#she and merlin then have centuries to realize all their mistakes

[lovebotomy]

immortal leon in fics is such pet peeve of mine leave immortality to magic bitches please... ik it's funny that he should die bunch of times and doesn't but it doesn't fit narratively for him at alllll he's not even a likeable knight.. and even if why would he and merlin interact after finale merlin dgaf about him beyond arthur association..

[tenebrius-excellium]

I’m reminded of just how good Trollhunters was but also of how it kinda peaked in the middle of Season 3 and went rapidly downward from then on. Those pure None Shall Live Scenes, just...every time the amulet powered up...Claire’s mystery arc of discovering magic and developing her skill without getting any instruction, unlike Jim who was tutored by both his friends and his enemies and who was able to profit from centuries of knowledge and tradition...like, the way she had to go in completely blind and find out...and the way she did so well considering the circumstances... just the top tier humor, the NotEnrique and Chompsky and Goblin bits, Angor Rot and Strickler as glorious, complex and entertainingly dangerous villains... Draal... Draal... Toby and Barbara both knowing they were not the main characters yet still doing such a great job with their respective roles... and Jim being consistently conflicted about doing what was right and wondering what it meant to be a human warrior serving non-human creatures...

...and then the parents found out.

Idk that’s when it immediately turned sour for me.

Like, Barbara never really took a stance on what the discovery of the reality of trolls meant to her - it sort of remained her son’s “thing”. But what about herself? Was it cool to her? Did it spark her curiosity, her desire to explore and research - regarding new ways of medical treatment, for example? Why’d she never comment about Strickler’s ability to shapeshift...and did she like his horns in the end? Was she ever anything else than afraid and worried for the normalcy she used to know, instead of rejecting or embracing the possibilities and the wonder of the magical world?

Then Merlin appears, and it’s fine in itself that he is the character he is. He’s quirky and iconic and doesn’t have to change. But what happened to “Master Jim was correct! We are stronger together!” (quote Blinky, from when Claire opened the giant portal at the end of Season 2)? Why did Jim continue to walk alone after so many experiences that supposedly taught him the strength of community? Heck, he taught that exact principle to a desperate Nomura who had given up on someone coming for her in the Darklands!!! Yet it’s like he fails to learn the same lesson over and over...he makes the mistake of going into a life-threatening situation by himself, is then helped by his friends, everyone including himself assumes that he will natually choose better next time and then... he keeps repeating the exact same pattern endlessly as if he has amnesia. I understand that it might take a fictional hero a couple times for a certain lesson to sink in, just like it would for a real life person. But Jim never learns (not even in Wizards, not even in Rott). It gets frustrating and boring. Don’t get me wrong, I quite like Troll!Jim now, he grew on me. But it shouldn’t have been Merlin’s influence that drove Jim to become a troll “because there was no other way”, but because Jim decided for himself that this was the best way. He should have rejected Merlin’s initial suggestion, then realized he wanted it himself. Because frankly half his life and over half of his friendships were in the troll world by then, he loved their species and there were obvious advantages to fighting Gunmar as a troll - if only to truly understand their ways. But Jim’s character development kept being dictated by outside parties and therefore, got ground to a stagnating halt. He never learned to think beyond the authority of the people who made the amulet or wore it before him. He stayed dependent on all of the destiny stuff they told him instead of considering that the amulet might have been a tool of its own mind, bound to him, helping him into the freedom of making his own choices. Of course there is the aspect of only one person being able of carrying Daylight. But Jim did not have to follow the preset course that Merlin intended it for. I wish he didn’t. And that’s why, even though I’m happy that he became Troll!Jim, the ending of Season 3 just wasn’t as good as it could have been.

Jim, sweet gullible Jim who was just a little bit too receptive for random people’s guidance because he lacked a father figure, did not learn what I was led to believe was his arc over 3 whole seasons of plot, (to discern which voices to listen to and to gather confidence in his own strength while following a destiny) and since that issue was never finished nor fixed, the creators never gave him a new arc beyond the original problem, and so... that’s why Jim grew ultimately redundant. Slowly in Wizards, at lightning speed in Rott. And that’s how we ended up with a repetitive, nonsensical cycle of plot.

While Jim’s physical action potential grew consistently without his character truly evolving, Douxie on the other hand made it a point to learn how to grow personally fast.

Love him for it. Still wish he had been the main guy in Rott. Perhaps all would have been well. :) My point is, I really miss the earlier days of Trollhunters, because they really were that enjoyable and good!!!!

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (6/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: SFW, T+, NO LEMON

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage

Word Count: 1991

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: No real notes today! I hope you enjoy. This story took a “lighter tone” than I expected (at least I hadn’t expected it to, maybe you did ! aha!) but I actually like writing happier stories so I guess my brain just went “cowabummer bro, you’re writing some happy fiction even if you didn’t want to”

Enjoy

***

"Where are we going?" (y/n) asks. 

Regulus felt a bit relieved that (y/n) agreed to come along on his little surprise trip. After last night, which he now realized was a complete mistake, he wasn't sure that his wife would willingly agree to go out in public with him. Especially if he promised some sort of surprise.

She hadn't asked him any questions until they were walking outside, her arm tucked nicely within his. Like it was meant to be there.

"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise." Regulus glances over at his wife. She's got a deep frown on her face. It doesn't exactly mar her beautiful face, but it reminds him a bit too much of his mother's annoyed expression. "Just trust me."

Her little huff of annoyance he decides is enough of a response.

Regulus tries to think of Sirius's advice. Get to know (y/n), even the small things he personally thought were unnecessary to know about a person-- moot things about her. And in turn, be vulnerable enough to share small things back.

"So-- uh, (y/n)."

"Yes?" she looks at him with confusion in her eyes.

"I thought we ought to try and start fresh."

"Fresh?"

"I don't know how else to move from here if we don't have a clean slate."

"I hardly think that would work."

Merlin-- "(y/n)," he stops, halting her as well, "I said I would try to give you what you want. If you shut me down, there's no chance I can."

She gives him a look, "Regulus--"

"Listen," he inhales, collecting himself, "I'm not good at this. You'll have to be patient with me, but I'm willing to figure this out. And I probably won't--" He pauses, "I probably will mess up, a lot. But, please. Give me a chance."

(y/n) studies his face, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I understand that I'm asking you to step outside of your comfort zone, and I appreciate that you're being open with me."

Regulus smiles, muttering, "Sirius was right." Under his breath.

"What?" (y/n) asks.

"Nothing." Regulus takes her hand in his, "this can be like our first date."

(y/n) smiles, amused, "this is silly--"

"I was serious last night that I will try."

"No pretending. You swear you will not pretend with me?"

"That's why I am asking that we start fresh. Give me a chance. I'm not good at this-- relationships. I need time and patience."

She seems to contemplate his words, "Okay. But--"

"Yes?"

(y/n) looks down at her feet for a moment before looking at him again, "If we're going to-- start over, it needs to be slower."

"Slower?" He frowns. What the devil is she talking about, slower?

"I mean," (y/n) purses her lips, "I mean that it has to feel like we're actually starting a new relationship."

Regulus chuckles, "you want me to court you?"

(y/n) smiles, "if those are the words you think describes what we are trying to do, then yes. I think I would like you to court me."

Now he feels silly making the suggestion because he has no idea what courting entails. He can barely flirt!

"I mean-- I can try."

(y/n) grins. He's at a loss for words. Not once in the time he's known her-- been married to her, has he seen her look this happy. Clearly, Sirius's advice was half-decent. For the first time since (y/n) walked down the aisle towards him, he felt something. Hopefully, the beginning of something great between them.

***

"You brought me to— the Eiffel tower?" (Y/n) looks up towards the cloudy sky.

Regulus flushes, "It's not just the Eiffel Tower."

(Y/n) laughs, "it looks like it's just the Eiffel Tower—"

"Just—"Regulus lets out a frustrated sound, "it's more than that." He pulls her towards one of the legs of the metal tower. He supposes that enough muggles are wandering around that they wouldn't notice the disappearance of the young couple. He pulls his wand out of thin air, tapping where the witch at the hotel told him to. The metal of the tower seems to melt and twist, magically revealing an entrance.

"What—"(y/n) grips his hand tighter, "I had no idea."

"Neither did I. It's called Caché à la Vue," Regulus grins, "c'mon, Mrs. Black."

They walk through the entrance, the metal contorting back into shape behind them.

In front of them, a bustling street moves around them. Wizards and Witches bustle around carrying cauldrons, brooms, and colorful bags holding other wizarding tools. A group of young girls rushes by, giggling in their blue Beauxbaton school uniforms. 

"Oh— it feels like Diagon Alley," (y/n) comments as she steps closer to him, her shoulder bumping his arm as she squeezes his hand.

Regulus nods, keeping her close as they walk further into the crowd.

"I didn't expect it to be like this," he glances at (y/n). She's looking around with interest at the many shops and people. 

"Let's go in here," she's pulling him towards a shop that smells of lavender and sage. The shop is small but comforting with its earthy color scheme and almost luminescent glow. 

"Oh wow," (y/n) detaches herself from him for the first time since crossing into Caché à la Vue. Regulus watches her poke around the shop, always keeping a two-foot distance from her.

(y/n) seems to notice the hovering, "Why are you-- being so weird?" She's got an amused smile on her face. Regulus tries to relax, stepping a foot closer.

"I'm just giving you space."

"Don't you want to look too?" (y/n) beckons him closer, reaching for his hand. He obliges his wife, letting her point out small trinkets and items. 

***

The busy street of Caché à la Vue frames Regulus as I sit across from him. Once we had explored nearly every shop on the busy street, Regulus had tugged me towards one of the little Bistros, mumbling about it being a recommendation or something of that sort. I didn't fight his insistence to stop and eat. I hadn't had much for breakfast or lunch back at the hotel.

The afternoon hadn't been awful. In fact, I was enjoying myself more than I expected. It only partly-- honestly, completely, had to do with the sudden changes in how Regulus and I interacted. He suddenly was more sociable and curious about who I was. Which was sort of confusing, but at this moment, I felt more confident in our marriage. That maybe we did have a chance to fall in love, or even just co-exist happily together. If co-existing was all that could come from this, then I wished it to be at least a peaceful union.

Yet, I want to know him as much as he seems to suddenly want to know me, so I ask questions about his childhood and his life. At first, he seems reserved to answer some of my inquiries, making me more curious about the information he is holding back from me. 

"So--" I set down my teacup, "how was it like growing up in Grimmauld Place?"

This seems to be another question he hesitates over as he stares down at his plate for a full thirty seconds, making me nervous.

"Do you want the truth?"

I stiffen. The tone of his voice has me wondering if it was a good question to ask after all, "I would if you don't mind answering."

Regulus takes another moment to collect his thoughts, "I don't really remember much before going to school. My parents are-- you can probably tell they are not the friendliest of people." The understatement of the century. "They weren't good parents, if I'm being honest."

"What do you mean?" I suddenly feel uncomfortable as I continue down this path.

"(y/n), maybe this isn't a conversation for public." Merlin, that only makes me want to press for more information, but the look on his face tells me all I need to know at this moment. He will tell me the truth, but if he's more comfortable doing so behind closed doors, who am I to push him for an answer right now?

"Is it that bad?" I do feel a bit sick over how he's reacting to this question.

He looks down at his hands before looking back at me. His eyes are back to the icy grey I know so well. "It's not great." I have to look away from his eyes. "Do you know I have an older brother?"

"But--" Regulus is the Heir? How could he have--?

"Sirius was disowned when he was sixteen, effectively passing the burden of the House of Black to me."

"Do you still-- are you still in contact with him--Sirius?"

"I am, but privately. Walburga wouldn't approve. She likes to think that Sirius never existed in the first place."

"That's horrible!" I couldn't imagine pretending one's child never existed-- "what did Sirius do?"

"He ran away after refusing-- well refusing to do what we have done, I suppose." I stare at Regulus, shocked.

"I mean, he didn't-- doesn't believe in the Pureblood idealogy."

I pause, reflecting for a moment on his words. Is he saying Sirius ran away when his parents tried to make a match between himself and some Pureblood girl?

"Are you saying he ran away from an arranged marriage?" Regulus nods.

Merlin's-- He was only sixteen? "Your parents, they really tried to-- he was so young--?"

Regulus nods, "Too young, I know." Not that I felt the ages we were are any more acceptable, but sixteen? He would've been in the middle of school! Just a kid!

"I can't blame him for running away--" I let the words slip without thinking, quickly feeling guilty for saying such a thing to the man I'm married to. The man I married for the same reason his brother left the exclusive circle we exist within. "No offense, of course--" 

Instead of looking offended or getting angry, how I expect, Regulus laughs. A real genuine laugh.

"It's not that funny, Regulus!" The words had just slipped out of my mouth before my brain processed my rudeness.

"You are exactly like Sirius. It's freakish." He grins.

"What does that mean?" I'm hopeful he's complimenting me.

Regulus takes my hand in his over the table, "You just remind me of him. Both of you are unapologetically yourselves. I envy that."

I want to tell him I'm nothing like his brother. Sirius was able to leave the life we grew up in. I clearly didn't have the balls to leave. But, I don't want to say that, not when we're getting along so well right now. 

"You can be unapologetically yourself, Regulus."

His smile is small as he looks down at our intertwined fingers, "I'm afraid I can't be. At least not publically."

"I can't exactly be publically myself either, especially now, but maybe in private, yeah? When it's just us."

He gently lifts my hand up to tenderly press a kiss to my knuckles. My breath hitches at the suddenness of his actions, and I feel suddenly warm. "When it's just us." His agreement, the tone of his voice when he agrees-- it's incredibly intimate.

Dumbly, I nod. Regulus smiles, kindness reaching his eyes and thawing out the ice they held earlier.

After a beat of silence, one I could not find words to fill, Regulus speaks. "Was there anything else you wanted to see?"

I find my voice, at last, saying I did not believe so. 

***

I felt delirious with desire watching her squirm after my lips left her knuckles. 

Something about (y/n) fascinated me and made me want her, all of her. I knew she felt the same way, even after the way our relationship started. I could tell by the way her lips parted and her breath hitched that she felt that spark between us. 

That spark gave me some hope that everything was going to turn out just fine.

[sullina]

Meliodas is absolutely worried about the fact he got caught and tried to somehow convince them that they really don't need to jbwo what he is and thay he can take care of it himself judt get the arrow out. Unfortunately for him though, both Zaratrus and the palace healers think otherwise. Now that they know he's a magical creature they need to know what type of creature he is so they can properly treat him, afterall, certain magical creatures have different needs and react to human medicine differently. King can't have Acetaminophen (or the Brittanian equivalent) for that reason while the sheer mass of Diane requires a larger dose of pretty much everything. So Zaratrus is very much insistent that Meliodas tell them what he is, promising not to be mad or anything, but firm on the matter that they need to know.

"It doesn't matter anyways!" Melidoas eventually relents, "Just treat me normally, if I need something more or if it's soemthing I can't take I'll tell you."

"And what if you can't do that? What if your unconcious."

"Just ask Merlin, I'm sure she can figure it out."

Zaratrus tries to reason that asking Merlin isn't feasible since she's very busy as both the Court Wizard and a Sin herself, and they'll need to know in the event she's unavailable. That's when Meliodas makes a huge mistake amd smaps at them.

"You'll have to go to her anyways. There are no records about my people, they've been all but extinct for centuries!"

It took him five seconds to realize what he said and he immediately slapped his hands to his mouth in horror. He'd just given them a huge clue about what he was.

"Extinct for centuries? But the only races that have been extinct are-"

"AAAaahh, did I say extinct, I meant to say 'ensconced', yeah, that's what I meant", Meliodas tried to save himself, only earning unimpressed looks from everyone around. ('to ensconce' means 'to hide ones self, adding this bc I think it's a pretty rare word? At least I've never heard it before)

"...you're acting very suspicious, Captain", King noted.

'Well', Meliodas thought, 'I can definitely pack my bags now.'

[ahankar1610]

Hello there, people of Romione. Nah, second fic. It's inspired by 'a walk to remember', the novel coz the movie did not give book the justice.🙄🙂

I hope you people will like my romione version, and thank you to everyone who gave their time to 'The Trojan Princess', update is not far away on that one 😉😉.

A Tale of Ron and Hermione.

FFNET: 👇

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13926524/1/A-Tale-of-Ron-and-Hermione

AO3: 👇

The first chapter is here 👇.

English is not my first language so I hope, you people can adjust. Coz if I didn't have my sister to help me, you all would have been suffering my disheveled English 😅😅.

Please read and review and visit it on ao3 and ffnet. Thank you. 😊😊

Chapter-1

(President Granger) Hermione Granger sighs as she sat on the bench outside the office of professor McGonagall's office. She is frustrated because of the upcoming bloody Halloween Ball. She had to be present at the ball, not because she is the Head girl, it is because she is the president of the Student Council which was officially created by the Ministry of Magic to find the best upcoming talents who are capable of leading Britain as the best magical country of the Wizarding World. She was one of the first student who was selected for the group, because of her habit of being at the top of the class in the last six academic years of her. Though it was a surprise for her when professor McGonagall called her and informed her that she wants her to be candidate from Gryffindor who will compete against the other candidates from the other three houses for the post of the president. To be honest, she never expected herself to win as she was never the popular student, but as Merlin have blessed her that she got Harry Potter as her best friend. Harry is unofficially, the most popular student of Hogwarts. His wonder of securing place in the quidditch team when he was just a firstie, and being the youngest seeker of the century was a huge endorsement for his famousness. Then in no less a time Gryffindor team became unbeatable and he was the best seeker of the Gryffindor team after Charlie Weasley left and being James Potter's son, one of the most wealthy and successful businessman of the Wizarding World, has its own perks as he was showered with high class quidditch material by his quidditch enthusiast father. Harry was one of the first ever person to befriend her. It was her first year and she had asked the way to the Platform 9¾ from the Potters and from there her friendship with Harry started and she believed that it is because of Harry, she had made friends in their year. She had Lavender and Parvati, who at first did not liked her much but warmed later and they created a great bond together. Seamus and Dean are no exception as they were there for her before she befriended any female from Gryffindor house. She had asked Harry for his help in the campaign for the voting and he had enthusiastically took part in her campaign for everyone's glee and her embarrassment as he once created a wall sized poster of her, with bold words engraved on it. VOTE FOR HERMIONE GRANGER THE FUTURE OF THE WIZARDING WORLD She still receives teasing for that incident. She surprisingly won the voting defeating the candidates of the other houses. Though it was hard work regarding the other candidates of the other houses were brilliant in themselves too. Daphne Greengrass was the Slytherin candidate, she has the honorary title of the Hogwarts' ice queen but is respected by many because of her unbiased views on everyone, even on the Gryffindors. She also received the best prefect award in their fifth year and she also beaten her to the top in the fifth class as she received one mark more than her in their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s, though she and Greengrass never had a real conversation, there is a unspoken mutual respect between them. Terry Boot was the Ravenclaw candidate and he was also one of the best students academically in their year, but he is not much of a person of interacting and perhaps it was the reason he lost. She blessed Harry as he was the one who forced her to put her book down once and introduced her to the thing called fun or she would have faced the same fate as Boot. Zacharias Smith, she laughed as Smith came into her mind, after all Smith was one of the main causes which made her the winner of the voting. Smith, though good in the academics, is not in the good graces of many people around Hogwarts, including his own house fellows. Sweet Professor Sprout, certainly made a mistake choosing Smith as her house's candidate. Perhaps she never heard of Smith's infamousness between the students. He was disliked even in his own house by many and that is the reason they choose to vote for her as they didn't know

much about Boot and Greengrass must have faced the consequences of Professor Snape's biasness toward the other houses. "President," said a soft voice, she turned her head and a fourth year Hufflepuff girl was standing there and the door of Professor McGonagall's office is opened. "Professor McGonagall has called you inside," said the girl, Hermione nodded and stood up. She walked inside the office closing the door behind and noticed the girl has gone now. "Miss Granger," said a stern voice in greetings. Professor Minerva McGonagall is sitting behind her desk with a stern expression and her cat like eyes scanning her whole features. Professor McGonagall had given her the responsibility speech when she chosen her, the Gryffindor candidate. She had made sure Hermione fills the both responsibilities of Head Girl and President of Student Council decently. "Good afternoon professor," Hermione greeted back. Professor McGonagall nodded and motioned her to take a seat while she rummaged through some papers spread on her desk. It was something surprising to see, for Hermione at least as she had always noticed from their first year that there is no messiness you can expect from Professor McGonagall. Though Hermione don't eighter blame the old professor as there are at least fifty different sheets of papers around the table. Some of the sheets are the grading papers which are thrust into a register, and there are is a huge poster covering the whole table and everything present at the table is doing the work of hiding it. She can figure out the color of poster, it is dark blue reminiscing the color of night. "So," said Professor McGonagall a little firmly, indicating that whatever is going to discuss between them now means business. Hermione straightens her spine unconsciously. "You must be busy with the preparation of the Halloween Ball nowadays, Miss Granger?" asked Professor McGonagall. Hermione nodded stiffly, as the reminder that she, the Head Girl and the President of The Student Council, is dateless two days before the ball came into her mind. "Then you must be also informed that even after upcoming the ball, you're not going to have much free time," Professor McGonagall said, and Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. Noticing her expression, the professor sighed and dragged a poster up, which was hidden under the mess on the table until now. The poster is large, a size of a huge television. And in the center of it, in huge bold words, there was written 'THE DRAMA FESTIVAL'. Hermione looked at the poster with a frown appearing on her face, but she suddenly turned into the expression of indifference. Professor McGonagall rolled the poster and put it on the side of the table, not very tenderly. Which told Hermione, that the professor also isn't pleased with this, whatever Drama activity it is. "The Headmaster," a frown of frustration appeared on Professor's face, "had accepted the request of Professor Lockhart's permission of hosting the Drama Festival this time at Hogwarts." Professor Lockhart? When in the hell did that man became a professor. Gilderoy Lockhart was famously known for his roles in Wizarding Dramas since he passed from Hogwarts. He was also known for the famous plays he had acted and directed himself, they were regarded as special because they were inspired from the old tales of Wizarding World. She had a stupid crush on him when she was twelve, Parvati had shown her his photo and she always blessed merlin that she soon recovered from that crush, because Harry had made her life hell when he got the wind of her crush back then. "Any questions, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked, breaking her musing. She stared at her for a moment, Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow. She blinked a little and realizing that she had been staring at the Transfiguration Professor's face for five minutes. "Uh-Ah, yes exactly," she said awkwardly and mentally slapped herself realizing how dumbly she is speaking now. "Yes, professor. I mean when will Hogwarts is going to host this event?" "It is going

to be held this December. On 19th of December before the start of Christmas holidays," McGonagall said with her voice a little softer as she is going to inform her everything about the upcoming event. "The Drama as I have informed is based on the famous 'Tales of Beedle and Bard'," said Professor McGonagall. "There will be five plays, which are based on the five stories of the book and the five stories will be played by the students of different years." "The third year students will start with the first play and other plays will be played by the students of following years in the chronological order," McGonagall sighed a little which made Hermione feel that something horrible is coming. "And," the professor drawled a little, "all the arrangement of the festivals are the responsibility of The Student Council." "What? Why!?" she asked a little loudly and flinched when McGonagall sent a pierce glare on her volume. "I mean, why!?" she asked softly. "Because," said Professor McGonagall softly, "Student Council's work is to help students in increasing their skills, and by skill we didn't only meant their academic skill but also their extracurricular skills which not only includes sports but other activities like drama too." Though the points her head of the house gave her are reasonable and adequate, but it still did not take the ridiculousness from the situation she's stuck in. "I know you are not pleased with the events but you must realize that it all is your responsibility as the President of the Council and I don't want the Boards of Directors feel disappointed from the choice of the Hogwarts, now please go and rest Miss Granger. The ball is day after the tomorrow and might need some rest because the tomorrow is going to be a hectic day for you." Professor's words indicated that she's not in a mood of a debate and is really tired. "You're dismissed." Hermione stood up and after wishing the professor a good night she turned and left the professor's office and strolled directly towards Gryffindor common room, where she thinks she might find her friends. She nearly ran towards the seventh floor. Her mind is full of thoughts of the stupid Drama Festival which she had to prepare for nearly two months. Wasn't the bloody Halloween Ball enough!? Her mind is screaming to itself and with the thought of Ball she got the reminder of the absence of a date and it will be pretty embarrassing if the president of the Council turned up alone for the Ball. She huffed, she didn't sign up for any stupid ball and drama fests. "Hippogriffe feathers!" she said the password rather loudly as the portraits around the entrance startled on the loud voice of hers. Entering the common room, she noticed that there are not many students present but the group of her friends was still present on the couches near the fireplace. Dean was the one to notice her, "Hiya President!" he said cheerfully and everyone's head turned towards her. They repeated Dean's words as chipperly, "HIYA PRESIDENT!", umm well too chipperly. She walked and collapsed at the empty space beside Lavender and leaned on her, "Hectic day, I guess," Lavender mused. "Don't even ask," she muttered. "Why does your voice sound so dull, deary?" asked Seamus teasingly, "Is it because our dear President still doesn't have a date?" he laughed. Hermione flipped the small cushion on Seamus's face. Bullseye. "You still didn't find a date?" Lavender asked, a little disappointed as Hermione promised her that she will find a date by evening. "I was so busy, first the preparation and all of the arrangement of the food which I had to arranged with the elves," she closed her eyes and said tiredly, "I really didn't got the time." "Too bad, because nearly everyone is booked now and you're going to turn up alone," Harry chipped in. "Even Neville?" she asked. "Yup! Didn't we told you, Mister Longbottom is getting pretty cozy with certain Hufflepuff name Hannah Abbott." Parvati said. "Arrgh! What in the name of Merlin am I going to do now?" she asked desperately to her friends. "You

can spend the whole night talking to Luna though. She'll be delighted to spend the Halloween night with you," Harry sniggered, Hermione's closed eyes shot wide open at the aspect of spending a whole night in the party with Luna. Everyone laughed at her expression and she started to run her mind to at least find one date, so she will be spared having a night just of controlling the students and conversing about Luna's antique. "Well Hermione," said Seamus loudly. "I would not have done it for someone else but after all you had a special place in my heart." He forwarded a thick book to her which she is encountering for the first time. "What's this?" she asked. "It's the yearbook, I stole it from McGonagall's office," she gasped and Harry shushed her, "So you might get some ideas from it." Seamus said smugly, looking proud of himself on stealing the book from the office of keen-eyed Professor McGonagall. The subject quickly diverted to the quidditch matches, leaving her and the yearbook alone. Though she was little uncomfortable as after all her 'great' friend had to steal it for her. She closed her eyes and started rummaging through pages and after a great search her eyes landed on one name, she knew who probably not had a date by now, Ronald Weasley.

[eleven-times-lively]

Blood Relations

I would love a George x reader fic where the reader is Draco Malfoy’s older sister so she’s the same age as George and they’re secretly dating because they don’t know how their families would react. A lot of fluff, some angst with a nice ending @andineversawyoucoming

Summary: You’re in love with George Weasley, much to the dismay of your brother Draco. Word Count: 2487 Note: This fic has so much angst I love it. Also a ton of fluff! 💕

You tugged on the sleeves of your Malfoy blazer - an article which your parents had insisted you and Draco wear - and prepared for your final goodbyes. It was unusually hot for September, and the woolen garment certainly wasn’t helping.

“Be safe, be cordial, stay intelligent, and do our name proud.” Your mother gave you a warm smile before wrapping you in a hug. “And please watch out for you brother.”

“Fifth year, mum. I think he can handle himself.” Your father shot you a look as you gave you the typical handshake.

You stood on the first step of the train, waiting for Draco to receive his farewell. “See you at Christmas!” Your mother waved you both goodbye one last time as you disappeared in the train.

“You're going to be alright?” You looked at your brother, speaking more of a statement than a fact. He merely rolled his eyes and entered the cabin with his friends. Chuckling lightly, you went to go find your own compatriots. You found the tufts of fiery red hair a few cabins down from Draco’s. “Merlin it’s been a while!” You smiled from ear to ear as you eyed the twins for the first time in two months. 

“Can you believe it’s seventh year already?” Fred exclaimed, standing to wrap you in a warm embrace. 

“Crazy isn’t it?” George gave you an equally warm hug, kissing you lightly. Fred pretended to gag from behind you. “Missed you darling.” He had a raspy voice, akin to that of the early mornings, only spoken when he was either deeply turned on or deep in thought. 

“Missed you too my love.” You captured him in another, longer kiss, relishing in the moment. The pair of you finally sat back down, and you curled up into George’s side. “So tell me about your summer!”

***

A while later, the train screeched into the station and students were flooding off from all angles. Passing the horde of Slytherins, you reluctantly let go of George’s hand. He understood, looking away coyly. You absolutely detested the secrecy of your relationship, but you knew it was out of necessity. All you had to go was graduate, then you’d be away from the scrutiny of your family and fellow Slytherins. 

After Dumbledore’s long speech and grand feast, all of the students were dismissed to their dorms. 

“Night Georgie,” you whispered, giving your boyfriend a quick kiss outside the Gryffindor common room.

“Will I see you later?” He raised an eyebrow, giving you another kiss as he pulled you in closer.

“I don’t know, Georgie. Maybe let’s get settled in first yeah?”

“Sure.” Relishing in one last kiss, the two of you bid goodnight.

***

The weeks passed as you enjoyed your final year at Hogwarts. Your relationship remained a secret, Christmas break was only a week away and you couldn’t wait for when you could love George freely. You were trapped in your thoughts as you wandered down to the quidditch pitch. It had become commonplace for you and George to sneak out at night, able to be a couple without the chance of anyone seeing.

You wrapped your arms around George’s waist, jostling the snow off his hair. “Hi,” you murmured. 

He turned around in your arms, smiling brightly. He gave you a tender, warm kiss that lasted a wonderfully long while. “Missed you.”

“Georgie, it’s been a few hours,” you chuckled, giving him another quick peck. “But I missed you too.”

“I have something for you,” he said, smile never faltering, eyes never leaving yours. He could sense your confusion. “I know it’s close to Christmas, love, but I wanted to give you this in private.” He fished around in his pocket, emerging with a smallbox. He held it out to you, trying to suppress his excitement.

Growing up a Malfoy, you knew a jewelry box when you saw one. You opened the small velvet case to reveal a golden bracelet. “George,” you gasped, picking up the accessory to examine it. You noticed two small heart shaped charms, one emblazoned with the Weasley crest and the other with the Malfoy crest. “Merlin how did you afford this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, silencing you with a kiss. He slipped the bracelet from your fingers, reaching to clasp it onto your wrist. 

“I love you so much.” You captured his lips in a loving kiss, both of you moving together in perfect harmony. His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. 

“What the hell!” Your kiss was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from across the pitch. You turned to see the beet red face of your brother, looking on in awe. 

“Draco!” You shouted, quickly pulling away from George. The three of you were frozen in fear and confusion, no one knowing how to proceed. “What are you doing out here!?”

“I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Just some quidditch practice! Doesn’t matter!”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. Did the great Draco Malfoy need some help?”

“Oh shut up! You, y/n Malfoy are snogging a Weasley!”

“Oh go to bed rat face!”

“Wait until father hears about this!” He stormed off, red in the face.

You groaned in frustration, thudding into George’s chest. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” you mumbled. He rubbed your back, attempting to calm and soothe you.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, love.”

“It’s my father, George. Surely it won’t be.”

“We just have to make it through Christmas and hope Draco doesn’t say anything.”

You sighed, trying to clear your thoughts. George gave you a final kiss before leading you back inside.

***

You stared out the window of the train, mesmerized by the rolling hills zooming by. George drew you out of your thoughts, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Everything, okay, love?”

You hummed in response, pulling away from the window to lean into George. “Just nervous.”

“Don’t be, y/n. I’m sure Draco’s forgotten by now and everything will be fine.”

“You underestimate the memory of my brother.” You sighed, letting your eyes shut. George’s rhythmic breathing and the soft thumps of the train lulled you to sleep for the remainder of the trip.

“Y/n Malfoy!” Your mother shouted as you stepped off the train, still laden with sleep. You groaned, continuing your descent from the train as George handed you your bag.

“See you later, Georgie,” you whispered, “love you.” You approached your pair of parents. “Mother.” You gave her an attempt at a smile.

She gave you a small hug. “Your father wishes to speak with you.” With that, she drifted off, presumably to find Draco.

“Father.”

“How is school, y/n.”

“Well, thank you. Still top of my class, you’ll be happy to know.”

He nodded, eyeing you up and down. His gaze was daunting, he looked as if he was about to bend down and swallow you whole. His act only lasted for so long once he realized you weren’t going to speak first. “A Weasley, y/n? Honestly what has gotten into you!”

“We can discuss this later father.” You looked him up and down with the same stern expression, noticing your mother and brother appear behind him. “We’re in public.”

“Very well. Come.” Gripping your forearm, he led you off, apparating the four of you back to Malfoy Manor. You stepped inside, trying to scurry up the stairs quickly. “Y/n,” boomed the stern voice of your father. He hadn’t forgotten. “Front room. Now.”

You sat down on the large velvet couch, your father perched on the chair by the fireplace in front of you. He turned his head sharply, hearing the sharp snicker that could only belong to your brother. “Draco. To your room now. Nosiness will get you nowhere.” You sighed dreading what was to come. “Y/n, I’m very disappointed in you. I’m sure you know why.”

“No, father. Please explain it to me.” There was a sharp annoyance in your voice, and you made sure your father could hear it.

“For years!” He boomed, standing over you as his inherent grandiosity took over. “For years, no, generations the Malfoy name has struck fear into the hearts of those unworthy! Dozens of our own ancestors long before myself have spent centuries growing the power of our name, and all for you to ruin it!”

“I’ve ruined nothing, father!” Your lips were pursed, ready to fight any sentiment he had to throw at you. “You're too stuck up to see past yourself!” You immediately shrunk backwards, realizing your mistake.

“Upstairs, now!” He was read in the face, pointing across the room at the grand staircase. Huffing, you shuffled upward. 

Slamming the door behind you, you flopped down onto the bed. Hot tears began to stream down your face as you tried to keep quiet. You thought of George, his bright face, his tender kisses, his warm hugs. He gave you the world, and you couldn’t even welcome him into yours. You didn’t deserve him at all.

***

You hadn’t even noticed it was morning when you rolled over in the bed. Groaning, you untangled yourself from your robes and stood. You stretched, peering out the curtains at the lush gardens spanning for nearly a mile. The same guilt and dread from last night was struck bad into you, and every became heavy. Dragging your feet, you pulled on a comfortable cashmere sweater and some more casual pants. Twisting up your hair, you headed towards your door, preparing to face your father.  Before you could even push open the door, your mother was entering the room.

“Mum,” you gasped, clearly caught off guard. 

“Sit, honey.” She spoke gently, warmth in her tone. A welcome change compared to the icy harshness of your father. “Can we talk about last night?”

“Mum, I’m terribly sorry for-”

“None of that, dear. I’m sorry about your father.” She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You know he just wants the best for you… and the Malfoy name. You can’t take it personally.”

“I know, but it still hurts.” You tried to fight the few tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

“Of course it does dear. Naturally, your father is a stubborn man, and all you can do to make him change his mind is forcefully prove him wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s invite George Weasley over for dinner. I’d love to meet the man you’re so enamored with, and perhaps getting to know the boy will allow your father to reevaluate his positions.”

You smiled weakly at your mother, trying to hide how truly excited you were. “Thank you so much, mum.”

“Of course, dear.” She kissed your forehead, leaving you in your room.

***

The hours went by dreadfully slow as you waited for dinner. You had put on one of your nicer dinner dresses, and even done up your hair and makeup. You wanted to look good for George, and of course make a good impression on your father. You had written George immediately, and received a prompt response in return.

Soon enough, the grand doorbells were going off and you were running down the stairs. “Georgie!” You exclaimed as you threw open the door. You jumped into his arms, not caring who saw. “Missed you,” you muttered, giving him a quick kiss. Your father cleared his throat behind you, pulling you and George out of the haze of each other.

“Mr. Malfoy,” George gave a warm smile, outstretching his hand.

Your father hummed, rather unimpressed. “Mr. Weasley.”

“George, hello,” your mother interrupted, thankfully cutting the thick tension in the room. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.” She shook George’s hand lightly, genuinely smiling at him.

“You as well, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for letting me into your lovely home.”She smiled in response, leading the group into the formal dining room. You all sat down, enjoying the meticulously prepared meal. “This is delicious Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Thank you so much, George, you’re frankly too kind. You know my children rarely compliment me anymore,” she quipped. You rolled your eyes, chuckling.

“So George,” your father interrupted the lighthearted mood. “Why my daughter?”

“Father!” You gasped, appalled at his harsh bluntness.

“Y/n, please. I’m serious Mr. Weasley. Of all the people at Hogwarts, there weren’t any other blood traitors to fraternize with?”

“That’s enough father!” You stood, wrapping a protective arm around George.

“Frankly, y/n, I’ve had quite enough with your attitude today!” He stood up, storming off and upstairs. Your mother hid her reddened face in her hand while draco cackled in amusement. 

You let out a shout in frustration, collapsing into George’s chest. “We’ll be going now mother, thank you for everything.”

“Y/n, George, wait.” She cut you off just as the both of you were nearly out the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you Mister Weasley. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a wonderful match for my daughter. Come back any time, hopefully we can do this again with Draco or Lucius.” He nodded, smiling warmly to silently thank her.

***

You groaned, pulling George into a tight hug once you reached the front steps of the burrow. “I’m so sorry George,” you muttered, “you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright, y/n.” He hummed stroking your hair gently, waiting for you to calm down in his arms. “There’s nothing you can do about your family. You’re a bloody wonderful person and I love you dearly, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Georgie.” You leaned up, pulling him into for a warm, loving kiss. It had been far too long since you’d felt his lips on yours in such a passionate way, and it certainly felt amazing to have the intimate connection again. “Let’s go inside and get warmed up, yeah?”

He took your hand in his, leading you inside and removing your jacket. With a flick of his wand you each had a cup of warm tea in your hands. He sat on the couch, beckoning you towards him. You smiled, walking over and settling on his lap. You curled up, resting your head on his chest as his hand came to lay on your hip. He gave a light kiss to your temple before sipping his tea gently. “I love you so bloody much, y/n. Just remember, in a few short months we’ll be out of school, Freddie and I can start the store, and we can live our own happy life.”

You were already drifting into sleep, but his sentiments made you melt. “I can’t wait darling. I love you too.” You let your eyes close, savoring in his oaky scent. His gentle fingertips traced along your side, soothing you into sleep. His rhythmic breathing finally lulled you asleep, the last words in your ears being the sweet sentiments he was humming gently to you.

George and Draco Taglists: @it-was-three-am @hariosborn @bforbroadway @haphazardhufflepuff @msmimimerton @slytherin-chaser @chaotic-fae-queen @masterofthedarkness @dramaticdraco @nebulablakemurphy @abbiesthings @missmulti @katerinamikhailov @pauloonig @tinylumpiaa @sambucky8 @susceptible-but-siriusexual @blacklakeconfessions @levylovegood @notruercolors  @dralf0yy @marauderswhisperer @stuckindilemma @pastel-filme @vintagecherrypie106 @crissdanvers @lunaloveshoney @rangerelik @hockeyzegras @cheapglitter  @beauxbatons-babe @hess016  @whenpugzfly​ @sushi-yuu​ 

[nose-bl]

ALRIGHT so I finished my Merlin rewatch and I have a couple of messy thoughts

- The finale is extremely sad and tragic, I hate this i hate this i hate this

- I love that the last episode is literally just Merlin and Arthur working through their feelings and the magic reveal, and Arthur realizing how much Merlin loves him and cares about him, and how much he cares about Merlin too

- The fact that the finale is just pure merthur, and all about Merlin and Arthur’s relationship, I just think that’s beautiful

- The episode is really emotional, it had me crying the entire time

- Morgana’s death was sad imo, she never got to redeem herself and change her ways, to realize hate and violence are not the answer. She was consumed by hatred and maybe it was too late but it is really sad that that’s what her life ended up being like

- When Merlin lost his magic and couldn’t protect himself, when he was going to The valley of the fallen kings with Gwaine, and he was almost attacked and couldn’t protect himself, I really liked that scene. Because for the first time, we saw Merlin being genuinely scared for his life, because he couldn’t rely on his magic anymore for that moment. We know Merlin only thought he was worthy because of his magic, so he must have been feeling awful when he lost it. I bet he was thinking that he wasn’t worth anything anymore (which is untrue, he has a lot of worth not just for his magic)

- Something I absolutely hate is the blue truck that passed in front of Avalon and then we saw old Merlin walking. First of all bc just before, everything was extremely sad, making us cry, and then out of nowehere they put a big truck. But also because that makes us aware of how long Merlin’s been waiting: a few centuries. I would be okay with old Merlin walking around Avalon, but showing that it’s been centuries? Idk, makes everything much more tragic

- Why the heck didn’t Merlin call Kilgarrah sooner? They could have arrived at Avalon in time and they could have saved Arthur. Plus, the road to Avalon wouldn’t have been so dangerous

- I understand Arthur feeling betrayed and even angry at Merlin, and scared of him. He was raised to believe magic is pure evil, and he was completely conflicted inside, thinking how can his best friend have magic if magic is evil? or how can someone so good like Merlin be a sorcerer? is he actually evil, or is magic actually good? And he comes around in the end, but it was too late, and Merlin didn’t need to apologize

- Arthur telling Merlin “All of those jokes about you being a coward....I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I’ve ever known“ KILLS ME every time, Arthur was sad about Merlin not joining him, bc he knows how brave he is and how dedicated he his to be at Arthur’s side, so he was sad to see that they wouldn’t be together this time and that it was probably the last time they’d see each other. But he was okay with it (more or less), he told Merlin that it was okay, even tho he was hurt

- Gwen discovered Merlin is a sorcerer and I loved her last words in the show “I’m sure he will. I’m pleased“ (smth like that) when Gaius told her Merlin was taking care of Arthur and would take him to Avalon

- Really sad that Aithusa’s only purpose in the show was basically to be used by Morgana, to attack others and to make the magical sword

- Really sad about Mordred tbh, he was so young and had a whole life ahead of him, but I understand how hurt he was after Kara’s death. Big big mistake from Arthur btw

- I loved that Merlin got to use his magic in front of Arthur and be all badass and cool, Arthur was very impressed at how powerful, strong and smart Merlin actually is

- Merlin should have told Arthur that because of Uther and him, he has had to live hidden and in fear of his secret being known, and that he’s angry about it because he uses his magic to protect Camelot and Arthur, not for any evil stuff. He should have told Arthur so that he could understand why the things he did towards magic were wrong and very painful to Merlin

[rreeaahh]

“I told your brother I have all the luck I need” | Oliver Wood - pt. 1

pairing: oliver wood x reader

word count: 2,562

summary: being Harry’s older sister, Y/N can’t let him do whatever he pleases. she takes care of him maybe a little too much, but she knows what’s better for her brother, and nothing can change her mind. or maybe...

a/n: I’m really nervous writing this because I want it to be perfect. Please, let me know if there are any mistakes. This one is for @alwaysnforeverfangirl , who gave me the bright idea<3

warnings: none, i think.

“You don’t get it, Y/N, I’m the youngest Quidditch player in a century! Professor McGonagall and Oliver Wood said I’m pure talent!”, said Harry again, even more excited than the last time.

“And I said I’m proud of you, Harry”, but actually you didn’t pay that much attention to your little brother. Your Potions’ homework was a hell, as usual, and you needed to be fully focused on it.

“Could you at least pretend that you really are proud, as you say? You didn’t stop reading since I came here and it’s annoying.”

“Sorry, mate, I guess you’re right”, sighing, you pushed away your parchment just for a moment, to talk to your brother. He was very happy to have your attention, even for a bit, so he could tell you everything again.

He told you how he got back the Rememberall from Draco Malfoy, the boy who was a little bully in your eyes, and how Professor McGonagall presented him to Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Griffindor Quidditch Team. He was speaking with such an enthusiasm, which made you feel a bit sad because of your thoughts.

“That’s cool, mate, really cool”, you whispered while paying attention again to your notes. Playing with your quill and bitting your lower lip, you gave Harry the impression that something was wrong.

“What is it, Y/N?”, he asked tilting his head so he could make eye contact with you. He knew you too well so it was hard to lie him in the face.

Again, you let down your qill and looked him in the eyes with a serious expression.

“I don’t want you to play Quidditch yet, Harry.”

“You don’t?”, shouted Harry, gaining an ugly look from Madam Pince. You muttered an apologize and focused back on Harry, who seemed angry and sad at the same time. “But you said you’re proud of me, what happened?”

“Quidditch is a dangerous game, Harry, and I don’t think you should play this year. Maybe next year, or in your third year, or never at all”, you said the last part for yourself, but you knew he heard you. “And, besides, you just started your Flying lessons, you need more practice.”

“But Oliver said I’m good enough, I already told you, Y/N. Why can’t you just trust me? I’ll be fine, I promise”, giving you his famous puppy eyes, you got upset. He knew you couldn’t resist them, but that was a serious situation. “You worry way too much, Y/N!”

“That’s not true!” This time, the ugly look from Madam Pince was for you, so you bitten your cheek. “Look, Harry, you’re distracting me from something really important. I made my decision, so stop bothering me, please.”

“Yes, Potter, stop bothering your sister.” You looked annoyed behind you and you tensed up a little when you saw Oliver with some books in his hands, smiling at Harry. “Your sister is very busy, and I think you should train for Quidditch, instead.”

His hair was messy but he still looked perfect in his uniform. Even if you weren’t a big fan of Quidditch, you couldn’t deny how good looking was the Captain of Gryffindors. Being a third year, you didn’t have any hope for him to actually see you, but he knew you were Harry’s sister. Actually, that’s how a lot of people knew you – being the older sibling of The Chosen One wasn’t fun, because you felt even more pressure on you to protect Harry, no matter how upset he would be about that. Later, he’ll thank you for looking after him.

“Yeah, I would do that but my very busy sister doesn’t agree with my position in the team, so I guess you need to look for another Seeker.”

Oliver’s facial expression changed suddenly but he put another smile on as quick as possible.

“Is that so?”, he asked you with a little amusement in his voice.

Putting yourself together, you gave him the same smile in return. “Rough game, Quidditch. And you know that better than anyone, Wood.”

“Rough, indeed, but also noble”, and before you could say something, he continued “And I know that better than anyone, Potter.”

You wanted to play it cool but, in fact, your crush was talking to you and he was smiling while doing it.

“Potter, let me alone with your sister”, Oliver asked Harry politely while letting his books rest on your table. “Maybe I can change her mind.”

“I have to meet Ron in the common room, anyway. I wish you good luck, Oliver.” Harry got up and looked at you for the last time, hope in his eyes, and than looked back at Oliver when he started speaking.

“I guess I already have all the luck I need, but thanks Potter”, Oliver smiled again and winked slightly at you. “Now go, I’m sure your friend is waiting for you.”

After Harry was gone you sighed and grabbed your quill again, pretending to study your notes. Oliver sat down in front of you, where Harry was sitting a moment ago, and he was staring at you.

“I’m not changing my mind, Wood”, you said without looking at him. A part of you knew you would became weak if you made eye contact with him. That happened at every Quidditch match you were forced to attend and you saw him playing. He was talented and passionate about this sport, but he also got hurt badly on his first match.

“I guess you already know that Professor McGonagall herself suggested that your brother would be a perfect Seeker.”

“Yes, I know, but I don’t agree with her. Harry is too young and he needs to pay attention to his classes”. You started to make doodles in the corner of a parchment, thinking how his brown eyes were on you, on your movements.

“So you say I’m failing my classes.”

“I didn’t say that, Wood”, you told him quickly, looking at him for the first time since he sat down. And, as you thought, he was looking at you too. “I said that my brother needs to pay attention to things that are more important than Quidditch, because yes, Mr. Captain, there are things more important than this game.”

Just after you finished your sentence you realized your sassy tone. You blushed a little so you put your head in your hands, hoping that Oliver didn’t see it – but after his giggle, you weren’t so sure.

“Stubborn one, I like it”, he said leaning on his elbows and getting a little closer. “You would be a great Quidditch player too, Potter – stubborn, determinated, focused on your goals; how about you giving this useless game a try?”

“I’ll pass, thank you very much”, you frowned at him slightly. You had a lot of things going on and playing a sport didn’t sound like something for you at all. “I don’t wanna be impolite, Wood, but I didn’t ask Harry to go away so you could take his place and distract me from my homework.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, Potter. I’ll let you finish your…”, he looked in your notes, squinted his nose and continued “Potions essay, if that’s what you want.” Getting up he smiled at you again and took his books. “But I hope you won’t pass my invitation to The Three Broomsticks this weekend. I can be stubborn too, Potter, and our discussion about your brother’s place in my team isn’t finished yet.”

You didn’t realized his words, they sound unreal. He asked to talk to you again, at The Three Broomsticks in two days. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile at him.

“I’ll think about that, but don’t hope for another answer.”

He laughed and said his goodbye, using your family name again.

“So you got a date with Oliver Wood?”

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, you scared me”. The little girl apologized from her study table, which was in your left and smiled shyly.

“Sorry, Y/N, I could not stop myself from hearing your conversation.”

“It’s fine, ‘Mione, don’t worry. But I didn’t get a date with him”, and with that being said, you tried to focuse again on your homework, even if you lost all your ideas.

“You don’t want it to be a date?”, asked the girl again, now sitting at the same table as you. “Oliver’s nice and he seemed to be interested. He even complimented you.”

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Hermione was a sweet girl, even if Harry often talked to you about her and described her as an “annoying know-it-all”. She studied near you everyday in the library and sometimes she would recommend you books or even gossip with you about the teachers. She was fun for a first year.

“It’s not a date because his interest is me approving with Quidditch. Not like I could have a chance with him”, you laughed and looked to Hermione, who wasn’t so sure about your amusement.

 “Why not?”, asked Hermione again, which made you sigh.

 “You put a lot of questions, don’t you? He’s older than me and the Captain of a Quidditch team – and you know what I think about this game –”

 “Dangerous game, I know, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance with him.”

“I’ve been in this school for three years, sweetheart, and all he’s interested in is Quidditch: nothing more, nothing less.”

Before she could say anything else you got up, took your things and waved her goodbye, leaving the library and heading to your dormitory, where you hoped to finally find the silence you needed to finish your essay.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how hard you were studying, you always felt dumb during Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was talking she knew what and you tried to take notes about everything that seemed to be important – her entire speech, to be more precise. When she announced the end of her class you breathed with relief. All your classmates were leaving and you wanted to do the same, but McGonagall asked you to stay.

“How can I help you, Professor?” The concern in your voice was obvious, you couldn’t hide it, no matter how much you tried.

“You’re not helping me, Miss Potter, you’re helping the entire school. I guess your brother told you about the situation, so I don’t need to repeat it.”

Of course she wanted to talk about that! You started to feel a little angry but she was a teacher, so you needed to stay as calm as you could.

“Yes, I know the situation and I guess you already know my opinion.”

“I do, Mister Wood told me about your little discussion from yesterday. I want to assure you, Y/N, that Harry will be safe on the field.”

“Respectfully, but you can assure me about nothing, Professor. You can’t say if Harry will or will not get hurt while playing and I really like the idea of my brother being safe and alive.”

You didn’t expect McGonagall to understand your feelings. Harry was your world, entirely, and you wanted to protect him more than anything. Not wanting him to play Quidditch wasn’t the worst decision you made – and, in fact, Harry could do it, but he knew how mad you would be if he did something you told him not to. He always felt like he was doing something illegal when he stepped out of you words.

“I see. Well, I respect your decision, Miss Potter and all I can do it’s to congratulate you for being such a responsible sister. I’m sure you take good care of your brother and make the right decisions.”

Not knowing what to say after that respons, you thanked McGonagall and left the Transfiguration class thinking about all this mess. Why didn’t anyone understand that you just want to keep him safe? After years of wipping his butt, feeding him and playing with him – all of this while helping your aunt around the house – you could take care of your little brother better than anyone.

“Well, well, Georgie, tell me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this Y/N Potter?”

“You’re right, Freddie, is the one and only Y/N Potter, leaving McGonagall’s class later than the rest.”

“I think she got herself in trouble, somehow. I didn’t know she can be a bad girl”, said Fred to his twin brother, ignoring your presence.

“Oh, no, mate, she can’t!”, laughed George and you started to feel angry again.

“Not in the mood, guys.”, you told them through your teeth as you walked between them to the Great Hall.

“Ah, what happened darling?”, asked Fred in a sweet tone, trying to warm you. He raised both his eyebrows when he saw the look on your face. “We have an angry Y/N, George, be careful.”

“I’m not angry!” you stopped in the middle of the corridor looking to them. Drawing air into your lungs you apologized and continued your walk.

“I expected to see you more happy, sweetheart, honestly.” George had a calm tonality, despite your previous shout. “We thought that Oliver’s invitation would make you really, really happy”

“What?”, the wonder was present in your question. Of course you knew what they were talking about, but how did they find out?

“Yes, we heard that Oliver asked you out, Y/N, and given your little crush on him-“

“-the crush that exist since forever-”, added Fred.

“-we thought you would be in cloud nine, love all over you”, finished George, putting his arm over your shoulders.

“How do you guys know?”

“Don’t be silly, darling”, spoke Fred again. “Oliver said that he’s excited to meet you Saturday in Hogsmeade.”

“He is?” you asked them again, surprised with the new information the twins were giving you.

“Of course, why wouldn’t he?” asked George while smiling down to you.

“But he is a little concerned about your answer, we heard you played hard to get but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t play hard to get…”, you tried to explain them as you entered the Great Hall.

“Then you should let him know”, suggested George.

“But don’t sound too excited”, continued Fred and with that they left after smiling at you.

Oliver Wood wanted to take you on a date. The fifth year boy you had a crush on since your first year asked you on a date. The famous Quidditch player asked you on a date. You didn’t realized you didn’t move from where the twins left you just after Harry called your name out loud, waving at you.

You started walking but instead of going to your little brother, you continued to walk toward the end of the Gryffindors’ table, where Oliver Wood was eating his lunch in the company of his friends and teammates.

“Hey, Wood”, you called him confident, staying a few steps away from him.

“Potter”, he answered with a smile on the side of his mouth. “How could I help you?”

“I only wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s gonna be a great day, sunny and warm. I think about drinking a Butterbeer.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing, Potter.”

“Good for you”, you said and you started to walk away, going to your seat.

“I told your brother I have all the luck I need!”, he shouted behind you.

“We’ll see, Wood. We’ll see.”

a/n: jeez, i can’t tell you guys how much fun i actually had writing this one. it’s the firts part, i think i’ll add another one or even two, depending on how i continue to write. i hope you enjoyed reading this one<3.

[sirensmojo]

“Close Enough To Hurt” - Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Summary: Imagine you're a Saxon maid when Ivar's Heathen Army takes on York. He discovered you're the greatest magician that ever existed: Merlin, and that you lived hidden among simple humans for almost six centuries.

Warnings: fluff, romance, bold!reader

Word Count: 3,348

*Masterlist*

"We found her in the caves, helping women to escape by underground tunnels," affirm the guard holding your arm firmly. You kept your head down looking at your feet when he throws you forward his master. 

He was sitting on a simple chair, braces around both his legs, a crutch near him. You heard multiple times the name of a certain Ivar The Boneless, a ruthless Vikings, leader of a Great Heather army. Judging by their clothes, and the foreign language is spoken by the warriors, you surmise, the cripple in front of you was, indeed, Ivar. 

"You don't like our company?" The leader asks in Saxon's language. Wasn't it the first time he came?

You decide to stay silent as long as you could.

"Did you cut her tongue?" Furiously ask the Vikings speaking to the soldiers that came in with you.

"No," "So why isn't she replying?!" He gets angrier, taking your silence as defiance.

His rough and callous hand stuck under your chin, lifting your head to him. At your sight, his eyes widened, a gleam burning in them. He even shifted his position in the chair, standing straight. Eyes locked together, he felt his heart fluttered, and as if you felt it too, you stop moving, paralyzed, or submerged by a flow of unknown feelings.

Even the atmosphere changes, the air seems to move slower as rays of sun point out dust whirling around your bodies, creating a space where you two are alone. At the mercy of the flow of feelings drowning you slowly. Your skin burns of desire to be touched by his fingers that curled around the edge of the armrest while your lungs are crying for air.

"Leave, all of you!" He screams, vigorously dismissing them in a hand movement. 

The warriors were used to the Ragnarson falling for each and every woman that would stand on his way, even more, if they were slaves or seems defenseless for it was an occasion for Ivar to show mercy or act as a hero. How many slaves did he free, how many women did he spare when on raid? His soldiers lost count, not that they even tried to count them. What they didn't realize, was that Ivar wasn't delusional this time, something happened between two people, at first sight.

Waiting for them all to get ou the room, Ivar furrowed his brows, watching from afar, giving you time to breathe and let go of the stupid sparkling explosions in your tummy.

As soon as the wooden door closes, his facial expression changes. His brows lift up, tenderness occupying his scintillating eyes. 

"What's your name?" And once again you remained silent, starting to get on his nerves. "Why won't you talk?" His broken voices echoed in your ears. He looked down, his hand changing into a fist encountering the armrest of his chair out frustration.

Regardless your feelings at your first eye contact, it's been forever since you put your guards down or let anyone in, it wasn't now that you'll let a human get close enough to hurt you. If he was waiting for you to be all sweet and soft, he was wrong.

"I know who you are, whichever you are striving to do. The women are promptly secured, it is solely what matters, take my life if you must, I do not object," you harshly grit your teeth. 

Ivar attention for you grew back, the fingers that once lifted your chin, gripping now your neck in a hurry. "What do you mean?" His furious loud question, resonate in the entire room and probably within all the castle. 

He did not understand the sudden change in your looks, all he was capable of when taken by surprise was act angry, so he did.

"Ivar the Boneless, head of The Great Heathen Army, Son of Ragnar which was the direct descendant of Odin, the All-father himself," you comfortably started to enumerate when his grip got tighter, making your voice trapped in your throat.

"I know who I am!" His face neared yours, rage burying wrinkles on his forehead. You glance at it, then lower your sight to his piercing azure eyes. "Do you?" You quietly ask, head tilted. The fact you weren't showing any signs of fear even when being well-aware of the fury filling his body aroused his craving for killing you. But deep in his heart, something warned him this would undoubtedly be another great mistake.

"Are you aiming to kill me?" You asked out of the blue, knocking him off his thoughts. "No," He brutally turns his head to the side, avoiding your eyes. 

He wanted you, not kill you.

When he let go of your neck, you stay still, tilting your head, wondering what was happening in his mind at this precise moment. 

At least three entire minutes have passed before he breaks the silence, turning his head toward you, a hand under his chin with his elbow on the armrest. "You are no normal maid, aren't you?" His fingers pointing your simple and dusty dress.

"Negative," you shrug.

"How do you know so much about me? And Father? What about that accent of yours? Why so many formalities, and still familiarity with me?"

"You ask too many questions," you got up, turning your back at him. 

You had exactly what you wanted, you now knew what was running on his mind. You opened a trap, and he willingly fell into it. If it was thousand of years ago, you would've probably laughed at how easy it is to trick a human. But now is no longer time for jokes and laughs.

"Where are you going?" He firmly asks.

"You are not intending to kill me, you have said," you continued to walk towards the door.

"I can keep you alive by taking you as a prisoner," the Viking replied with haste. He wouldn't keep you as a slave, he knew you would tempt something to free the others. 

You stop walking and turn to him, lowering your head, passing one hand on your face, already annoyed by his behavior.

"Are you keeping me as a captive?" 

"No," he almost spitted, biting the inside of his cheek and avoiding your stare. You silently walk back to him, and when in front of the man, place both your hands on his knees and dangerously leaned toward him. 

He followed your every movement with his eyes, not knowing what to do nor what you intend to, you seal your lips together in urge. When you break the kiss, you sensually pass your tongue on your mouth, eyes squinted. 

Ivar looked at you with incomprehension and reluctance, about the kiss, your intentions, and the fact you succeed at breaking free, just like that. His eyes twinkle with the desire to have you again while you straighten back up, still staring into his heathen soul. You glanced at his redden cheeks and started to slowly walk backward, you were too absorbed by him to break the eye contact.

"Now, if you would excuse me," you motioned your hand as in a bow, except, you didn't bow, and you were making fun of his helplessness, or so you faked. You breathed out and turn around, truly aiming for the door this time. 

Your fingers hassled to your parted lips, reminiscing the fruity flavor of his, the sparkles as well as the chills running down your spine, and even the flash in his eyes right after that kiss. 

Even if your face was now out of sight, he knew a smirk drew on it, he could stake his life on it, and he was right.

***

Curiosity, being one of the many personality traits he and his father shared, in battle, when that man was being defeated by his soldiers, Ivar stopped the execution. He spared the life of the man he heard habitants calling "Bishop". 

At the sight of a cross pendant dangling on the man's chest, he surmised "Bishop" was a Christian title. His impatience of asking questions when the man will open his eyes couldn't reach any higher stage.

It was that same day that in the streets, at the center of a crowd you caught sight of Heahmund, crawling in the dirt trying to reach for his crutch. Too bad the men around him kept shooting at it so he couldn't grab it and stand up. He raised his head to the cripple standing in front of him, no other than Ivar The Boneless. A chuckle escaped your throat at that scene. What an irony, him, that was once crawling in the dirt with no crutch, making fun of a man in that same situation.

"Y/n, Y/n...? How-" He was cut off by a blow in his stomach. Ivar's laugh got stuck in his throat when he realized the Bishop was looking at you when calling for a name. His eyes instantly changed colors to a vivid blue. Despite the grey sky, dark clouds, and even the crowd, you glimpse perfectly his stare heading right at you. 

With a hand, you fold down the piece of fabric that was hanging around your neck on your head and face before the Vikings could do anything, you vanished behind another man screaming and laughing among the other to Heahmund's fate.

***

"Her name's Y/n, search for her everywhere! Anywhere! And bring her, but to me, but if you touch only one of her hair I will kill you myself," the Viking ordered. The guards left him alone, seeing them dispatch at the crossroad you approach the doors of the Hall and push them.

"Here you are, I have sought after you wherever," you scoff at him. Ivar turned around and his eyes widened and clouded with fury and desire. Both towards you, he indeed sends his guards fetch you but he didn't think they would find you. He thought you already left town, seeing you before him surprised him as much as it relieved him. He didn't lose you.

But you have the guts to show here after you escaped from his grip the first time as if you were the one owning the place, and he wasn't okay with you acting such way. Why didn't you left town or something? Why staying here, to mock his weakness?

If so, you've won. 

Ivar's thoughts were running wild in his head, too fast for him to follow each one of them, but you were in his every thought, that was for sure.

"I overheard you scream and I came, you oftentimes scream," you lift your brows at him. "Do you want to die?" He asked without screaming, only because you've said he did so a lot. "Conceivably," you motioned your head side to side, pouting. He rolled his eyes. "I wanted you to know we have your friend," his eyes turned to the side, a darker part of the room. 

Looking closely, you notice Heahmund, sat on the ground back to the wall. "I heard your name is Y/n, or should I call you Merlin?" Ivar spoke as if he had discovered the biggest plot of his life. "Y/n is sufficient," you retorted. "Should I offer you a sit, now?" "Offer? A sit?" you confusedly ask, brows raised high. "We found all the women you helped escape, they are emprisoned," he proudly declared. 

You scoffed, gritting your teeth, your fingers folding one against the other, forming a fist.

"Even from you, that is shallow," "Stop talking as if you know me! You don't, and it's confusing," he loudly groaned. "Here, you scream again," you boldly point him with two fingers. "Come on, Y/n," you heard Heahmund pleading from the shadows. Your sarcasm was funny for a moment, now things were serious, you needed to get your things together. But how could you with your body crying for proximity with the Viking? When he was occupying your then-vacant head since you met him? 

"I do not want anything to have to do with either of you alone, so you both? No thank you," you stubbornly stated. "I think you didn't understand, you don't have a choice.” Ivar shook his head, "And it's only about me, not him. I will soon kill him," "Well, you should hurry to do so," you motioned your head forward, eyes wide, encouraging him to act.

"So, what do you say?" The Ragnarson ignore your remark, even if he had more than one question on why you wanted Heahmund dead. "My throat's dry," you coughed, making Ivar rolled his eyes again. 

***

"Who you think I am?" "Y/n or Merlin, whatever," he shook his head on why he would even respond to your query, watching you grab the cup off the table and raise it in the air. "What about my age?" He started to get confused. "Around mine," "Do you consider me as attractive?" His lids fluttered, cheeks reddened while glancing at you, leaning back in his chair as he tried to get more comfortable. "Well..." He pondered, but his face already responded to your question. "Yeah, you're right, I am charming," you nodded after choking on your drink. No need to mention you were drunk. He placed his hands on his eyes squeezing them, he wondered why he gave you that ale.

"So you got the women," you suddenly muttered with a concerned look. "I do." "Then what is it you want from me?" Your simple question makes his lids fluttered once again, as he leaned backward to put some distance between you. 

You choose to ignore his behavior, you would give your life for those women. You promised to help them when you got here and you will not fail. 

"For you to come with me," "Where?" "Everywhere." You stayed silent. 

"You ride for me, and I free them instantly," He added seeing no reaction from you. You drop the cup you were holding on the table in a thud, blankly.

"You want my life," you murmured conceding what that means. This time Ivar stayed silent.

"What did Heahmund told you about me?" You helplessly stare at him.

"Besides your name, nothing...  I refused to know more." The Viking reluctantly finishes, murmuring. "Why?" You loudly ask. He was surprised, you always seemed calm, what has changed?

"Why?" You ask with a lower voice. His eyes encountered yours and he thought he saw worries in them. "I want you to tell me who you are," "Yeah," you scoffed, not trusting a word he was saying.

He exhaled deeply and cleared his throat. 

"Would you come with me if I simply ask you to?" 

"No,"

"Right, that's why I had to have those women. To bargain with you,"

"No, to bargain me," you rectified. "What do you want me to say, I-I-" He tried but stop himself, nothing he would say will be able to make you change your mind. 

"I know what you are thinking, that there something connecting us, but it is non," you shook your head both sides, still not looking at him. "Huh.." was the only thing able to left his mouth and he cursed himself for being such a weak man. 

"So, you want me to tell you about me, I will, this way you have all of me. When you, humans, know everything about someone or something you lose interest in them anyway, so," you shrug. 

Ivar looked at you, not quite sure he understood clearly what you meant, but you got something wrong, he was sure.

"But not here, I want you to tell me more about you when you ready, when we'll be on raid, watching the ocean on our boats or... I don't know," 

"I'm a magician, I was called Merlin a long time ago, in Camelot. I served a King there and people depended on us, him and me. But humans are so fragile, kingdoms even more... And around six hundred years later, I end up here."

"A-a magician, you're six hundred years old..." His brows rose, looking at the table, then further away. He waggled into his chair for a moment.

Here we go again, he will either try to use your magic or either he will let you and the woman go because he got what he wanted, humans are predictable.

"You've chosen Y/n as a new identity, or is it also your name?" His question eventuated in your brows to join, while your eyes meet his. They were filled with something you couldn't surely describe, envy? curiosity? care?

"It's my name. Merlin is my magician name, but-" you stopped. 

"What?"

"What are you doing, is that the only thing you want to know?"

"Why would I want to know anything else?" He retorted, glancing at you as if you asked the most stupid thing he's heard in a long time. He grabbed your cup and his and purred some more ale in them.

"Since I've seen you're not so drunk. I truly thought you were somewhere else," he declared.

"I'm a ma-gi-cian," you articulated, nearing your upped body to him over the table. 

"And I'm a cripple," he lightly responded.

"Yeah, I sure did notice that," you choked on your drink, leaning back against the chair. He glared at you, a wrinkle appeared on his forehead when he knit his brows. 

"Stop frowning, wrinkles don't match your charming fa-" You begin, stretching your arm to his face, the tip of your fingers, fondling his cheek. 

As soon as you realized how close you were to him, you stopped and looked into his eyes as if you were searching for something in there. Ivar looked back at you with the same intensity, until you started to move backward. He grabbed your wrist and maintained your hand on his cheek.

"Y/n," his lips succeed at spelling, but you "Shhh-" him while sliding your gingers on his mouth, which was now the center of your attention. 

He swallowed sharply and you choose that exact moment to peck his lips, gauging for his reaction, he looked into your eyes, then your lips and crashed his on yours in a hurry. Both your hands joined his cheeks that you stroke before slowly sliding to his mane, tucking your fingers in his braids. 

The sparkles in your lower belly spread to your arms, shoulders, and eventually your face and head, making you feel dizzy. Or was it the need of air in your lungs that made you feel giddy? You pulled away from his lips and took a deep breath before kissing him more passionately this time, needier. His response was to place a hand on your neck and pull you towards him even more whereas his free one dawdles on each part of your body it encountered during its course to your hips.

"I've lost my magic," you let out, in between two kisses. "I'm sorry," he responded before coming for another kiss. You move your head back and he stopped moving, confusion animating his eyes. "That's all you have to say?" You questioned, a bit taken aback. He stayed silent, not wanting to say anything wrong.

"You think too much," he finally let out, pulling you close to him. He pecks your nose, making you smile. 

Ivar needed more of you but wasn't so sure how to dance with you as anything could trigger you for no specific reason. He'll try to get closer with humor, as it seems you quite liked sarcasm.

"What are you doing," you giggled in response to his teeth lightly closing around the point of your nose. You lightly hit his chest trying to get away his grip but he held you tight.

“But you really need to let go of those women, they are the last magicians’ left of Camelot,” you said out of nowhere. “Wha-t?” He roared.

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

Ivar Permanent Tag: @youbloodymadgenius​

[troublesometrollhunters]

Dawna's Journey

A/N: Guys this took so long XD. Please give me feedback/comments/reblogs if not on the post than anon. Look I proof read it so much now I'm sick of it lmao. I know theres grammer mistakes but If I didn't post it tonight it was never getting posted. Anyways please enjoy this!!! :D

~~~

Dawn stood at the edge of the kingdom. The night was still as the guards had retired for the evening and she was left alone with her thoughts. Standing at the gate she stared beyond the iron bars into the foggy night where the woods were.

 She was steps away from what could be the biggest mistake of her life. By doing this, by going out into the woods to find the cure for one of the dying trolls in the dungeon, she was betraying her families name and their status along with the throne. Her uncle, her mother, her sister, Merlin, Lancelot. All of them would tell her this is wrong. That trolls were the enemy.

 Swallowing thickly, hands glowing to illuminate the night she touched the cold stone of the castle's defense wall before brushing her fingers against the iron bars that kept the trolls and fae at bay. Hissing she pulls her hand away, shaking it to make the sting disappear. Frowning as she stares out at the woods they seem to beckon her. Walking away from the gate and along the wall she goes towards a thick patch of ivy. There hidden behind the plants was a small crack. One she found as a child and still used for situations like this. 

  Slipping into the greenery rough material scrapes against her catching on her clothes but she stays determined scooting through the stone. As Ivy brushes past her face, her boots sink into the soft grass and she edges herself away from the protection of Camelot. Looking back at the castle her hands shook as she stared at her room that overlooked the very land she stood on. She'd wandered the woods many times and explored their wonders but this time was different. This time she wasn't visiting peaceful territory or exploring her magical studies in secret, this time she was going straight to the Gum Gums. She was risking everything and what made her the most nervous about it, was she didn't care. It was the right thing to do. No matter how many people said it was wrong she felt in her heart it wasn't.

 Backing away from the wall, away from her home, she realizes this could be the last time she sees Camelot if she fails. Taking it in, etching every small detail into her mind she sighs. Things used to be different. When Arthur had Gwenivere she breathed life into him and the castle. She made people hope and kept the kingdom together as the war against the Gum Gums raged on. But now the kind queen was gone and Dawn felt keeping the peace fell on her. However, as much influence as she had in the kingdom and over her uncle, Arthur never really listened after he lost his wife. He was too lost in his grief to hear reason. He banished most magic and as Dawn felt the cool air ruffle her hair she knew soon she'd be next. She couldn't fix Camelot. Not by herself but she could try and make her uncles wrongs right. Starting with the trolls he'd locked away.

 Taking one last look, the moon shines silver light over her kingdom protecting her people inside the wall. Clutching her cloak tightly Dawn closes her eyes and runs into the woods, leaving no trace that she'd ever left. She feels the grass squish beneath her feet and the whistling wind almost knocks off her hood as she runs. 

 Magically summoning her silver and gold armor the chainmail echoes in the quiet woods. Her uncle had banned magic but that never stopped Dawn. Her sister did parlor tricks for fun but Dawn craved more. It was in these woods she learned the meaning of magic and through Merlin's notes she taught herself the way of the fae world. The elements were her teachers and she hoped they'd give her mercy tonight. 

  Running faster each step she takes makes a resounding clank that bounces through the trees. Pushing past snagging branches, brambles, and thick underbrush she keeps going only one thing on her mind, getting that troll cure so her friend would survive. What an absurd notion, that she princess of Camelot was friends with a common troll. Smiling as she thought of him she kept pushing on, chest heaving as she thundered through the woods. Stepping over small streams and avoiding roots. 

  White puffs left her mouth as she pushed on. The cold kept her awake and alert even as her legs burned from running so long. Dawn stops, armor now silent as the night returns to its previous stillness.

 Killahead.

The girl swallows nervously and takes a cautious step forward. The bridge was old and full of divine energy, she could feel its power radiating from where she stood. It acted as a divide between the world of trolls and Gum Gums. Gunmar said he owned the whole woods but that was a lie. However, past the bridge there was no doubt that was his land. As she took in deep breaths chest burning she studied Killahead. Cracked stone, worn carvings from centuries ago, and overgrown moss greeted her. A bridge that once ran over a flowing river had been dry longer than Dawn had been alive. She knew this place had power. It held generations of knowledge and stories. It could be the rise or down fall of civilizations.

But unlike the trees and forest Killahead did not talk. It just listened. Cracked stone keeping the secrets of all those that walked past it. Closing her eyes she steps away from the safety of neutral territory and towards the tarnished stone. 

 Reaching out, her hand tightly clutches the side of the bridge. As she rubs her thumb over the side the stone feels smooth from years of being worn down. Stepping onto the Killahead bridge it's uneven with patches of grass slowly taking over the stone. Dawn feels the slickness of moss and dew under her boots and tightens her grip on the side she's holding as she trudges forward. 

 The moon shone above her through the leaves and pausing she tilts her head taking it in as darkness was soon to come. Listening closely, closing her eyes to hear the forest around her it was too silent. She realized someone was following her, that the GumGums knew she was here. Refusing to give up just because she felt fear she stood tall as she crossed the bridge. The branches overhead now choked out any light and it was a miracle she could still see as she made it to the end of the bridge. Standing there taking a deep breath her hand grazed the moss that had taken over Killahead. This was her last chance. To turn back and run. To go back to the castle and ignore her uncles troll business. To allow him to continue what he was doing. But... she could not.

 Filled with determination she takes her first step off Killehad. Heading away from the bridge and into the deep woods she was officially in Gum Gum territory. Her weapon wasn't drawn and it was clear she wasn't an active threat. Though Gum Gums never were ones to pick up on hints, if she had to fight she came prepared but she'd rather leave the woods unscathed.

  Venturing deeper into Gum Gum territory her chainmail echoes through the dense foliage. Low hissing and rustling could be heard from the bushes as scouts watched her. Golden and green glowing eyes all around her as she boldly kept walking. Her hand was now on her hip weapon ready to draw but she hadn't felt the need yet. She was hoping to speak to a general or a higher-up GumGum and somehow barter for the cure but as the growls got louder Dawn knew she'd have to fight. She was waiting for someone to come and address her and the soldiers watching her seemed to understand her silent demand as they kept their distance.

 Hearing something Dawn reacts quickly. Turning boots sinking into the mud as she grouds herself her blade made a distinctive swish before it clanked loudly striking against Gunmars sword. Sparks fly and the temporary bright light causes her green eyes to shine under her cloak. The brute growled in her face and she growled back surprising the GumGum King.

 "You wonder deep in our territory Knight." He hisses. Dawn responds by pressing her sword harder against his. Remembering what the knights had done, she leans back before she puts all her effort into her sword pushing the blade against his forcing him back. Stumbling Gunmar catches himself. His blue eye stares at her cloak as he pauses surprised by the human's strength. Tightening her grip on her sword showing no hesitation that she'd strike again he chuffs unamused. 

  His dark blue eye scans her form but all he sees is a long cloak and the shine of her sword in the dim light. Sniffing the air he chuffs surprised. It was a magical blade. A mage? Hadn't Arthur murdered them all?

 "I don't want to fight. I come seeking your aid." Dawn states tilting her head to look at the GumGum king. He couldn't see her face but he could feel her stare, those green eyes haunted him. This was no normal human. No normal mage. Chuffing he sneers tilting his head.

 "Oh? And why would I help a fleshbag morsel like you?" He snarls beginning to pace around her. Dawn followed his motions watching him closely. He admitted he was curious at what this knight could want at how someone could be so stupid and bold. They were foolish to come here but from the sword skills they showed he could see why they assumed they'd be safe. 

 "Because one of your own is dying and I'm trying-" Dawn starts but Gunmar growls bearing his fangs at her. 

 "SILENCE!" He roars. Dawn closes her mouth and waits. He comes close and sniffs her before huffing hot air in her face unimpressed. She reaches up to keep her hood on not wanting him to see who she really is. If he knew she was Dawna Noble of the PenDragon line it'd be over. He'd send her corpse to Arthur and her friend's life would be lost before she had a chance to win it.

 Rolling his eye, he turns annoyed by her insistent presence. "Go home whelp." He orders. "Humans speak only lies and when it isn't lies it's stupidity. Get out and don't return and you may tell your friends at the Round Table you survived. You are no meal and you're not worth the effort." He huffs waving her off. Dawn stands shocked as he begins walking away. She just ran from the safety of her home to try and save a troll's life and Gunmar doesn't even acknowledge her? He pushes her away like she's just a confused child. Grip tightening on her sword she grits her teeth shaking. She had come too far to turn back now.

 "I'm not going anywhere!" She snaps. Running to stand in front of the Gum Gum king she spreads her arms blocking his path. She's shaking making her chainmail rattle. She'd come so far he couldn't deny her now! "I came here to Gum Gum territory at night! It's important please at least listen to what I have to say." She begs. He looked annoyed and she frowned, lowering her arms. "I need something… and I know your people are the only ones who can give it to me." Stepping closer to Gunmar unafraid and praying for the life of her friend he growls at her. She's about to respond with a growl of her own when a sharp tug from her cloak made her stumble back from the King choking. She was so distracted talking to Gunmar she forgot to watch her back. 

 Tilting her head clawing at the clasp around her neck the Gum Gum prince was behind her and his claws had snagged her cape. He ripped at the fabric chuckling as she gasped for air. Unclasping the cloak knowing it was her life or her identity Dawn turned eyes blazing. The grip on her sword tightened making it glow as her green eyes glared into his red ones. She sneered at the Prince of Darkness teeth bared. He stumbled back in surprise eyes wide as he stared at her armor before staring at her face. Dropping her cloak he stepped closer curious as he sniffed her. Her amor bore Camelots symbol and stepping closer he clearly saw the Noble clans markings in the carvings of her amor. Dawn pushes Bular's face away when he gets to close and he chuckles. 

 "... Dawna? The King's niece? A child?" He laughs but Dawn stays undeterred. Her grip remains on her sword as she points the end at him. He chuckled amused. It seemed she was braver than the rest of her family or stupider. 

 "This child." Dawn says slowly eyes narrowed into slits as she feels anger course through her veins. Her hands burn coursing with energy and suddenly the trees begin to shake as the branches above them shift. Distracted she pushes Bular over with the butt of her sword forcing him against the wet grass. The Moonlight leaked through the trees as leaves swirled around her. Had it been the day she surely would've killed him. But that wasn't her intention.

  She wanted him to see her. To fear her and as her armor shone as bright as the moon GumGums hissed backing up at the glare. "Is not one to be triffled with. I seek something and I'm not leaving till I get it." She states glaring down at Bular. He growls at her, angry she'd knocked him down but she seems unaffected by his silent threat.

 "Like we'd ever help you." Bular huffs pushing her sword away from his face. Dawn puts it back in her sheath and sighs. As she took a deep breath she could see this wasn't working. She needed to switch tactics.

 Thinking back on everything she knew of Gum Gums she paused, she'd need to choose her next words wisely. "I'm not asking for help. That's weak." She hisses. "I'm asking for a fair trade." Dawn finally says. She holds out her hand for the Prince but he snarls, snapping his teeth at her fingers. She pulls her hand away to avoid the bite and rolls her eyes. Turning away from Bular she looks back to Gunmar.

 "You have nothing we want." The troll states uninterested. Dawn hums. No she didn't, did she? What was she expecting? The Gum Gums to reach into their darkened hearts and present her the cure like a gift? This was doomed to end in a fight. 

 Hand on her sword she hums as Bular shifts behind her. The brute huffs as he gets up, bumping her aside as he walks by to get to his father. Both the beasts now glared at her. Dawn wishes she could say she was without fear as they stared at her but she'd come so far she wouldn't turn back now.

   "Leave your wasting our time." Bular says uncaring of her achievements or her power. "Your so skinny we'd choke on your bones." He adds. His father laughs head bomping his son but Dawn shakes anger radiating through her. Eyes turning a dark green she feels the grip on her powers loosen. In a perfect circle around the three of them the grass dies. The two trolls watch as the plants around them begin to wither, roots twisting and cracking as wood split and leaves fluttered down. Then it all turned black rotting away. Facing them her eyes burn with a need to prove herself. The moon shines on her and Dawn's armor reflects it's light showing her power as she stood in the dead grass.

 "Then fight me. In a duel." She demands standing her tallest as she looks at them.

 She wasn't leaving without that cure. She may fall here but she falls with more grace than either of these so called warriors.

 Gunmar leans in close his horns jutting out like a crooked crown as he snarls at her. Dawn snarls back. She. Wasn't. Leaving. Without. That. Cure.

 "... Fine. You wish to die? I will not stop you." Turning Bular and him begin to stalk away. Soldiers surround her and as she draws her blade eyes wide she sees Gunmar pause. The soldiers don't advance or go for an attack. Dawn turns and Gunmar stares at her waiting. She realizes she is supposed to follow. Taking one last look back at Killahead and the safety of the forest beyond she picks her shredded cloak off the dead grass before reclasping it around her neck.

 It seems she got what she wanted.

~~~

  An hour or two must have passed making Dawn fear she wouldn't get back before Daylight. If her bed was empty when the castle awoke they'd send a search party and she'd never be aloud to leave again. Arthur would watch her every move and Merlin… she'd never be aloud to learn another spell. Trudging on through the darkness of the woods fearing that Daybreak was near she felt weak. Her legs were tired from the long trek but she knew it was worth it. She watched as they passed trees with scratch marks in them and trollish sayings and carvings she couldn't decipher. Dawn pauses touching one of the trees and tracing the carving it flashed green and the words changed allowing her to read it. Tilting her head she squints.

 "Home…?" She mumbled seeing the deep groves in the tree. Dawn felt she knew this language from a distant memory as if it had been murmered once before as if it'd been read to her. Trying to remember how she knew it, a jab to her back made her hiss.

 Poked with a guards spear she walks away and observes her surroundings closely. Seeing more trolls watching from the bushes, standing guard Dawn realized they had led her into the heart of their territory. Her eyes are wide in wonder as she looks around enamoured. She'd heard such dark stories about the GumGums home but standing here she could only feel the warmth of fellow warrior spirits.

   Tents were set up and huts made from the surrounding trees and rock. Everything was handcrafted in a way Dawn never knew trolls were capable of. Woven branches and carved rock shielded families from the cold as they laid together. Fires raged in pits and the flames made the GumGums eyes reflect as they watched her follow their king.

   Younglings ran around the camp jumping into bushes only to leap out at their friends causing squeals of joy to ring through the camp. Mothers and fathers sat and chatted as they groomed their newborn whelps, licking them clean as they made little squeaks of protest wiggling in their parents grip. Soldiers sparred and played chuffing at one other as they rolled around and smashed their helmets against each other, kits cheering them on. The more she saw the more she began to question her faith and allegiance to Arthur.

 Was this any different than home? They wove intricate baskets of grass that held food and supplies just like the weavers and potters of Camelot. There were some differences such as how and what they wove but the patterns told a story just like her people. Warriors brought back what they'd hunted putting them in piles for all to share similar to the town's trade center. Children played games with each other running around as adults took turns to watch. Was this not exactly like Camelot? Was the way the soldiers behaved any different than Camelots knight barracks or the teens copying the soldiers exactly like young squires? She could almost imagine the GumGums as humans in this light, as a thriving tribe deep in the woods who wanted nothing to do with Camelots culture.

  As she was pushed forward by GumGum spears to keep pace, she stumbled lost in her own thoughts. 

 Stumbling forward trying to wrap her head around the fact that the GumGums weren't all evil she stared up at Gunmar. From this angle walking with his son he almost seemed... human. He could've eaten her or mauled her when they first encountered each other but instead he listened to her pleas and now he was giving her a chance to fight. That was more than what Arthur ever did for her. More than Lancelot believed she could do. Who was the real monster in this war? Was there even a need for war?

 Turning Gunmar meets her gaze and she looks away. She decides to study his camp as this may be her only chance. Looking around taking in the dense foliage and how they'd made it a home she felt eyes on her. Turning whelps watched her curiously blinking owlishly at her. She wonders if they've ever seen a human. Well a live human. Bending down and pausing to wave they ran off squeaking to their mothers. Staring at the troll families who held their children close and their harsh gazes as they glared at the princess, Dawn realized she was the only monster here.

 Bular chuffed amused, making Dawn blush. Of course they'd be scared of her. After all she was the enemy. Getting up and pulling her cloak closer plants nervously bloomed around her and nearby crystals glowed reacting to her emotions. She flushed embarrassed at her lack of control and quickly followed the King of Darkness, curious eyes watching as they left. 

  ~~~

Lead to an arena Dawn pauses in awe. She was standing in the fabled GumGums battle room, she'd only ever heard stories. She never thought she'd see this place. Looking out at the various weapons placed around their training space. There were axes, swords, spears, javelins, maces, and other weapons she didn't recognize. Her green eyes widened in amazement studying the colosseum from the balcony they stood on. It overlooked everything and she was determined to write this down and document it later. The arena was large and wide carved out from the center of the mountain, hidden deep in the core. She could see statues of fallen warriors decorating the rims of the arena. Stone steps carved from years of work circled the colosseum allowing trolls to watch as others spared. She also noticed dents in the walls and wondered about the battles that caused such scars. 

 Running forward Glowing Green crystals jutted from the ground and tapping one, it glowed brightly reacting to her touch. Her heart swelled at the magic in this room, the history. She felt an ancient power in this place and could feel the souls of thousands of trolls who had fallen here. It was exhilarating unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Unlike anything in Camelot.

  "Our rules are simple fleshbag." Gunmar states demanding her attention. Turning away from the balconies edge and focusing on him he snarls from his place on his throne beginning. Skulls decorated his seat and Dawn swallows before meeting his gaze listening closely. "Rule One. Always finish the fight and never hesitate." He states slamming his hand onto an old skull crushing it. Dawn nods aware of this troll custom despite how much she despised it. "Rule Two it must be your blade that ends the fight it can not be your enemies." Holding her sword tightly Dawn understands this. If she lost her weapon she could not use her opponent's to end them.

   Gunmar smirked, leaning forward on his throne of bones as he chuffed in her face. Hot air sent her hood back and made her long hair shift as he leered down at her. "And Rule Three young mage. No magic." He instructs.

 Dawna chokes hearing the last demand. No magic? Since when was that a Gum Gum rule? She was never informed that would be part of the deal. Looking over at Gunmars son she brings her sword close. 

 Bular was at least twelve feet tall and Gunmar fifteen. She was a third their size, maybe half at best.

 Without her magic it would be impossible to defeat either of them. She could fight but she didn't have proper training in dueling only practice from when she copied Lancelot. Not to mention the split swords she'd brought were magic. She'd only have the weak weapon she swiped from the knight hall which to a troll was barely a dagger. She wasn't even sure it could go through a trolls skin. As they watched waiting for an answer, Dawn's hands clenched beginning to glow. She supposed magic would be an unfair advantage but wasn't it unfair to make her fight without it? Magic was apart of her, apart of this place. To deny her such a large part of herself… Trembling she felt sick. Perhaps Gunmar and Arthur shared more than she assumed.

 "Well princess?" Gunmar sneers the title like an insult before smirking, licking his fangs. "What is your decision? Do not waste our time." Dawn shakes. He thinks her a coward, a cheat but she would always keep true to her word. She came here. She had to finish this. Looking at her hands before closing her eyes she takes a deep breath. The glow dies and their left in the dull light of the green crystals. 

  Looking up and nodding Gunmar chuffed staring at her. Sighing, she looked down at herself allowing her armor to fade away. She felt naked without her protection but If they considered magic cheating then she would respect their rules as she was on their land.

  "I do not cheat. I do not need magic to win. And if I fall there's no one to go back to anyways..." Closing her eyes thinking of home she knows either way she wins. She either dies and meets Gwenivere in Avalon or she returns to the castle and saves her friend's life.

  Whispering a prayer to her family and hoping this was not her last night alive Dawn nods. She stands before the King and Prince unarmored and defenceless cept a small blade she held. Gunmar turns and not a moment later an attendant walks in carrying what Dawn feared most. Ravenstone.

 Rare and made from the dust of fallen magic users ravenstone blocked any magic from being used, containing the energy and even stealing it if a mage was around it too long. She holds the stone in her hands when the attendant passes it to her and pauses seeing they were cuffs.

  She swallows as they watch her and closing her eyes she slips them on wearing them as bracelets. Shivering Dawn could feel them working, they would not only block her magic but drain her energy as well. She'd have to be smart in this battle or she'd surely fall. 

  Rubbing the cuffs nervously she feels the intricate runes carved into the stone. They told the story of her kind, the origin of magic. A  zap of electricity goes up her arms making her feel more powerful despite the impediment. "I do not intend to lose." She states boldly. Bular chuffs sword dragging against the ground. Neither did he. Turning towards the arena she begins walking down the stairs, the brute following her.

  It seemed Bular had decided he would be her fighting partner and Gunmar their witness. 

 Waiting at the bottom she paused. Spinning the sword in her hand she stared into the steel looking at her reflection. If she died today she died a hero. If she won it wouldn't be long lived. Dictatuous was running out of time. He needed the cure. Now. 

  Attacking her while she's distracted, Dawn quickly focuses back on Bular, on the battle. Their swords clash against each other creating sparks as they glare at one other. She was tired, had less fighting experience, and was weaker. Smirking Dawn pushed Bular back, she guessed that made this a fair match. 

  Clawing at the ground gaining his footing he snarls and charges at her. Dawn thinking quickly jumps up and flips over him as he swings his sword where she had just stood. Landing she turns holding up her blade as his crashed against hers. He sneered pushing down and she cries out feeling the increasing pressure as he pushes down. Huffing she kicks him back making both of them skid.

 She breathes deeply grip tightening. The battle had just begun and she knew she was outmatched. Shifting her position she glances up at Gunmar. He sat on his throne overlooking their battle, watching amused. His eye met hers and she stares wondering what he must think of her, of his son before Bular crashes back into her, sending her backwards. Hitting the ground she rolls rocks digging into her skin. Her shirt catches and she hisses as the cloth rips open and slashes her flesh making blood spill. The first blood drawn from battle.

  Getting up she stares at Bular. She couldn't get distracted. This wasn't like home, if she lost here she wouldn't get back up again.

  Bular stalks towards her grinning as he dragged his two swords. Taunting her as they scratched deep groves into the floor. In the green light of the jagged crystals his eyes glowed and Dawn saw a blood lust she'd never seen before. Ducking behind a rock as he slashed his swords at her she inches around it before she rolls forward going under his legs aiming at his ankles. Making contact she quickly scrambles up also hitting him in the back right above his kilt. Holding her sword waiting for a counter attack the Prince roars. Snarling he turns, swords hitting her with so much force she's slammed into a wall. Making contact she drops her sword, gasping as she grabs her side. He'd gotten her. Twice now. But so had she. They were even. Grimacing in pain eyes wide in fear she stares up at the warlords son.

 "Look at you. Tiny and weak human. You thought you could best me? I am the son of Gunmar! I am a conquer! And now for your ignorance you shall fall." He states raising his swords above her head. Eyes darting around Dawn smirks. Kicking him in the grocknuts as hard as she can he roars, dropping his swords and whimpering. She grabs her own weapon before charging. Kicking him backwards again she slashes at his chest causing black blood to spill.

 "Miserable human your death will be painful for that!" He threatens as he smacks her away with his arm. Falling back sword clattering as it slips out of her hand once more Dawn groans.

Her breathing is rough as she shakes. Bular picks up his blades and as she kicks back trying to reach her sword his claws dig into her ankle pulling her towards him. He huffs hot air into her face keeping her pinned and she stares at him. He raises a sword but moving her head the blade simply sinks into the ground next to her. He snarls and she snarls back, body burning with pain but brimming with determination. She could not fall.

 Smashing her head against his he hisses in pain, stumbling back as she stands. Blood drips into her eye and her ankle burns from the deep cuts but she still stands tall. "I don't intend to lose." She sneers and he growls at her. Tackling her to the ground Dawn grunts but smirks. He'd pushed her closer to her blade.

 Smiling Bular stared down at her ready to smash her head in right as her sword pierced his side and went straight through his ribcage. She missed his heart intentionally though she wonders how his face would've looked if he had been beaten by such a "weakling" as herself. Smiling as warm blood dripped onto her hands from the wound she'd inflicted she forced him back before climbing on top of him straddling him. Grabbing his horns and pushing his head down she glares down at him huffing.

 "You you you!!!" He roars thrashing but Dawn keeps one hand on the sword threatening to push it all the way through if he didn't listen. The other rested on his horn keeping his head down.

 "Yield Bular. You've lost." Dawn snarls. Their battle was intense and she almost fell but Bulars cockiness had been his downfall. Her hair falls onto his face as she breathes deeply staring into his eyes. Bular chuffs growling at her but her hand remained on the hilt of the sword reminding him she could end him if she chose. She'd done it. Bloody but not broken she'd beaten Bular the Butcher.

 "MY SON!" Gunmar screeches from his throne ready to charge. Dawn turns holding out her hand that'd been on Bulars horn. The GumGum king paused snorting at her boldness. 

"I'll make a deal." Dawn states. "Declare I've won and I'll take off the raven cuffs, I'll heal him, and we never speak of this. And..." She takes a deep breath in blood still dripping from her wounds. "You give me what I desire." Dawn offers. Gunmar chuffs staring at her then Bular. Bular who was covered in blood and beaten by a mere mortal. His son. His legacy. Who was this girl? 

There's a long pause where the only sound is Bular and Dawns wheezing breaths. Dawn and Gunmar stare at each other and finally Gunmar chuffs looking away. 

"You have won." He growls lowly.

"Father!" Bular snaps before roaring at the movement. The pain from the inflicted wound was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Dawn turns eyes wide as she holds the sword still to keep it from hurting him further.

"Silence! You have lost Bular let the witch work!" Dawn nods and ripping off the cuffs she takes out the sword before placing her hands against the wound. His stone was warm despite being rock something she wasn't expecting. The texture was rough and marred threatening to slit her hands open if she didn't work carefully. Black and red stained her hands their blood mixing together and as her eyesight blurred she prayed that after the battle her magic was strong enough to heal him. 

Closing her eyes focusing Bulars breathing and chuffing gets louder as electricity courses through his veins. Dawn feels the wound close under her fingertips slowly and putting more energy into it, more thought the GumGum Prince stares amazed as the rock melts and melds before becoming a small scar against his chest. Almost as if she'd never struck him in the first place. 

Dawn pulls back still straddling him and he stares at her. This small human who just put him on the brink of death only to save him. Who was this human? This Dawna Nobel? 

"... Can I please get the troll cure and go home now?" She begs falling off the dark prince to lay on the ground besides him. They both lay still after their battle, taking deep breaths in.  

~~~

 Gunmar held the potion as Dawn smiled. She had a small cut above her eye from headbutting Bular and a gash on her arm and leg from rolling on the ground but she'd done it. She got the cure to save Dictatious. Taking the bottle into her hands Gunmar leaned close.

"Do not let me see you here again." He chuffs. "And do not take this potion lightly. It could destroy my people but I put my trust in you as you've been the only honorable human I have met in some time. You bested my son and for that you will not be underestimated again." Holding the bottle close, feeling the warmth of it's magic through the glass Dawn looks at Gunmar and nods. That was the closet to a compliment she'd ever get from the GumGum King. 

"You have my word Gunmar." Smiling she turns facing Killahead before she fades into the shadows disappearing. 

Sputtering as she falls into one of the many castle halls, Dawn can't breathe as she lays flat on the carpet. Breathing deeply her hands dig into the lush fabric as her eyes go blurry. Groaning light leaks from a nearby window onto her face and she sees it's sunup, sometime in the early morning. Grunting body burning in pain as she slowly gets up she begins to limp down the hall sweat and blood dripping down her face. But holding the potion close she can't bring herself to care about her pain. Heaving in air, she could feel the night and the toll of magic finally catch up to her. However she couldn't quit rest yet. Clawing at the wall as she continues walking she pulls herself forward cradling her prize close. 

~~~

Dawn paused looking around the corner. The guards that were usually stationed for prison duty were gone on shift leave, giving her a window of opportunity. Opening the door that led to the dungeons quietly she sneaks inside to the staircase before closing the door. Staying in the shadows and avoiding the torches she creeps down the stairs careful not to make a sound. Peaking, her head out she sees most of the trolls were resting or trying too. Hacking could be heard and she winces, listening to Dictatious as he continued to cough.

 Walking quietly across the stone floor, trolls don't pay her cloaked form any mind. Standing near his cell she holds the mug of tea and potion close. She'd changed her clothes to look more presentable. She'd also slipped into the kitchens when no one was looking to grab a few things. Holding the potion and tea in her hand she pauses outside his cell. She could study the potion Gunmar gifted her, reverse it. Make a weapon and wipe out the GumGums once and for all. Magic would finally be respected. Arthur would respect her. But...

 Hearing his loud pained coughs Dawn closes her eyes as she pours the potion into the tea. She sticks the cup through the cell bars allowing Dictatious to take it. The hacking stops and Dawn slowly opens her eyes. Dictatious looks at her untrusting and she frowns her hand with the tea shaking.

  "Please it'll help I promise..." She begs him. He blinks before looking at Dawn through the bars that seperated them, all six eyes peering into her soul through the darkness of the dungeon. 

 "... why?" He asks voice barely above a whisper as he forces it out of his raspy throat. He had gotten worse while she was gone but she believed Gunmar had fulfilled his deal as she had hers. That his sickness would be cured once he drank what she'd fought for and that he'd live just as she had.

 "Because this is wrong and I'm sorry. Please..." Dawn continues to offer the cure, cloak hiding her face but Dictatious knew her. She was the King's niece. She was Camelots jewel. She was that girl who would sneak into the woods to learn magic and come down into these dark dungeons to hear the stories he told other trolls to keep their hopes up.

  He sniffed the tea, it was a spicy moss blend that Dawn found many trolls enjoyed. The ingredients in the kitchen were slightly different from what trolls used but she hoped it'd appease him. Dictatious and her were by no means close but she wanted to amend that. They'd met in the woods when she was small, he'd helped her home. And once more he'd seen her practicing magic and had gifted her a troll book about ancient spells. She'd hated trolls for months after Gweniveres passing. She'd hated her magic but then she remembered. She remembered her aunts love and kindness. Her passion for the arts and her interest in magic. She would not let Arthur get away with this if she was still alive. But she was dead so it was Dawn's responsibility now. 

  It helped that Dictatious told stories whenever she came down to explore the dungeons. Although they never directly interacted he showed her not all trolls were evil. Before he got sick he spun tales of his world explaining magic in a way Dawn had never heard before. He was not a beast like Arthur described and she couldn't bear for him to die when he became sick and could no longer tell his stories. She couldn't stand that these trolls were trapped, that so many had died here. But for now all she had to beg for forgiveness was the potion. 

  "..." Dictatious studies Dawn humming as he looks her over. He takes the cup, his hands touching hers. She smiles and he looks grateful as he takes the warm mug. Looking at the princess with glazy eyes he snorts amused. "You are not like your family. You are different..." Dawn tilts her head but he doesn't add on as he chugs the drink. Once done he hands the cup back before curling into a ball on the dungeons cold floor. Dawn stares at him panicked. Had it been poison? Was he dying? Had she killed him? Had Gunmar lied to her?

 "Dic…?" Going to open the cell bars she paused watching his chest slowly rise and fall. Sleeping. The troll was just resting. Sighing and letting out a laugh Dawn falls against the bars exhausted. Chuckling she hugs her knees close. As she looked at Dic slumbering and listened to the rumbling trolls around her, her eyes fluttered. Yes she could use some of that too...

~~~

 Dawn feels a hand on her shoulder. She startles awake looking around confused before she remembers visiting Dic in the dungeons. Groaning she isn't sure when she dozed off but apparently she had.

 "You stayed?" Turning Dawn takes off her cloaks hood and pauses seeing Dictatious look at her. Smiling she stands, excited the potion worked as he looked much healthier. 

 "You're up." She states ignoring his previous remark. Studying him he seemed to be in good health despite the terrible circumstances. Dic hums in response reaching his hand through the bars to touch Dawns face. "Are you well?" She asks ignoring as he poked her.

 "I am but what of you? What happened to you?" Dawn blushes remembering the bruises and cuts all over her face from the duel. She didn't have the energy to deal with them last night. Letting out a chuckle she shrugs it off.

 "Don't worry about it." She responds, muttering a quick spell to heal her injuries. Dictatious watches with wide eyes as the cuts slowly close and the swelling goes down. She still had some light bruising but she looked much better. He had not seen her last night in the darkness of the dungeon but he'd recognized her scent and voice. Plus she was the only human who really came down here other than the Knights. 

 "You are a very strange human." He states crossing his arms. Chuckling Dawn nods. She was indeed different than her family. 

 "Can you walk? What about run?" She questions suddenly. Dictatiouses face scrunches as he tilts his head. What was she planning now?

 "Yes I feel fine now but why?" He asks. Dawn nods at him before she summons her armor. If she'd fallen asleep against the cells in the morning than it had to be dark now.

 "You've been here long enough. All of you. It's time you go home." She states. 

 "Dawna what are you doing?" Dictatious demands grabbing at her arm but she was already walking away from his cell to the center of the room. Making the torches burn bright, light fills the room showing Dawn.   "... You don't know me!" Dawn addresses them and the sound of grating stone can be heard as they turn and shift towards her. Eyes of all shapes and sizes watching the girl speak. "But I believe Trolls aren't evil. And I promise you, neither are humans. I do this because what my uncle Arthur did to all of you was wrong. I do this to show we're not all like him." Dawn fueled by saving Dic holds up her hand and all the cadges glow. Trolls gasp backing away before the locks suddenly click and the doors swing open. They… they were free? "Follow me and I'll lead you home!" Pulling her hood up Dawn runs out of the dungeon towards the castles entrance and the trolls, goblins, stalklings, and gnomes follow. Dictatious pushes past other trolls and rushing out of his now opened cell runs to be in the front right next to her.

 "Dawna this could be your title! This could be everything. Your very life! What are you doing?" He demands pulling on her arm but she just smiles, winking at him. 

 She leads a charge, directing the various creatures through the castle. Bigger creatures pick up smaller or sicker ones to help them keep up. The freed trolls follow behind her trusting the emboldened mage who had saved them. Their thundering footsteps echoing through the castle.

Making it to the front entrance she bursts the door open with her magic, leading everyone out of the castle and through the labyrinth of Camelot cobblestone streets before finally arriving at the gate. Focusing and saying a spell she hoists the iron bars open and they nod at her in thanks before they run. 

 It was early morning and the sun slowly begins to rise but for now there was enough shade for the night creatures to travel safely. Dawna can hear commotion coming from the castle as knights scurry around trying to find the escaped trolls and missing princess. Laughing as she watches the trolls flee, seeing them return home to the woods her chest flutters in happiness. She'd done it. She'd used magic and she'd freed them. 

  Feeling a pull Dawn stumbles almost dropping the gate and pausing she turns.

  "Lets go." Dictatious states yanking at her hand. She blinks surprised before staring at the troll.

  "What?" She asks softly. He pulls again wanting to drag her into the woods with him. With all of them. Some trolls pause on the bridge looking back and waiting for her decision.

 "Come with us. Please." Dawn blinks before she stares at Dictatious. Tilting her head she gazes outward, to the woods and their lush forest. With the freshest of fruits and gorgeous flowers. With friends. With Safety. With Magic. With sparring. And Freedom. She'd have freedom. She feels another pull and hesitantly she takes a step back so she doesn't go running away with them. 

 "My family is here..." She mumbles but she longs to leave with Dictatious. To go to their troll safe haven and explore the troll world. Too read endless books and immerse herself in their culture and magic. Too see what she'd only heard stories about. To become what she could only dream. 

 "You don't belong with them." Dictatious lightly bumps her head with his before squeezing her cheeks. Dawn is confused but laughing she smiles realising he had just given her the equivalent of a platonic troll kiss. He saw her as kin and he wanted her safe. She didn't belong in Camelot anymore did she? Her home was the wild surrounded by trees and magic not cobblestone and iron. But if she stayed she could help and maybe someday she would ascend to the throne and she could fix things. She could repair the damage done by Arthurs anger and she could rule with Gweniveres love. 

  The loud clanking of armor gets closer and Dawn hugs Dictatious feeling his rough stone against her before she pushes him to flee. He runs understanding her decision but at the end of the bridge he hesitates sending her a hopeful glance. He waits but Dawn simply bows a last goodbye and he nods taking off into the safety of the woods. Looking up again about to bring the gate back down Dawn pauses. 

  Gunmar stood at the edge of the woods watching. Tilting her head he nodded slowly at her. He did not trust humans and the Royal Family was at the top of that list but Dawn hoped she had earned his respect. If she ever fell by his hand she hoped it would be a quick merciful death. Something he granted few.

 The iron bars slam down as her magic burned out, separating her from the woods and all that lied beyond. Dawn signs looking away. Once again she was trapped.

~~~

 Gunmar stood at the woods edge peering into the Humans putrid village. He had come to scout and see if Dawna would keep her word. If the potion she won truly was for a troll or if she was lying and planned to use it against them and slaughter his troops. His single eye widened as the gates opened. He growled ready to tear open her throat but paused as a flood of magical creatures poured out rather than the army he was expecting. He could see trolls of all kinds, stalkings, gnomes, and goblins and amongst them stood an unafraid Dawna. They towered over her and had ten times her strength and yet she didn't fear them. They all left and Dawna was alone. Going to turn and leave he paused. Some trolls remained. A cloaked troll had stayed back and now they were clinging to her. Even from the distance he could see they were small and sickly, barley recovered despite the potion it seemed. The troll pulled at her as the others encouraged her to leave with them. Gunmar snorted enraged at the notion they'd invite her into the woods. 

  The girl simply nodded no, trying to urge them to leave. A wise decision on her part. The troll looks up and saw he was running out of time, the light was coming and with it his death if he didn't hurry. He leaves but Gunmar watches him hesitate. The trolls look back and Dawn smiles before bowing goodbye. The trolls run to the shelter of the trees and the princess watches them leave. The gate is about to drop before her green eyes lock onto him. Their gaze meets and she slowly nods to him. The gate slams down separating them before he can respond and he hums watching her run off as knights come. Perhaps if things were different. If she was born a troll or even a GumGum in another life they could've been allies. Maybe even friends. He turns feeling saddened that she chose to remain imprisoned when she clearly could be free. What an odd human.

[hpdabbles]

Master Of Death (In Training)

Harry knew that he, after gathering all of the Deathly Hallows, would technically be considered the Master of Death. In theory. 

But since he was trying to stop a war, save as many people as he could, and take down a mad man bent on world genocide it slipped his mind. There wasn’t like a grand sign that told him he was now the Master of Death anyway. 

Harry had to focus on other things, too preoccupied with the dangers of the war and the final standoff between him and Riddle, to notice the glowing and the sealing of the Deathly Hallows upon his magic, marking him.

After the last battle, he took some time for himself to relax and handle the trauma he built over the last few years.

Or he would have. Had Death, in all its silver cloak and flouting glory, not barged into his room late at night with a wheezy breath, a grave-cold touch and most terrifying of all: a new employee manual.

“It’s not that hard of a job” Death promised him. Harry stared up at the cloaked being in small horrified bemusement, a light silver binder in his hands. “You're more like a temp if anything. You’ll mostly be doing the office jobs, such as writing up the death reports, keeping a chart on reasons of deaths, keeping track of the number of ghost hauntings, and approving or disapproving reincarnations. Really, you’re just going to be a trainee for at least two centuries before any of the fun stuff like soul taking comes into the picture.” 

“But I don’t want this job”

“You should have thought of that before gathering the Hallows” Death rebuffs without an ounce of sympathy. The figure, whose face was left in the shadows, an the cloak that hides the gender, glided across the room to sit next to Harry.  “Now I know it’s unlikely, but if you find yourself being summoned-”

“Being what!?”

“Don’t interrupt.”  Death huffs. It’s odd to hear in a voice that sounds as if five or more people speaking at once. Of various genders, tones, and pitches. “As I was saying, should you find yourself in that situation, you can add your own rules as the summoning will only work in the dimension your change of but you can not bring anyone back to life and you can’t make long-lasting deals. The Deathly Hallows was a rookie mistake by a trainee all Deaths are having to deal with now.” 

Harry can’t see the figures face, but he could hear the eye-roll in the last sentence which makes this all the more bizarre. He goes to pinch himself, wincing when his fingers break the skin and yet Death does not disappear from his right.

Grabbing his wand, and casting any spell he knows that could bring him to reality have similar effects. This is real. He’s really the Master of Death and apparently a “Death” in training.

“Oh, Merlin.” He whimpers. Death gently pats his shoulder almost as if it pitied him. It sends a bone-deep shiver down his spine. 

“I’ll be your supervisor, along with Muerte. She’ll be over whenever I can’t. Should you have any questions-”

“What does Muerte mean?” 

“Spanish for Death”

“Oh”

Death nods.  “As I was saying, should you have any questions or concerns call us with the Reapers number extension lines. Good luck Mr. Potter.”

And just like that Death poofs out of sight leaving Harry with the Sliver Binder of Death Trainees, the Cloak of Invisibility, the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. He rubs his face and throws them all into his bedside drawer hoping that if he rolls over to sleep, the objects will be gone in the morning.

But sadly, they are not.

 In fact, Harry is only just starting to fall asleep, when he feels an invisible hook launch onto his navel and yank him out of bed. He is launched through what feels like a swirling path of lights, the feeling similar to the one- and only- time he rode a roller coaster before he is slammed against a clear wall.

There is only a short enough pause for his jammies to change into a metallic emerald green cloak that hugs his figure nicely, tied at his waist with a black belt. His shoes are changed to black dragon-skin boots, and his half-face is hidden from view as a hood comes up and over leaving only a bit of his mouth and nose within sight.

He feels trousers, made from the same materials as his boots, wrap around his legs, and a comfortable but firm fitting dark emerald shirt under his cloak.

The items he left in his bedside table, appear in his arms and Harry only has a moment to wonder if he looks as ridiculous as he feels before the hook returns and drags him through the wall. 

As he passes whatever barrier that was, he realizes he has entered his death realm, feeling it into his very soul. This is what Death had been talking about when he-they? said he was in charge of and he can feel people and animals’ life candles flickering out even as the summons stops.

Harry is left standing before a very familiar group of people who all gasp in fear at the sight of him. With his new ability to be the one in charge of everyone dying in this dimension, he identifies them all even if they are younger then he is used to.

 The Order of Phoenix, but the one before his time. 

“What have we done” Alice Longbottom whimpers her wand aimed at Harry who tilts his head at her rounded stomach. She clamps a hand protectively over what he knows is Neville once she realizes his head is tilted in her direction.

Frank Longbottom is quick to step before his wife and unborn child, trembling in place but not willing to back down without a fight. Harry is a little impressed, since the man is, in all intentions and purpose, standing before Death in order to protect his family.

Harry turns his eyes to a red-head woman with a similar round stomach who is aiming her own wand at him. Her pale husband, with his three best friends, are at her side doing the same.

Seeing his mum, his dad, his godfather, uncle, and the traitor almost makes Harry cry.

“Great Power” Albus Dumbledore starts stepping forward  “We have called you here in order to request your aid in this war and fear we can not win without your assistance.”

Harry swings his head back to the headmaster.  He blinks at him forgetting they can’t see his eyes.

After a moment of no response, the headmaster clears his throat and goes down on one knee. The room holds their breath as the man speaks  “I offer you, my soul, in exchange for your aid, Great Power.”

“Oh, Albus.” Minerva McGonagall says with great pain but she does nothing to stop Death. They all knew who would sacrifice themselves before doing the summons, and loath they may be to admit it, losing the headmaster is a small price to pay for the Greater Good. 

Harry for his part finally unfreezes. He flips through his binder rapidly looking for what he has to do. The room stares at him as he holds up a hand and says apologetically.  “I’m sorry, I’m new to this. Um, give me a moment to consult my employee manual, please? I don’t want to take your soul unless I have to.”

“Employee Manual” Sirius Black repeats baffled.  “How can literal Death be an employee?!”

“Trainee actually” Harry corrects once he founds the right page. Skim through it he sees that he doesn’t have to take the summoner's soul but he must take something otherwise his supervisors will come and take something in his place.

They could have the right to demand the souls. He rather avoid that, if possible.

Harry searches the room looking for something they all share- since he can sense they all had something to do with the spell-  before he gets an idea. “I want everyone’s socks in exchange for help.”

In the long silence that follows his words, Albus sighs  “But I like these socks.”

[thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny]

Toll The Dead

On the day he opens his eyes, the sun is blindingly harsh. He tries to move his hands only to be greeted by astonishingly smooth skin and dark waves flopping into his vision. He’s trapped for so long that both he and the ancient tree actually died. The difference is, he came back. He wept, although they weren’t tears of joy after being finally freed from his (admittedly deserved, he could say that now) captivity. They were tears of sorrow. Actually, neither freedom nor captivity were in his mind upon his awakening. Instead it was one, all-consuming question took up that space.

How long have I been dead?

The old, dead tree was still the same apart from being a mere husk now. The old grove, the forest was still the same. But Camelot...Camelot was totally different. It no longer existed.

The mighty Pendragon Castle had all but crumbled to dust, the inhabitants long gone either to their respective afterlives, or as shades haunting what was left of the ruined halls. He’d heard whispers that there’d been a great battle long ago, a battle where Arthur had been betrayed by the son he conceived in sin and shame. Arthur. Arthur was gone too, then. Tears pricked Merlin’s eyes anew when he’d heard it...he would never see either of them again. He would never go to heaven and see Arthur’s smiling face, he wouldn’t even float through the gates of hell and embrace his beloved Uther after centuries of being apart. Arthur’s grave was at Avalon, a place that was forever closed to him. Even after all this time Morgana and Nimue’s memories had not dulled, and neither had their power it seemed.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

There were too many memories here, too much had remained the same and too much had changed. All the work of decades was lost, friends and loved-ones were lost. There was no longer a godson, a lover. A mother, a sister or an apprentice to stick around for. Everything around him was a reminder of loss, the world had moved on without him and he had no choice but to move on too.

There was no place for him anymore. Limbs still stiff after being fused to wood for so long, Merlin summoned his weakened magic to conjure not food, not water, but enchanted roses. A bouquet of them: not his finest work but he hoped that the recipients would appreciate the thought.

. . . .

He left one on Uther’s grave below the crypts of Saint-Peter. “Take care, my love.”

He left the second on the floor where Arthur’s throne used to stand, and what was left of his portrait underneath it.

The third he had left at the grave of his mother, who’d insisted she be buried with her fellow sisters.

Speaking of sisters, he gave the fourth to a raven and instructed it to find Ganieda, wherever she was. He would like to see her again, but he didn’t even know if she was still alive.

The fifth and sixth went onto Igraine and Gorlois’ tombs: at least the lady got to be buried beside her true love at the end. Poor, unfortunate woman...she’d been through so much. He figured it was the least he could do. I know nothing I say or do could make up for what I’ve done...but I’ve looked after Arthur. I raised and protected him the best I could, and he became a marvelous king. A marvelous man, I know you’d be proud of him. I am, even though I’ve no right to be.

When the air turned chilly around him for no reason at all, he knew he’d overstayed his welcome. He was not forgiven, that much was clear.

“Why are you here?! You’re not supposed to be here! You don’t have the right...!”

Merlin didn’t even have to look up when the door to the crypt slammed open, he already knew who it was. “Hello, Morgana.”

“How dare you. How dare you defile my parents once again!” Her hair was a halo of fire, wreathing her thunderous face. “You and your lover already took their lives, you could not leave them in peace at their deaths?!”

“I only meant...” Coming here was a mistake. A second step of footsteps rushed into the chamber, that thin face and those blue eyes and that dark hair was burned into Merlin’s brain. He’d last seen it when she was fusing his old and silvered body into the great oak. “How did you get out of the tree?!”

“The tree is dead, Nimue. Look, coming here was a mistake. I’ll take my leave...”

“Do you really think I’m just going to let you walk away?” Morgana took a step forward. “Not this time.”

There were bolts of magic exchanged and smoke kicked up around them, a confusing jumble of light and sound and smell. Merlin barely missed the thorny vine aimed his way...Morgana had always been the more talented of his students. Nimue chimed in with her own magic, like two perfectly synchrd dancers performing a pas-de-deux. He had to get out, he knew he wouldn’t survive much longer if they’d had better aim. In the cloak of smoke and rubble, he slunk out through the first opening he saw, not having the energy to turn into anything bigger than a lizard at this point.

. . . .

It was taking an excruciatingly long time for his magic to come back...of course he’d loved without it before, but it was just so much easier to have it at your disposal. When you have magic, it becomes a part of you and losing it is a lot like losing a limb. He felt like he’d lost a right arm. When he barely escaped with his life, Merlin ran. He didn’t know where he was running to, but he ran. He kept running, and when his magic finally became strong enough he flew.

He didn’t know where he’d ended up, all he knew is that he was on his knees in a thick forest, hair falling in front of his face. It was just as much gray as it was brown at this point, as well as his beard. It was odd, really...forests were once a place of comfort for him. He used to sleep in them to keep dry, he and his sister would play in the forest when they were children but ever since the whole Nimue debacle, forests felt eerie and suffocating to him. He no longer felt free, he felt trapped instead. Perhaps, not as trapped as the unfortunate soul he stumbled upon though.

“Miss? Miss, are you alright?!” Merlin approached warily, making his way toward the figure who was slumped under a great pine...they didn’t have many of those in Britain. The air was much colder here than it was back in Britain as well. Wherever he was, he wasn’t home anymore. It was a woman, that much was certain from the stained yellow-green skirts and delicate fingers. Her dark hair, as salt-and-pepper as his obscured most of her face like a veil. Her one visible eye, which she turned to him was the deep marble-green of bottle glass. She said nothing for a long time, merely stared. It chilled Merlin to see it. When she finally spoke, he merely stared at her in confusion. This was a language he’d never heard before.

“You don’t even speak our language, do you? You’re not from around these parts.” Perhaps noticing his bewilderment, she switched to English...but it was in a thick, somewhat strange accent. At least he could understand her now.

“No ma’am, I am not. I don’t even know how I got here, I was just...”

“Running away from demons?” She tilted her head and gave him a chilling, impish grin, her eyes twinkling with...mischief? Or something else entirely? Merlin sighed, seating himself on the ground next to her. “Yes. They’re of my own making though, unfortunately.”

“We all have demons...we can choose to run from them, we can choose to work with them. I think the latter offers more possibilities, don’t you?”

“I suppose so? Anyway, why are you here? Just resting?”

“Some boys stole my walking stick and when I tried to run after them, I collapsed.”

“That’s awful! Children these days, no respect. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“You’re rather gentlemanly, aren’t you?” Her smile grew wider, and Merlin actually found himself smiling back. “And very kind.”

“Thank you. Did you get your staff back?”

“Unfortunately, no. But it’s alright, I have others. Those little toads will learn the hard way that this old lady’s walking stick isn’t a toy.”

“I wouldn’t call you old, Miss.”

“You’re kind, but a tad slow-witted.” Merlin felt himself stiffen up at that. “Well I...!”

“Don’t get your beard in a knot! I am old, it’s as plain as the age on your own face. I’m not ashamed of it, why should a lady be ashamed of her age?”

“Do you need any help?”

“If you could help walk me home, I’d be grateful.”

. . . .

“We’re here.” The cabin was small, but rather well-kept and surrounded by a thicket of trees. “You live here alone?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m alone. It’s not as if the only company worth keeping is that of the human variety, you know. Come in, I’ll have dinner on the kettle in a minute.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t...”

“I insist! You stopped to help me, at least let me give you a hot meal as a thank-you. And besides, I can use someone to speak to for a while.”

Merlin had intended to leave as soon as dinner was done, but he realized that he had nowhere else to go. He was used to making his own way, he’d be fine. But the old lady offered to let him stay, provided that they exchange knowledge. She could learn from him, and in turn he could learn from her. It confused him until he added it up in his head. Alone in the woods, sprites and imps as housekeepers, all sorts of odd charms hanging about the house? She’s a witch. A powerful one too. Ever since Nimue, he was cautious of sharing his knowledge with anyone...but then again, he knew that was going to happen. And this one didn’t make him promise not to use magic against her...plus she hadn’t poisoned him, maybe it was safe.

He didn’t know her name, and she told him once when he asked that it’d been so long since she used her true name that she’d quite forgotten it herself. But the locals called her Grandmother, at least the ones that came to her for help.

“Why do they call you Grandmother?” Merlin asked one day while she was pouring over one of his borrowed tomes.

“Because I am more powerful than they, and far older and they know it.” They’d pay her tidy sums for her aid, and she’d help them...sometimes at least. Other times, a far more unfortunate fate awaited those that she refused. It was almost as if she could read the hearts of men, and judge whether or not they were worth helping. He actually quite liked it here, a new start where nobody knew who he was. Freedom from politics...he still had his powers as a Seer, but he’d lost his taste for shaping the future long ago. We all know how the last attempts ended...and good company. He and Grandmother seemed to get on like a house on fire: “fortunate for you, because don’t really like many men.” They seemed to understand each other, he liked her clever ways and her cunning and even her strange house. They were in one position when he was awake, and when he was asleep he would find that they’d moved somewhere else in the middle of the night. Whenever he asked her about it, she’d just give him that rapacious grin and ask him to help her with the garden.

. . . .

It went quite well, until Nimue and Morgana found them. The little tin bell that announced visitors had been rung. “Merlin, could you get that?” Grandmother didn’t even look up from the potion she was stirring, and Merlin opened the door to find two familiar faces. “So this is where you’re hiding out now, eh Teacher?” Nimue mused.

“What are you two doing here?” Morgana wrapped her arm around Nimue’s shoulders, and the girl leaned into the embrace. “Why we’re here to kill you, of course!” Her voice was as cheery and light-hearted as a child. “You avoided us for some decades, but now we’ve finally found you!”

“Technically, Nimue already killed me. She trapped me in that tree and I died, remember?”

“Like it was yesterday...but we’re here to make sure that you don’t come back.” Merlin heard the shuffling of feet behind him and Grandmother peered over his shoulder. “Merlin! You didn’t tell me your friends were coming over, I would’ve made more soup!”

“They’re not my friends.”

“We’re not his friends.” The sentences were said in tandem so that they blurred together, making it hard to distinguish who spoke first. “Look lady, you don’t know what that man in front of you has done...” Morgana began, but Grandmother held up a hand to silence her. “Oh I’m very aware, he’s told me. I trust you young ladies punished him?”

“Not nearly as much as we would’ve liked...but the tree thing was marvelous, I have to give it to Nim.” Morgana leaned in to kiss her cheek, and Nimue smiled up at her. Merlin noticed the way the girls hung off of each other; that easy rapport they had developed. The aura they radiated reminded him a lot of he and Uther once upon a time. When had that happened? Not that it mattered now.

“This is my battle, I’ll deal with them. You don’t have to involve yourself...” Merlin whispered to her, but Grandmother’s glare made him quiet instantly. So much so that it puzzled the redheads in the doorway...who was this woman that could silence the most powerful wizard in the world with a single look? That’s when Morgana noticed it, the staff in her hand. “You’re...you’re...” the sorceress whispered, recognizing the symbol from her books.

“Yes, I am. And you’re not going to take my study buddy from me, are you?”

“But Grandmother!” Nimue protested. “He’s...!”

“Done his time. I believe in women taking back their power, but it seems you’ve already done that. I mean, I think trapping him in a tree for some centuries and leaving him to die is a suitable punishment...I would’ve done the same thing myself. I like him, and I’ve decided to keep him. It seems he’s had quite a bit of time to think while in confinement.”

“He’s a slippery one, Grandmother.” Morgan’s tone was heavy and wooden, much like her house.

“I’m even slipperier. Not to worry girls, I’ve been taking care of myself before him and if he gets out of line, I’ll take care of that too.”

“And if he gets up to his old tricks again?”

“Then he’s for the streets and I’ll personally call you so you can take him off my hands. If there’s anything left of him.” Her voice was as cheery as ever, but there was something coming from the old woman. Something sinister, frightening...wreathing her like flame. Morgana shrank back. “Yes, Grandmother.” The young sorceress’ jaw tightened in protest, but she said nothing further.

“Good. Now run back off to your country, girls. I’m sure you must have things that require your attention.”

Morgana made to turn around, Nimue rushing after her. “We finally have him in our grasp and we’re just going to walk away?!”

“Nim, that witch is more powerful than you, me and perhaps Merlin put together! He’s not worth it...what chance do either of us have against Baba Yaga?”

The cabin’s two “human” occupants watched Nimue and Morgana’s retreating backs, Merlin turned to Grandmother in shock. “I thank you. But...why?”

“Because I like you, you amuse me. Like I said when we first met, I keep all sorts of company. But sometimes human company can be pleasant too.” Her face turned into the sinister, somewhat terrifying mask it was when they’d first met. “This is your second chance. Don’t fuck it up, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. Crystal.”

“Excellent!” The grin was back on her face. “Now come along, let’s get out of here.”

“Baba Yaga, huh? So you do have a name.”

“It just means Granny Yaga. Yaga is a word that means wicked or frightening, more of an epithet than a name. Come on.”

. . . .

Later that night, Merlin simply placed the last rose into the vase on the dining room table. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got left.” The witch gave him a slow smile. “Well, aren’t you quite the gentleman?”

“Hey, I was thinking...”

“I’m not the marrying type, so you can save it. I tried it once and it didn’t end very well, so I swore never again.” She stared through him as if he were made of glass.

“We don’t have to get married!” Merlin said quickly. “We can still be friends, with a...side hustle, if you want.”

“Side hustle? Is that what they call it these days?”

“I panicked, alright?!”

“No persistent pleas to return your love?”

“The last time I tried that shit, I was trapped in a tree for eight hundred years. And I have a fear that you would do even worse to me so no, not worth it.”

She gave one of her rare low chuckles. “Friends with a side hustle, I like it. Let’s be off then, I’m bored and I have locals to terrorize. Plus I haven’t really made the little shits that took my staff pay yet.”

There was a rumbling beneath them, but the witch didn’t seem to be affected. Merlin looked over the cabin’s porch and watched as they rose into the air, higher and higher before finally stopping. “Are those...chicken legs?!”

“Of course, how else do you think the house moves? Did you think it just floated on its own?!”

[theaurorfileshq]

M I R A N D A   A M A R O - B O T T  /  A U R O R   O F F I C E R

AGE:  Thrity-Four

BADGE NUMBER: S92B05

BLOODSTATUS: No-Maj Born

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Trans Woman, She/Her

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: “tasteful” butterfly tattoo on lower back that’s charmed to change colors, strong fashion sense (although clothes are all last season), british accent, silver charmed charm bracelet that’s never removed

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Charms, Combat Magic, Occlumency, Persuasive 

(-): Magizoology, Physical Combat, Egocentric, Domineering

BACKGROUND:

Content Warning: Transphobia (vague mention)

Unlike what so many would like to think, Miranda was not born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Life was never particularly easy for her, and any success she’s earned in her adulthood has been solely through her own prowess. She was born into an impoverished household, the third of five children, and the only to possess magic. That in itself was its own hurdle to overcome. 

She’d thought possessing magic would change her life dramatically, bring her out of the slums of one of London’s poorest districts, and into a life filled with wonder and endless possibilities. She thought it would be like a dream come true, her own Cinderella story, except it wasn’t some fairy godmother or a prince charming that saved her, but rather something she had in herself. What she hadn’t realized that the circumstances surrounding her birth would be weaponized against her, as it had been countless times before. It was her first day in Hogwarts that she learned the term “mudblood” and the negative connotation behind it. That hadn’t been anything particularly new, by that point in her adolescence she’d come to know intimately several cruel words that people had chosen to hurl her way. And while it did flare the bitterness that’d taken root inside her throughout her childhood, it also sparked something else, a determination to give herself the life she knew she deserved, no matter the cost. 

Miranda Amaro became Miranda at the age of sixteen, and it was the first step in a series for her that allowed her to slowly evolve into the woman she is today. Having no upbringing in magic she studied harder than she’d ever had in her life, making sure that her name was characterized not by her blood, but rather by her fierce competitiveness and strong magical aptitude. Within Slytherin, a house that was filled with wixes of old blood that magic had coursed through for centuries, she earned respect and a high social status solely by her own hard work and determination. 

When graduation came, the aurors were not a particularly strong calling for her. But she had the grades and skill to do well in the profession, and for someone like her, with a bloodline she founded and a surname still unknown, the aurors provided her an opportunity to further cement her standing within the English wixen community. It certainly would, although never in the way she imagined. 

She was a green twenty-four year old cadet when she first met Albert “Bertie” Bott, the founder of the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans empire. It was on a case that involved a theft of a beloved Fabergé egg from a cottage he’d owned in Scotland. The case was fairly easy all things considered, it only took her an afternoon to determine it had been Bertie’s new maid that’d stolen the rare painted egg out of his collection. But solving a case in one afternoon, especially a case involving finding a well beloved antique for one of the richest men in Wixen England, would be down right foolish. Conniving may be a term countlessly thrown Miranda’s way, but she’s never once in her life been a fool. 

It took two weeks of working alongside Bertie, combing through his property, hunting down leads, spending hours upon hours by his side, when she finally achieved what she’d wanted. Not only finding his precious Fabergé egg, but also hooking her claws into his heart. Seducing a gullible middle aged man wasn’t that hard, in fact Miranda is quite sure it was the easiest thing she’s ever done. Bertie had already grown quite bored with his third wife, and really she only had herself to blame. A man like Bertie required constant attention, and if he didn’t receive it, he’d find the next little pretty thing that did, which in that case was Miranda. 

Six months later Miranda Amora became Miranda Amora-Bott, and quickly left the aurors behind to begin her new life as an heiress and trophy wife. And Merlin... was she a good one. Being a trophy wife requires so much more than simply looking pretty, it requires a certain finesse, a finesse Miranda crafted beautifully over the span of what would be an eight year marriage. She served her role as Bertie’s pretty arm candy, but she didn’t want to simply be “Bertie’s new wife”, she wanted to be Miranda, a name any wix in England would recognize and envy. Her name would be in tabloids, gossiped about over afternoon tea, and eventually grace the bottles of her own perfume line “Flavor by Miranda”. For eight years she would thrive in this role, until she made the fatal mistake wife #3 had. 

She was thirty-two, with a budding perfume empire when the divorce papers were slipped onto her desk, a nervous Bertie professing his new love for his twenty-two year old secretary. HIS SECRETARY, like Miranda was some third rate aging house wife. She wanted to destroy him, to take him for everything he had, but she’d made one critical error when she first married Bertie. And that was signing the prenuptial agreement he’d handed her one morning, two weeks before their wedding in Milan as he whispered adoration into her ear. 

The pre-nuptial agreement was a good one, that she could at least hand to him, but it meant she’d be the one losing everything. Her perfume line would be Bertie’s, her apartment in Paris, also Bertie’s. Everything she’d owned now was the sole property of her ex-husband. And then to top it all off, some blood purist with a god complex decided then would be the perfect time for total world domination. And so at thirty-two, she found herself back to square one, with hardly a cent to her name, and her life in danger due to the circumstances of her birth. 

Finding a room with one of her few friends who hadn’t deserted her after the divorce was finalized, Miranda hid out for months, until eventually she found her salvation when she’d heard of a team of American aurors heading into the country to rescue muggleborns. After selling a few pieces of what jewelry she had left, she was able to buy her way into one of the rescue missions, and two weeks later found herself in America, still without much to her name, but free of the vice grip the Death Eaters held over the country. 

With little else to do, Miranda would return back to her roots in the form of the aurors. The Honolulu Academy would serve as her home for six months (because duh, free vacation) until one week ago, when she was hired into the Central Squad. Being an auror again, isn’t exactly her preference, but it has provided her the opportunity to live out on her own again, without having to rely on the pity of others. The Chief is a complete idiot, but a rich one, and easy on the eyes, so there’s some potential there if she gets too bored or tired with the auror life again. In the meantime though, she’ll make do with her current situation, try to get a handle of the American Wixen Community before she stakes her claim on it like she had the one in England. 

[elysiumwaits]

Hey! For the 100 ways to say I love you prompts, I’d love to see what you’d do with no. 89 - “I noticed.” For Sterek, Stucky or Merthur, whichever speaks to you. Thank you!😊

I went with Merthur. I shot for 500 words and ended up with 1200 instead, which is pretty par for the course for me. Also, I don’t know anything about marriage or relationship customs in Camelot so I made it all up. 

In which it suddenly occurs to Arthur that, in this day and age, he is allowed to love Merlin the way he wants to.

Your Warming Smile on AO3

Rated G, no real warnings apply, but tags are: Arthur Comes Back, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposals, Fluff, Light Angst, Discussions of Past Relationships, Past Gwen/Arthur

Arthur adjusts to modern life with all the grace of a toddler learning how to use a spoon. That is to say, it’s a necessary thing, but it’s painful for everyone involved thanks to the mess and general frustration. It helps that he’s actually a remarkably smart and competent person, despite all that Merlin’s ever said otherwise, so he adapts to the new structures of society very quickly, even if it takes a little longer to get him to understand things like electricity or the merits of cars over horses. 

He likes the iPhone Merlin gets him, especially after Merlin puts all of the Angry Birds games on it. Once Merlin teaches him how to use Wikipedia and YouTube, Merlin’s job of explaining how things work is pretty well done. Arthur will still ask him to explain certain things, but for the most part, they both figure out rather quickly that the Internet has far more patience for explanation than Merlin does. 

It’s after Merlin’s gotten home from the shops, bags in hand, when Arthur follows him into the kitchen, phone in hand. Merlin’s not bothered - sometimes Arthur watches something and needs some context, or finds a gaming channel and mistakes it for actual events (honestly, it was a little heartbreaking telling Arthur that Skyrim was not a real place). Besides, after centuries being alone, Merlin is finding it hard to balance time-with-Arthur and time-without-Arthur because, if given the choice, he’d never have any time-without-Arthur at all. 

“Men can marry each other?” is what Arthur says, though, instead of any of the questions Merlin was expecting. 

Merlin very carefully doesn’t drop the milk. They’ve talked about it in passing, and Arthur’s never been a bigot, even back in Camelot when it wasn’t something that was necessarily talked about openly. People were gay, of course, people have always been gay, but it was never mentioned, just… accepted. Arthur had mentioned a couple of nobles who had married, produced a single heir, and then spent the rest of their natural lives enjoying time with their ‘best friends’ instead. 

In this day and age, Merlin had simply told Arthur it was more openly accepted now, that couples like that were at least not illegal anymore, even if they did face such things as violence and bigotry. All Arthur had said was that ‘no one should be hunted for loving someone, that’s absurd,’ with a strange look on his face. Merlin had quickly changed the subject, after that, not wanting to remind Arthur of Guinivere or anyone else they’d lost.

All this to say that Merlin really has no idea where the intensity in Arthur’s expression is coming from. 

“Yes?” Merlin says as he puts the milk in the fridge. “And women can marry women? It’s a fairly recent development, actually, I think.” He screws up his nose and tries to think - time is strange for an immortal sorcerer after all. He doesn’t think getting into the spectrums of gender and sexuality will do any good here either, so he’ll probably leave that for another day. “Let’s see, homosexuality was decriminalized here in the late 1960s, and then marriage was made legal, what, five years ago? I told you it wasn’t illegal anymore, Arthur.”

“It wasn’t illegal in Camelot.” Arthur waves the phone, and just generally looks bewilderingly upset. “Magic was! Divorce was… not illegal, but hard. Adultery was illegal.”

Merlin puts the rest of the bags on the counter - there’s nothing cold in them, they’ll keep - and turns to give Arthur a confused look. “I really don’t know where you’re going with this. Marriage laws haven’t really applied to me, so I haven’t paid much attention.”

“I was already married by the time I figured it out!” 

“Figured what out?” 

Arthur takes a deep breath and shoves the phone in his pocket. “I noticed, Merlin.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Merlin shakes his head a little, goes to head past Arthur and back into the living room to take off his jacket. 

As he passes, though, Arthur grabs him by the arm and drags him back those few steps, until Merlin is once again against the counter. This time, though, Arthur’s got him trapped by bracing his hands on the countertop on either side of Merlin. He could shove Arthur out of the way easily enough, of course, they’re both long-past thinking Merlin is harmless or weak. 

“I noticed,” Arthur says, quiet and intense. “But I was married, and I loved her, too. Not… not the way she loved Lancelot, or the way that I felt about… but I still made vows.”

Merlin swallows as he realizes all at once what Arthur is talking about. “I never…” he trails off, looks everywhere but Arthur’s face. “I never expected anything from you, I never would have wanted you to be unfaithful. I wouldn’t have asked that of you. I wouldn’t have done that to Gwen.”

“Did you know, though? Did I ever…” Arthur places his fingers on Merlin’s chin, tilts Merlin’s face back so that he’s looking at Arthur once more. “Merlin, tell me you haven’t gone all this time thinking that I didn’t… that your feelings were unrequited.”

Merlin did enough lying back in Camelot, he says, and so he won’t lie to Arthur now. It’s damn tempting, though. “I didn’t let myself think about it for a long time, certainly not while you were alive. It didn’t seem fair to either of us to dwell on it. Your friendship was enough for me.”

“You’re a better man than I ever was or will ever be.” Arthur still sounds distressed, but his hand is still on Merlin’s jaw. “What about now, Merlin? Have all the years… changed anything?”

Merlin is struck dumb for a moment. Arthur looks like Merlin’s never seen him, an almost desperate longing in his eyes, and Merlin wonders about Arthur noticing all those centuries ago. What had he seen? Every little act of love Merlin had done? A light in Merlin’s eye? Every single moment that Merlin had forced himself not to read too much into?

“No,” he finally manages to choke out. “No, you idiot, of course nothing’s changed. I still love you, I always will.” 

Arthur nods, slowly at first like he’s thinking, and then once more, decisively. Merlin’s still not sure how they got here from whatever article or video Arthur had stumbled onto, but he finds he doesn’t much care when Arthur suddenly surges forward and kisses him, like he’s been waiting to do it forever, like he’s never wanted anything more. 

“You’ll marry me, right?” Arthur asks once he’s kissed Merlin within an inch of his life, until Merlin was practically begging for oxygen or mercy or for Arthur to never stop. 

“I’m not sure either of us technically exist in the legal system here,” Merlin says, breathless. “And it’s awfully rude of you to propose without a ring.”

“We’ll do one of those Druid weddings.” It sounds like a promise when Arthur says it. “You’re a Druid, right? I’ll get a ring.”

“I don’t know if I can officiate my own wedding!” Merlin laughs, head spinning. “What are you talking about? We’re living the rest of our immortal lives together, I don’t think an official marriage is going to do much to change that.”

Arthur snorts, but there’s an insufferably pleased twinkle in his eye. “Well, excuse me, I’ll try to reign in my feelings of devotion,” he says, and presses another quick kiss to Merlin’s lips. He pulls away again, and adds, seriously, “I love you.”

“I noticed,” Merlin says with a cheeky grin, and Arthur rolls his eyes before leaning in to kiss him again.

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 5: The Morning After

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 5/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Four+

Chapter Six+ >>

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

Severus felt the late morning sun on his face as he gradually swam back to consciousness. The delectable memories of the night before swirled through his lucid dreaming and he dreaded to open his eyes. He knew that if he did he would be back in his wretched house at Spinner’s End, looking up at the pesky water mark that he could never quite remove from the ceiling of his bedroom. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, trying to continue his dreaming, but he was awake enough now that that was impossible. He ran his hands experimentally over the bed and, while he was alone in it, he realized that the sheets were smoother and finer than his sheets at home. The bed was softer and smelled faintly of lavender. He opened his eyes and a smile spread over his lips as he saw Miranda’s airy bedroom rather than his own gloomy chamber. 

He heard a pleasant clatter of pans and dishes through the closed door and smelled a mixture of tea, coffee, and sausage. He stretched languidly and got up to dress. He took his time doing up the buttons on the front of his frock coat and idly studied the room as he did. The bed stood under the window that was letting in the sunlight. There was a bookshelf on one wall filled with novels and poetry and a handsomely carved cherrywood armoire standing on another. The final wall was covered with children’s drawings inscribed with the names of the various artists and dedicated to ‘Auntie.’ A framed piece of needlework with the inscription ‘From Mama’ hung in the middle of this gallery. The embroidery was a nicely executed border of roses surrounding a piece of Latin prose: ‘Nisi Dominus ædificaverit donum, in vanum laboraverunt qui ædificant eam.’ He scoffed at the sentiment and turned to the mirror hanging on the back of the door. His hair was a bit tangled from the previous evening’s exertions and he did what he could to neaten it. He turned and considered the bed for a moment. The twisted sheets both pleased him with their implications and irritated him with their disorder. He was toying with the idea of returning to the bed rather promptly following breakfast, but he decided it would be more entertaining to scramble the linens again rather than to leave it thus. He flicked his wand and the bed made itself up neat as a pin. Satisfied, he emerged from the bedroom to find his partner in crime. Miranda was standing by the stove, flipping omelettes with the efficiency of a short-order cook. She wore a long blue sheath dress and her feet were bare. Her hair flowed over her back, restrained by a copper colored scarf as she cooked. He approached her and pulled aside the curtain of her hair to drop his lips onto the back of her neck. She made a sound strikingly similar to a purr but said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to eat if you’re hoping for another round. For some reason, I forgot to have dinner last night. I can’t imagine why.” She smiled impishly over her shoulder at him. “I suppose I can overlook such weakness this once,” he replied smoothly, returning her smile.

She handed him a plate of omelette and sausage and they convened at the table which was already set with toast, butter, marmalade, tea, coffee, and The Daily Prophet. They ate and read in companionable silence and, if she spent much of the meal running her bare foot up his leg, he certainly wasn’t one to complain about it. When they had demolished the food and were loitering over coffee and tea, a bell over her desk started ringing loudly.

She glanced up from her half of the paper and gave the bell an annoyed look. “I’m going to have to answer that,” she said. “It’s my father trying to check in and he’ll think I’m dead if I don’t talk to him. It’s been a few days since I gave report and I don’t want him to send someone looking for me.” She smiled at him and went on, “Would you mind terribly pretending you don’t exist for the next few minutes?” “Are you saying that you’re ashamed to have your father know that I’ve stolen your virtue?” he teased. She laughed and kissed his cheek lightly. “I knew you’d understand.” She went to the desk and took a small mirror out of one of the drawers, then she headed into the potions closet. He returned to the paper but, as the closed door did not completely muffle the sound, he could not help overhearing her conversation. “How are the Royals doing, Papa?” she was saying. “I can’t get a paper or anything on the radio about them over here.”

There was a whistle of disapproval and a deep male voice replied, “Not good, pixie, not good. The Yanks pummeled them last night. They’ve been on a losing streak for a while now. They don’t get their act together soon, they can forget about the playoffs.” “Hmmm, maybe I’m glad I can’t witness it then.” “I sure wish I couldn’t. Did you finish the paperwork on the Islington case?” “Yes Papa, and I swear they make it more complicated every time I do. I don’t even want to think about what I’m going to have to go through after the next case.” “Better you than me. It looks like you’ve got a lot of work rolling in over there. Do you want to stay?” “I think so. I have enough to keep me busy through the first quarter of next year at least. Honestly, I wonder if there’s something stirring things up. That vampire was harder to catch than he should have been and I usually don’t have a waiting list this long. The Minister of Magic himself approached me yesterday and wants to meet about something.” “That’s my girl, hitting the big time. You behave when you meet with him, do you hear me? Don’t be telling your dirty jokes just to act cute.” “Papa, I do know how to behave when I want to. But where do you think I got my material in the first place?” “Don’t go blaming me for things that are my fault. Watch your back. I’ll talk to you soon.” “I won’t, and I will. Love to Mama and the rest.” She came back into the room and replaced the mirror in its drawer, but she was frowning a bit, as though she were pondering something. She returned to her seat at the table and asked, “You don’t happen to know of anything that might be stirring up a load of Dark Magic over here, do you?” It was an innocent question, and if she had asked it of another wizard, he would have shrugged and shook his head. However, Severus was unfortunately very aware of who was behind the rise in Dark Magic in England at the moment. He kept his eyes on the paper and his expression blank. “No.” “It is strange, though. Usually there are only a few cases in a given year in England. And the darker creatures that I’ve been rounding up are stronger than I would usually expect. There must be something egging them on.” She sipped her coffee and went on, half to herself, “I’ll have to do some digging. Who’s that Headmaster at your school? Albus Dumbledore, isn’t it? Do you think he’d have time to meet with me? I imagine if anyone had his thumb on the pulse of magic in Britain he would.” “Albus Dumbledore is a very busy man.” He stared unseeing at the paper, his mind starting to go down an unpleasant path.

“Hmmmm. I seem to remember some incident in the fourteenth century where St. Patrick’s Purgatory at Lough Derg opened a bit wider than usual and all sorts of things got out. I wonder…” Her voice trailed off and she wandered over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. Eventually she picked out an enormous leather bound tome and scooted some dishes over so that she could open it on the table. She started leafing through the aging pages, completely unaware that Severus’s expression was darkening. This had been a mistake. He was a thirty-five year old wizard, and one would think that he could enjoy the favors of a willing female without any terrible consequences. However, he was Severus Snape and nothing good ever happened to him. He was embroiled in a plot to bring down the Dark Lord. He spent his days teaching the ungrateful child of his murdered love and her wretched husband, and his nights playing the role of a faithful Death Eater. One false move, one unguarded thought could bring instant, painful death to himself and any number of other people. And really, how much did he know about Miranda Rose anyway? Who was to say that she wasn’t some sort of trap set for him? Merlin, he hated his life. He sighed and decided it was best to end it quickly. He hoped that she wouldn’t cry or do whatever embarrassing thing women did when their lovers jilted them. He set down the paper and said in a cool voice, “I think it is time I were leaving.” She closed the book and looked up at him with a smile. “You don’t have to leave. I can do this later.” He stood slowly and summoned a bland, cold expression. “I don’t think you understand, Miss Rose. This was a mistake that will not be repeated.” She arched an elegant eyebrow at him. “Oh?” “You’ve been a charming diversion, but I’m afraid I simply do not have time for any more such foolishness.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her bare feet on the table. The skirt of her dress slid up her legs, exposing them to the thigh. She took out a cigarette and lit it, her face a mask of amusement. She blew out a long line of smoke and murmured, “Goodness me. The dreaded morning after attack of scruples. I’m disappointed in you, professor. I had thought your moral code sufficiently flexible not to be bothered by them. What a shame.” Her mocking tone angered him in a way tears would not have done. He could not help trying to take her down a peg and said silkily, “Perhaps my moral code is not the problem. Perhaps I was simply dissatisfied with your performance.” She smiled nastily at him. “Please. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed such a pathetic display of eagerness and gratitude as you provided last night. How long had it been? A year? Five years? Ten?” “What a disgustingly vulgar trollop you are,” he sneered. “Sticks and stones, professor, sticks and stones.” She swung her pretty legs off of the table and sashayed to the door. When she reached it, she opened it gracefully. “This is a door. Feel free to use it.” “I sincerely hope that your next mark separates your obscene head from your indecent body,” he snapped as he stalked out of the cabin. “From your mouth to God’s ears,” she returned. “Have a nice life.” She slammed the door after him and angrily started cleaning the breakfast mess. She scrubbed the dishes without magic in order to better vent her anger on them. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d seemed perfectly fine and even rather amorous this morning. Then he’d suddenly turned cold and nasty for no apparent reason. And really, even if he hadn’t been completely thrilled with their encounter, there was no call to be an ass about it. Hadn’t he ever heard of a one night stand? She finished the dishes and stalked into her bedroom to air the bed clothes. It was her habit to do this most days, and she definitely wanted to do so today. She had no desire to sleep on sheets that smelled like that cold fish of an Englishman. She jerked open the bedroom door and stopped short. He’d made the bed. Men never thought to make the bed. She sighed and opened the window, letting in the breeze off the Channel. She flicked her wand at the bed and the linens pulled themselves backwards and hung on an unseen clothesline, fluttering gently in the wind. She sat down and stared out the window without really noticing anything. It had been a lovely night. She thought she had hit rather close to the mark with the gist of her insult this morning, but there had been nothing pathetic about him. They had both been a bit awkward and sloppy at first, but they had soon managed to remember how everything worked. Indeed, he had seemed so intoxicated by the heady drug of rendering one’s partner helpless with pleasure that she had half wondered if he had ever experienced it before. She felt a bit sorry now for being quite so cutting with her tongue, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be seeing him again and that was that. She supposed she really should get to work. There was research to be done and potions to brew and bullets to make. She got up, intending to be virtuous and start with the potions—her least favorite—but a particularly delicious waft of sea air blew in through her window. She changed her mind and went to pack her leather messenger bag instead. Bathing suit, towel, sun hat, novel. She braided her hair, put on her sandals, and headed down the the village. A little sun bathing and a swim in the Channel would be just the thing. She could be virtuous tomorrow.

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

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Four+

Chapter Six+ >>

[ourotps]

Seeing Green

Sirius x Reader with a special power

_________________________

You were a very special witch. One that only came once every couple centuries. In fact the last one like you was simply a rumor.

You were given a very special gift, or maybe a curse. As you touched someone you were able to see how they died. You were able to see how anyone in this world died. When you were little this was terrifying and to be honest you had a very dark childhood, you were hyper aware of everything. You were always scared that tomorrow your visions would come true. But as you had grown older you had realized that these scenes were in the future, and in some cases a far off future. You wrote down your visions as you met people and were careful not to touch to many people.

At Hogwarts your gift was hidden, no one knew. You never let anyone touch you, because you were scared to see them die. You couldn't stop them from dying, it was the future. You had tried to intervene once or twice but they faced the same destiny.

"(Y/n)" a voice called slinging an arm around you. You carefully shrugged your shoulder making his arm slip off of you. When his hand accidently brushed yours, you saw a veil flap again.

"Sirius," you  quietly greeted the fellow Gryffindor keeping your head down.

"How are you doing my dearest (y/n)?" He asked happily.

"I'm fine, what's got you in such a good mood Sirius?" You inquired 

"Well, when I looked on the calendar I realized a certain Hogsmeade trip was coming up this weekend and I couldn't help but think of a beautiful young lady who I'd love to go with me."

"And who's that lucky girl Sirius?" You asked sarcastically.

"Well dearest (y/n), it's you of course!" He boasted trying to slip the same arm around you. His hand brushing past your neck and you saw a green flash. You gasped stopping in your tracks. He was going to be killed!

"Sirius—Siri—I can't. I'm so sorry, you must know how hard this is for me." You said stepping away from him.

"(Y/n), you know I'm crazy for you." You knew, oh merlin you knew. It was in the way he looked at you, in the ways he said your name and cared for you. It was in everything he did that you knew.

"Sirius, I know, I just don't feel that way." You lied unable to look him in the eyes. You couldn't get close and see him die every time he touch you. You wanted so much to touch him and but you couldn't because you'd just see him die.

"I know, and you know I respect that. But a man can dream."

"Tell me what's going on, you seem so down." Sirius asked noticing your glum mood. 

"Nothings wrong, Sirius. I'm just tired. I'll see you after class." You promised slipping out of his sight. He sighed as you left. You were always so close but so far.

"Hi, Lily," you greeted your best friend as you took a seat next to her in divination, a class you of course excelled at.

"Oh hey, (y/n)" Lily said. She smiled happily and you noticed the green of her eyes was the same green as the flash that would kill her, James, Sirius, and Remus. All of them were to be killed and it was something only you knew.

"This class is so boring," she mumbled as the teacher went on.

"Yeah, I don't really like it either," you whispered back

"But you're probably the best in our year,"

"It's luck Lily," You mumbled. The teacher partnered you off with a new Hufflepuff student. You were forced to do a palm reading of course. As he touched your hand you saw it. He was sick in the hospital. It was a muggle hospital too. His wife presumably was next to him holding his hand. He was old, his hair grey and missing. His children, were next to him. He was going to die an old man. One with a beautiful family. You almost cried tears of joy.

A war was coming, you had long known it was on its way, perhaps before Dumbledore himself. So many people you had met, died with green flashes, it was a sign of a war coming.

When class was over you made sure of copy down the boy's name and his death scene. You had done this for everyone, you couldn't tell anyone so you wrote it down in a journal. It helped you cope. Walking out of the class you were met with Sirius who always waited outside your class for you. He was sweet alright.

"My sweet (y/n)," Sirius greeted taking a step next to you like always.

"My dear Sirius, how can I help you?"

"Hogsmead," he said wiggling his eyebrows

"Nope," you replied smiling and shaking your head. At this point it felt like a game. How many times would he ask you, and how many times would you reject him.

"Marry me," Sirius joked taking a seat out in the courtyard.

"Can't do that one either," You answered laughing a bit. Sirius' acted fake hurt he clutched his head and fell to the floor acting like he was dying.

"Oi, (y/n) only your sweet lips can save me!" He cried dramatically fake dying on the floor

"Well,  I guess I'll see you in the afterlife." You tell him dramatically stepping over him to sit on the bench. The two of you sat and talked until dinner. When you got up to leave you carelessly left your journal behind. It was a careless stupid mistake that you would regret. 

______

"Hey (y/n) I believe this is yours." Sirius said dropping a journal on your lap. You looked up surprised from your textbook. You hadn't even thought that the journal was missing.

"Sirius! Wow! Thank you so much!" You replied relieved to have this back in your possession.

"Ummm...did you read this?" You asked worried suddenly.

"No, don't worry (y/n). I knew it was yours, you always have this bloody thing with you. It's private and I didn't want to intrude." He answered sweetly and he started to walk away. He was telling the truth and it nice that he didn't read your journal. He had the power to know your deepest secrets but respected you enough to not intrude.

"Sirius, wait." You called surprised at yourself. He stopped in his tracks and turned around. You patted on the empty space next to you for him to take a seat next to you. He did so quickly noticing your glum state.

"What is it?" He asked worried

"Sirius, I really appreciate that you didn't read this. I—I want you to know why I can't go out with you. I do like you Sirius, and I think you know that." Your cheeks heated up at the last sentence. Sirius laughed and nodded. "But I can't, and I feel like I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything." His hand reached for yours. You heard a scream of a young boy, you shivered. You quickly moved it away.

"No, Sirius, please. I want you to know. I trust you." You placed the journal in his hands.

"Read this, and know everything in here is true. Read this and get back to me okay?" You bravely told him giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. You saw the boy now, with a lightning scar. You left the common room and went up to your dorm.

There was a feeling of relief you felt.  Someone would know your secret now. Someone you loved. Someone you trusted, someone who would never hurt you. You felt such relief and fear. After a few hours you heard a soft knock on your door.

"(Y/n)" Sirius had red lined eyes. He'd been crying.

"Sirius," You wanted to cry too.

"Darling, I really want to hug you right now, but I know it'll just make it worse." Sirius said laughing with wet eyes. Breaking one of your biggest rules you ran into his arms hugging him. You saw Remus holding back the boy. Remus looked older, Sirius still had time. Remus had time. You started balling, when you heard your own cry. You were going to be there when he died.

"Shhhh, (y/n), it's okay. It'll be okay," Sirius whispered holding you as you saw the veil flap again.

"I can't keep seeing you die. I can't do it, I can't keep seeing the person I love the most die every time he touches me Sirius," you cried out.  His lips kissed your forehead.

"(Y/n) I love you so much. I'm so sorry." He said kissing your face, both wet with tears. He finally let go of you, but you couldn't stop seeing the green flash.

He never touched you again.