#post wizard war

[archivingfanfiction]

The Olive Branch Apothecary

By PixieCat95

Hermione Granger has finally decided to pursue a blossoming dream after working far too long in a desk position at the Ministry. After picking up potions as a hobby on the advice of her therapist, the response to her domestic brews had been so overwhelming it almost didn't make sense for her not to open the shop. The Olive Branch Apothecary was born out of a hope for the future and the encouragement of her client base, and although it's been going quite well, everything gets thrown for a loop when her storefront / apartment is sold out from underneath her by her retiring landlord. When the dust settles, Hermione finds herself relying on an unexpected client. The world begins to spin around them both as old and new friends alike have to join forces to stop a dark bio-terrorist who's trying to instill fear in a wizarding world that's just started to hope again.

-

Dramione fic. Draco just so happens to own an empty shopfront and a beautiful brownstone.

[devious-buffoon]

Shit man, this wizard war is fucked. I just saw a guy clap his hands together and say "the ten hells" or some similar shit, and every one around him turned inside out, had their tibia explode and then disappeared. The camera didn't even go onto him, that's how common shit like this is. My ass is casting frostbite and level 2 poison. I think I just heard "power word:scrunch" two groups over. I gotta get the fuck outta here.

[comebackali]

Obi-wan immediately after he and Siri rescue Ferus from being kidnapped: Why doesn't Ferus smile at me when I walk in a room like Anakin does? Why doesn't Ferus tease me and make snarky quips like Anakin does? I miss Anakin so much, I need to find him right now immediately, I sure do hate being separated from him.

[dreamcubed]

call it what you want | draco malfoy x reader

song; call it what you want [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x fem!muggle!reader genre; fluff, angst, forbidden love, s2l word count; 4,3k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; draco's daddy issues, low-key y/n's daddy issues, references to the second wizarding war (and draco's part in it), discrimination (of muggleborns) summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

suggested by @tendous-pretty-hair !!

masterlist

"my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new."

also i have fucking eras tour tickets!!!

—————————————————

Draco had found himself at an emotional stand-still ever since the Second Wizarding War - more specifically the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. After he had regrettably joined Voldemort's side in the mass fallout, only for him to lose anyway. He wasn't sentenced to any time in Azkaban, since it was deemed that he had been coerced into the situation, as backed up by his mother, who had been pardoned due to saving Harry Potter's life in the final moments. His father, however, would never feel the light of happiness again, caged away in the breeding ground of fear.

It wasn't that Draco missed Lucius all that much, in fact, quite the opposite. The time away from him had allowed him and Narcissa to grow closer, and also given him the opportunity to properly question and break down the beliefs that had been hammered into his head since infancy.

Eventually, he decided to step foot into unknown territory: muggle London. He had only ever been to the magic side of it before, but he had come to the realisation that living such a sheltered life was the reason he wound up another of Voldemort's slaves. That lifestyle would be no more.

He found himself stood outside of a small music store, displayed to have vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes inside - whatever they were. Draco did know what music was, however, and wanted to understand the way that muggles experienced it. So, he stepped foot into the shop with the tinkling of a tiny silver bell above him alerting whoever was working behind the tall overflowing shelves.

There were more people perusing the shelves than he had anticipated, so he ducked his head down and headed to an emptier area of the shop. As he began scanning the labels on the shelves, his confusion grew as he realised that he recognised none of the names.

"You don't look like a death metal fan," a voice to his left caught him by surprise, making him jump.

He turned around to have his eyes meet the gaze of a woman wearing an amused smile. You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his skittishness.

"Forgive me, but it's not everyday we have a man dressed in a perfectly ironed suit come and check out the works of Morbid Angel."

After his brain caught up to him, he said, "You work here?"

You nodded, "Family business - me and my mum."

Draco didn't reply to your statement, turning back to the shelves.

"You seem a little lost, first time in a music shop?"

"Uh- yeah," he said, "My family never played music growing up." That was a lie - the Malfoys had held many a musical event, however, they took the form of private orchestral bands.

"You're joking," your expression was that of shock, "How have you lived such a musicless life?"

He shrugged.

"God, I was practically raised on music- I mean, obviously," you gestured around you, "It's everything to me."

"My father was a very strict man," he said simply, making you hum.

"I see. God, I just can't believe you've hardly listened to music - we have to change that," you said, "Do you have any idea what sort of sounds you like?"

"I think I like classical music," it was all he had ever really known.

You grinned, "Yeah, that definitely suits the way you're dressed more than death metal. Come on, I'll set you up with some stuff. Vinyls, CDs or tapes?"

From what he could gather, vinyls were the larger circles, and he was pretty sure that Malfoy Manor had a phonograph with the large brass tube attached for the purpose of playing them. Like the one he saw at the Yule Ball all those years ago. "Uh, vinyl? The big black disc?"

You bobbed your head, "They're becoming less popular these days - people mostly want CDs," you then paused for a moment, "Although my mum said they'll probably have a resurgence in another twenty years. Making an aesthetic of past trends and all that."

Draco listened curiously as you babbled on about different musicians, bands, and albums, finding himself enraptured by the way you carried yourself. Salazar, his father would throw a fit if he found out that he was willingly talking to a muggle.

But his father wasn't there.

"So, do any of these interest you?" you finished, smiling at the ever stoic man before you.

"Uh, yes- all of them," he wasn't sure if he liked the music genre you suggested or the way you talked so passionately.

"All of them?" you tilted your head, "That's- like- hundreds of pounds."

He began digging around in his pockets for the money he had exchanged earlier before coming, and your eyes widened at the sight of all the twenty pound notes.

"Right," you said in a state of shock, "I'll... ring these up for you."

As you totalled up the price and packaged the vinyls into a bag over at the till, the man watched you, as if he was meticulously detailing your every move. Weirdly, it didn't feel creepy.

"Okay that will be... £404.39," you said, in awe of the fact he seemed unfazed by the number.

He began counting out the notes, before handing them over to you: £420 worth of twenty pound notes in your hand. You counted the change out and handed it back to him, placing the receipt in the bag.

"Thank you for shopping here, come again..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"Draco," he said, stopping himself before saying his last name. Although he knew that you wouldn't recognise it anyway.

You couldn't help but think that he had a peculiar name; regardless, you smiled, and said, "Y/N. Please come again."

He nodded, taking the bag and leaving the shop swiftly without so much as looking back once.

***

A week passed by and Draco found himself stood outside of the record shop, unsure of why he had returned. During his last visit he had purchased months worth of music, so really he had no need to be back.

Except, he did.

His social circle had been non-existent ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, not because Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott no longer wanted to be friends with him, but because he had isolated himself in Malfoy Manor with his mother. Draco was nearing being ready to owl them again, but reconnecting with them meant inevitably having to unpack the events of the war.

With a muggle stranger like you, however, there was no unpacking to do.

"Draco, you're back," you grinned, coming out from behind the till, "I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

His abrupt question caught you off guard, "Well, I- I don't know. You're an interesting character," that and you thought he was cute.

Draco stared blankly at you, making you shift uncomfortably on your feet. Eventually, you decided to change the subject.

"Here for more music?"

"Oh, uh- yes."

"Well, what were your favourites from last week's purchases?"

After he told you which ones he had enjoyed the most, you were able to develop some kind of idea as to specific kinds of music to indulge him into. Of course, you had a question burning at the back of your mind that you simply had to ask.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"It's just- vinyls aren't cheap, especially not in as large a quantity as you get them," you elaborated, "I assume you have a well paying job."

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "Family money."

"You mean old money?" you couldn't help but clarify.

He reluctantly nodded, "Yes, old money." He used to be so boastful and prideful of the Malfoy family legacy, but in that moment, despite you having no idea who he was, he could only feel shame when he thought of it.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy," you chuckled, "Let's continue your musical adventure."

Even as you proceeded to serve him with a chipper attitude, you couldn't help but be saddened by learning that he was old money. There was no way that you stood a chance, since old money families liked to marry each other and not someone who was simply the daughter of a small record shop.

At least you learned that piece of information about him early on, you reasoned.

***

"Back? Again?" you questioned incredulously, spying Draco stood in the doorway of your shop, "Hate to turn you away, but we're about to close."

"I know."

You paused, frowning slightly as you grasped hold of the door, "Uh, okay, then... bye?" You began slowly shutting the door.

"Wait."

Again, you paused.

"I need help."

Opening the door fully again, you placed a hand on your hip as you said, "With regards to what?"

You didn't know what to think when he presented a small battered flip phone to you on his milky white palm.

"A phone?"

"I found it. On the floor."

"Musta fell outta someone's pocket," you shrugged, "Happens - why do you need help?"

"Well, don't we need to do something about it?"

All you could do was look at him curiously.

"Is that not- is that not what you do?" maybe he was overcompensating for his past by trying desperately to do one small good deed, or maybe he was trying to prove to you that he was a good person even though you had no reason to believe otherwise. Either way, he wanted to return the muggle contraption to its rightful owner.

"I mean- I guess? If you're feeling nice," you said simply, "Can't lie, I'd probably leave it for someone else to deal with."

"How do I return it?"

You sighed, "Just call the last person they called."

"Right, okay."

Much to your confusion, Draco stared at the device as if he was trying to will it into doing what he wanted.

"You do know how to call someone, yes?" you asked, your arms now folded across your chest.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head.

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside, "Come in."

Once Draco was inside your shop, you shut the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Give it," you made a grabbing motion with your fingers, and the man before you immediately handed over the device, "It's really easy-" he watched in amazement as you flipped open the phone, "-just use the arrow buttons here to go to call history- and, oh, look! Last person they called was their mum- press the green call button and bam."

You presented the now dialling phone to him.

"They have been notified now?"

"Well, her phone will be ringing- hopefully she'll pick up."

"Pick up?"

"Hello?" a voice from the phone announced, "Cadie?"

"Hello, ma'am, your daughter dropped her phone and we found it."

"Oh, I see. Thank you- I'll let her know so she can pick it up. Where's a good place?"

As you told the concerned mother the address of your record shop, you watched Draco's intrigued expression.

You hung up, placing the phone on a nearby surface and beginning to walk to the back room, "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

He stared blankly at you for a few moments, before nodding, "Please."

"How do you take it?"

"No milk, one sugar."

You chuckled to yourself at his strange way of having tea.

***

Draco watched you as you chatted mindlessly while sipping your tea, almost entirely forgetting that he had his own cup sat to his side. Your topics were classically boring - yet so interesting to him. He was enthralled to learn about the different characters in your family, and the trials and tribulations of your school years. He hadn't even realised how little he had said until you pointed it out.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" he went, snapping out of his daze.

"I feel like I've just been talking about myself this entire time. Where did you go to school?"

"Oh- uh-" he desperately pulled together all his thoughts, "A private boarding school in Scotland."

Your mouth dropped open, "Wow, that's cool."

He shrugged.

"Did you miss your family while you were away all year?"

Again, he shrugged, "My mother, yes- my father... not so much."

"I don't see my father at all," you added, to make him feel more comfortable about sharing details of his own father, "I used to... but I realised it was always me reaching out and not him so I stopped. Haven't heard from him since."

Draco nodded, "My father is in prison."

He didn't know why he told you, only realising what he had just said when you froze for a few seconds with widened eyes.

"Can I ask what for?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh... terrorism, murder... that sort of thing," he had no clue why he was being so honest. Had you put veritaserum in the tea?

You cleared your throat, wanting to delicately change the subject but lacking a way on how to do it naturally. Draco observed you, and opened his mouth to say something more when a knock sounded on the door.

"That's- uh- that's probably the phone owner," you said quickly, rushing to your feet to run out of the back room and let them in.

You opened the door to be faced with a short brunette woman.

"Cadie?" you questioned.

She nodded, "You have my phone?"

"Yes, come in."

"Thank you so much- I really can't afford a new one right now," she sighed, "I'm always losing things."

You chuckled, "I know how you feel- I'm always breaking things."

Draco appeared in the doorway to the back and picked up the phone from the counter.

Cadie sighed happily, accepting the phone and thanking the both of you profusely.

"Seriously, you have no idea how appreciative I am."

"It's no trouble, Cadie, really," you assured her.

She paused for a moment, looking around. "Is this your shop?"

You bobbed your head, "Yes, it's family-owned."

"Oh, that's so cool," she looked towards Draco, "So this is your husband?"

You were so taken aback you couldn't even form a response. Before either of you could reply, the phone began ringing.

"It's my boss! I have to take this," she said, "Thank you so much again. You two are a cute couple." And with that final comment, she departed, leaving you and Draco in an awkward silence.

"I-" you began, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Go on a date with me," Draco hurriedly said, realising he had said it like an order rather than an innocent question. He was still in some ways his old bossy teenage self, socialised in a slightly abnormal way.

You took it in good humour, however, and smiled, "I would love to."

***

The following six months were filled with the fanciest and most luxurious dates that you could ever have possibly imagined: five star restaurants, weekends in Paris, and expensive gifts. It was heaven in all ways but one - Draco always had an excuse for you not meeting his family and friends.

For a while, you had ignored the itching feeling that he was ashamed of you and so kept you a secret, but your suspicions grew until you couldn't keep it in anymore. You had to confront him about it.

"...and I was thinking, we should go out for dinner with your mother," you said, flicking through a magazine as Draco sat on the sofa in your small but homely flat.

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever's good for her."

You heard Draco's breath hitch.

"What? Can't come up with an excuse to get out of this one?" your tone held evident bite.

Draco turned around to face you, but his expression was unreadable.

"Are you ashamed of me, Draco?"

His eyes widened.

"I know I'm not rich, let alone old money, but I'd like to think that I'm a likeable person."

He shook his head, "It's not that-"

"Then what is it, Draco?" you snapped, feeling tears fill up your eyes, "You won't even introduce me to your friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

He stood up and began shifting on his feet and fidgeting with his hands, "It's more complicated than that."

"What? You're engaged to someone else?"

Again, he shook his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" you waved your hands about, "Because I can't date someone who treats me like a secret."

"You wouldn't believe me!" he yelled, clearly unintentionally.

You were shocked: you had never heard him yell before. "Try me," you said, your voice low.

He sighed, moving around helplessly for a few moments before striding over to his bag by your front door. He reached his hand in - what appeared to be deeper than the bag's actual depth, but you dismissed it due to your blurred vision - and pulled out a blank piece of paper, tinged brown.

He came over to you and placed it on the kitchen island you were stood behind, and pointed at the bottom of the page. "Sign here."

"It's blank," you thought he was insane.

"Just trust me. Please."

You gave him a skeptical look, but wiped your eyes and picked up a pen nonetheless, writing your signature in the area he pointed to. To your amazement, the second you finished the last letter of your name, writing appeared on the paper. As you scanned it, you were increasingly confused.

- By signing this non-disclosure agreement, you agree that as a muggle you shall not disclose the existence of wizardry and witchcraft to anyone not already in knowledge of it. You understand that by doing so, you would be breaking the law and could face potential criminalisation. The wizard or witch of whom has vouched for your approval to know of magic shall also face potential criminalisation in such a situation.

It will no longer be a criminal offence for wizards and witches to perform magic with you as a witness unless there are unapproved muggles also present.

You will be granted access to wizard-only areas including but not limited to Diagon Alley and Platfrom Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross provided that you are accompanied by a wizard or witch. Please be aware that these permissions may vary in other countries depending on their laws surrounding muggle knowledge of magic and also their acceptance of the British Muggle Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Please sign your name below. -

"What is this?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

"An NDA."

"Yes, I- I gathered that- but- what does it mean?"

"It means... that I'm a wizard."

Part of you wanted to burst out laughing at Draco's insane words, but the way he said it held so much depth that you couldn't help but take it seriously.

"Prove it."

You didn't know what you had expected, but you certainly didn't anticipate your boyfriend pulling out a wand and muttering what sounded like Latin under his breath.

The pen on the table before you morphed into a feather.

There were really no words to describe how you felt in that moment. You asked him to do it again - he turned the feather into a sharpener. You asked him to do it one more time - he turned the sharpener into a fork.

"Oh my God," you said at the volume of a whisper, stepping back and falling against the counter behind you, "What the actual fuck."

"I know this may come as a shock to you..."

"Really?" you said, "No, actually. Not freaking out at all. Not even a little."

He pursed his lips, "My family is what is known as pure-bloods. We haven't mixed with muggles when it comes to reproduction at any point in our bloodline - allegedly."

You stared at him.

"Sometimes, a witch or wizard can be born of muggle parents - we call them muggle-borns. Half-bloods make up the most of wizarding society - their ancestors are a mix of muggle, muggle-born, pure-blood and half-blood."

At your lack of speech, he continued.

"There is a culture of supremacy among pure-blood families - choosing to reproduce only with other pure-bloods to ensure the pure-blooded line continues as they believe themselves to be the only true witches and wizards."

"You're pure-blood," you mumbled.

Draco nodded, "I used to think like that. Used to bully muggle-borns in school - the school I went to being specifically for witches and wizards."

"You don't think like that anymore?"

"No," he quickly said, "I've had a lot of time to question everything I was taught to believe - but, I- there's something really bad I have to tell you. It may change your opinion of me forever and it's the reason why I have kept you away from my family and friends."

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"Years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world..." he began.

***

You had never seen Draco in tears before, but when he reached the details of the final showdown between Harry Potter (a heroic celebrity in the wizarding world) and Lord Voldemort (a wizard terrorist), he broke down in sobs as he recalled him walking over to the latter's side. Tears were falling down your cheeks soon too, and you quickly brought Draco into your arms and felt him collapse into you.

"I regret it every single day," he said through sobs, "Why didn't I have more of a backbone?"

"You were just a boy, Draco," you soothed him, "You didn't want your family to be killed."

He cried harder.

"My opinion of you is not changed - by the sounds of it you never actually killed anyone yourself," you thought back to the Professor Dumbledore section of the story, "In fact, it sounds like you couldn't bring yourself to."

"I can never make up for my past, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "You dating a muggle is pretty solid evidence you're trying to."

"I'm not dating you because you're muggle," he pulled back from you and looked you in the eyes.

You chuckled slightly, wiping the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs, "That's not what I was saying. Young you would have never even considered entering the muggle world, and yet here adult you is."

He gave you a small smile, "I love you."

You beamed, but teardrops were still cascading down your cheeks, "I love you too."

"Let's have dinner with my mother on Sunday."

***

"Mr Malfoy, you may see your father now," the Azkaban worker said, who Draco couldn't help but think reminded him strongly of Filch. An old miserable man with long scraggly hair, an unmissable limp, and filthy dark-coloured robes. Then again, at least this worker had a reason to be miserable all the time: working in the breeding ground of fear and desolation. Filch was by all means in a much more cheerful environment.

Draco nodded at him, and followed his lead down shadowed narrow corridors, caked in dirt and dust. They turned a few corners and went up a few sets of dangerously steep stairs before reaching a cell block with moans and whines coming from every cell - except one.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't known what to expect when he came to see his father: he hadn't visited once since his arrest. But Lucius looked quite different than the proud man he once was, with his once well-kept long blond hair being knotty and entwined with filth, and his once healthy (albeit pale) complexion being overly skinny with sallow sunken features. He looked up at his son, still being able to produce a slight scowl.

"So, you finally decided to visit," he drawled, but his voice was too broken to hold the same threat it used to.

"Yes, father, I have some things I need to say to you," despite Lucius' weakened state, Draco still held some lifelong fear of the man, but he had to remain strong in front of him.

"And what would that be?"

"I have a girlfriend, and I plan to propose to her."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Your mother has not mentioned this," Narcissa frequently visited her husband.

"She didn't find out until last week."

After some seconds of silence, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Draco at the cell gate. "What is her name?"

"Y/N L/N."

"L/N does not ring a bell. Which bloodline is she from?"

Draco felt intimidated by his father's close proximity, but still managed a smirk, "She isn't of pure blood, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened, "You don't mean to say she's- half blood? Or worse- a- a mudblood?"

"Worse," his smirk grew, "She's muggle."

The ghostly shock that flooded over Lucius' face made Draco feel a triumph over his father he had never felt before, and gave him the confidence to feel as though he had the upper hand in their interaction. He stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice.

"And I'm going to marry her, and have children with her, and you will have to spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell knowing that the Malfoy pure blood line has been permanently tainted."

"You can't do this," Lucius said through gritted teeth, "After everything we fought for."

Draco hummed, "See, I thought it was time for me to finally fight for something good."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 02/06/2023 —> 17/07/2023 published; 17/07/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

[precariouswizardry]

[cherry-pop-elf]

SFW Alphabet: George Weasley

To the Anon that requested this, I hope you see this and know that this was the best ask ever. I love you so much, oh my god thank you! 🫂

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

George is such a man of actions. He loves to display his affection proudly. Along with in the form of servitude or gift giving. He’s very loud and proud with it all. He will get you whatever you need, run whatever errand you have, and return to snuggle his face into your lap. Just holding you close. The moment WWW is opened, it gets amplified by a million. He’s a total cuddle bug, and he will make it your problem. Platonic, or romantic. It’s gonna be everyone’s problem that he is loud about it. Guess you can say he’s a little in everything, because of it. Still, his loudest is servitude and gift giving.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He is the most loyal, and fun, best friend to ever have. He is going to give you piggy back rides, as you both run away from whatever trouble you both left behind. He’s going to always have his shoulder ready for when you need to cry. He’s a very emotionally in tuned person when it comes to well, ya know, Emotions! So he is the man you can trust with your secrets, and just need to vent. Very much a living teddy bear. There for when you need to cry, scream, and need someone to hold. Along with pulling a Lupin, and making sure you have sweets for when you need to stuff your face silly over something dumb that happened.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Doesn’t matter if you are romantic, platonic, familia, you will be cuddled by this man. You will be held. He loves cuddles and acts of physical attention. Depending on your size, he will either rest his head in your lap or lay on you. He just wants to be held. Hold this man! Men deserve to be little spoons. Let him be cuddled and held tightly, with his hair played with. Of course, the gesture is returned. He will take care of you all the same. Just holding, and being held, soothes his woes.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Being raised by a family of nine, and also starting his own empire before he was eighteen, he is extremely great with domestic life. Despite what everyone says. Since he has a job he loves, and very much pays the bills, he is so excited to have kids. To have a family so badly, and give them the life he always dreamed of. He’s also the baker of the family, so cooking is no issue. Cleaning? Uh…..Hey, he can cook and will change the diapers no issue. He will be there for the child just as much as you would. What? No ones perfect. He handles the cooking, you handle the cleaning. Being a partner is sharing responsibility’s anyway.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

God, it’s gonna probably messy. He’s the more emotional one of the two, so it’s probably going to end in tears. That is, if the relationship was good and healthy. I can easily see him needing to do something like this, the day before he and Fred had to break out of Hogwarts. Not wanting to put them in any risk of their own actions. Would sit you down, explain what’s going on, and how he wants to focus his full heart and soul into the career. He would cry, but he would have Fred with him for support. If the relationship was shit? Expect a Jack In The Box to blow up in your face with a pie that says ‘It’s Over’ before being smacked in your face. Would even make the pie in your least favorite flavor, to be extra petty.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He took his career at WWW very seriously, so he wouldn’t be as quick to marriage as people would think. He would have 100% have a promise ring, Las Vegas wedding if you joined him in the Umbridge incident. But to actually settle down with kids and such is well after the war. He takes his job seriously. Like, the evidence is clear with how successful it is. He is a committed man, but he is also a man that is passionate about his career. So as long as you are very supportive of it as well, he’s like you as glue on a horse.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It really depends on how far the relationship is. Platonic or romantic. At first he’s really intense and loud. But once you two settle into each other, he’s very gentle honestly. He’s the ‘softer twin’ after all. Still, he can be intense, but his emotions are soft. He’s very honest with how he feels, and if he’s uncomfortable it’s super easy to read on his face and body language. He’s just a very open book when it comes to emotions. Expected to have brutal hugs, and to be tossed like a rag doll though. He’s still got those jock arms, and hard muscles from working at WWW.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Obsessed with hugs. He would rest his head on yours, as you both are in class. He will hug you as a form of greeting. There have been times he’s hugged as a first impression. Confused the old farts when doing business deals, that’s for sure. He loves them so damn much. He loves to hug and be hugged. He’s not a teddy bear for nothing. Hug and hug and more hugs. He loves them, and will find an excuse to give them if he can. It’s even rubbed off on people he knows, and now they aren’t to shy in physical affection because of it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s a very lovey dovey guy in general, so the first time he says it it’ll not really sound like the L-word. Just the playful little kinds. Like ‘I love your dumb ass-‘ types. He’s just as opposite of toxic masculinity as it gets. So when he finally does say the L word, it’s hard to tell if it’s playful or not. He’s just very emotional like that. Even after the war, and the trauma of it all. His emotional strength is to be admired, really.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Like I said. Fred is the more stern while George is more soft of the two. So his reaction to jealously is more in the terms of anxiety, and sadness. He would get stressed, and worried. Wondering if he’s good enough, if he’s even wasting your time with him.

After the war though? Uh….He might get a little aggressive. Not at you, but whoever it is he feels is threatening his relationship. It’s hard, when you lose your twin. So he gets overly protective and territorial. Afraid he will lose more people. Before the war he’s scared, after the war he’s terrified.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Cheeks and noses. He loves cute little affection like that. To pepper your face in kisses, and nuzzle his nose with yours. He wants to kiss your face until you giggle. He loves kisses like that in return.

After the war, he loves being kissed on his scar. Fleur would do that with Bill. Kiss his scars, and show him that he is still handsome. That his scars are just as pretty as him. It’s soothing to him. That he isn’t seen as gross or disgusting for his facial features. So, give him plenty of kisses on his missing ear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

The BEST! Not only because he’s an older sibling, but because he runs a joke shop. He knows what kids like. He and Fred also would comfort kids during Umbridges time. So if a kid is experiencing trauma, he’s quick to hold them and let them know they have a safe adult to confide in. He’s the man that ends up being a person kids run to when they are running away from home, more often than he wants to admit. It’s not going to be long before he’s a foster parent, that’s for sure. He might have, even. Given a lot of orphans were made from the war…..

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a morning bird. He will be awake early, and working on coffee and breakfast. Enjoying his cup of overly sweet Joe, and a sunrise. Even in school, he was always the first one up. He loves the calm of it. There’s something so nice about the stillness of a morning, and being able to mold it to be whatever you want it to be. Breakfast he already made, and he has a list of things he has planned for the morning. Already showered, and dressed. A total morning bird.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Fred is the night owl, not George. Especially since he would be busy with work. And it’s worse when Fred had died. Wanting to work as long as he could, to not face the loneliness of being without him. Even with a partner, it hurts. Closing shop alone. There will be times he worked himself to pure exhaustion, and passes out. Just so he didn’t have to close up shop alone. It’s not healthy, but neither is a magical twin being alive without his other half. It’s a cycle. You’ll help him break it eventually. So many nights are often times you stealing him out of his blacked out state in the shop.

Before the war, though, it was certainly much better. He would come home, tired, but contented. Have those aches and pains of a hard days work. Happily help make dinner, tell you about his day, and have a nice cuddle session together. So you two can have some together time, and be at peace. The war sure likes to take peace away from people.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Before the war, he’s very open about himself. You won’t get his darkest secrets, like how he feels like people like Fred more than him, on the first encounter. But he has a good judge of character, so you’ll learn that sooner than later.

After the war……Oh boy. He’s learned to be very good at hiding what he is actually feeling. It’s going to take ages for you to break through his laughing mask. He’s just scared of losing someone close to him again. It hurts. He’s scared. You’ll have to really dig, but the dig is worth it. Because when he finally opens up, it’s a water fall. A much needed waterfall, that patches holes. Paves way to healing. It’s worth the dig.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends on the person, actually. If you are like a little kid, his patience is endless. If you are an adult? It’s shorter, but he’s able to keep himself pretty calm. It’s a Gordon Ramsey thing. Kids don’t know better, adults do. Also, ya know, he’s beaten up Draco more than once.

The same still apply’s after the war. Shorter for adults, endless for kids. Though, he’s more quicker to violence after the war. Because those same adults are now making comments about Fred, his appearance, and things that you just don’t say to someone with PTSD man. Come on.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You would think he was a stalker, with how much he knows. In reality, the twins are charismatic for a reason. They read the room, and pick up small details. That’s how they seem so charming. They know what to say to meet the vibe. So, he’s just good at picking up little things. He loves knowing what makes his friends, and partners, happy. Also, he’s a prankster. He NEEDS to know these tiny details. Makes giving you surprises the more fun. You made one comment about how pretty green is? Now you suddenly have a green sweater for Christmas because he told Molly you like green. You will not escape his love.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

If this is a case that you joined them in the Umbridge escape, that obviously. If not? It’s extremely domestic. It’s a case where you two fell asleep together. Having spent the night in a hidden little spot in the castle, having been working on plans for inventions and pranks. Just the two of you cuddled, and surrounded with exciting things. Fred and Angelina in a similar fashion. Almost a mirror of you and him. Just one big cuddle pile, with the most important people of his life. You, his twin, and their childhood friend. It was so perfect, he was able to forget the worries of Umbridge and the war. It was heaven, for just a moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

It gets worse after the war, but over all he’s always been support protective. If anything, you getting caught in the Pink Toad’s crossfire is what caused him and Fred to break out of school. If it wasn’t for the fact she had so much power, it would be safe to assume he would have caused more violence than what was already done. He isn’t afraid to get blood on his hands. Many wizards aren’t, as that is the society. Wizards are a very violent society after all. You say the word, and the person that has been bothering you either gets pranked into a heart attack….or worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s his favorite pass time, really. He loves planning. There is so much excitement in it. Also doing small things is just natural for him. To kiss your head, before leaving to work. To remember your favorite flavor of candy, and give you said flavor from the left overs from candy he got in Hogsmeade. He loves doing stuff like that, and it gets worse after WWW. He’s able to pamper you in ways no one could imagine. It’s not a surprise that some of the products are a reaction to gifts and plans he made for you. So many dates, so many fun things. Every moment is special. From the wildest of Quidditch matches, to domestic picnics at Fred’s grave.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I wouldn’t say having PTSD is an ugly habit, but that is something that will need to be dealt with and handled. It’s hard, but hopefully you were very aware of that when dating him. Suppose more so what actual bad habits he has is saying we/us well after Fred’s death. As if you’ll ever correct him. A more proper bad habit is he has a hard time cleaning, and remembering to eat. Ya know, typical ADHD habits. Suppose remembering self care is a bad habit. Even before the war. He is just a giver. It’s hard to treat yourself, so it leads to some issues. Like dietary issues, his hair getting messy. A really really bad habit he has is always focusing on making others happy, and forgetting himself. Everyone deserves happiness, not him. It’s a trauma that was developed by his life. So it’s hard for him to take a minute to allow himself joy. Lots of bottled up emotions, despite being so open. Complexity of human nature.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He didn’t really start a worry, until after the war. Now that he was sporting a missing ear, multiple scars, and just a mess of trauma. He went as far as to grow out his hair to try and hide the scars. It’s hard, because since the wound is a magical scar it caused his hair to be unable to grow on that spot. So his hair style had to be very long, which just brought more notice to his scar. It’s often made him cry. Kids asking about it don’t bother him too much, but adults just don’t know when to shut up. He’s cried so many times from it. How he is no longer identical to Fred. That he can’t even see his own brother in his reflection anymore. Many a mirror has been broken, to say the least…..

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before the war, he would have a better chance of moving on and living life as normal. After? Oh after it’s scary. It’s very scary. He’s lost Fred, don’t make him keep losing people. It’s going to be a very dark day for WWW if he ever lost you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Just one?! Oh come on. Ok ok hm. Hehe get angsted. He started to wear purple far more often when Fred died, so in a way Fred is still involved and part of life. Because Fred’s favorite color is purple, while George’s favorite color is orange. Hence their purple and orange color schemes. Green was their mutual shared color they liked. So purple indirectly because almost more loved than orange, because purple reminded him of Fred. So by proxy grape, and such, was a thing that has often comforted him in hard times. If he’s drinking or eating grape flavored things, it’s a sign that he’s sad and needs support. So, in his own little way, Fred is. By giving him comfort in a flavor and color.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

You don’t like kids? He doesn’t like you. You don’t want kids when older? Get out of his face. This doesn’t mean if you are unable to have kids. This means if you aren’t willing to adopt or foster even. If you won’t even accept fostering then you aren’t dating him. Kids are his life. Also, duh, if you can’t take a joke or enjoy a good prank. If you basically don’t have the headspace to be a playful parent, you aren’t even getting the time of day from him. Don’t get him started on the weirdos that make if their whole personality that they don’t have kids. Red flag for him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Before the war, he was a heavy ass sleeper. He would have you tangled in his limbs, as he snores into your hair. He’s knocked out, and you are now trapped with his ginger covered furnace he calls a body. Sure makes winters snuggly. He can sleep through a damn construction sight, while being on a jack hammer. Those twins love loud noises. They don’t get scared by them easily.

After the war is another story. He can’t sleep on his left side, because that makes him go fully deaf after all. He also can’t have the room quiet. The quite scares him. So there will be some kind of background noise. Such as the window open, to have the busy streets of London/Diagon alley to make some sound. Or a record player. He’s also more sensitive to waking up, and has night terrors. He gets scared easily in his sleep. It’s also harder to sleep, if you aren’t there with him. He just hates being alone. He always has Fred, and they had that magical bond. So that even if they were miles apart, they could still feel each other. He doesn’t have that anymore. Isolation is horrific for him. Hence why Bill moved back to working in Gringotts, and into the flats attached to WWW. So he didn’t have to face that fear. Fleur’s thoughts on it? She’s out right slept in the same room as George, one his worse nights, because a Veela knows what it’s like to have magic that isn’t the same as your typical wizard. She knows, and does what she can to help. A true Weasley.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 6 - Limb

@jegulus-microfic July 6, Word count 300

He dropped his gaze to his right arm as his wand clattered to the floor. The limb hung there uselessly. Limp against his side. He quickly stooped to snatch up his fallen wand in his left hand and threw up a shield to protect himself from the same jinx hitting him again. 

“Is that the best you can do James?” He yelled across the abandoned building site. “It’s not even harmful! What are you going to do numb me into submission?” He cackled wickedly as the wall behind him exploded into rubble. “Missed again, lover!” He called out as he danced away from the debris. For all his talk he hadn’t sent anything stronger than a stinging hex at him. James had left him after he’d gotten the mark, not that he’d wanted it in the first place, but in order for him to continue as heir to the Black family he had no choice. 

James skirted around a pallet of bricks and Regulus took his shot. The scaffolding above James collapsed to the ground. James managed to put up a shield around himself before the poles hit, but the force still knocked him off his feet. “Until next time my love,” Regulus called before apparating away. That had been a close one, James had gotten way too close. He had no qualms about taking out any of those other idiots in the so-called Order, even his brother wasn’t entirely safe from him. If he had to he’d do what was needed to stay alive, but James, with James he wasn’t strong enough, never had been. 

He slammed the door shut on number twelve Grimmauld Place, his useless right arm swinging beside him and readied himself for the mind-numbing boredom in store for him at the next death eater meeting.   

[fanfic-lover-girl]

HP epilogue's socio-politics in a nutshell

The Weasleys are the new Blacks.

[silver-horse]

guys I felt genuine fear in my stomach while reading this tweet...

[wizardvanhq]

WIZARD SPELL LIST

TURN UNDEAD. MAKES THE UNDEAD RUN AWAY. DONT FUCKING CAST TURN INTO UNDEAD.

KERCHOO. FORCES YOUR OPPONENT TO THINK ABOUT PIXAR'S CARS, INFLICTING PSYCHIC DAMAGE.

DEET DEET. CAUSES YOUR OPPONENT'S INSTRUMENT TO BE OUT OF TUNE. WE ARE UNSURE IF THIS CAUSES THEM MORE DAMAGE THAN IT CAUSES US BUT WE NEED MORE DATA SO IT IS NOT BANNED YET.

WIZARD BEAM ATTACK. WIZARD ATTACK THAT TAKES THE FORM OF A BEAM.

SUMMON WATER. NOTE: DOES NOT SUMMON WATER. SUMMONS SNAKES INSTEAD. EFFECTIVENESS DEPENDS ON YOUR OPPONENTS FEELINGS ON SNAKES.

BANNED SPELLS DO NOT CAST!!!!

TELEPORTING BEAR. WE'RE STILL TRYING TO CONTAIN THE FIRST ONE. JUST DON'T.

DESTROY CALCIUM. THAT IS UNSPORTSWIZARDLIKE AND ALSO RUINS EVERYONE'S BONES. IF SOMEONE FIGURES OUT HOW TO MAKE IT TARGETED THE WIZARD COUNCIL MAY RETHINK IT.

KETAMINE APE.

FIREBALL. TOO MAINSTREAM.

[date-a-jew-suggestions]

Me seeing a fantasy or sci-fi universe made up of entirely fictional peoples and cultures: okay but which ones are the Jews I can project onto.

[essektheylyss]

me, making a PC playlist: is Marina really an appropriate choice for an exhausted, four hundred year old grizzled war mage?

me, a split second later: what the fuck am I talking about. that's the demographic Marina makes music for.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sometimes being in the SW Fandom is about diving into the annals of the internet researching the most obscure tidbit of batshit insane Canon or EU Lore imaginable to man (which is honestly my favorite thing to do because people have done some pretty insanely funny things with this universe and characters). But for the majority of the time, being in the SW Fandom is also watching people repeat a cycle of asinine arguments that make an absolute ass out of them for the worst possible reasons.

So here's a quick reminder of past arguments to be mindful of and always consider, when you see something in the tags that makes you wrinkle your nose at:

Everyone has something they like or dislike about the overall universe and story. Be it the Original Trilogy, the Prequels, the Sequels, the Animated series, the Live-Action series, EU stuff, Novels, etc. No one is above or below anyone else just because they don't love the entirety of the universe and/or the direction the current writers are taking it.

Canon can be a good baseline for your own creative purposes. You don't have to love it (because yes the whole thing can be inconsistent as hell), but don't get to a point in your fanfic/AU world-building where you vehemently deny that canon is an actual thing. This goes hand in hand with your personal depiction of characters vs someone else's depictions. Reading comprehension and the creative process depend on perspective and how you process the information you're given, so it's only normal that no two person's idea of a character is the same. But saying that your headcanons are how the characters should be written by everyone is not gonna do you any favors in the long run, because it's not up to you to decide on that. Don't forget Blorbo's actual roots and what it took to get him where you took him, but don't try to force someone else to accept the journey you orchestrated for them!

No one's OC should be put on a pedestal. It's good that people feel comfortable enough to play Barbies with each other's OCs in roleplay sessions, or even add a cameo in a fic to a character of a friend and/or artist/writer they admire from a distance. Hell, the fact many people are passionate about someone else's little fella/s is great! But the moment someone's OC becomes an object of obsession within a Fandom community, things can go a little wrong... It stops being fun to be in that kind of space that goes from welcoming OC discussions to suddenly shunning new people in favor of someone's Ultimate Blorbo who now has a Cult Following and should be written into every fanfic ever.

No one is evil for lacking knowledge or self-awareness of certain grievances that people rightfully have with the source material. The SW Fandom has always had a long-standing issue with racial stereotyping, whitewashing, cultural appropriation, sexism and many other equally serious topics that have been more eloquently explained in posts made by people much more eloquent and qualified than I am or ever will be. However, one must recognize that not everyone who joins the Fandom is immediately aware of these things. Especially the younger generations that have either not been exposed to these concepts due to one reason or another (upbringing, biased educational curriculum, etc), or because they were simply never in a position where they could delve into these topics with someone knowledgeable on them (some experiences simply aren't universal, especially if you come from a more privileged family). For the most part, SW is just a silly sci-fi universe that is nothing more than a simple means of escapism or dumb fun. Not everyone is going to study it under a microscope or go through it with a fine comb. That said, another important thing to remember is to listen to those who know their stuff and that have had personal grievances with any of the topics above. You can be excused for lack of knowledge, but you cannot be excused for purposefully ignoring the voices of those who provide you said knowledge for free if you go searching.

This is kinda returning to the second and previous topics, but I really need to put emphasis on this: If you're going to cling to certain design choices with an iron first and incorporate them into your personal ideas/headcanons, please always consider how it SOUNDS when you say characters that are written with basis on real POC people/communities are much better/superior if they have phenotypical trait expressions that are not present (or considered rare/atypical) in their real world basis. This is a CONSISTENT problem I have seen crop up specifically within the Clone Wars and Bad Batch sides of the fandom, especially when talking about Rex (who is a blond) and Clone Force 99 (who do not look like standard clones). Always remember: The problem isn't that Rex can't be naturally blond (genetics can be unpredictable and we really don't have an extensive look into the cloning process), the problem is the way some people think he'd be inferior in some way if he were a bottle blond who chose to distinguish himself (almost as if having darker skin, darker hair and darker eyes is somehow worse than having lighter skin, lighter hair or lighter eyes.. How curious isn't it?). Needless to say, I don't think I need to elaborate further on why CF99's "desirable mutations" giving them considerably lighter skin and less ethnic features, while also making their most POC presenting member look and sometimes act like a moronic brute (something which this Fandom pushes further by infantilizing him relentlessly), is a bit of a red flag...

Star Wars has always been political. It is literally in the name and in the meat of the writing. The entire thing is basically a political and social critique presented in a sci-fi/fantasy wrapper, with colorful plasma swords, cool spaceships, and kickass explosion bow on top. You cannot separate the political conversation from the universe's overall lore, and trying to do so makes you look foolish. Disney may have taken creative liberties with some of its shows, but at the end of the day they can't ever eliminate what the Original Trilogies and even the Prequels tried to tell us about. With that said, complaining about how some of the new shows are "too Woke" or PC is the equivalent of saying you read Romeo and Juliet and that the story is relationship goals. You might need to revisit the original material.

For the love of god if you don't like something, don't go after someone who does, it's not worth it. Sometimes the best thing you can do is either filter something you actively dislike/that makes you feel uncomfortable, or simply unfollow/block whoever is repeatedly bringing it onto your doorstep. And you also have no real obligation to explain your decision to block someone, especially if they hound you for questions. Rule of thumb: Don't like something? That's perfectly fine and valid. Take the steps to make yourself comfortable then, but don't go out of your way to be a royal asshole to someone else just because they themselves enjoy it. This encompasses things from anti-jedi demonization, actual ethnic cleansing in canon, siding with personifications of alt-right extremists, proshipping apologism, etc. The block button was added to this hellsite for a reason. Use it.

Sometimes you can't change someone else's opinions on a matter and that is perfectly fine. Just don't start a feud. People come and go, and their opinions vary (we're all individuals with out own perspectives and unique experiences after all), but getting up in arms every time someone either refuses to yield in a long-winded argument, or continuously tries to shove their unsolicited opinions/advice onto you, or even makes incredibly uncomfortable/forward/gross comments that they definitely shouldn't be saying to a complete stranger on the internet, is kind of pointless and will drain you of energy faster than you can say Death Star. You're not the lesser person for walking away from a lost cause. It's ultimately not your job or responsibility to fix/better someone else. Especially if they don't want to change.

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic September 1 - prompt 1: Hogwarts Express [word count 621]

The sight of the steam engine waiting on Platform 9 and 3/4 sent Remus’s head reeling. He stopped in his tracks, ignoring the people weaving around him, the children laughing, the teenagers calling to each other, the parents repeating recommendations for the hundredth time, feeling as if he was being pulled back in time.

Back to the first time he had seen that engine, his hand clutched in his mother’s, utterly afraid of leaving home and be alone with his terrible secret for the first time, dead-set on not making any friends to avoid losing them when they would find out. Back to the first time he had looked for a place to sit in those compartments, the first time he had seen a boy with a smile warm like the sun, sitting with another boy who had timidly offered him a Chocolate Frog, back to the first time he had looked up to lose himself in silver eyes.

Back to all those times he had found his friends again on that platform, shutting themselves in one compartment, planning the pranks ahead, practicing spells they couldn’t do back at home during the holidays, swapping sweets and family stories. The times they had waited apprehensively to see if Sirius would be sent back to Hogwarts that year as well, and in what state. That first time they had ridden back with Sirius headed to the Potters’ instead of that hell that was his family’s home. That first time Remus had been able to hold Sirius’s hand for the whole ride, their friends smiling at them. The first times when the little kid rivalry with the girls had started to fade and Mary, Lily and Marlene had popped by the Marauders’ compartment. The first time Snape had come looking for Lily and Lily had gotten up from her seat next to Remus and had calmly punched him in the nose. The first time Marlene had stopped by, hand in hand with Dorcas Meadowes. The first time they had almost kicked James out because he couldn’t stop snogging Lily in front of everyone. And the last time they had found themselves bound for Hogwarts all together, the war outside forgotten in the excitement of the seventh year and Lily and James’s Headgirl and Headboy brand-new badges.

And back to that other time, when once again he had dragged himself along the corridor looking for a place and had collapsed in a seat, falling immediately asleep after the exhaustion of a Full. Back to that first time he had opened his eyes, instinct making him jump to his feet, wand at the ready, and had then looked down to the floor of the compartment to see that James had fainted. Except that it wasn’t James, it was Harry. And when Harry had opened his eyes he had Lily’s eyes and Remus had found out he still had a piece of his heart that could break.

“Moony?”

“Dad?”

Remus blinked, the Hogwarts Express still in front of him, the chaos of the first of September still around him, but three pairs of eyes looking at him. Sirius, his hands on the handle of the trolley piled high with a trunk, a soft bag and a cage in which a magnificent long-eared owl was looking around. Anwell, in his brand-new robes, his hand holding his sister’s. Estelle, who had just recently stopped asking Headmistress McGonagall, or Aunt Minerva as the children had been graciously allowed to call her when she stopped by the cottage for tea, if she could come to Hogwarts at the same time as her brother.

“Sorry,” he smiled to his husband and children. “Come on, let’s find you a free compartment, fy nghariad.”

[salmonella-destroyer-of-worlds]

War is hell.

[solarisburns]

Dorcas knew something was wrong when Evan showed up at her door one night. At the start of the war, right before she graduated all three of her-the boys took the dark mark. She wanted, desperately, for there to be more to the story, but if there was they never told her. So when she found out she was furious told them all she never wanted to speak to them ever again, and the only time they would see her face is from behind bars or in a shallow grave. They respected that and before she knew it, its been over a year and she missed them like she misses a limb. but she does not regret her decision.

So when one night evan shows up alone, dorcas knows something is wrong. she nearly curses him outright when he asks to come in but he offers his wand to her and doesn't even flinch when she rips it out of his hand. idly she considers snapping it. Evan didn't look good, he was more wirey than before the war and he looked depressed. his eyes were red.

he came into her apartment and looked around in curiosity, right he had never seen her apartment they had stopped speaking a week before she moved in. he sat on her couch and she pretended not to be hurt about how right it felt to have him here. then he spoke, "We wanted to tell you, I swear we did but he told us that if you knew and someone found out you would be a target. You and marlene and your family. We tried Dorcas we tried so fucking hard but were losing and we don't know what to do and you, your the most powerful witch we know and Reg-" he rambled frantically and when he tried to say Regulus' name his voice broke and Dorcas was filled with this horrible sense of dread. She knew why Evan was here but she didn't want to believe it. She needed to hear it out loud but merlin she didn't want to.

"Evan, what are you doing here."

"Regulus is dead."

"Oh."

And the worst part is, Dorcas knew, they all knew that Regulus would not make it through this war. One way or another, no matter what side, this always ended with Regulus dead. She feels a stab of resentment for the dead boy.

"Were spies, we um have been for years. Regulus stole something from Voldemort, he uh he died to get it. He told us if he didn't make it back to bring it to you, that you would have the power to destroy it. It's with Pandora at the moment, we try to keep it moving so theres less of a chance it can be tracked, but we wanted to tell you now. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you, I know you never wanted to see me again but Pandora is telling Sirius and Barty the Potters." Evan was crying, and he was desperately trying to hide it. Then Dorcas realized she was crying to. They sat there and cried and cried, it could have been for hours the two of them cried.

She clears her throat and looks at the clock, "Marlene will be home soon, you should leave. And uh tell Pandora she, alone, can bring whatever it is over tomorrow afternoon." Dorcas wants to forgive them but she can't, not yet. And Regulus is dead, it doesn't feel real except for the way it's all too real.

Evan nods, "of course, whatever you need." he holds his hand for his wand and turns towards the door when he gets it, but hesitates. "I know I have no right to ask this, but Cas, can I have a hug?"

She's up before he finishes his sentence and pulling him into a hug "Sure Ev." she whispers into his ear as she rocks them, their the same height now, she used to have an inch on him. he huffs what might be a laugh. and before she knows it their letting go and he's almost out the door.

"See ya around Meadowes?"

"See you around Rosier."

And then he's gone and if she closes her eyes she can pretend that he was never here at all. That somewhere in the world the three boys are out there getting drunk and ruining peoples lives and growing up without her. The boys are spies and lied to her for years and Regulus is dead. She sinks down the closed door and sobs.

(She never does see Evan around, he died two months later)