rest of his pale face unbothered, like he had somehow accepted his fate. A fate Arthur was unaware of.

Arthur carefully took a step closer to the bed. Merlin still didn't react, so Arthur said what he had been meaning to say all along: "I'm sorry." That gave him a reaction, but not quite the one he had wanted. Merlin huffed, and let out a short and forced laugh, making him sound distant and detached. Nothing like the usual bright laugh, Arthur had grown so used to.

"For what?" Merlin said when he stopped laughing, "Not killing me faster?"

"No, Merlin," Arthur said, raising his voice slightly as he got a little fed up with how this conversation was developing, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Merlin made another sarcastic sound. Not believing Arthur for a second. "What. So you just grabbed the first poison you could find and hoped it would kill me quickly? You should just have run me through. Then I wouldn't have survived and you wouldn't have to be here."

Arthur clenched his fist. He needed to clear up this misunderstanding and he needed Merlin to tell him why he was so hellbent on thinking that Arthur wanted him dead. He closed the space between them, kneeling in front of the bed, partially blocking Merlin's view to the mirror, hoping to get his message across. Of course, Merlin still refused to look at him.

"Merlin. I didn't want you dead," he said firmly, "I don't now and I doubt that I ever will."

"Why not?" Merlin questioned, like he wanted Arthur to consider just running him through, "I lie, I keep secrets and I've lost the trust I spend so long trying to gain. What use do you have for me? Especially now? Anyone could do your laundry, sharpen your sword, clean your damn room and whatever servants need to do. If that's all I'll end up becoming, then there is no point. And that's not even touching the-" Merlin breathed in sharply, stopping himself from continuing.

"Merlin. Listen to me," Arthur tried again, but Merlin kept interrupting him.

"I am listening."

"No, you're not. Just shut up and let me explain. I won't claim that I tried to do something honorable, because I didn't. I just wanted you to tell the truth for once. I hadn't even intended for you to tell me everything, just the most important things. What I put in your drink was a truth serum, and it almost killed you. I am sorry for what happened and I am sorry for betraying your trust. It wasn't right. Even if you hadn't almost died. It wasn't right."

Merlin looked at Arthur for the first time. It didn't look like Merlin was necessarily believing him, more like he needed to look at Arthur's face to confirm whether or not he was being truthful. Merlin had always been good at reading Arthur, so he would know that Arthur had spoken nothing but the truth.

"So you..." Merlin began slowly, his voice a mere whisper, "You don't know anything?" For the first time, Merlin's voice bore no trace of hatred or anger. Arthur felt a little more at ease.

"I wouldn't say I know nothing," Arthur joked, trying to build on the improving atmosphere, "But no, I don't know anything. Especially not anything I would want you dead over."

Merlin kept eye contact for another second before turning away again, trying to focus on the window once again.

"Merlin," Arthur pressed on, "I can understand if you don't trust me right now, but that doesn't make it any less important that you tell me about Agravaine. If not for me, then for the rest of Camelot. Your friends, Lancelot, Gwaine, Gaius."

"No," Merlin said weakly, "I can't." This time Arthur knew that Merlin's voice was strained because he didn't want to cry. He knew what Arthur said made sense, yet he still did not speak. Whether it was because of what Arthur had done or something else, the prince couldn't know, but he would like to think there was an underlying reason. More than Merlin just not having the proof he wanted.

"What do you think will happen, Merlin? Do you really think I would kill you for being honest with me?"

"No," Merlin sighed, "Not now. You would feel bad because of what happened. You could still banish me."

Again, banishment. Merlin's biggest fear.

"Even after what I did," Arthur said slowly, "You still want to stay."

"Yes."

Arthur was about to continue, but Merlin cut him off.

"Please leave," he said, "I need to think."

Arthur wanted to protest, but wanted to respect Merlin's wishes. He had done what he needed to do. Let Merlin know the truth. What he did with that was up to him. "Don't forget the blueberries," he said on his way out, closing the door behind him.

Since Merlin was now awake and able to talk, Arthur decided to go and get Gwaine. It hadn't yet been a day, so the knight probably hadn't reduced his lifespan considerably during the time he had been there, but Arthur should stop him before it ended up that way. He met Lancelot on the way or, rather, Lancelot had been patiently waiting for him not too far from the physician's chambers.

"Do you remember when I first came to Camelot?" Lancelot began as he fell into step with Arthur, likely knowing that he was on his way to stop Gwaine's drinking and not wanting to delay him, but still needed his attention.

"I do," Arthur replied, not quite sure where Lancelot was going with this, although he was sure it was leading into some kind of lecture about honor and, quite specifically, Merlin.

"I broke the knight's code," Lancelot continued, "Even if the rule that commoners cannot become knights is unjust, the fact that I lied about my identity was dishonorable."

"Which is why you left," Arthur remembered. If he had had his way, Lancelot would never have been revoked of his knighthood back then. He had always been one of the best people Arthur knew.

"Yes, sire," Lancelot said, Arthur almost taken aback by the formality as everyone else who knew of the Merlin situation had seemingly dropped them, "I needed to prove myself, become someone worth your trust and loyalty."

"You already were," Arthur insisted. He understood why Lancelot had done what he had done, but he didn't quite agree with it. Lancelot should have stayed.

"I wasn't. I lied to get what I wanted. I lied to you and to the king, the people with whom I should always be honest. Dishonesty should not be taken lightly," Lancelot said firmly, "My actions proved that I was more concerned about myself than about Camelot. My loyalties were divided, and as with anyone who serves you, loyalty should, above all, be most important."

"Of course," Arthur agreed. This was about Merlin. Merlin who was loyal to a fault and didn't deserve any of the things Arthur had done to him. This was Lancelot's way of telling Arthur that he had messed up.

"When I came, I lied and I didn't show my loyalty," Lancelot repeated, like he was writing a perfect report, "No matter who they claim to be, do not trust people who haven't shown you loyalty." Arthur's eyes widened. This wasn't about Merlin. This was about Agravaine. Had something happened on the mission? Arthur was about to ask, but seeing that he was, Lancelot stopped him. "Trust the people who have."

They went to the tavern together, finding Gwaine alone in a corner, looking like he had been there for a full week. The sun was beginning to set, so after Gwaine had paid Merlin a small visit, Arthur would sent him straight to his chambers. Going by Gwaine's state, Arthur should probably also ban him from going to the tavern for the next month.

"This isn't your fault," Arthur told him on their way back, Lancelot supporting most of Gwaine's weight as they moved, "It was my decision to use it."

"I should have stopped you," Gwaine merely replied, his lively tone of voice completely gone, "You always have the worst ideas."

Before Arthur could open the door to the physician's chambers, Elyan appeared, apparently just leaving. He looked at the three of them, figuring out their situation quickly and then looked to Arthur, and gestured to his cheek, "I see that you met Gwen too."

Arthur instinctively moved his hand to his cheek. It was still sore. Sometimes he forgot how strong Guinevere was.

"You know," Elyan said, acting more like himself that he had just that morning, "Even though Merlin insists that at least Gwaine and I shouldn't be to blame, I don't think he'll be able to convince Gwen of the same. You should be careful Gwaine. She'll probably come for you next."

"We should just be thankful that Percival isn't the one doing the hitting," he tried to joke, but it still came out a little flat.

"Speaking of Percival," Lancelot said, "Should we inform him and sir Leon?"

"Gaius said not to," Elyan informed them, "They'll want to visit and he doesn't want Merlin to feel crowded. We can tell them in a couple of days."

And with that, Arthur left Gwaine in Lancelot's care, and returned to his own chambers, where he hadn't been since he had poisoned Merlin. It felt weird to come back. The shattered glass was still lying where Merlin had dropped it, the liquid from the wine having spread and left stains on the floor. There was Arthur's glass, still intact on the table, and in the closed cabinet, there would be an empty vial, hidden from anyone who might have entered. At the time, merely hidden from Merlin. Arthur found a dirty shirt and used it to clean up the broken glass, and had a nameless servant dispose of it together with Arthur's untouched glass.

Getting ready for bed, Arthur noticed a stack of documents on his desk and looked through them, not remembering having left anything out. They turned out to be reports from Lancelot and Agravaine. Arthur got into bed, not thinking about the fact that he had had nothing but a couple of blueberries to eat that day and read the reports. Lancelot's was thorough and well documented. Arthur skimmed through the tedious tales of the harvest and skipped to the first sighting of magic.

Lancelot's description matched what the woman had told them. A bright red cloud had been spotted covering the forest and it had lasted half the night. Under Agravaine's orders, they had spend a few hours gathering up the citizens, making sure everyone was safe before investigating. They had split up in teams of three, Lancelot and Agravine leading one each. Lancelot's party had found nothing that could explain the cause of the red smoke, and after half an hour in the forest it disappeared, quickly, as if it had never been there at all.

Arthur compared the description to Agravaine's report. It was practically the same. They had protected the citizens, gone to investigate, Agravaine had taken sirs Lucan and Kay with him, but they had found nothing as they had searched, and eventually the smoke had cleared.

The following days, Lancelot had repeatedly asked for permission to search the forest, but Agravaine had denied him permission. This was not mentioned in Agravaine's report.

During their journey towards Camelot, Lancelot had finally gotten permission to do a quick search, but their efforts had been cut short as sir Lucan had been injured, the circumstances unknown. This was the same in both reports. Arthur would have Kay write up a report of the incident. If Lancelot had ordered them to stick together, any knight of Camelot would respect the word of the knight assigned to lead them. And Arthur knew that Kay, at the very least, wasn't a pure-blood. The young man would quite often spar against Percival during training, and got along well with Elyan, often riding close to him on missions.

Lucan on the hand was a pure-blood. His father, a close friend of Uther's, held many of the same beliefs as the king, and Lucan definitely shared many of those views. The first time he had been on a mission with a round table knight as his commander, they had gotten in a fight. Gwaine had promptly broken his nose, and Arthur had banned him from the tavern for three days as a punishment. As a friend who didn't actually think Gwaine had been too out of line, he had paid for his next trip to the tavern. It had been an expensive gesture, but he was the crown prince. He could afford it.

The reports weren't so different that there was anything inherently suspicious about it. Which made a lot of sense. If Agravaine was up to anything, he would hardly make it easy for Arthur to notice. For now, he could only be extra vigilant when it came to his uncle.

Arthur was woken the next morning by yet another new servant. He ate a plentiful breakfast to make up for the lack of food from the day before, and gathered all the fruits on a plate to bring with him to Gaius. He asked the servant to bring him blankets and a few pillows, which he then brought with him as well. Now that the harvest was over, it was getting colder and though material gifts were not exactly what Merlin wanted or needed, Arthur still felt that he deserved to be more comfortable.

"Oh great," Merlin said as Arthur entered his room, "You're back." Though his voice was sarcastic, Arthur was glad to hear that it wasn't as cold as yesterday.

"I thought you would like this," Arthur said and set down the pillows and blankets by the foot of the bed and shoved the plate of fruit into Merlin's hands.

"Thanks," Merlin answered, his voice still slightly sarcastic, but reached for a raspberry immediately.

"Not scared that it's poison anymore?" Arthur joked, and Merlin sent him a death glare.

"Shut up."

"You can't tell me what to do," Arthur said automatically, "I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to tell the truth. No lies, but you can choose not to answer."

Merlin rolled his eyes, "And here I thought you were here for a friendly visit and not an interrogation."

"You could consider it both," Arthur suggested, and got no reply. He continued: "The scar. The one I saw on our way to Mercia. Where did you get it?"

"I already told you," Merlin said as a matter of fact, "In the Darkling Woods."

"Yes, but that doesn't really tell me much, besides," Arthur continued, "I'm beginning to think that's a lie."

"Congratulations," Merlin said fakely and clapped his hands twice, "I lied about the woods. The truth is that I don't know how I got it. Aren't you happy that you know the truth now?"

"What do you mean you don't know?" Arthur asked perplexed. Arthur had a story behind every single one of his scars. Knew exactly how and where he had gotten them, what lesson he had learned, how he had grown stronger.

"I mean exactly that. I get hurt often and at some point I don't care to remember all of it. What's the point?"

Arthur wanted to say that the point was to stop from getting hurt again, but he knew what was going on. Merlin didn't get hurt because he was a warrior who was bested in a fight, Merlin got hurt to prevent Arthur from getting hurt. Merlin often said that Arthur wouldn't last a day without him, and Arthur was beginning to see the truth behind those words. Ironic how Merlin so willingly spilled the truth when Arthur didn't listen.

"What about the shoulder scar? The one Percival saw?"

"Serkets," Merlin said simply. It was like Arthur had suspected, but that just begged the question:

"How did you survive?"

"An old friend helped me," Merlin said crytically, and while Arthur knew that that meant he wasn't going to elaborate, he tried his luck anyway.

"Who?"

"His name is Kilgharrah."

"That sounds made up."

"Well, it's the truth," Merlin said and popped another raspberry into his mouth.

"And what about Agravaine?" Arthur asked, returning to the topic that kept tearing them apart.

"I told you. I have no evidence," Merlin said, seemingly unbothered by the topic. Perhaps the near death experience had made it harder to stir him up.

"Yet you still think he works for Morgana," Arthur pointed out, done with the lies. If he wanted Merlin to be honest with him, the least he could do was to tell him everything too.

"How did you-"

"I overheard you and Agravaine. You accused him of working for her," Arthur said simply. Eavesdropping could hardly be worse than accidentally poisoning Merlin in an attempt to force the truth out of him, so he didn't mind telling him.

Merlin got a weird look on his face, like Arthur puzzled him. "If you knew, why did you keep asking?"

"I wanted to know why you think that. You aren't one to think the worst of people, so he must have done something."

"He hasn't," Merlin said, "That's the problem. If he had done something, I could tell you. Just... I have a feeling."

"That's not enough-"

"Oh gee, thanks for letting me know that not having evidence is the problem here."

"It's not enough, but if you think I shouldn't trust him I won't. Merlin, if it ever came down to a choice between you and my uncle, I'd be a fool to not choose you."

Merlin looked him the eyes. His eyes were glossy and full of disbelief, but were slowly turning into something Arthur could only describe as wonder, "Do you really mean that?"

"I keep telling you. You're the worst damn servant I've ever had, so why do you think I keep you around?"

"Because my jokes are funny," Merlin smiled carefully. It was the first smile Arthur had seen since…

"They're not that funny," Arthur said, "I keep you because you're my friend. The first one I ever had. A friend who gives me great advice, who would follow me into battle with no armor and a sword you can't even use correctly, and who is loyal to a fault. I've faced bandits, enemy knights, magical beasts and an actual dragon, and you were right there beside me through all of it. What kind of friend would I be to cast that aside?"

Merlin's smile faltered a little, and Arthur could only wonder why. That was the nicest thing Arthur had ever said to him, maybe even to anyone.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Merlin said and looked down, his fingers fiddling with the blanket draped over his legs, "I don't want to lie to you."

"I know," Arthur said, "But I can understand why you feel it's necessary."

"No I..." Merlin said, like he was working up the courage to say something, "I haven't been completely honest about that either. There's more. I was... scared."

"Of banishment? Yes, you've mentioned that a couple of times."

"No. I was scared of you. Of everyone. I've always been told not to tell anyone."

That made Arthur stop and think. He had always been told not to tell? Always? Something wasn't adding up, but Merlin seemed to still be working up his courage, and Arthur knew that Merlin was braver than anyone, so he didn't speak. Merlin reached out for Arthur and took his hand. Arthur thought it was to keep himself grounded as Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"You told me," Merlin said slowly, "That you would choose me. That nothing I could do would make you want me dead."

"Yes," Arthur confirmed, bracing himself for absolutely everything Merlin could possibly say now. That Merlin had forced Morgana to turn evil. That Merlin had tried to kill him once. That Merlin was a secret spy sent by an enemy kingdom. That Merlin had released the great dragon. The Merlin had somehow been the reason for his mother's death. Arthur prepared himself for everything, knowing that something Merlin would keep locked away, hidden and refusing to share even if it could cost him his life, would have to be something that would change Arthur's entire worldview.

"Everything I do," Merlin continued, his voice shaking ever so slightly, "I do for you Arthur. You know that right?"

"Yes," Arthur said again, and Merlin squeezed his hand before letting go again.

"Please. Please don't think differently of me."

Arthur looked down at the hand Merlin had let go of, feeling a weight that hadn't been there before. Gold and red met his eyes, as he looked at the rose in his hand that had definitely appeared out of thin air.

#bbc merlin #i'm yours #chapter 9 #chapter nine

2 notes · View notes

xx-thedarklord-xx · 7 years ago

Text

Go Ahead

“Merlin, look at him. Harry is the highlight to Hogwarts this year.” A female gushing had Draco coming to a halt right behind the Hufflepuff table. He bit his lip in indecision. This wasn’t unheard of, people loved to dote after Potter. He was the bloody savior. It wasn’t as if this was unexpected.

“When isn’t he the highlight?” Another girl chimed in with a dreamy voice that Lovegood would be jealous of. “I mean, his hair being so ruggedly shagged is obviously a preview to everything about him.”

Draco reluctantly had to agree. The boy was a walking wet dream. He looked over to the head the Ravenclaw table where the brunette was talking animatedly with Lovegood. By his wildly moving hands, it was about something that Harry was rather passionate about.

“But it’s all being wasted on Malfoy.” Draco narrowed his eyes as he clenched his fists. “What could Harry possibly see in him? Sure, before the war he was cute, hot even but now? No way. Not with the disgusting mark on display. As if he is proud of being an ex-Death Eater. I’d die of shame if it was reversed.”

Counting to ten was something his mind healer suggested would be a great exercise to not hexing people. Going to Azkaban would be awful on his complexion. He made it to seven before realizing that this counting shite wasn’t working and that Pansy wasn’t a mind healer and actually just a friend who gives horrible advice.

Their words had him looking down to his left arm where his mark was on display but not for the reasons they believed. He was proud of it. Not because he was proud of being a past Death Eater but because this marked showed his lowest point in life. This mark showed how far he had come and how far he will continue to reach. The dark mark did not define him.

The Dark Lord had monopolized his self-hatred and desolate thoughts while alive but Draco would be damned to allow the man’s actions to ruin his life from beyond the grave as well. This mark would not be a reminder of his mistakes but a reminder that he made it. A reminder that even at your lowest, things can get better. Life may look dreary and dark but eventually something will lighten up your life and make it all worth it.

He wasn’t ashamed to bear the dark mark nor was he going to hide it away. Everyone already knew it existed and knew what he had been. Their assumptions that he would be meek and cowed just for being a Death Eater was absolute nonsense.

“Maybe he just feels bad for Malfoy. He did lose his wealth in repayment for his father’s crimes. Imagine being poor after strutting around all these years.”

Poor was a bit of a stretch. Did they honestly believe that his father didn’t have money that wasn’t linked to his vaults? What kind of Slytherin would he be otherwise? His offshore accounts had offshore accounts.

“Imagine being on such a high pedestal and being knocked down. His ego has had to have gone through a reality check.”

She wasn’t wrong but wasn’t that just what made people human? Learning from mistakes and moving on? It was clear that these two had no concept of that. His ego was just fine, perhaps a little too fine if Harry’s opinion mattered on the subject.

“Do you think he will ever leave Malfoy? There are so many witches and wizards who would be dying to be with him. I just don’t understand what he could possibly gleam from a relationship with someone who doesn’t even act as if they are dating.”

Draco rolled his eyes. What was with people thinking that they knew what went on behind closed doors? What they see in public didn’t show who they were. These simpering girls never saw the first time Harry took his breath away. They never saw the way Harry’s eyes glowed after their first kiss. They never felt the nervous energy that filled him the first time they admitted they loved each other. The whispered words of affection that filled their nights and days weren’t always visible but they were there. Always there.

“I hope so. I heard that Malfoy isn’t attending the ball at the Ministry to honor those lost in the war. I was thinking of asking Harry myself. It’s just rude of Malfoy not to go.”

Despite how far Draco had come with his status as a Death Eater, others had not come to an understanding. Honoring those who died was something that resonated with him but going to the ball would only cause issues. It would be distasteful to be there. The attention would be off those who valiantly died and left this world too soon and placed on him. No matter what some believed, he didn’t want that kind of attention. He didn’t have to go to a ball to honor the dead. The Ministry loved to make big shows of unity but he couldn’t recall them ever providing that unity when it mattered most. This was just an excuse to gain the hearts of the survivors.

“I think you have a bigger shot of going with him than Malfoy.”

Draco cleared his throat loudly and watched in satisfaction when they jumped. The annoyance at being interrupted was replaced with horror and that was the defining moment of his day. He wished he could bottle that up and keep it forever.

“Oh…” The first girl spoke up, he didn’t recognize her in the slightest but she appeared to be a few years younger than him. “We were just…” She trailed off looking to her friend for help.

The other girl floundered completely and only had a wide-eyed look of terror to her.

“You were just speaking about my boyfriend and his wonderful taste in partner.” He drawled rather unimpressed with the rubbish attempt at deflecting. Draco folded his hands across his chest and narrowed his eyes.

“If for one moment you think that Harry is with me out of anything but love than you are delusional. But by all means, tell him this. Go ahead.” He gestured to where Harry was still talking with Lovegood.

“If you think that you have a shot with him, go for it.” He smirked at the way they shared surprised looks.

“If you want to be his friend, I won’t stop you. He could use more friends, we all could. If you want to admire his looks, do it. I sure as hell admire his toned body and deliciously tan skin.” He had to shake his head to steer clear of that. Just thinking about his boyfriend tended to rile him up these days.

“If you think I am wrong for him, well, that’s your opinion. If you feel the need to voice this, then please tell it to the source.” That was what bothered him the most. It was easy to talk shite behind his back but only cowards do that.

“If you want to ask Harry to the ball, go ahead, I won’t stop you. If you choose to come onto him, then do so. It wouldn’t be the first nor will it be the last.” He had known going into the relationship that Harry would always garner attention wherever he went.

“If you think I am hurt by your petty words and ignorant attitude then you will be sorely disappointed. Trust is the foundation of our relationship. You can flaunt yourself right up to him and I won’t bat an eye. Because at the end of the day, he is with me. You can flirt, tease and even ogle him but it won’t change a thing. He is mine and I am his.” Draco paused for a moment as he looked between the two of them.

“But by all means, go ahead and voice your thoughts. Speak callously of others and implore your misinformed thoughts. Because that shows what kind of person you are. While you were busy seeing my faults, Harry was seeing my merits.” He allowed a small smile to slip through.

“And more importantly, I see my merits as well.” That was what mattered the most. Love isn’t a cure all. It won’t make everything alright and it doesn’t always answer one’s dreams. Love is the support that can propel a relationship forward but if it is only love working, then that isn’t enough. He needed to love himself and once he did, it was easy to allow Harry’s love in.

Draco didn’t bother waiting to hear what they had to say on the subject. He had said his bit and that good enough for him. He turned around and made his way towards his friends. If Lovegood could ever be classified as such.

Just as Draco reached them, it seemed that Harry was almost done telling a story.

“It was honestly the best day of my life. You should have been there. I know you would have loved it.” Harry finished with an excitement that never failed to make Draco smile.

He stepped behind Harry and wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist as he leaned forward enough to rest his chin on the Gryffindor’s shoulder.

“What are we talking about?” He wondered curiously.

Lovegood smiled at him in a warm manner that he hadn’t quite gotten used to just yet. “Harry was telling me about your trip into the muggle world. Something about Ferris wheels and junk food.”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat when he realized that Harry had gotten so animated about them. He had been what had caused the excitement.

“Hopefully my disastrous attempts at hiding my like of the place was left out.” He teased.

Harry laughed warmly. “Of course it wasn’t. That was the first thing I mentioned.”

“Of course you did.” Draco whispered with a shake of his head.

Lovegood cleared her throat, causing them both to peer at her curiously. “Are you alright? You seemed tense when talking to those girls.”

Harry’s head tried to tilt to see Draco but it wasn’t quite working well with their position. He knew that the brunette was worried about him but that wasn’t necessary.

The question was easy. Was he alright?

Draco tightened his hold on Harry and placed a soft kiss to his neck. “Yes. I am perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Author page.

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #harry x draco #self love #drabble

487 notes · View notes