#she was probably the only other witch besides the thirteen to love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hrina · 4 years

Text

1923, Pt. I - The Day

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: PG (for now) WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: nope

hi everyone! here is PART 1 of my historical AU featuring harry as a groundskeeper/farmhand (i know that those two professions are slightly different but just let me have this ok snfjsjfnsdsf)

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

this series will be composed of three parts altogether, so i hope u all enjoy this first one! as always, please reblog the fics that you like! and don’t hesitate to send in feedback, i promise that we, as writers, always love to witness your reactions :) anywayyyy now that we’ve covered all the bases, go stupid with 1920s harry! can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💌💌💌

~*~

July 5th, 1923

“What if he comes back with a beard that goes all the way down to his knees?”

You snort and shake your head. “He’s only been gone for a few months, Dee. I don’t think it’s possible for one’s whiskers to grow that quickly.”

Lydia shrugs, toying with the hem of her pale blue dress. “What if he met an evil witch in New York who cast a spell on him? And now he’s doomed to live out the rest of his life with horrifying facial hair!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. I don’t think that there are any witches in New York, you want to say, but you keep your mouth shut. Believing in magic is an integral part of childhood—you don’t want to be the one who takes that away from her. Soon enough, she’ll figure it out for herself.

You wind an elastic around your fingers, securing the end of her braid so that it doesn’t unravel. “That’s one,” you say, sighing quietly. “Turn to the side so that I can start on the other.”

She obeys, angling her head to the left. You gather her dark curls in a loose fist, skimming your nails against her scalp to collect every last strand.

Her hair has grown hot, absorbing the heat of the sun. It’s a beautiful day—there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. The two of you are sitting on the front steps of your home, looking out over the paved circular driveway and waiting excitedly for Andrew’s car to pull up to the iron gate. Realistically, you know that he won’t be here for at least another few hours, but Lydia insisted that you unwind outside to pass the time.

Somehow, she persuaded you to fashion her hair into twin braids. And though you had groaned at the initial request, here you are.

“He’s bringing a friend, you know,” your sister suddenly pipes up. “He told me in his letter.”

“Oh, really,” you say wryly. “And who exactly is this friend of his?”

“Martin Russell,” Lydia says, as though she’s reciting lines for a play. “He graduated from Harvard and then built his own company with nothing but a nickel to his name. Drew says that they’re trying to merge and become an empire.”

“An empire,” you echo, humouring her. “That sounds awfully intimidating, don’t you think?”

“Not to me,” she boasts, lacing her fingers together in her lap and squaring her shoulders. “Drew told me that I’m a businesswoman in the making.”

“That, you are,” you agree. You tie your remaining elastic around her second braid, fastening it in place. “All done.”

Lydia jumps to her feet, tugging down the material of her dress and turning to face you. She strikes a pose, placing one hand on her waist and lifting the other above her head. “How do I look?”

“Stunning,” you say, smiling up at her softly. “You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

At that, she frowns.

“I’m not little!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m thirteen and a half!”

“That’s little,” you say, laughing quietly. “Trust me. Once you get to my age, you’ll understand.”

“I’d rather be little than ancient,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. You scoff, bringing your fingers up to your forehead so that you can shield your eyes from the sun.

“Twenty-three is not ancient!” you say, baffled.

Lydia just giggles, twirling around a few times and watching the skirt of her dress fan out handsomely. Once she looks up, however, she freezes in her tracks. Your eyebrows knit together as she extends her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hi, Harry!”

You stiffen, reflexively following her gaze.

Harry is about thirty feet from the steps, crossing the driveway with a heavy bag of soil slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he’s carrying a bucket filled with rusted gardening tools. You had been so caught up in your conversation with your sister that you failed to notice him. He’s making his way toward the pretty garden that separates the entry and exit of the driveway, tucked between the two strips of road and outlined with smooth grey stones.

You swallow forcefully when he pauses at the sound of Lydia’s voice. He turns, and you get a full view of his broad chest, tanned skin peeking out from underneath his white shirt. Brown trousers cover his legs, held up by matching suspenders. His black boots are speckled with dried mud—you guess that he’s just come from the stables in the back.

Upon catching sight of your sister, he smiles and begins to walk over. You shift quickly, trying to focus on something—anything—else.

“Good afternoon, little bug.” Harry’s tone is deep, slow, rough. It sends a shiver down your spine. “You alright?”

“Very much so,” Lydia replies, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Harry, how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” he replies.

Your sister glances over at you, her brows arched high on her forehead. “He’s practically primeval.”

“Dee!” Her name leaves your lips as an admonishment, but you can’t stifle your laugh.

She just giggles and turns back to Harry; he’s smirking slightly, watching your interaction unfold. “Are you going to be planting more roses?” Lydia asks, changing the subject.

“Yes.” He nods. He sets the bucket down and uses his free hand to realign the bag of soil on his shoulder. “Would you like to help?”

Lydia spins around to face you, her eyes wide and pleading. “Can I? Pretty please?”

“You’re supposed to take Artemis out for a ride,” you tell her, pursing your lips. “You know how antsy she gets when she’s cooped up all day.”

“Can’t you take her out?” Lydia asks, clasping her fingers together and bringing them up to her chest.

“Dee,” you start, shaking your head, “you know I don’t—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Harry,” she says suddenly, glancing down at him from over her shoulder. “Have you been in the stables today? Did you see Artemis?”

Harry hums dutifully. His eyes fall to you—you look away.

“And did she seem anxious at all?” Lydia presses expectantly, placing her hands on her hips.

He hesitates. “Well…no. But if you need to take her out, please do. I’m perfectly capable of planting by myself.”

“Nonsense,” she says, waving away his words. She turns back to you, jutting her bottom lip out into an imploring pout. “Can’t you ask someone else to do it? What about Penelope? Or Beth?”

“Beth’s preparing lunch,” you say, scoffing quietly. “Besides, she refuses to work in a messy environment. What makes you think that she’ll willingly go down to the stables, of all places?”

Lydia frowns, blowing out an annoyed sigh.

“Fine,” she acquiesces at last, rolling her eyes. She spins around, hopping down the remaining steps and fixing Harry with an accusatory glare. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes! Don’t you dare start without me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little bug,” he replies, his lips twitching. You watch as Lydia takes off, her braids whipping in the wind as she sprints toward the side of the house. Once she disappears around the corner and out of your sight, you press your palms to your face, sighing loudly.

“She’s too much,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Harry chuckles quietly from the bottom of the stairs; you freeze suddenly, remembering that he’s still there.

“I should—” You clear your throat, climbing to your feet. The light material of your dress tickles the skin just below your knees. “I should probably go. There’s still so much to do before Drew returns.”

You’re lying, of course. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure there is.” Harry nods, running his fingers through his hair. The dark strands curl beautifully behind his ears. You allow yourself to study them for only a moment before diverting your gaze up to the sky.

“It’s hot—are you thirsty?” you ask, squinted eyes trained on miles of cerulean blue. “I can get Beth to bring you some water, if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely,” he says. “Thank you.”

You simply hum in response. Your hands are abnormally clammy when you wipe them across the thin petticoat covering your thighs.

“Right,” you say, chancing a glance back down at him. “Well…have a nice day.”

“You too, miss.”

You pause, fiddling with the satin bow tied at the small of your back. “You—you don’t have to call me that, Harry,” you remind him, shaking your head. “How many times must I tell you?”

“My apologies,” he says, shrugging. “Force of habit.”

“It’s alright,” you say, intent on avoiding his gaze. “It just—it makes me feel as though I’m your—your—”

You break off, uncertain of how to proceed. Thankfully, though, Harry seems to understand. He chuckles softly, bowing his chin in agreement. “I know.”

Embarrassment festers in your chest, creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. You straighten, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat and retreating toward the door. “Lydia will be back soon, I’m sure. Good day.”

When Harry lifts his head again, his green eyes teem with an emotion that is somehow unrecognizable yet familiar all at once. The gruff timbre of his response makes your stomach churn nervously, flipping your breakfast of fresh fruits and toast. You hate it more than anything else in the world.

You don’t hate him, though.

No…you could never hate him.

“Good day, miss. Ah, I mean—” His face collapses into a grimace. He grunts at the thoughtless error, shaking his head. “—good day.”

~*~

It’s just past three in the afternoon when a car horn honks from outside. Lydia’s shrill squeal of excitement follows soon thereafter.

“Drew!” she cries. She rushes into the front foyer, white shoes squeaking against the polished floor. The bottom of her dress is dotted with faded spots of mud, a testament to her time spent in the garden earlier today.

“Dee,” you scold her, frowning. “I told you to change once you had finished planting.”

“Sorry!” she says, though her tone suggests that she isn’t sorry at all—not in the slightest. “Got distracted!”

She grabs your hand, and you yelp when she gives a mighty tug, towing you outside. You dust off the skirt of your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears and staring at the iron gate in the distance—it’s closing back up, metal spines glinting alluringly in the sunlight. On one side of the driveway, a bright red car rolls along the pavement, tires bumping merrily against the ground. Two silhouettes sit in the front; the man behind the wheel honks the horn again and extends his arm through the window, sweeping it upward in a triumphant greeting.

“Drew!” Lydia repeats. She charges down the front steps, her hands outstretched.

“Be careful!” you call after her, gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip.

The sun is still high in the sky. You crane your neck, surveying your surroundings. Heat rises from the driveway in murky waves, blurring the scenery. The large portico that spans nearly the entire width of your home is lined with bushels of potted plants—roses and peonies and daffodils. The lawn is bright and healthy, spearmint-green grass trimmed to perfection.

Something shifts in the periphery of your vision. Your head snaps to the left.

Harry is there, leaning against the corner of the house. He’s still sporting the same outfit as before, except it’s even more sullied, now. You’re not surprised. Gardening is grubby work, but gardening with Lydia…it’s a miracle that he’s not caked in mud, soiled from head to toe.

On cue, Harry reaches for a dirty rag dangling over his shoulder. He grasps the material with strong fingers, lifting it to his face and wiping down his forehead and his cheeks. You watch him closely, fascinated by the thin sheen of sweat sparkling on his skin.

As though sensing your stare, his eyes dart over, locking squarely with yours.

A soft gasp falls from your lips. You clench your jaw, incontrovertibly caught, and quickly look away.

As soon as Andrew steps out of the car, Lydia launches herself into his arms. He laughs gleefully, catching her with ease and spinning her around. He’s dressed in a cream-coloured suit, the collar of his periwinkle button-up peeking out beneath the lapels. His loafers are shiny and brown; a matching hat is perched atop his head, hiding his dark hair from view. The cap makes his ears stick out even more than usual—upon realising this, you smile.

“Look at how much you’ve grown!” Andrew grunts, setting Lydia back down on the ground. He puts his hand next to her shoulder, as though measuring her against an invisible wall. “The last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn you were only this tall.”

She beams before standing on her tiptoes and poking at his chest. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be gone for so long next time!”

“Touché,” he chuckles, nodding in assent. His fingers find the ends of her braids, fiddling with them absentmindedly. “And who’s responsible for these pretty things, hm?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question,” you interject, making your way down the steps.

Andrew looks up at you and grins widely. You hold out your arms as you approach, and he accepts your invitation with a happy call of your name. He’s tall—a few inches over six feet, if you had to guess. You hug him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder and flattening your palms against his back.

“You look very handsome,” you tell him when you break apart. “I like this colour on you.”

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you? I was on the fence about it, truthfully.”

“You shouldn’t have been—it looks good,” you assure him, smoothing your knuckles over his collar. “What took you so long? You’re late.”

“Stopped off at the cemetery to visit mum and dad,” he explains. “Changed their flowers, too—calla lilies, this time.”

You nod grimly, pursing your lips. “Mum’s favourite. Excellent choice.”

One of the car’s doors slams shut; the noise pulls your attention away from your brother. You peer past him, eyes landing on the man who has just exited the passenger side of the vehicle. His skin is a fair shade of olive, complimented beautifully by the beige jacket slung over his shoulders. Checkered brown pants cover his legs, and he’s clutching a sturdy briefcase in one hand. Andrew retreats, keeping a palm on the small of your back as he leads you over to his companion.

“Girls,” he says, tipping his cap, “this is my business partner, Martin Russell. Martin, these are my sisters.”

Martin bows his head. “Lovely to meet you both.”

“Are you tired, Mister Russell?” you ask. “It’s been a long journey, I’m sure.”

“I’m quite alright, miss, thank you,” he replies.

You don’t miss the way his amber eyes trail along your figure as he straightens up. You step back before you even have the chance to register what you’re doing.

“Hello!” Lydia—much to your relief—butts in, grabbing Martin’s hand and shaking it frantically. “I’m Lydia. Say, how would you describe your time at Harvard? Did you enjoy it? Was it a lot of work?”

Martin chuckles nervously, taken aback by your sister’s blathering. “Er,” he starts, “I—”

“Dee,” Andrew says, snickering quietly. “At least let the man get settled in before you begin interrogating him.”

“Sorry,” Lydia mumbles, shrinking away.

“That’s alright,” Andrew says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to chat with him over dinner tonight, won’t you? Is it true that Beth is preparing my favourite?”

Your sister beams and nods. “I asked her to!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Andrew smiles. He looks up at the house, his forlorn gaze running over the plethora of pale bricks and clear windows. Abruptly, he pauses, squinting and lifting his fingers to shield his face from the sun. “Is that…?”

Your blood runs cold.

Andrew raises an arm high above his head. “Harry!”

And suddenly, staring down at the ground becomes your most pressing concern of the day. Harry makes his way over, a mountain of handsome grime. It’s unfair, really, you think. How does he manage to look so fetching, even beneath a thin layer of soot?

“How have you been?” Andrew asks, surging forward and shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Harry replies, grinning. “I’ve been alright. Keeping the garden tame, keeping the stables clean.” He tosses a pointed look in Lydia’s direction. “Keeping this little bug out of trouble.”

“Hey!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry just chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Andrew says, nodding in satisfaction. “It’s nice knowing that there’s still a man around the house to take care of these two.”

You bristle at his words, scowling in mock-offense. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“I know.” Your brother shoots you a mischievous wink, and only then do you realise that he’s merely trying to get a rise out of you. You roll your eyes, though you can’t quell the fond smile that creeps onto your face.

“Let’s go in,” you suggest. “You can say hello to the rest of the staff, and then we can all wash up before dinner.”

Andrew hums in agreement. He tilts his head to the side, attention fixed almost exclusively on Harry. “You should come, H,” he says swiftly. “It’s been too long; we need to catch up.”

“Drew—” Your shoulders tense, and your nostrils flare. “I don’t think—”

“I’d love to,” Harry interrupts. He hooks his thumbs beneath the straps of his suspenders. “Thank you for the invite, Drew.”

“Of course.” Your brother nods before turning back to Lydia and Martin. “Shall we, then?”

The three of them push between you and Harry, climbing up the steps and disappearing through the front door. Inside, your sister unleashes a stream of fleeting questions: What’s it like in New York? Are the people nice? How was the food? Did you see the Statue of Liberty?

Gradually, her inquiries fade away. You stand there, chest inflated with a held breath and fingers fidgeting anxiously with the skirt of your dress. The sun beats down against the crown of your head, triggering a mild fit of dizziness.

Or maybe that’s just Harry.

“So…,” he begins, blowing out an awkward sigh. “What shall we be eating tonight?”

You scoff, unable to help yourself. “You accepted the offer without knowing exactly what it was?”

“Should I know?”

You swallow heavily, pinning your gaze on the scarlet vehicle still parked only a few feet away. “Minestrone,” you say. The word is clipped. “Drew loves it.”

“I’ve had it,” he tells you. “Beth always saves me a bit if there’s some left over.”

You nod wordlessly.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, digging his hands into his pockets. You’re so taken aback by his question that your head snaps toward him, brows cinched together in confusion.

“What?” The question falls from your lips before you can blink. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You won’t even look at me,” he hums, shrugging casually.

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“Not before, you weren’t.”

“I—” you break off, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut. You pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers, trying to keep yourself composed. “I have to go.”

“As do I.”

“Right.” You avoid his gaze. “Goodbye, then.” You whip around, hurrying up the steps.

“Goodbye,” Harry replies from behind you. The smile in his voice is painfully conspicuous. “See you at dinner.”

~*~

You’ve just pinned a final clip into your hair when Lydia comes barrelling through your bedroom door with no warning whatsoever. You’ve long since given up on reprimanding her for it. She always forgets to knock.

“Can you button me up?” she requests, spinning around and exposing her bare back.

“Did you run down the hall like that?” you ask, laughing at her eccentricity.

“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry—I made sure that the coast was clear.”

“Brilliant. Your reconnaissance skills are truly a sight to behold.”

She scoffs, smiling at you from over her shoulder. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Patience, Dee,” you say. You turn back to your own reflection, twirling your finger through a loose strand of hair and letting it fall picturesquely against your temple. “There.”

Her feet scuffle absentmindedly against the floor as you approach her. She’s wearing a pastel pink dress with short, puffy sleeves that cinch at her skinny biceps. The bottom hem of her petticoat tickles her knees, which strain against transparent white tights. You remember wearing something nearly identical when you were her age. The outfit isn’t a hand-me-down, though. The stitching is brand-new, and the fabric is crisp and fresh, like it’s never once seen the inside of a washtub.

“It’s nice having Drew back home, wouldn’t you agree?” you ask your sister. She squeals when the nail of your index finger ghosts playfully up her spine.

“It is,” she concurs as you begin to fasten the clasps at the small of her back. “I’ve missed him terribly.”

“So have I,” you hum, pressing your mouth into a thin line. “There are some things that I could do without, though. Like that comment he made about us not being able to take care of ourselves.”

“He was only teasing,” Lydia says. “You know that. Besides—” She shrugs, puckering her lips idly. “—he was right. Harry does take care of us, even though we may not always need it.”

At that, you pause.

“‘Harry takes care of us’?” you parrot, your brows knitting together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she starts, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Who trims the lawn and tends to the flowers early in the morning? And who cleans out the stables when they get messy?”

“We pay him to do those things, Dee,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It’s his job.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees. “But he does so much more, don’t you think?”

You say nothing. She takes your silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“For example,” she says—declares, “he never gets irritated with me whenever I prattle on about my day.”

“Oh.” You smirk. “So you are aware of your tendency to talk too much.”

“Not funny,” she deadpans. You giggle.

“He always lets me follow him around whenever I get bored,” she adds, her eyes glazing over. “And he likes to make sure that you’re alright, too.”

Your fingers fumble with the last button at the top of her dress. You pray that she doesn’t detect the sudden blunder. “How so?” you probe, trying to keep your voice level.

“You know,” she indicates, even though you most certainly do not. “Like today, as we were planting the roses. He asked me how you were doing—if you were eating well, if you were getting enough sleep. Those are fairly standard inquiries regarding one’s wellbeing, I’d say. Do you disagree?”

“No,” you murmur, gnawing on your painted bottom lip. “I don’t.”

You finish your task, fastening the final clasp on her dress and smoothing your fingers down her sides. “There you go,” you say softly, your throat dry. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she singsongs, twirling around to face you. She studies you closely, soaking in the black floor-length gown cascading down your figure. “You look beautiful,” she says, her tone sincere. “Martin’s going to be utterly speechless when he sees you!”

A weak chuckle falls from your mouth. “Shall we go down?” you suggest, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the door.

“Yes, please,” she replies. She places a palm over her stomach, features crumpling into a theatrical scowl. “I’m famished.”

You smile.

And as you exit your bedroom with your sister in tow, you realise that she may have been wrong about which man you’re hoping to impress.

~*~

Dinner is full of surprises, many of which present themselves in the form of Martin Russell. It’s astonishing, you think, because the man who had barely spoken ten words upon first meeting you is now commanding the table at which you’re sat. Andrew is perched at the head, with Martin just off to his right. Lydia is next to him, and you’re directly across from him. And that means that Harry…

Harry is right next to you.

You do everything in your power to avoid looking in his direction. Thankfully, it proves to be easier than expected, considering the fact that Martin has been droning on about his company for the past fifteen minutes. You don’t believe that anyone else has managed to squeeze in a single word.

There’s wine, candles, and the finest china your family owns. But all of that pales in comparison to the man sitting beside you.

Harry cleans up exquisitely. Upon first entering the dining room, you were shocked to find him in a black tuxedo with a white bowtie resting just below his throat. It appears that he even combed and gelled his hair, though some strands have fallen free from the style and now hang down over his forehead. You don’t mind it, though—if anything, it’s a hint of the man you know peeking through. And the man you know is handsome—alarmingly so.

Drew had whistled as you descended the stairs. He then offered you his arm, patting your hand and telling you that you looked wonderful. Martin hadn’t been able to control his reaction, his eyes raking up and down your figure like you were a lavish meal on a silver platter. It had taken everything in you to hide your distaste.

But Harry…

Harry hadn’t said a word. He’d fixed his face perfectly, showing no sign of emotion whatsoever. You’d been hoping for something—anything—indicative of his opinion toward your outfit, but you observed no such consequence. He’d only acknowledged you with a curt nod before settling into his chair and pointedly looking away.

And now, here you are—a bowl of minestrone in front of you, a wineglass inches away from your lips, and an irritated groan simmering on the back of your tongue. Martin’s voice is growing more and more irksome by the minute.

“And then, it was as though they couldn’t get enough—”

“I had assured them that I would bring in at least twice the revenue—”

“It was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it—”

You polish off the rest of your wine, reaching across the table for the half-empty bottle. No one notices as you pour a bit more of the alcohol into your glass, sneakily surpassing what would be considered appropriate for a lady to consume. You set the bottle back down with a silent huff, lifting the goblet to your lips and letting your attention wander.

You freeze when you catch Harry staring at you out of the corner of his eye. The edges of his mouth are curled up ever-so-slightly, nearly imperceptible. Heat rushes to your cheeks; you gulp down a large sip of wine, averting your gaze.

You deposit your drink onto the pristine white tablecloth, glaring intently at your food. You can feel Harry’s playful stare burning a hole into the side of your head; you suspect that he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

Your soup has cooled substantially. You shovel a spoonful past your lips, swallowing it with a considerable amount of difficulty. Everyone else has nearly finished their dinner, save for Martin. You want to thrust his face into his bowl—maybe then, he’ll finally shut up.

You lift your wine back up to your mouth. The action draws Martin’s focus. His eyes flit down to your minestrone, and then jump to the other empty dishes around the table. At last, he seems to realise the disparity between your meals, because a small, sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“Lord,” he chuckles, settling into the cushion of his chair. “You all must’ve been ravenous. I’ve hardly touched my food.”

“It’s hard to eat whilst boasting, I’d imagine,” you mutter into your glass.

A loud, hacking cough breaks you out of your little bubble. Your head snaps to the left. Harry is choking on his own wine, chiseled cheeks growing red with exertion. He curls his fingers into a firm fist, pounding a few times on his chest to dislodge the liquid stuck in his windpipe. Reflexively, you place a hand on his arm, your forehead wrinkling in concern.

“You alright, H?” Andrew asks, leaning forward over his plate.

“Fine!” Harry croaks. He makes an indiscernible gesture with his hand, waving your brother’s worries away. “I’m fine, thanks. Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.”

He coughs again, burying the sound into the crook of his elbow.

You watch him with troubled eyes. When your gazes lock, only then do you realise that your palm is still splayed out over his bicep. You pull away quickly, recoiling as though you’ve just passed your knuckles through an open flame. Harry’s body rumbles as he clears his throat. He hooks two fingers into the collar of his button-up, loosening it from where it’s secured tightly around his neck.

Lydia is talking, now, but her declarations fade into the background. You wish that you could concentrate on them—you really do—but you have more far more pressing matters at hand.

Like Harry shooting you a swift, secretive smile, and every piece of the puzzle clicking perfectly into place.

His unassuming sip…your quiet quip…

He’d heard you.

You sit back in your seat, your ears ringing. Harry places one of his hands on the wooden arm of his chair; his knuckles flex painstakingly. Across the table, Andrew and Lydia have resumed their lively conversation. Martin scarfs down the rest of his soup, trying to catch up. The candlesticks perched between your plates melt slowly, a mess of waxy dribbles and drops.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you become aware that—for the first time tonight—no one is paying you any attention. The realisation makes you feel giddy, drunk on power and anonymity.

Or maybe that’s just the wine.

You peer down at Harry’s nails, studying them absentmindedly—they’ve been scrubbed clean.

And before you can even begin to register what on earth you’re doing, you reach out, tracing the veins on the back of his hand with one finger. Harry tenses; his concentration immediately falls to where you’re touching him. When you finally muster enough confidence to meet his gaze, you find him watching you with wide, awestruck eyes.

A small part of you is smug—that’s the reaction you’d been searching for at the beginning of the evening. That’s how you’d wanted him to look at you when you made your entrance, wrapped up in a pretty black gown and layers of opaque red lipstick.

You cease your movements and retract your arm, tucking it back against your side as you turn your interest elsewhere. In the periphery of your vision, Harry has pinned you with an unwavering, stunned expression, his body rooted in place. Despite the rapid thumping of your heart, you keep your gaze trained ahead and your chin held high, pride swelling in your abdomen like a hot-air balloon.

Lydia laughs at something that Andrew says. Martin tugs haughtily at the lapels of his suit. You release a heavy exhale and nudge your bowl a few inches away from your chest, completely sated.

~*~

Once everyone retires to their rooms for the evening, you wait approximately an hour before slipping out. You’re light on your feet, sneaking past Lydia’s quarters and the guestroom that was given to Martin for the duration of his stay. He snores—quite loudly, too. You can hear him as though he’s right next to you, even from where you’re hovering out in the hall.

You make your way down the spiral staircase, heading toward the large double doors leading to the backyard. You quickly tug on a delicate pair of slippers before sneaking out into darkness’ cool embrace. Midnight is only a few minutes away.

You pull your wool cardigan a bit tighter around your torso. The hem of your silk nightgown is shorter than that of a standard dress. The wind nips teasingly at your knees, making you shiver. Blades of grass tickle your ankles as you march toward the stables. There’s a single light hanging above the entrance, bathing the wooden panes in a faint yellow glow. Green grass gives way to dry soil and the odd piece of straw littered across the dirt.

Inside the stables, only two of the six pens are occupied. The first one houses Apollo, Andrew’s stallion. His skin is like chestnuts, his mane the colour of the sun. You’re sure that your brother will take him out early tomorrow morning—you doubt that he was able to find many docile steeds in the bustling streets of New York.

You bypass Apollo completely, stopping in front of your horse—Artemis.

She’s a sight to behold, white skin and jet-black hair. She reminds you of the first snowfall of the season: crisp and pure, untainted by footprints and pollution and everything else in between. She’s been your partner in crime for the past decade, even though you’ve spent the last few years simply guiding her along with your feet on the ground and a hand tangled in her reins.

Somewhere beneath the rational layer of your brain, you like to think that she sympathizes with your hesitation to get back on the saddle.

“Psst!” you hiss, leaning against the wooden gate of her pen. “Artemis! Come here, my love.”

She lifts her head up from the floor, chewing on a handful of hay. You dig your fingers into the material of your cardigan, producing a sugar cube from the depths of your left pocket. Artemis’ nostrils flare as you hold it out in your palm; she trots over happily, drawn to the sweet treat.

“Haven’t come to visit you in a few days,” you murmur as she dips her mouth against your hand. You stroke your knuckles down the side of her neck, petting her softly. “I’m sorry about that. Things have been so chaotic back at the house. I’ve barely gotten a moment to breathe.”

She whinnies quietly.

“Did you miss me?” you ask. When she nuzzles her nose into your arm, you smile. “I missed you, too. I thought that maybe you were developing a preference for Lydia. But that’s not possible, is it? I’m your favourite.”

Someone clears their throat from behind you. You gasp and whip around, hands flying to your chest. Your gaze locks onto an amused smirk and a pair of impish green eyes, and your stomach lurches uneasily.

“Hello,” you stammer, air caught in your lungs.

“Hello,” Harry replies.

He’s still dressed in his attire from dinner, though his appearance is significantly more relaxed. He’s abandoned the white bowtie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, allowing his collarbones to peek out from beneath the pallid fabric. The cuffs of his suit have been rolled up, and his hair has completely fallen from its acute coif. Glossy strands tumble down around his temples, curling in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch them.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. You hope that he doesn’t hear the twinge of embarrassment in your voice. He caught you in the middle of a one-sided conversation with your horse, after all.

Harry holds up his hand. There’s a pale pink envelope clutched between his fingers.

“Post,” he says, like it’s the only reasonable explanation. It is, you suppose. “I was on my way home when I spotted you.”

Home. The little cottage just down the trail—the groundskeeper’s residence. It was built years ago, only a few acres away from the main house. You pass it sometimes when you take Artemis out for a walk. More often than not, you’ve found yourself studying its red bricks and white windowsills, yearning for a peek inside.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, wrenching you from your thoughts.

“Yes.” You nod, blinking twice. “Your letter—,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “—who is it from?”

And you immediately want to sink into the earth, because it’s none of your bloody business, is it? You have no right to be poking around and questioning him about his personal life. A slight grimace tugs at the corners of your lips, smearing a pained expression across your features.

But Harry just hums, unperturbed by your inquiry.

“My sister,” he tells you, shrugging. “She writes to me from Paris.”

He has a sister?

“Paris,” you echo dumbly. “France?”

His lips twitch. You want to set yourself on fire.

“Does she like it?”

“I think so,” he says, watching you with twinkling eyes. “She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m—” He hesitates, looking away. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

And though he hadn’t let the words slip out, you know exactly what he meant to say.

She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m stuck here.

A pang of guilt ricochets through your chest. Blood thunders in your ears as you direct your attention to the ground, kicking at the dirt below your slippers. You suddenly realise that whilst Harry is fully clothed, you’re dressed in nothing but a flimsy silk nightgown. You wrap your arms around your torso, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your knuckles.

“Er—”

You glance up at Harry when the awkward noise falls from his mouth. “Yes?”

He lifts his chin and gestures toward Artemis, who has returned to her tasty pile of hay. “She belongs to Lydia, does she not?”

“No, actually,” you reply. “Lydia takes her out, typically, but…she’s mine.”

“I see.” His face renders an innocent type of curiosity, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “Do you ride?”

You balk, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I beg your pardon?”

And just like that, the innocence is gone. Harry’s features melt into a portrait of wicked mirth. His irises glint roguishly as he fixes you with a shrewd, crafty smirk.

“The horse,” he says slowly, his tone ripe with amusement. “Do you ride?”

“Oh,” you croak. “Sorry, I—”

Your nostrils flare as you avert your eyes, too humiliated to meet his gaze. He’s aware of the way in which you interpreted his question. He understands why you were so appalled. He knows exactly where your mind went.

“No,” you answer quickly. “I don’t. Not anymore, at least.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, confused.

“How long has it been?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mount.”

“I stopped a few months before you came to work for us,” you say, playing with a loose thread hanging from your cardigan. After a beat of silence, you add, “There was…an incident. I fell.”

“Oh.” He recoils slightly, taken aback by your revelation. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.” Your feet scuffle against the dusty ground. “Sometimes, I catch myself longing for it, but I just—” You shrug. “I can never seem to get back on.”

“I understand.” His response is excruciatingly sincere.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He takes an experimental step forward, gauging your reaction. When you don’t make a move to retreat, he does it again. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he draws nearer, and your heart stutters beneath your ribs when he angles his body to the side, offering you his arm.

“May I walk you back?”

Is there a hint of fondness in his voice, or is it merely your imagination?

“You may,” you concede weakly.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and bid Artemis goodnight. The two of you stroll back up to the estate in silence, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. The wind whistles through the thicket of trees lining the edge of the property. Crickets chirp loudly, seeking shelter between blades of grass. Harry’s body is unbelievably warm, radiating heat despite the slight chill carried by nightfall.

You release his arm once you reach the steps of the back porch. He studies you carefully as you climb the first two stairs, a divot digging into the space between his brows.

All of a sudden, you pause, brought to a standstill by an invisible string. You spin back around, looking down and finding a pair of bright jade eyes in the dark.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you say softly, hands dropping to your sides.

Quicker than a bolt of lightning, he seizes your fingers between his. A faint gasp leaves your mouth when he bows forward and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Harry peers up at you innocuously, pulling his lips away from your skin after a long moment of stillness.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says. The words flow over you like molasses, viscous and warm and inconceivably sweet. “Sleep tight.”

~*~

PART II: The Week

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #there's not a single curse word in this fic holy shit.............i think this is a first for me snfsjsdnsfsjfsn #ANYWAY i hope u like it!!!!! i'll be here if yall wanna chat after lol #farmhandrry #harry writing

1K notes · View notes

bill-y · 4 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part one: Over there, buddy

Part two:You’re here right now. :)

Part three: Click here, pepperoni salami.

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

I separated with Gale and Katniss for a while, telling them I needed air. I sighed, leaping from branch to branch in the thicket of trees. Bread, not just bread, baker's bread. If I'm lucky I could get just enough squirrels for the baker, he had a taste for it but his wife was much of a witch, so he only buys it when she's not around.

I remembered how she found me stealing some burnt bread from the trashcan. I looked at her with wide eyes, frozen, I thought I was going to die, stealing was punishable for death, after all. But she just let me go, screaming about her frustration of Seams picking through her trash.

I got bread that day either way.

I landed on a sturdy branch, spotting a squirrel on the tree adjacent to me; it was quite huge, I'm sure he'd love this. Let's just hope the witch isn't home by the time I give this to him.

I crouched down, still as a statue as I watched the squirrel run up and down the tree. I pulled out the thin, glistening dagger, unwrapping its course, leather bindings, which became a makeshift thin rope. I felt my eyes unconsciously widen, watching the squirrel's movements.

My arm aimed, then with a simple flick, the dagger whistled through the air. The small creature was then pinned to the bark of the tree through its eyes. The dagger's blade was thin enough to not damage anything when aimed right.

I pulled on the rope, the blade coming back, dragging the animal carcass with it. A small smile tugged on my face, I can get bread.

Kunal was surely panicking, he was the type to worry about the smallest of things. He once stepped on a cat's tail, Buttercup, Primrose's cat and he bawled, nobody could calm him down. Until he was offered food, that is.

I chuckled at the memory, slowly pulling the blade off the head of the squirrel. I held it in my hands victoriously, a grin on my face. I whistled a small 3 tone song, the chirping mocking birds falling silent before they imitated the tone.

After meeting up, we went back home, passing by the Hob. It was sort of a black market, where coals are transported directly to trains. I disliked it here, the amount of coal dust always bothered me, so when I come here I tend to cover my nose.

We managed to trade six of the fish for good bread, the other two for some salt. The lady who sells soup, the one that always glares at me because I've insulted her soup on multiple occasions, Greasy Sae: took half the greens we gathered, along with the dead dog meat that she calls "beef".

That's why I hate her soups, though it's not like I have much of an option, we can't afford luxury here. Unlike those obnoxious, entitled, privileged people in the Capitol. My jaw clenched at the mere thought of those scums.

We finish our business on the market, so we went to the mayor's house, who was particularly fond of strawberries. We knocked on the back door, his daughter, Madge opening it for us.

She's in Katniss and I's year sits beside us at almost every event because we don't really have groups of friends. For being the mayor's daughter you'd expect her to be an entitled brat or maybe a snob, but she was alright, she kept to herself.

I like that, I hate noisy people, They'll scare away the game, that and I've never really liked loud noises. I still remember the explosions in the mines, it was traumatizing, even though my father didn't meet death there. I really wished he had.

Madge didn't wear her usual attire, instead, she wore an expensive white dress, her blonde hair up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. I felt my face scrunch up, that day was supposed to be a form of celebration. It's more of a way for the capitol to show who's in control.

We were being punished for the crimes of the people who failed, disguised as some form of celebration. It's disgusting.

"Pretty dress," Gale complimented. Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's genuine or if he was just being ironic. It was a pretty dress, but it was a waste.

She smiled, "Well, if I'm going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

I clenched my jaw, "But you won't be going to the Capitol," I said coolly, my voice monotone. My eyes landed on a small, circular pin on her dress. Real gold. The testament to the fact that she probably won't be chosen. "You probably have five entries, compared to us, that's a blessing."

"That's not her fault," Katniss said. Madge looked slightly hurt, probably because I've never really spoken my thoughts to her, I try my best to be polite when she engages a conversation with me.

"I know," I responded plainly. Madge smiled towards me, though it was clear it wasn't exactly genuine. She then handed the money for the berries. She looked towards Katniss "Good luck, Katniss"

"You too," She responded.

We walked toward the Seam, I can't help but feel angry. Her? Going to the Capitol? What a joke. When you're twelve your name gets put in the pile once, thirteen twice then so on. Up until your eighteen, where your name is entered seven times.

But the thing is, the rich have an advantage. You can enter your name willingly in the pile when you're starving in exchange for some tesserae. I had been doing this since I was twelve, having entered my name 3 times, for my mother, brother and myself. Every year following suite, it has always been like this.

Now at the age of 16, I've entered my name twenty times, same with Katniss. Gale was in even greater danger, with a number of forty-two.

And she'll be the tribute this year? It can happen but it's deadly slim. I knew Gale felt the same way, listening to him rant about tesserae in the woods with Katniss was enough confirmation, along with the fact that I join in on the rants. Always end it with a promise to destroy the Capitol, somehow.

But what good does that do us?

Gale, Katniss and I divide our spoils, though it wasn't really the evenest distribution. Gale got more, understandably since he has more mouths to feed.

"See you guys in the square," Katniss said, Gale nodded, "Wear something pretty," he joked.

I decided to stop by the bakery, by then the witch should be home but I took my chances. There was Mr Mellark, sitting outside, watching the pigs. He saw me from the corner of his eye, he grinned. "Greyback!' he called.

"Mr Mellark, still up for some squirrel?" I ask, holding the fat one up. He nodded, "You're lucky my wife isn't here, yet. Hold on, I'll get the bread for Kunal," he said, rushing inside.

I walked to the backdoor of the bakery so that he wouldn't trouble himself that much. I waited awkwardly outside, looking at a small bird fluttering about. I whistled, holding my finger out.

The bird landed on my finger, making me smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw a boy, blonde, stocky. Could probably kill me, if I'm being honest. Even though I was fast, I wasn't strong.

Soon enough, the bird flew away with the arrival of the baker, with a loaf of sweet, savoury bread, hot from the oven. "Here you go, Greyback."

I nodded, handing him the squirrel. "Oh!" he hummed, "Have you met my son, Peeta?" he asked, a smile on his face, "You're in the same year, yes?"

I didn't know what to say. Sure, I know him but I don't know that well him that well. My eyes travelled to the boy, who simply waved and briskly walked away. "I don't think so," I answered.

"I better be going, Mr Mellark. Nal needs his favourite bread after all," I said, flashing a small smile before I left. A small pit of dread boiled in my stomach, something bad is going to happen.

But then again, it's Reaping day, nothing good ever happens.

Word count: 1.3k

Tags:

@nin3s

:)))

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peetamellark #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games #male x male reader #male reader #x male reader #katniss everdeen #gale #male reader insert #gale hawthorne #Katiniss #Hunger games x reader #what the fuck is tumblr's layout i am so fucking confused.

172 notes · View notes

cimerran-714 · 3 years

Text

Hello! I hope you're doing well. The purpose of this short "composition" is to closely analyze some of the key H/Hr moments in the books (I haven't watched all the movies, so you won't find anything about the films here).

And I know it should be obvious, but I seriously don't mind the R/Hr or H/G ship. It's none of my business. So please refrain from taking anything out of context/misappropriate the things I say. I mean absolutely no offence to any Canon pairings.

Even if you don't ship them, I'm sure you can't deny that both Harry and Hermione have an incredibly close platonic relationship together. I've heard people narrate some of the "finest" H/Hr moments while explaining why they're fit to be soulmates. There's a high probability that you'd come across them when talking to a H/Hr shipper. However, there are a few scenes in the books (which, in retrospect, are really 'sweet') I haven't heard others talk about often.

In this essay, I'd like to share some of the best scenes in the Potter books, immediately followed by an underrated moment.

Let's dig in.

Best moment:

The hug in Philosopher's/Sorceror's Stone.

Ah, isn't it obvious? This is certainly one of the finest moments that kickstarts the strong dynamic between Harry and Hermione. I really like this scene. It's powerful on a number of levels.

Romione shippers tend to provide a parallel to exemplify the attraction between the remaining members of the Golden Trio (Hermione apologizing about Scabbers and sobbing onto Ron's shoulders). But in my eyes, there's certainly something different about her hugging Harry.

Firstly, we've got to consider the context. When Hermione embraced Ron, it happened on the second page of a different chapter. On the contrary, anything that occurs at the end of any chapter/book sticks in our minds for a long time.

I'm going off on a tangent here, just to make sure you get the point. This trope (though I'm not sure I can it that) happens a lot of times in the Harry Potter books.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

This scene hits home for a lot of reasons.

Look, most of us can't help feeling sorry for Harry here. His parents are dead, which (as McGonagall claimed) is a horrible thing to have happened. We've also seen at the beginning of the book that the Dursleys hate the Potters.

It's distressing to realize that a one-year-old is about to be raised by a family who doesn't like him at all.

And the fact that the entire wizarding world is celebrating Volde... sorry, You-Know-Who's downfall, while the boy sleeps on innocently (without any knowledge of what's just happened), is even more saddening. No, he simply couldn't know what'd happened to his life, that witches and wizards all over the country are toasting him.

It's bittersweet.

Moving on:

Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else -- glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

This is, yet again, another 'Aww' moment at the end of a chapter. How can you not feel sorry for Harry? Most thirteen-year-olds have already enjoyed a lot of birthdays in the past. But for him, it's something new.

He's glad that it's his birthday for the first time. If I didn't know better, JKR wants us to sympathize with Harry.

And here's a final example:

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

I do feel for Ron, getting attacked by a flock of birds was certainly uncalled for. But don't you get the point? The "sob" momentarily diverts our attention towards Hermione.

"Poor Ron, that must have hurt... oh, dear, Hermione's crying."

I think you know what I'm talking about. It's the same thing that happened when Hermione embraced Harry and called him a "Great wizard."

Yes, the H/Hr hug doesn't occur at the last line or anything, but it's certainly just a page before the chapter ends.

"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. "Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"

That's one reason why it's meaningful!

Also, note that Harry's just about to face the 'Big Bad' (at a moment when 'Danger lies ahead of them and safety lies behind'). No one's noticed them hugging, too.

And it wasn't in front of the Portrait Hall or anything, either.

It was deep beneath the ramifications of the castle. It was (probably) around midnight, too.

The situation (arguably, the fate of the wizarding world rests on Harry's shoulders now).

The dialogue ("You're a great wizard, you know" instead of "I'm so sorry about Scabbers")

The atmosphere (It was late at night).

The fact that they were just kids.

All of these make the hug so powerful.

Oh, and it was the first book in the series. 2- Underrated moment:

Harry (and yes, Ron too) saving Hermione from the troll.

What's interesting here is:

1- Harry was the one who immediately thought of Hermione after Dumbledore ordered the Prefects to take everyone to their dormitories (Not Ron).

2- Harry isn't smug about having just saved a stranger's life.

A stranger, moreover, who was considered "interfering".

On the other hand, Ron is a little git.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought -- Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

It's pretty obvious that, if given the choice, Ron would rather not go after the girl he'd teased in class.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Harry's saving both of their lives here (while endangering his own).

Remember that he's only eleven.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

Ron thinks they were doing Hermione a favour. Harry, however, is a tad more level-headed. And sensible.

Also, it's somewhat of a stretch, but I believe it proves the point that Harry's true nature is like his mother's (James Potter had boasted around after he saved Snape's life).

Yes, I know it's such a cliche, but Harry is pure at heart.

3-Best moment:

The "mythical" Hippogriff ride:

Now, I've personally never thought much of it. It's a good chapter, yes, but bringing animals into a Shipping war is just... meh.

It's the trust that Harry had in Hermione (when she pulled out the Time turner) that interests me.

Anyhow, it's a pretty common argument posed by H/Hr fans.

Quoting from Wikipedia:

In some traditions, the hippogriff is said to be the symbol of love, as its parents, the mare and griffin, are natural enemies. In other traditions, the hippogriff represents Christ's dual nature as both human and divine.

It occurred in the wee hours of the morning, so I suppose it does have a slightly "mythological" (I can't think of a better word) feel to it.

Again, I'm not sure I can call it my favourite part of the book, especially as Hermione wasn't enjoying riding on Buckbeak.

Underrated moment:

Having fun talking about Filch and Madam Pince.

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

For Romione shippers who believe that Harry and Hermione are "boring" together, it's a rude awakening.

No, the "arguing" doesn't mean they were actually in a disagreement. It's clear that both of them were having fun.

Enjoying their time, in fact.

It's one of the few 'Harmony' scenes in Half-blood Prince.

I do not believe that either of them was consciously aware of their feelings towards each other, either.

And if it's just a coincidence that they were enjoying talking about being in love, it's certainly a bizarre one.

4-Best moment:

Visiting Godric's Hollow together

"'The last enemy that shall be defeated is death'..." A horrible thought came to him, and with a kind of panic. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," said Hermione, her voice gentle. "It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death."

But they were not living, thought Harry. They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

Hermione had taken his hand again and was gripping it tightly. He could not look at her, but returned the pressure, now taking deep, sharp gulps of the night air, trying to steady himself, trying to regain control. He should have brought something o give them, and he had not thought of it, and every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen. But Hermione raised her wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his parents' grave.

As soon as he stood up he wanted to leave: He did not think he could stand another moment there. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and she put hers around his waist, and they turned in silence and walked away through the snow, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate.

If it was intended to be a totally platonic visit, why a pose that's very romantic? Also, as someone else had mentioned in their blog, Harry rarely (if never) initiates physical contact with anyone.

There's also a kissing gate present in the Church.

It seems as if JKR has got a flair for writing co-incidences that further cement the H/Hr relationship.

Underrated moment:

Ernie Macmillion's change of heart:

This is simply beautiful, and even more so as Macmillion was aware that Harry can speak Parseltongue (an ability commonly associated with Dark Wizards).

What happens when students are mysteriously turning into stone, and you figure out that one of them was "egging on" a snake during a duelling club? A boy, moreover, who dislikes the Muggles he lives with? Someone who managed to defeat Lord Voldemort himself?

Hmm...

The logical conclusion would be that Harry's got a hand in it. Ernie believed that Harry Potter was the one Petrifying everyone, even a few weeks/months after the attacks stopped.

What takes the Hufflepuff to bring him to his senses?

The fact that Harry would never harm his Muggle-born friend.

I know it's a little thing, but it shows that the whole school (indeed, Ernie belonged to a different House) was aware of how close Harry and Hermione were together.

Note that he'd apologized immediately after a double-attack.

"Harry, harm Hermione Granger? Impossible!"

Macmillian was the one being paranoid, and told tales about Harry to Hannah Abbot.

And yet a single thing changed his mind completely.

To wind up, I'mma give you another part from the first book:

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die." "Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-" "Harry! Harry, are you all right?" Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

What's noteworthy is that Hermione apparently doesn't care about staying close to Hagrid and protecting herself. She's so worried about what's happened to Harry that she's rushing along in front of Hagrid.

Throughout the books, you can see Harry being protective of Hermione.

The feeling's mutual ;)

#harry potter #harry x hermione #hermione granger #shipping dynamics

38 notes · View notes

lastxviolet · 3 years

Text

The Assistant - CH. 1

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

The Dark Mark.

Cloaked figures running, burning, torturing.

The threat of a second war.

Screaming.

A sharp train whistle brought Violet Wilkes back into her body on Platform 9 ¾, its sound tearing her mind away from the horrifying morning news in the Daily Prophet just last week. The moving pictures on the papers front page had barely left her thoughts, even now, as she was steps away from saying goodbye to her family for nearly a year, the dark mark burned behind her eyelids with every blink.

She walked ahead of her parents and little sister, weaving through the crowd of fawning mothers and sniffling siblings, towards the very last car in the line, dreading the long journey ahead more and more with every step.

For the past five years, she had seriously considered not returning to Hogwarts, solely because of the egregious train ride from London, and this year was no different, except for the pit in her stomach from the thought of noise, people, and confined space was joined by the fear of her family's hypothetical imminent doom at the hands of Death Eaters. Despite the fact that no one else shared her fears.

She'd told them all week that the events at the Quidditch World Cup weren't a fluke. No one conjured the most fearsome symbol in their world nearly thirteen years after its disappearance, by accident. It meant something.

A terrible something.

And now, she was leaving them. Defenseless.

Her father hadn't picked up his wand in nearly a decade, and her mother had no magical abilities to speak of. Her sister, Olivia, would surely be a powerful witch in the coming years but for now, she remained a timid ten-year-old. They hardly stood a chance without her. That was if the events last week were as dire and fearsome as she believed them to be.

Of all people, she thought her father would understand her worry but he insisted that it wasn't going to be like 'last time.' Even then, she'd made him swear that he would brush up on his spells and hexes just in case you-know-who had returned and picked up where he'd left off, targeting blood traitors and their families.

The train whistle cut through the commotion again and they sped up to make the 11:00 departure. She glanced down at her watch; 10:58.

If they hurried, she'd make it. But if they didn't, the train would mosey on without her. Not that she'd mind.

She looked around at her fellow hustling peers pouring into the train and exhaled sharply. What if she just stopped? Dropped to her knees and refused to move. Missed the train and begged her father to let her go to a muggle school as her mother had. Her fingers gripped the iron handrail in the vestibule of the final car, and she hesitated, ready to throw herself back onto the platform but deep down, she knew it was already too late. There was no avoiding the journey ahead.

Her sister launched into her arms, squeezing tight before her mother's arms replaced them around her neck. She kissed her father's cheek last, lingering on his kind, dark blue eyes, staring at their own mirrored pupils in her head. He pressed one more kiss onto her forehead before stepping back to wrap his arms around the other halves of her heart.

A blood-traitor.

How could anyone call him a blood traitor?

Easy, she thought. It was the same way her housemates called her a half-blood. With condescending smirks and dead eyes.

She turned to enter the car so they couldn't see the tear falling down her cheek and rushed to wipe it away before she came back into view through the last window.

Her sister called out a final time when the train began to slowly move away and a wave of dread constricted her lungs. The sound was too similar to the screams she heard in her nightmares nearly every night. Fog from her breath on the window obscured the final visible moments of her family's smiling faces and wildly waving arms as the platform disappeared from view.

11:00. As one torturous moment ended, another, 8-hour-long one, began. The ruckus of running feet, excited hello's, and sporadic spell work was instantaneous and completely impossible to ignore. She closed her eyes and tried to tune it out.

She couldn't conceive why a wizarding school would trust their unsupervised adolescent students to not blow each other up when muggle schools barely trusted their docile coeds to use the bathroom alone. Other people's happiness didn't normally give her such a headache but the lack of professor supervision provided no perimeters on her peer's ability to run amuck.

She felt her stomach flip with the swaying movement. Bile burned her throat, as the seat underneath her moved back and forth, rocking in a nauseating pattern. The noise, in combination with the repetitive piercing whistle and lurching wheels thudding through London, was dizzying.

Distraction. She needed a distraction.

Calloused leather brushed her hip, reminding her that she'd anticipated this very moment. She thanked her past self profusely and dug through the bag until the pebbly fabric of her favorite muggle book scratched her fingertips.

The deep blue hardcover still precariously clung to its title even after years of wear and tear, reading and rereading. She caressed the carved gold words with a shaky, anxious finger.

The Princess Bride

By William Goldman

It was a pity that the Hogwarts library didn't cater to muggle-born students, she thought. Even in Muggle Studies class, assigned readings were books about muggles, written by the magical beings that walked among them. Wizard writers were wonderful but their ability to write compelling fiction was limited when they can do the unthinkable with the mindless flick of a wand.

She flipped it open and paused to admire her mother's swirly signature on the dedication page before turning to the first chapter.

"I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm Boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard."

"I hear you now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only Westley. Until I die."

Eventually, the disorienting blur of houses, trees, and cars ceased— replaced by much more appealing, rolling hills and sprawling fields. The speed of the train was barely discernible as the scenery outside the window moved in slow motion, barely changing, monotonous and still, a comfort to her dizzy head.

She glanced towards the glass doors that were protecting her from the chaos throughout the halls and determined that the motion sickness and general discomfort had been suppressed. She took a deep breath and weighed the options for the second half of the trip. Stay, and finish the beloved book that lay open in her lap, or leave, and trade all peace for conversation.

Alone, but also lonely.

She'd probably missed loads of drama on the first half of the ride, and Sadie would surely be furious with her for being absent.

Sadie Baldock had plopped down next to her at the Slytherin table one random morning during her second week at Hogwarts. Happy to have some company, she'd let the energetic girl talk her ear off for the entire meal, not once interrupting or telling her to shut up, even though it would've been warranted. They'd been best friends ever since and she'd been an absolute treasure for the entirety of their past five years.

Despite Sadies strong personality and pension for gossip, she understood and accepted that Violet had no desire to be attached at the hip to anyone and gladly gave her space.

Alone and lonely, was much better than being suffocated, she thought. This had been her preference, even before she arrived at Hogwarts, and was sorted into Slytherin, her supposed 'family' away from home.

She scoffed and shook her head.

Family, yeah right.

Other houses might consider themselves family. Hers, however, felt more like a cage.

Families weren't supposed to be judgmental, at least not to the degree that her peers were. Families didn't shun disgraced peers for impure bloodlines or enforce generational loyalty without question. In recent years, the house had shed any sense of camaraderie left, even between those with pure-blood and ancient ties.

Due to this, tensions ran high and tempers were like time-bombs. It was exhausting to bite her tongue enough to remain cordial with most of the somewhat sane peers in her house and fly under the radar of the rest. She clenched her jaw, remembering Draco Malfoy and crew taunting her half-blood status and muggle mother.

Exhausting, but necessary, for self-preservation and peaceful existence. She occasionally betrayed herself with a viper-quick temper that was always simmering in her chest but most took it for stereotypical Slytherin nastiness, and not a haunting disdain for those who shared her green and silver uniform. This, a knack for potions and a morbidly dark wardrobe were perhaps the only evidence of a correct sorting.

Oh well, she thought. It was a bit late in her career to be considering a house change, besides, the sorting hat was a sod old brute who insisted that he was never wrong.

In actuality though, it wasn't all terrible. At least she had Sadie and the few other perks that came with the snake emblem.

The dungeons provided cool darkness that deprived the senses of any reason for restlessness and anxiety. Although the green uniform occasionally invited disapproving glances, it complimented her dark blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair much better than the blue and white of Ravenclaw, or heaven forbid the bright red Gryffindor insignia. And, she was only a few feet away from the potions classroom, where she'd managed to instate herself as one of the only students their head of house, Professor Severus Snape, did not actively hate. The bond had been painstakingly cultivated over the years the only that way he would allow; speaking when spoken to, correct answers, and perfect potions.

She stared out the window, focusing on the rolling hills, trying to let go of the gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that couldn't help but wonder if the hat had gotten it wrong.

Introspection was one of her biggest flaws. Sadie was constantly telling her to get out of her head and she knew that she was right. But, analysis always felt necessary, even about moments and emotions long gone. Sorting through every feeling, decision, movement; double-checking every second to make sure they were all accounted for, was compulsory.

Even now, six years later, she wondered whether she even truly belonged in Slytherin, and whether or not being sorted into the other houses would've been easier or even different at all. Would it have been better to be sorted into her father's Hufflepuff house?

Maybe, but unfortunately, when considering where to place her, the sorting hat had ignored her father and zeroed in on the countless other Wilkes before him, all in Slytherin, before deciding that she would be forced to pick up the lineage again. Not that any of them would ever know, or care.

She felt a shiver down her spine.

It was for the best that they hadn't any idea of her existence, let alone the continuation of their legacy.

She squeezed her eyes closed and the beautiful scenery outside dissolved into the Dark Mark behind her lids and the memory of photos she'd secretly found amongst her father's old school things. Photos of a boy, a few years older than her father, clad in green standing next to his younger brother in yellow and black.

A legacy, broken. A legacy, reborn.

She felt her heartbeat quicken and tried desperately to conjure the image of her sister, next year, with the sorting hat on her head, yelling any other house's name.

Screams from the next train car over tore her away from her thoughts. She jumped slightly and shook her head, glad for a distraction from the oncoming downward spiral. She'd forgotten where she was for a moment but another chorus of "no's" and laughter bursting through the door at the front of the cabin pulled her back to reality.

Pushing the doors apart slightly, she poked her head into the hall and moved to step out but voices stopped her. Loud, obnoxious, exuberant voices yelled something about "research" to an amused audience.

The Weasley twins.

Maybe the imminent doom she'd been worrying about wouldn't come at the hands of Death Eaters at all, but two idiotic and insufferable redheads instead.

She searched for an escape, eyes moving frantically, but her only option seemed to be a jump from the back door and onto the tracks below. Why hadn't she left to find Sadie when she'd had the chance?

Rolling her eyes as far back into her head as they would go, she sunk back down onto the bench and held her breath, hoping to miraculously turn invisible before the twins could sour her mood further.

"C'mon George, one last try," a voice belonging to Fred Weasley yelled over the last wave of students laughing and telling the twins to get lost.

She groaned, knowing that they were indeed coming for her. She couldn't think of a single time during her years at Hogwarts when she'd enjoyed the terroristic Weasley antics, but this moment was particularly ill-timed. Their talents for pranking were legendary and despite being in the same year, she'd never been a target or victim. But, it seemed as though her time had come.

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to find a single positive about the cursed situation. The nerves twisted her stomach into a knot while she listened to nearing footsteps. Maybe, if she played along and let them get it out of their system, they would leave quicker, and get back to ignoring her.

Another couple of torturous seconds crawled by before the twin who she thought might be George yanked open the cabin door.

She forced herself to breathe and tilted her head to meet them with a perturbed expression glued to her face; brows furrowed, lips pursed, and arms crossed. Every Slytherin instinct whispered in her ear to hex them back to London but the exhaustion from her emotional goodbye a few hours ago overwhelmed any anger left, resigning her to accept this fate without much of a fight.

"Well hello, Violet. Today is your lucky day."

She was right, the one coming in first was George Weasley. She recognized the two moles on the left side of his neck from Herbology last year when she'd fantasized about slashing his jugular when he wouldn't shut up.

He moved her feet from the bench opposite her, and she stared at him, noting that his slightly crooked nose also distinguished him from the brother coming in second. Once seated, they stared at her with intense brown eyes, and eager slack-jaw smiles —incredibly sharp features exaggerated by flowing radioactive red hair, waiting for an answer.

"Is that so?" she growled, conjuring a deadpan stare.

The twins straightened their chests and leaned forward simultaneously. "Yes, indeed," Fred said, the excitement in his face and voice completely unaffected by her cold response. "And we'll tell you why. George?"

"For a limited time only, you have the incredible opportunity to join us on an intellectual exploration," George explained. She shot him a disapproving glance before shifting back to Fred who was nodding fervently at his brother's side. "Groundbreaking research," he added, sensing her apprehension.

"I've never exactly thought of you two as intellectual," she sneered.

"Been thinking about us though?" George teased.

She cursed herself for the blush that formed instantly and shifted her gaze back to Fred who was still waiting anxiously to explain the situation.

"All you need to do is eat this delicious toffee," Fred said, producing a brown lump from his robe.

He shoved it towards her and unsuccessfully tried to hide the mischievous glint in his eye with a sweet smile.

She glared at him, remaining silent, unsure of what to say next. What were they trying to pull? And why did they think that she was going to fall for it this easily? Did they think she was stupid?

She narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore her bruised dignity. "You're joking," she drawled, earning fake looks of concern from both of the twins. "What makes you think I'm going to fall for that?"

Fred's long red hair covered his face slightly as he shook his head. "See this is where everyone keeps misunderstanding us, George."

George leaned across the small space between them. "Indeed Fred —Violet darling, clearly our offer is much too transparent to be a prank," he said, now a little too close for comfort. "This is product research for our business so please try and take it seriously."

She scowled at the pet name and leaned away. Why was he being so familiar with her?

Gryffindors. Always too friendly to be trusted. At least her fellow Slytherins never tried to hide their agenda, no matter how much their bluntness stung.

It was difficult to gauge how to best get rid of them. Their puppy dog eyes didn't seem to be affected by rudeness, if anything, it seemed to egg them on further. She decided to try another route instead, hoping to catch them off guard.

"Fine. In the spirit of transparency, say that I do eat it," she said. "What will happen to me?"

Their coy confidence turned to surprise. "It's only ever been tested on a Muggle so we have no clue," George confessed matter-o-factly. "Hence it being such a great research opportunity."

"You'd be a pioneer," Fred finished, a stupid confident grin returning to his face. "Maybe even a legend."

Violet looked down at Fred's outstretched arm and plucked the brown ball from his hand. She stared at it skeptically and brought it up to her nose. It smelled just like normal toffee, but no way it was that simple.

The twins exchanged a nervous glance and she could tell that they were holding their breath.

They most likely doubted her ability to take a joke and were probably nervous about the outcome of their prank, if she did indeed fall for it.

She couldn't blame them, of course. Last year, Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy's toadies, joked about her mother being a muggle during the Halloween feast, and nearly the whole school had witnessed her merciless rebuttal. She stifled a smile, remembering the look on his face when she'd stuck her wand in his mouth and said "Langlock." His friends had scrambled and scratched to open his mouth again and Madam Pomfrey had about reached her wits end trying to figure out how to separate his tongue from the roof of his mouth. She wondered if they'd been there for that, but the sudden hesitation in George's smile told her they were well aware of her short fuse.

Lucky for them though, she didn't have enough energy to fly off the handle today.

She slipped her wand out of her bag and touched the tip to the toffee, muttering a revealing charm. "Specialis Revelio."

The twins lunged forward to snatch their sweet back, but she was quicker.

"An engorgement charm?"

"That's cheating," Fred protested.

"What is this?"

They stared at her with a mixture of defeat and annoyance.

"It's a ton-tongue-toffee," George said grimly. "The newest product from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

She remembered him talking about his plans for a joke shop constantly in Herbology, while his gaggle of admiring Gryffindors hung onto every word but she never thought he could be serious about such a stupid career endeavor.

She frowned. "That's idiotic."

"That's the whole point," Fred snapped. "It would've been funny if you hadn't taken the easy way out."

"What would have been funny?" she countered, relishing in their sudden mood shift from smug to perturbed. "Me casting a counter-charm as soon as I felt my tongue swelling? I thought you two were supposed to be good at pranks."

She tried to hide her delight at the ability to get under their skin. Their presence was unwelcome but not as completely intolerable as she had expected, even as their cheerful nature and goofy grins faded, they were almost bearable.

Suddenly, she saw something dark shift over George's gaze. "Well then eat it, if you're so sure."

Violet's eyes widened, unprepared for the confident challenge. Irritation moved swiftly through her chest. She tried to hide her nerves and glanced down at the ball in her hand. It would be easier to tell them to leave, or even get up and walk away but she couldn't let a Weasley best her.

If living inside of her head was her first flaw, then pride was her second.

Her eyes bore holes into George's, and regardless of what happened next, his look of shock was prize enough as she popped the lump into her mouth. The toffee was a little warm and soft but not inedible, she wondered if their mother had made it.

Her mouth was fuzzy before she even swallowed, and as she had suspected, her tongue began to swell profusely. She poked the tip of her wand to her tongue as it flopped out of her mouth, nearly reaching twice its size.

"Reducio."

The twin's mouths dropped open in shock before they exchanged a curious glance. Even though the counter-charm came out with a slight lisp, as quick as it had happened, her mouth closed around her normal-sized tongue, the caramel-like taste of toffee on her lips all that remained of the prank.

She broke her staring contest with George and glanced back to Fred, but neither looked like they were going to say anything.

Arrogance replaced her irritation and she just couldn't hold back.

"Had you not thought of that?" She asked with a smug smile. "I hope none of your other products are so easily reversible. Who would want to buy something so temporary? Faulty merchandise is hardly a way to run a business."

They both stared at her in displeasure, but George looked more enraged than anything, not that she cared about hurting his feelings. This was turning out to be quite fun, she thought.

"Well, you've been a lovely assistant," Fred said, trying to quell the tension and clearly over the situation. "C'mon Georgie, finding someone less capable than Wilkes will be a snap."

George didn't budge. He just stared back at her, his brow furrowed, like he couldn't remember her name anymore. The thoughtful expression was freaking her out. She waited for him to return to the annoying ginger twat who had entered her cabin without permission but his expression didn't change.

His eyes searched hers for something but she couldn't tell what. She chanted 'fuck off' in her head, hoping that he could see the sentiment reflected in her eyes.

How odd, looking at them now, they weren't identical at all. While Fred seemed to operate as their crazy motor, George was something else…steering wheel maybe? Regardless, she was glad their exchange was coming to an end.

"What would you suggest then?" George inquired with a sneer, standing up to follow his brother out the door. "Since you're so smart."

As if she'd help them.

George loomed over her, blocking her view of anything else. She stared up at him defiantly, not letting his size intimidate her. The question lingered in the thick air between them, ringing in her ears over and over. Surprisingly, she did indeed have an answer to his inquiry, not that she was going to say anything. They didn't deserve her help, even if she could mask it as superiority. She waited for him to leave but he seemed just as content sitting in their tension as she was.

He smirked and that threw her over the edge.

Besting him in his expertise would be a satisfying final nail in the coffin and he'd asked for it. She didn't mind him this way, begging her to intellectually best him.

"Potions," she blurted.

She watched his eyes widen. "What?"

"Potions," she repeated wearily. "If you had used Swelling Solution, it wouldn't have been detectable by a revealing charm and no one would take the time to brew its antidote. Victims would be stuck with a fat tongue until the effects wore off, which, apparently, is funny."

It had meant to sound smug but it came out too much like she was tutoring him in earnest. He looked just as surprised at her tone as she was and stood up a little straighter, before reaching for the door. She glanced down at her hands, aware of his eyes still on her, and cursed the sincerity in her voice, hoping he wouldn't take it seriously or respond.

Thankfully, the door clicked shut and his footsteps disappeared down the hall, without another word. She sighed in relief and stuffed the book back into her bag to finally go find Sadie.

Violet shook the strange interaction with the Weasleys from her head and pushed through, packed train car, after packed train car before reaching the self-anointed 'Slytherin Only' door. Out of all the options on the train, her house had managed to claim the worst one. The tables and benches were much more uncomfortable than the stuffy cabins and the openness of the room made every ride a free-for-all.

The window fogged from her breath for a moment but through the sea of green, black, and silver, she could just make out the short, dark-haired girl she'd been looking for.

She wove through the room, focusing on Sadie's scowling face, at the back table. She followed the witch's death glare to a gaggle of girls surrounding Draco Malfoy across the room, holding up some Quidditch pamphlet that was somehow making them squeal. She pushed through a group of large boys lurking around a few older sixth years and successfully made it the length of the train without anyone trying to speak with her, or leer something hurtful, which was prone to happen.

"I was beginning to wonder if you even got on," Sadie said.

"Please, hold your applause," she responded, thankful to hear her friend's voice after months apart.

Sadie smirked knowingly. "Did you yak?"

Violet sat on the bench across from her. "Nope. Almost threw myself out of the window near Manchester though, when the Weasley twins raided my compartment."

She thought about recounting the entirety of the strange interaction but decided against it, as Sadie already seemed perturbed enough.

"Merlin, those spazzy gits never take a day off. We haven't even started the school year yet," she murmured. "Please tell me you unleashed your wrath on them."

Before she could answer, a chorus of ooh's and ahh's erupted from the show going on at the front table.

"Oi get a room or shut the hell up," Sadie yelled, earning her more than a few dirty looks around the room and an especially sour sneer from Malfoy himself.

"Shove off, Baldock," Malfoy sneered.

Normally, Violet would've laughed but she didn't particularly feel like drawing attention to herself today so she turned to avoid his gaze.

"I swear, those girls should be over that albino twat by now," she scowled, staring daggers into Malfoy's back.

"Not everyone has your refined taste Sades."

Her friend fell silent, gazing towards the blond boy dreamily. "Vi, do you think I could kill him? Snap him like a twig or something?"

She laughed and turned slightly, ensuring that Malfoy's ominous gaze was off of them. "Surely he deserves a more painful death than that."

She shifted in her seat to rest the side of her face against the window and smiled at Sadie's hearty, murderous cackle. The cool glass quelled any queasiness left as she watched the sunset over Scotland, signaling that the ride was almost over. Despite her surroundings and previous disposition, it was quite beautiful.

As she has suspected, Sadie recounted the first couple hours of the ride with impeccable detail. Pansy Parkinson had gotten an unfortunate haircut, Theodore Knott had gotten hotter over the summer, and Malfoy wouldn't shut up about the Quidditch World Cup.

Her mind snapped to the dark mark once again. Of course, the Malfoy's had been in attendance.

"He was there?" she whispered across the table.

"Of course he was. As if his family would miss an opportunity to show off to the whole world," Sadie said rolling her eyes.

"What did he say about it?"

"Just the usual. Father this, ministers box that. Gloating twat."

"Did he say anything about the ending…about the Dark Mark?"

Violet's ears rang.

A forgotten picture she'd stumbled upon in her father's abandoned school photo album flashed in her mind once more. Lucious Malfoy swinging his arm around her uncle, clad in Slytherin robes, a year before the war started. Their smiling faces were unburdened from what was yet to come.

The same Lucious Malfoy who was charged with being a Death Eater, but ultimately exonerated.

Sadie shrugged. "Just that he saw Potter running scared like a little girl," she said plainly before launching into the details of her summer. It was the same every year; she fought with her sisters and mother all summer long, and then cried like a baby while saying goodbye to them on the platform.

Violet attempted to tune her out and glanced at the cruel blonde.

This was the closest she'd been to him in nearly two years. Ever since Lucious had recognized her father on the platform, she'd taken every precaution to dodge him in every meal, class, or school event, in order to avoid the things that he knew about her.

The image of both Malfoy's smiles twitching smugly as Lucious recanted the Wilkes family history to his monstrous son on the train platform flashed in her mind. Her father had ushered the family away, uncaring of the secrets that would follow her to school and unwilling to speak about it.

She knew he knew, and even though he had every opportunity to tell the whole school, he didn't. Or rather, hadn't yet, like she knew he would someday. She could tell that he was waiting for the most opportune time by the way he said half-blood, and blood traitor instead of her name and the way his eyes were always just a little too confident when regarding her. The anticipation and fear seemed to be torture enough, for him. Surely though, it was only a matter of time.

His presence suddenly became too much. The thought of sharing a room with someone so amused by the ridicule of anyone who wasn't of pure-blood made the taste of bile claw up her throat.

"Sades," she interrupted her friend who was still animatedly speaking. "Wanna head back to mine and change?"

The dark-haired witch nodded and chattered on.

She led them both back down the train, breathing freely again among less threatening red, blue, and yellow students. She was relieved to have Sadie rambling at her side, yelling at first years in their way, and shoving leering seventh-year boys back into the cabins.

They finally reached the last car, and suddenly, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. A tall redhead was leaning against the wall outside of her cabin. He was staring down at his shoes and muttering something. She couldn't tell which one it was from this angle but had a hunch.

Two times in one day? She must be cursed.

Her stomach tangled itself once more with nerves. Maybe he'd come back to enact some cruel revenge on her, for thwarting his prank. She gripped Sadies hand a little tighter, thankful to have her as a backup if things went south. The sound of her footsteps made him finally lookup. She wasn't expecting the expressionless look on his face, and suddenly she doubted that he wanted to harm her at all.

Sadie saw him not a second later and pushed past her, letting go of her hand and yelling, "Bothering her once wasn't enough, you back for more Weasley?"

George's calm face suddenly contorted into panic as Sadie shoved past him and into the cabin. Violet didn't move, and stared at him from a few paces away, unsure of what he was doing if not pranking her.

She hadn't noticed his height earlier when they were sitting, but now that she stood in front of him, it was a shock to be eye level with his chest. Concealing her nervousness to the best of her ability, she met his eyes.

"What?" She said deadpan, hoping to convey his unwelcomeness as much as Sadie had.

He furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground for a moment, failing to hide a flustered blush.

"Sorry…erm — I thought I forgot something —talk to you later," he mumbled through a forced smile. The sudden change in demeanor was surprising. His attempt at confidence was oddly manufactured and she saw, for the first time, a glimmer of shyness.

Git. He probably needed his brother for backup.

Before she could say anything, he brushed past her and sped down the hall and out the door.

"What the bloody hell was that," Sadie said, scrunching her nose in annoyance. "Freaks, the lot of them."

Violet's stomach detangled itself and she turned to watch the floppy long hair retreat from view. She nodded in agreement but kept her mouth closed.

#george weasley x original female character #george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #dating george weasley

26 notes · View notes

asktheheirofslytherin · 4 years

Text

[[OOC: Putting most of this one under a read more because it is very, very long. ]]

"Killing your father is not the greatest decision that you have made, Professor. It would mean that you have held a grudge against him for leaving you and your mother. It would also mean that you have at least pitied your mother for going through that and becoming mad at him for not being there for you, furious at your mother falling in love with that horrendous man. " Thirteen said absentmindedly before sighing.

"Don't mind about what I said." She told him as she waved it off.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him when asked about killing them.

"I may be powerful, Riddle, but I do not kill people without any real reason behind it. Yes, they may have tortured me throughout my childhood but I do not want to wish it upon anyone, not to mention, if I ever did kill them then it would mean that I have lowered myself to be at their level! I'm lucky and surprised that they have let life this long. Other escapees have tried to escape but they would always die. A miracle you would say for what happened to me yet a curse at the same time." She snapped at him unintentionally letting out a bloodthirsty aura, her eyes swirling red, her hair levitating a bit, and her mark glowing. She closed her eyes, let out a sigh as she relaxed, and went back to normal before she stood up from the chair.

"I'm sorry that I snapped, sir. It was uncalled for." She told him as she bowed to him before she sat back to her chair, holding her arm that held the mark, rubbing it sheepishly.

"Him? Oh, you don't want to know Him. Cain is a different person than Him. Too different, some might say that He is the punisher and Cain is the sinner." She told him as she looked down. Not wanting to look at him for her childish outburst.

"I'm sorry for my outburst, Professor. This conversation has fallen deep than it should have." She told him before she looked at him. She stood up and teleported behind him.

"It's too bad that you wouldn't remember any of this, Professor." She whispered to him before she touched on the back of his head and used one of her powers using the blue eyes, making him close his eyes and sleep.

His body limped on the chair and was about to fall on the floor before she catches him with the levitating spell.

She touched his shoulder and she teleported him to his bedroom. She levitated him in his bed carefully and tucked him. She snapped her fingers and changed his clothes to his sleeping clothes before walking to him. She touched his forehead lightly to lock their conversation away and hypnotized his memories a bit to the situation before the conversation and she dismissed him and she went to her dorm while he went to his home and sleep.

She sighed and teleported away from his room, after leaving him a small vial of blue grace, letting the professor sleep and gave him dreams on his dreams coming true, and protecting him without any nightmares.

She teleported to her dorm with her blindfold on and changed her clothes. She put the notes in her binder and went to sleep as the sun started to rise.

She silently thanked God that tomorrow was a Saturday and has no classes. She needs to get to the bunker again and fast. Some more research has to be done. But first, she was needed somewhere else.

Thirteen may have arranged his memories and such. But emotions were harder to control and manipulate. So Riddle will always have a nagging feeling about having to talk to Thirteen tomorrow morning, that is if he can catch up to her.

It was now Saturday morning and Thirteen had finished breakfast at the Great Hall. She walked to her dorm and waved her wand to reveal a fake floorboard beside her bed. She opened it and grabbed the backpack that was underneath it.

She concealed the board again then walked to the forbidden forest. She went deep inside the forest and then she saw the waterfall with some broken structures. Some of the structures had some unknown runes while some had sigils. For an average witch or wizard, they wouldn't recognize any of the drawings. But Thirteen did, how can she not if she was the one who put it there.

She was standing a few inches away before she put her hand in mid-air then the atmosphere started to gloss like it wasn't real, like it was a barrier. She smiled to herself and just went straight in.

She knew she was being followed again, she wasn't known for being discreet. She sighed but still kept walking towards a small cottage.

There was a little girl, with soft pale skin, black hair, and grey eyes and a little boy, with white hair, blue eyes, and pale soft skin who both looked to be 5 years old. They looked up to her and squealed as they ran to her, screaming, "Mama! Mama!"

She knelt and was tackled by her two loving kids.

"Hey, kids!" She told them with a laugh. She felt so carefree.

She kissed them both on their foreheads.

"Mama! When will you be staying with us again?" The little girl asked Thirteen.

"Summer is almost here, Constance." She replied to her with a pat on her forehead while her daughter smiled gleefully at her.

"Ma! After your school, can we go to France again?" The little boy asked her.

"Of course, Loki. Now that you mentioned school, how are you learning with Uncle Gabriel?" She asked the twins with a curious look in her eyes.

"We did good!" Loki told her with a grin.

"You two were the most mischievous and cunning little snakes!" A man with blonde hair and blue eyes said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

"Did you two do pranks to him again?" She asked them and they smiled sheepishly.

"I'll take that as a yes." She told them as she smirked at them.

"Hey, sis. Why do you have your blindfold on?" Gabriel asked her with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, about that, Gabes. Old habits die hard." She told him as she took it off before standing up and said to Gabriel, "Mm~ I smell something good. Did you cook fried chicken?"

"Yep and some adobo chicken and made some fruit salad."

"That sounds delicious! Come on kids, let's eat?" She asked her twins to which, to her surprise, shook their heads no.

That's odd, they would always jump at the word fried chicken.

"We want to play some more, mama!" Constance reasoned as Loki nodded.

"Hm... What about after eating I'll teach you some magical creatures?"

"Really?" Loki said to her with excitement in his eyes.

"Mhm, I learned about some new creatures from the books and professor,"

"Professor Riddle?" Constance said with her head tilted.

"Mhm." She said to her little angel.

"Yes! Professor Riddle is the best!" Loki said, jumping with glee.

"Really? Out of all the stories that she told you about her professors, you like Professor Riddle?" Gabriel asked the twins with a smirk on his face.

"Mhm! Oh, mom! Can we go meet him one day?" Loki asked his mother while Constance just nodded her head at her mother.

"Gee, I don't know. Professor Riddle is always busy with research and stuff."

"🥺" (←They did this look) This made the twins do the puppy eyes.

"Alright, I'll mention it to him later. Man, you two are so persuasive." Thirteen said to her kids as pinch their cute chubby cheeks.

'They're so cute and persuasive, damn. They might end the world with their cuteness,' She thought to herself.

"Yeah, after you explain about to these little twerps," Gabriel said to Thirteen as he walked to her.

"We're not twerps! You're just a jerk!" Constance retorted to Gabriel.

"Yeah!" Loki said as well. This made Thirteen and Gabriel laugh.

"Which reminds me, why do you like him so much?" She asked her twins curiously.

"I want to be like him when I grow up!" Loki reasoned to his mother.

"Makes sense since he is an interesting soul," Gabriel shrugged.

"I want to marry him," Constance said simply which made her mother's eyes go wide and Gabriel choke on his saliva suddenly making him cough.

"Why? You haven't seen him what he looks like, what if he had buck teeth?"

"I don't care, as long as he's mine! " Constance said a smile that made her mother worried, Loki says?" And Gabriel laugh.

"Great! My daughter is persuasive and possessive! What did you do, Gabriel?!" She said to Gabriel.

"Don't look at me! They're your kids! They came out of you! You should know that! And besides, it won't surprise me if she ever becomes a yandere." Gabriel said as he mockingly put his hands up in a surrender motion as he took a step back.

The mother and the twins looked at each other and tilted their heads at Gabriel.

Gabriel had his eyes wide and said, "Nope! Oh hell now! Just go inside and eat dammit. Food's probably cold now."

Then they went inside the cottage and ate some food.

---------

“Well of course I held a grudge,” Tom said, shrugging. “I do not see how the need for revenge could be a bad thing. The feel of the final act - the fear in the man’s eyes as I confronted him, raised my wand, let him comprehend what was about to happen-” Tom’s eyes glinted red for just a moment as he allowed himself to relish the memory - and then he recalled he was with a student. This was not appropriate in the slightest, he chided himself. “Anyhow,” he continued, shrugging. “I feel that more than enough of a good reason to kill, no? Ah, I suppose we are dissimilar. Perhaps for the best, then.”

“Outburst? Oh, no, it is fine, and facinating - and perhaps even fair after my own indiscretio-” And then everything went dark.

The following morning, with no memory of his late-night conversation with Thirteen, Tom ate his eggs with relative unease. He was not quite sure what caused this - he had a productive night working on research, then slept quite well - but he had a feeling he was forgetting something, needed to do something. He double and triple checked his calendar, both official and... extracurricular, but no, there was nothing. And so he scanned the Great Hall, eyes lingering on the Slytherin table. There had been a student he had to meet with. The odd girl, Thirteen. If only he could remember why. And he did not see her seated with her peers. Of course not.

Still, he had seen her on weekends before, wandering the grounds, alone. Perhaps he would go for a walk after he ate, and if all went well, perhaps he would run into her.

12 notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 4 years

Text

Meant to post this a long time ago...found it tucked away in my folders from YEARS ago...a Jily fic that I had too much fun writing even though its kinda terrible...

Third Year-Early October

At one o’clock in the morning Lily Evans’ eyes snapped open and refused to droop shut. She moaned and flopped onto her side. Of all the things that annoyed her most in the world being awake at unholy hours of the morning was at the top of the list.

Changing positions again she listened to the heavy breathing of Mary McDonald on the right, Marlene McKinnon’s rather loud snores to the left, and Dorcas Meadows dead center. Poor Mary was trying to battle a cold and she was losing. And Marlene’s nasal passages would never be the same since Sirius Black “accidentally” wacked her with a bludger bat at the start of the year. Dorcas insisted on continuing a practice of deep breathing exercises as it would help with remains in a deep slumber all night. Alice Fortescue was the only one who was quiet in her sleeping habits. Besides the occasional round of sleep walking. They once awoke to her trying to crawl into bed with Mary insisting it was essential to “snuggle.”

Unexpectedly, Lily’s stomach gave a small groan. She tried to ignore it knowing for a fact that an entire basket of rolls disappeared at dinner because of her lack of self-control. In her defense, however, the spiced apple butter was divine that evening. There was no way she could be hungry. It was just a protest of the awful subjection she had put her body through; it had to be.

Flopping onto her belly, Lily tried to get comfortable. Usually, she had no trouble with falling asleep. Her bed was always the perfect balance of firmness to squishiness. Keeping her eyes closed she attempted to use Marlene’s snores as a sort of white noise to lull back to sleep with.

Her stomach growled again.

This was ridiculous.

Shoving off her blankets, Lily eased out of bed, her feet hurriedly finding her slippers so they wouldn’t have to touch the cold floor. Holy hippogryphs the room was freezing. Groping around at the foot of her bed for her robe, Lily pulled it on and crept to the door. Making sure her wand was tucked in her pocket, she glanced back at her roommates to make sure she hadn’t disturbed them. After less than a minute, their usual sleep noises commenced unaltered. Alice muttered something about her love of toads, but that was normal.

Slipping down the stairs to the Common Room, Lily hoped there were no other students still awake. Thankfully as she descended the stairs she could hear nothing but the usual night sounds of the castle. Outside the wind bristled sharply. It seemed to mold with the castle as it blew but that didn’t stop it from pounding against Gryffindor Tower.

Shivering unconsciously, Lily pulled her robe tighter around her slender frame. The movement caused her hair flopped in her face. Scowling to herself for not grabbing a tie for her hair she entered the Common Room. It was always a bit eerie to see it so empty. Only a few torches were lit, just enough that she could see a few lone books were scattered here and there, an abandoned sock, a quill. Just the usual. Amazingly enough Gryffindor’s were somewhat neat. Though she couldn’t see what was stuffed between cushions or stacked on the back tables by the windows.

Settling down on the armchair closest to the fireplace Lily sighed and breathed in the lingering scent of smoke. The other students must have called it an early night, there wasn’t a bit of heat coming from the fireplace. Sighing, Lily snuggled into the chair and thought of home. They had a fireplace. A real one. Dad would have to go out and buy wood off someone so they’d have enough when it got cold in the winter. Once they went out as a family to cut down firewood. That was before Hogwarts. Before Lily was different. Her chest constricted painfully in thinking back. She missed those days. It was when Petunia still called her a friend and gave her presents for silly reasons. Now . . .

The thought came with such suddenness that her heart beat painfully in her chest. Usually she could keep these thoughts at bay. Sure, she missed home, but she couldn’t stand lingering on the emptiness that it made her feel, so, instead she pushed those thoughts away. It was getting easier now. Petunia had recently learned the art of swearing. And swearing methodically so Mum and Dad didn’t get mad at her. It was fine, Lily justified. Petunia was just stubborn.

Her stomach grumbled again.

“Oh for Agrippa’s sake,” she said under her breath. Sure, she was a thirteen-year-old witch that was having a growth spurt, but being this hungry this early in the morning was ridiculous. Glancing around the room she tried to locate a stray candy or maybe someone had left their bag with a snack inside. No such luck.

She could find the Kitchens. Lily could feel her eyes widen at her own thought.

But it’s after curfew.

You don’t even know where the Kitchens are.

And it’s really dark in the castle. What are you? Five?

Having almost made up her mind to just die of starvation up in her bed a loud scrape caused her to jump. Pulling her knees into her chest, Lily glanced around. You are fine. Calm down. There’s probably a bat outside or something. Something scuffled noisily. That was definitely from inside the tower. Perking up Lily did her best to hone in on the sound. Her stomach rumbled again. Quickly the patter of feet ran down the stairs from the boys’ dorms. Peaking over the top of the chair Lily couldn’t help the audible groan escape her lips.

“Potter.”

Yelping in surprise the boy with unruly hair and crooked glasses locked eyes with her.

“Evans?” He whispered loudly.

“No, it’s McGonagall,” Lily snapped, a scowl seemed permanently forced on her face whenever she was around him. But, curiosity couldn’t keep her at bay as to why he was awake. Sitting up on her knees to face him, Lily crossed her arms. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responded. He crossed his own arms and glared at her with the same malice she was sure was in her own eyes. The torch just by the stairwell reflected sharply off his glasses, but Lily could catch a small smirk playing on the edge of his lips.

Sighing Lily pulled on an ear lobe. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” he said. His pajamas were mismatched and too small. She caught the pattern of a Quidditch player across his chest and snitches splattered everywhere else charmed to fly around. There was a little skin exposed between the edge of the shirt and the bottoms, which hung at least two inches above his ankles.

They were quiet for a few moments until James cleared his throat. “Sorry about turning your hair blue.”

Lily’s scowl returned. “If you were sorry you wouldn’t even have been aiming your wand at my head in the first place.”

“Accident,” James sputtered, Lily could see color springing up on his cheeks. “I was aiming for Sirius.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ah well,” the boy replied, his cheeky arrogance returning as though it had never left. He took a few steps toward the Portrait Hole. “I gotta go find chocolate for Remus.”

“Didn’t he go home for the weekend?” Lily asked scrunching her nose. She could have sworn she saw Professor McGonagall escorting him from the Common Room earlier that afternoon.

“It’s for when he gets back, obviously,” James rolled his eyes. His glasses slipped down his nose

Harrumphing, Lily climbed off the chair and walked over to her classmate. He’d gotten taller over the summer and throughout the start of term. Most of his robes hung at least two inches above his ankles, just like his pajamas. He easily stood a head over her. She did not like this new development.

“Where do you plan on finding said chocolate?” She asked trying not to sound hesitant. She couldn’t believe that she was going to him for help with her hunger issue. “There’s none left sitting out, I-I checked.”

He let out a laugh, mirthful and amused. “Wanting to snatch from other’s things there Evans? For shame. But, as fun as that would be, there is a lovely place called The Kitchens that would have everything a hungry stomach could want.”

“Who said I was hungry?” She almost shrieked. But just then (of course it was then) her stomach let loose another growl that could have given a dragon a run for its money.

Grinning James gestured to the Portrait hole. “After you my fine red-headed accomplice.”

“It’s after curfew,” she reminded him, ignoring the fact that barely ten minutes ago she was about to head out into the castle herself.

James shrugged. “All the more fun.” His dark eyes glinted at the prospect.

Don’t do it, a voice that sounded a lot like Mary said in the back of her head.

If it means chocolate, Marlene’s rational butted in. Plus Potter is decently fit. Even with that bare bit of skin you saw, no fat there. Shut up Marlene. Although technically that was Lily’s own consciousness.

“Bah,” she said aloud and tossed her hands up. “Fine. But if we get caught, I have a wild imagination and I will pin everything on you.”

“That’s the Marauder spirit,” James grinned a hand running through his hair.

“No.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare call me a Marauder, or your accomplice, or fine for that matter.”

Pouting James made a pleading motion. “Just for tonight, our little secret.”

“No.” She said again. “I will change my mind about coming with you.”

Her stomach did not agree with that announcement.

“You’re going to wake up half the castle unless you eat, Merlin, Evans,” he grinned cheekily.

Pulling her wand on him, Lily glared him down. “I will use this.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose and gestured for the Portrait. “C’mon, or else Sirius will get up, see I’m gone, and try to come with us. Than we really will get caught.”

Pulling at her bathrobe Lily gave a look over her shoulder back at the staircase that led up to her nice warm bed. Another feeling of doubt came over her. James made an annoyed sound and practically stomped his foot. He would never let her forget if she didn’t go with him. Tying her robe closed (oh Merlin it was her ratty old one with singes all over it after a mishap last summer involving Petunia, muggle garden gnomes, sparklers, and an innocent by standing cat). With as much dignity as she could muster, Lily marched in front of James and out of the Common Room.

It was strange seeing the corridor like this; void of students milling about and very few torches to light the way. Lily felt a bit of awe at this new perspective of the castle. When the Fat Lady swung shut behind her Lily turned to face Potter. He had a look of expectancy about him. That or he’d just realized he needed to use the loo.

“Well?” Lily asked crossing her arms.

“Well, what?” James scrunched his nose confused.

“The Kitchens!” Lily hissed. It took all her effort not to scream at him.

His eyes widened and he bobbed his head a few times. Lily started a list in her head of how she could kill him, or get him expelled. “Ah, yes. Evans, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I lied to you about knowing where the Kitchens are.”

She stared at him blankly. He scratched his nose. Pursing her lips, Lily got to number ten on her list (less than a minute, that had to be a record). It was especially special seeing as it would both kill him and get him expelled. Alas, she had no way of getting a chainsaw into Hogwarts.

They stayed like that for a few moments longer until Lily punched his shoulder as hard as she could. He squawked in surprise leaping to the side.

“Careful Potter or you’ll wake up the whole castle,” she mimicked looking up to the Fat Lady…who was noticeably absent from her portrait. For the love of Gryffindor.

“Oh dear, that’s terribly awkward,” James said mildly. He didn’t sound the least bit concerned about the predicament, nor very keen to find a solution.

Trembling with a mix of rage and annoyance Lily rounded on him. She felt like she could burst into tears at his stupidity. Never mind hers. It was his fault. He had dragged her into this. “Fix it.”

“Unfortunately there’s not much to do,” James shrugged. He pulled his wand from his pajamas pocket and cast Lumos. “May as well explore, shan’t we?”

Shaking her head quickly, and rather violently, Lily’s hands balled into fists. “I am not going anywhere with you, you, you pigheaded toerag!”

Her goads only caused a grin to spread across his face. In the light of his wand the expression was frightening; in the sense that it looked impish and overly pleased at the situation. Before he could say anything, a noise sounded down the corridor and the undeniable yowl of a cat.

“Please tell me that was Elvendork,” James said frantically waving his wand around.

“Who in the world is Elvendork?” Lily asked as she tried prying on the Portrait Hole praying to whoever would listen that it would open.

“Your cat.”

“My cat’s name is not Elvendork. Besides that’s a name for a male cat, mine’s a girl.”

“Elvendork is a perfectly unisex name.”

“Potter.”

“C’mon, if that was Mrs. Norris, Filch’ll be just behind her.” Without waiting for a response, James grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled down the corridor and through a hallway she wasn’t familiar with.

Losing track of the turns and stairwells they took, Lily felt as though her lungs would explode. Finally, James came to a stop. Dropping her hand, he glanced around the new corridor they found themselves in. Doubling over Lily gasped for breath clutching her midsection. Running on an empty stomach was not a good idea.

“Where are we?” she asked him as soon as a bit of air returned to her lungs. Not answering, James held his wand up and examined the corridor, there were many pictures clamoring about despite the late hour, even fewer torches graced the walls, and a distinct cold draft made Lily regret not putting socks on with her slippers.

“I don’t know,” the black-haired miscreant murmured. He continued muttering under his breath, examined the portraits and pressed his nose up against a window to get a view outside. “Ah. Fourth floor it seems. North end, I do believe the Hufflepuff Common Room is somewhere around here. Interesting. I didn’t know this hall existed. Evans, do you have bit of parchment?”

Still breathing heavily (which was an utter embarrassment seeing as he was doing just fine) Lily glared at him in a way that she hoped would emulate the effects of a Rash Growing Hex.

“And maybe a quill?” He ignored her heated glare and continued to look about, memorizing the corridor.

“I do not have any of those items I’m afraid,” Lily said combing her hair back as best she could. “And you are mistaken as to where we are, Hufflepuff’s Common Room is down near the first floor and dungeons.”

James’ eagerness fell. “Oh. But—I thought. . . Oh well. That’s disappointing. I heard their Common Room is right next to the Kitchens.”

Yanking her hands free of her bedhead hair Lily gave James a pointed look. “You heard the Hufflepuff Common Room is right next to the Kitchens?”

“Yes, that’s what I just—oh, I see,” James nodded slowly and rubbed his chin. “Well, as long as that’s sorted out, can we check out this corridor a bit more?”

“I hate boys.” The redhead while pacing in front of a dreadful depiction of Salazar Slytherin (a Gryffindor probably had a good time with that one). “No Potter we will not check out the corridor! Filch or Slughorn or McGonagall- McGonagall. Oh Merlin she will expel us for sure.”

“Relax Evans,” James drawled as he peaked around a statue. “We just tell her you were hungry. She can’t be mad at you for that. Aren’t you the one who is always saying that being honest is the best quality one can have?”

“Yes, I’m sure McGonagall we take you seriously and believe you were helping me find the Kitchens,” Lily muttered under her breath. James had already lost interest with her worrying and seemed intent on memorizing the layout of the corridor and where they were in relation to the ground. “Potter! Can we focus on the one task at hand and get me some food?”

“I need to focus?” He yelled incredulously. Ignoring Lily’s screech to “shut-up before someone hears,” and brilliantly dodging her swats, James shook a finger at her. “Which do you want Evans? Food or to not be caught?”

“You are insufferable.”

“I do try,” he said with a wink.

Lily blanched. Holy hippogriff I need to get out of here. Deciding that it would be better to fend for herself in the dark castle, even if she still got lost rather easily while navigating around, Lily turned on her heel and headed back in the direction they came from.

“Not that way!” James hissed lunging for her just at the same time another voice broke out at the opposite end of the corridor.

“Minerva I’m telling you, there are students out of bed,” the wheezened voice of Filch echoed down the hall.

“I’ve just come down this way not fifteen minutes ago,” McGonagall’s crisp voice came shortly after, and it was growing closer.

Lily didn’t need James to pull her back, she was already scrambling that way, yanking on the collar of his shirt. They collided roughly with a pillar, but neither made a sound, they only waited anxiously as the footsteps of the Professor and Caretaker came closer. When James tried to speak, Lily shushed him angrily.

“At least wait until after Halloween feast to kill me,” he was leaning to close into her as they tried to be as small as possible, “it’s always the best.”

It didn’t merit a response. Lily instead continued her list on possible death accidents that could occur in the castle. If that draft would just stop chilling her to the bones. Her thoughts stopped. James continued lamenting the loss of sweets and turkey he would miss out on if she killed him that night.

Smothering him with a hand Lily pressed her lips against his ear. “There’s a draft, it has to be a secret passageway.”

Immediately the boy leaped forward, slightly amazed at how quiet he was, Lily could only watch him lean against the wall, tapping it gently with his wand. With her heart pounding in her chest Lily couldn’t bring herself to move. A sudden rush of air caught her attention.

“Evans, get over here,” James whispered. Not needing to be told twice Lily spun around and had only enough time to realize that James Potter had managed to open a towering entry way in the corridor without much more that a huge gust of air.

“What?” Lily squeaked out.

“Admire my handiwork later, get in!” James responded pushing Lily into the secret passage. Stumbling forward Lily plunged into the darkness. Behind her James muttered a spell and the stone wall closed soundlessly.

Neither said anything, neither moved. After a moment, Lily realized she was holding her breath and very slowly released it. Stale air greeted her lungs on the inhale and it took all her effort not to break out in fits of coughs with the dust that coated the inside of her mouth. It was nasty, even worse than when she had to help clean out her aunt’s attic after she died.

The sound of James’ shuffling feet made her turn, though the passage was a smothering sort of black that Lily didn’t think her eyes would ever be able to see again.

“McGonagall’s yelling at Filch for getting her out of bed for no reason, it’s fantastic,” James sniggered from beside her. “Well, hope you aren’t scared of the dark Evans.”

“Lumos.”

“Ah, yes.”

Sometimes Lily wondered if James was more interested in the reactions he garnered from others than taking care to watch what he said.

In silence Lily led the way down the passage. It was a good thing her mouth was so full of dust and other disgusting tastes otherwise she would have hexed him then and there. The light from Lily’s wand was enough so they could avoid tripping in cracks and large rocks in the way. James remained several steps behind examining the passage as they went. He muttered under his breath but Lily was never able to catch any of it.

As they walked Lily could see changes in the structure of the walls, there were parts that seemed quite old, especially as they traveled farther down. Most of the rock and stone used in the construction was different than that of the rest of the castle. Granted the were walking inside the walls. How had she not known this existed? It was a magical castle founded by witches and wizards.

Suddenly, James began chuckling to himself. Pointing her wand in his direction, Lily raised an eyebrow. “What? Did you come up with another pun to make out of the naming of the planets? Or better yet another cruel name to call Dorcas?”

“Technically, Sirius was the mastermind behind both of those items,” James said quickly ducking out of the glow of her wand. “I’m not that cruel.”

“I beg to differ,” Lily muttered so quietly she wasn’t sure he even heard. Clearing her throat, she cast her gaze forward. “Then what is so amusing?”

A hand immediately went into his hair, both continuing to scruff it up and shaking out mounds of dust that he’d collected on their journey. “I just never thought I would be able to get the Great Lily Evans to break the rules.”

“Oh, I’m not breaking the rules,” Lily replied. “I have a perfectly good reason to be out of bed. It is completely unethical to starve a student; therefore, I should be allowed to find food in a desperate situation. There’s an exception that allows the rule breaking.”

Yawning loudly, and not at all convincingly, James cut her off. “All I heard is, “I am Lily Evans, I know the difference between brewing a Pepper-Up potion and a Sleeping Draught. Therefore, I can do whatever I want.’”

“I do not sound like that,” Lily scowled at him. “And that is not what I think about myself.”

“Whatever you say Evans,” he shrugged. “Besides, there is a flaw to your plan; if caught you would be caught with me, and no one would believe your innocence then. I am the anti-alibi.”

He seemed so proud of himself for the reputation he’d received, that Lily almost wanted to admit defeat. Almost. “Well, of course I’ve taken that into consideration. I would just throw you under the bus.”

“What?” Rather confused at the phrase James looked head on into the light emanating from Lily’s wand. “Gah!”

Pleased on both accounts of his outburst, Lily chuckled and lowered her wand. Only a little. “It’s a colloquialism Potter, a phrase. Like, “throw you to the wolves.” Just that I’d let you take the blame.”

“Throw me to the wolves all you like,” replied the young man with a smirk. “I’d fair rather well.”

There was deeper meaning to that, Lily was sure, but she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to know it. “Anyway, as you said, no one actually believes you would be innocent in anything mischievous. Thus, if we were to be caught, I would merely be seen as an innocent bystander.”

“You know,” James said as they followed a bend in the old corridor. “It seems to me a miracle that those girls spend time with you. Is this how you treat everyone suck the fun out of them like a dementor?”

The words hit her with such a force that Lily had to stop walking. A shudder rippled through her body and she felt it clamp down on her heart, squeezing it like a wet rag. He didn’t know it, but it that moment all Lily could see was her sister Petunia standing in the kitchen only setting three placemats on the table, telling Lily that a freak like her was sure to suck the life out of the room. It happened the night before she left for school, and she hadn’t wanted to cry about it, until now.

Potter had made it a decent ways down the corridor before he was about to leave the light of the wand. After he realized that Lily was no longer walking behind him, the young boy glanced around and finally saw her standing back, a deep frown etched on her face, her wand arm lowering bit by bit, as well as the light. Without saying anything, she narrowed her eyes at him and turned on her heel.

“Evans, c’mon!” James called after her. He fumbled for his own wand and tried to light his way, stubbing his toe on an uprooted tile, he cursed and swore as he tried to catch up to the other Gryffindor. “You aren’t seriously mad?”

Lily whirled around to face him with such force, the boy had to scramble back to be clear of smacking into her. “What does it look like Potter?”

“You are mad,” he said quietly.

It was in that moment Lily realized that he had never actually had anyone be mad at him before. Sure, she would see and his mates have scuffles, but nothing like the way Lily projecting towards him in this moment. In a way, she could pity him. But the way he oozed confidence even now in the full fury of her angry gaze drove that thought right out of her head just as soon as she thought it.

“Yes, I am. You called me a dementor! I don’t know how thing usually work in your fancy little pureblood world, but calling people names like that is rude and doesn’t do well to make friends. And yes, I am mad. Mad enough to say that you belong in Slytherin.”

They both stared at each other for a long time. Lily’s chest rose and fell and the fury built up within her, she could feel her fingers tighten with rage around her wand. Potter scowled at her, his lips twitching as he tried to think of something to say.

Shoving his glasses up his nose he crossed his arms. “You create an interesting paradox there, Evans. Based on the way you value friendship, if I were in Slytherin, you and I would be quite chummy wouldn’t we?”

Deciding that his comment didn’t merit a response, Lily turned away from him with such fury that she almost lost her balance.

“Evans,” Potter tried again. “The corridor ends just up here, I promise. C’mon.”

It took a moment before Lily turned around and slowly made her way to where he was. She kept her mouth firmly shut. True to his word after a few dozen steps, they came to the end of the corridor. Stepping forward, the young Marauder placed his wand against the stonework, a moment passed before the stone began moving in a slow way, silently easing open to a decent sized crack they would easily be able to pass through.

Lily passed through first and stepped out into what certainly looked like it was near the dungeons. The torches were always larger and closer together in the dungeons. There was always more of a distinct draft.

“Excellent,” James said coming up behind Lily. “I know just where we are.”

Pointing her wand and the newly formed escape route, Lily closed the way off and glanced down the hall. “Which way?”

“I thought we weren’t speaking to each other?” James replied mildly as he took his glasses of and buffed them on his shirt. “Seeing as how I am a Slytherin.”

Unable to look at him, whether out of guilt or annoyance, Lily wasn’t sure. She pointed down one way and decided to take the shot. “Seeing as how you’ve been little to no help tonight.”

“I literally opened a wall and saved us from Filch and McGonagall. All without throwing you under a bus as you say it.”

“Yes, you’ve been so helpful,” Lily said as she began walking. While they weren’t in the complete bowels of the dungeons, Lily still felt unease as they walked. It was always down here that she’d had bad experiences with Slytherin’s, and it was down here she highly doubted any professor would show mercy for students being out of bed. Even if they were hungry.

“You’re being sarcastic,” James scowled from beside her.

“You’ve finally understood the meaning of the red hair.” Lily laughed dryly. She shook her head, lips pursed as she considered what to say. “Honestly Potter, you got me locked out of Gryffindor Tower, dragged me around the castle on the run from Filch. And you haven’t delivered on your promise of getting me food.”

“I didn’t coerce you to do anything,” James reminded her. “You left the Tower of your own free will.”

“You still haven’t gotten me any food.”

James laughed running a hand up to his hair. Rolling her eyes Lily wondered why he always did that. She hadn’t noticed it until the start of this year really.

“If my sense of direction is correct, which it is, we should be nearing the kitchens on the left.” James finally took off down the corridor leaving Lily to sprint after him. Her feet were too loud for her liking upon the cold stone floors.

“What are we looking for?” She asked when she reached him again. James gave her a side look, eyebrow quirked. “Oh please, it’s Hogwarts, there’s got to be a strange magical way to get into the kitchens.”

James snorted, shaking his head muttering something under his breathe, Lily caught something along the lines of “too damn smart.” Aloud he acknowledges her observation. “Right you are my dear—” he dodged a swat from her, “rumor has it that there is a portrait we are looking for.”

“What kind of portrait?” she asked. There were plenty lining the walls, many of figures she didn’t recognize, most were asleep.

“It’s the Kitchens, take a wild guess.”

“See, this is why no one likes you,” Lily muttered looking down a corridor that branched off. She expected to see Filch teetering down at any minute wagging a craggily old finger at them.

“Oi!” James squawked offended. “There are plenty of people who like me.”

“Oh yes, your mother, of course.” They were coming up on a large painting, stretching at least twelve feet up the wall. It was a giant fruit basket. Lily stopped and stared at it, slightly amused. It couldn’t be could it?

“I think we have a winner,” James announced standing beside her. He aimed his wand at the portrait, nothing. “Oh come on then!”

Lily’s stomach grumbled. Scowling at James she tapped a foot. “Well Mister High Adventurer?”

“Get your stomach under wraps, Evans.” James returned the scowl. “I don’t see you helping out.”

“You assured me that that you could get me food, so I assume you can figure this out on your own,” Lily tucked her hair over one shoulder, her fingers catching in some knots.

“I take that as a compliment.”

“How on earth is that a compliment?”

“You said I could figure out how to break into a top-secret lair. Blimey Evans, it’s like being called Merlin himself.”

“I would hardly call the kitchens a top-secret lair, and that in no way relates to being Merlin or anything else of higher power. You’re a pigmy puff in comparison.”

“Hey!”

“Shush!” Lily pointed a finger at him, glaring menacingly. “Hurry up we’ve been out here—”

There suddenly came the high-pitched yowl of a cat. James and Lily froze glanced at one another and then down the corridor. Sitting beneath a torch was a cat. A rather fat cat.

“Elvendork really needs to go on a diet Evans,” James whispered, though Lily could hear a twitch in his voice.

“For the last time, my cat’s name is not Elvendork,” Lily snapped back. Her heart beat out of her chest with great anxiety. “And that is not my cat.”

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves the Poltergeist came swinging down the corridor screaming at the top of his . . . lungs? He technically wasn’t a ghost, nor was he alive so he couldn’t have lungs, could he? Lily didn’t have time to think about the actual answer as James pulled her down the hall.

“Now’s not the time to day dream Evans!”

“I wasn’t,” she began to argue back, but lost her words as James took her hand tightly in his own to guide her through the castle.

Peeves, somewhere behind them continued to make a ruckus, Mrs. Norris meowed again, too close for Lily’s comfort. Losing track of where they were, James finally came to a stop in front of a wall that somehow looked familiar.

Waving his wand, James breathed heavily as the wall moved reveling a doorway. “This’ll take you back to where McGonagall and Filch nearly had us. They’re going to be coming down here any minute so you should have a clear shot to the Common Room.”

“Lumos, what are you going to do?” Lily asked. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t entirely concerned for his safety or well-being, but she really didn’t want to slink through the walls of the castle on her own.

“Remus really likes chocolate,” James winked in the flickering torch like and pushed Lily into the secret passageway. Right behind her the wall quickly replaced itself.

“I’m still hungry!” She shouted even if he wouldn’t hear her. Bloody Potter. Oh she would murder him. She thought of her list from earlier as she began walking. Without realizing it, she was talking to herself. “Oh yes, perhaps a sledgehammer. Combined with the giant squid that’d work wonderfully.”

Moving quickly Lily found herself at the other end of the passage in no time. Carefully she eased out of the wall glancing around to be sure Filch wasn’t standing guard. When she felt sure the way was clear Lily stepped out into the corridor tapping the wall with her wand. Silently, the passage disappeared.

With no idea where she was, Lily held her wand in her palm. “Point me.”

Thank Merlin she paid attention in Charms. As loud as she dared, Lily ran through the castle, stopping only twice to catch her breath, and mutter a curse at Potter. Hopefully he got caught, maybe they’d make him have detention in the Forbidden Forest. No, he’d probably like that. Or perhaps something involving flobberworms. Yes. That was better.

Finally reaching Gryffindor Tower Lily gasped out the password to the Fat Lady (thankfully she’d returned). Either to sleepy or surprised, the Fat Lady said nothing as she swung open. Relief flood through Lily as she clambered through the portrait and made a mad dash to the Girl’s Dormitory.

Once in her room Lily finally seemed able to breathe. Shuffling through the dark, Lily found her bedside table, in the moonlight she saw that it was nearly three. Moaning, Lily added a possibility of disembowelment to her list. She’d decided to call it The Unfortunate Demise of James Potter. It had a nice ring to it.

Setting her wand aside, Lily didn’t bother to take off her robe and got into bed, and was only slightly surprised to find another inhabitant snuggled among her quilts. Chuckling softly, Lily pulled her blankets gently over to her side. Alice made a small protest of “snuggling is mandatory,” before breathing deeply. Still chuckling to herself, Lily’s eyes drooped shut as she, indeed, snuggled up to her friend. Only as she was on the cusp of dreams did she think; did James get caught?

.*.*.

Giggling like a maniac, James Potter dashed among suits of armor, a small sack of fudge clutched to his chest. Behind him he heard the haggard gasps of Filch trying to keep up. Peeves wasn’t making things any easier, but at least McGonagall was nowhere to be found.

As James ducked into another passage, Peeves was right there cackling madly. “It’s a mouse! It’s a mouse!”

“C’mon Peeves, help me out!” James pleaded between pants. The poltergeist made no response besides a howl of glee swooping about.

Groaning, James didn’t dare stop to catch his breath as he stumbled down another corridor. He had spent the better part of an hour running through the dungeons, dodging Filch and cursing Peeves. By a miracle he’d managed to make it to the fourth floor, but now he was trapped. Well, not trapped per say, but he couldn’t remember where there was a passage to duck into or not. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten rid of Evans. Nah. She’d have made this at least ten times worse.

Did he dare tuck away into a broom closet? Perhaps an old classroom. He was too turned around to know for sure where he was.

A left. A right. Two more lefts and he was at a stairwell.

“Merciful Merlin,” he whispered.

Without another hesitation James began scrambling up, only stopping when he heard Filch at the bottom. Thankfully there was a bend in the stairs that kept James from view, his shadow was scarce in the torches. Filch muttered something under his breath but he made no effort to climb the stairs. A long breath left James’ puckered lips.

He stayed where he was though. No reason to underestimate Filch. Not now. Even Peeves lost interest in the chase, giving one last raspberry to the empty air; the Poltergeist darted off. When he was sure he was alone, James came down the stair he’d climbed up and hurried to find another way to Gryffindor Tower.

As he rounded a corner and came within sights of the Fat Lady, James was finally able to breath proper when a cat gave a, affronted meow. Cursing, James spun about twice before his eyes landed on a tabby cat sitting in a window sill. It looked vaguely familiar that James figured it had to be Lily’s.

“Elvendork,” James said cheerily, still a bit breathless. The cat gave him a pointed look as though it were questioning him on why he was out at this hour. “Oh don’t give me that.” He hefted the bag of fudge. “I needed to get something for Remus when he gets back.”

Plucking out a square, James chewed thoughtfully as the fudge melted in his mouth. Elvendork made a noise, nudging James with a paw.

“I went through a lot of trouble, I deserve at least one square,” James defended himself. “I’d offer you a piece, but I don’t think Lily would appreciate me feeding her cat fudge.”

The cat made no sound but seemed to glare at James with tired eyes. Blinking, the young man popped the last bit of fudge in his mouth and chewed quickly. The cat was creepy, just a bit.

“Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” James said hurrying away from Elevendork.

He would swear later that the cat laughed as he woke the Fat Lady up to enter the common room. If he’d paid closer attention though, he would have noticed that the cat was not Lily’s dear “Elvendork.” He would have noticed that this cat had distinct square markings around its eyes.

Safe in his dorm, James fell into his bed, pleased at the adventure he’d had and already thinking of the paths he had taken and where the secret passages lay. As his eyes drifted shut he wondered what would happen if Lily Evans knew he’d been lying. He’d known the whole time where the Kitchens were and how exactly to get into them. A small smile crossed his lips as sleep over came him. It was the longest they’d ever spent together without her hexing him.

“Progress Sirius, progress,” he muttered sleepily.

“Don’t wanna know,” came a muffled reply.

#jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #James Potter #Lily Evans #mauraders #mauraders era #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #jilytober #Harry Potter #i'm sorry it's kinda bad but i just kept writing and now have to post it

36 notes · View notes

socially-awkward-lvl-over9000 · 4 years

Text

How my OC/Self insert met Satan, the first demon she met and made a pact with.

Can’t put a “read more” cause I’m on my phone and don’t know how.

She was still a novice witch, she didn’t even know any other witches. All she knew was from her books and practicing when her dad wasn’t home. Being raised in a small southern town meant she didn’t exactly advertise her practices. It didn’t help that most of her books recommended having a teacher. One day while thumbing through one of her books she came across a summoning circle. She figured she’d give it a try, not really expecting anything to happen. That night, after her dad left for work and the house was to herself, she set out the candles and chalked the circle out on her bedroom floor. After fretting about it and the details for about 2 hours she finally sat down to try out the spell in the book. At first nothing happened, like she expected, but just as she was about to try the incantation again the candles started blazing higher and suddenly she wasn’t so alone in her room anymore.

She was in too much shock to really react as she looked, from his feet to his face, at what she assumed was a man that was suddenly in her room. Except for his horns and tail, that looked way too real to be cosplay, she would have thought he was just an oddly dressed human. Then again there was also a feeling she got from him, a mixture of anger and something that made it obvious he wasn’t human. Her deer in the headlights stair prompted him to speak first. “Why have you summoned me human?”

His words helped her click in place how and why he was here. “Wait-summon-but-that wasn’t supposed-how did-and who?”

She could tell he was getting irritated at her panicking. “Just state your reason for summoning Satan: The Avatar of Wrath, human.”

The novice witch could feel her pulse pick up as her thoughts raced. “Satan?! Did he just say he’s Satan?! Did I just summon Satan?!” Her panicked cutoff sentences turned into complete babble and then into just quick breaths. “Oh no. Ohnoohnoohnoohno am I SERIOUSLY going into a panic attack in front of a DEMON?! I’m so pathetic! He’s going to kill me and I’m gonna deserve it!” She could feel tears start to form and her muscles tensing as her mind was trapped in its own personal hell of anxiety. The demon stood there, his green eyes watching the young girl tense up and fall apart all at once. To say he was surprised was a bit of an understatement. He had gotten several reactions from witches who have summoned him, but never anything like this. He looked around the room, trying to find anything to calm her down. Her room was packed with stuff, several bookshelves, posters of what he assumed was different anime, stuffed animals, various swords, and clothes strung about. This was one of the few moments that his love of tv dramas may actually come in handy. He casually stepped out of the summoning circle and over to the bed behind her and picked up the comforter to put it over her shoulders. The girl wasn’t even looking at him, she just kept staring wide eyed at the floor with tears streaming down her face.

Her eyes finally turned to him at the contact of her comforter. “Hey, try to calm down, it’s okay.” Satan knew he was nowhere near as good in this situation than any of the characters in his shows, but at least he was trying. The last thing he needed was the knowledge of a human dying of a heart attack because of him coming to bite him in the ass, especially now with all that’s happening in the Devildom. He wasn’t sure if he did the appropriate action, but her rapid breathing slowed a bit so he assumed it at least helped. He moved to start picking up and putting out the candles around, making sure they didn’t start a fire.

While the human calmed down he took some time to take a look at her summoning circle. It seemed fairly basic, if he hadn’t been willing to be summoned he was certain her call would have never reached him. The only reason he was willing was because he knew making a pact would piss Lucifer off, especially not long after Asmo made his. He decided the easiest way was to be open to a summons and test his luck on whoever called him. Out of anyone that could have summoned him though, he just had to answer the call of some kid. He looked back at said kid, she was still crying but her breathing had evened out. Satan decided his best course of action would be to simply sit beside her as she calmed down. He could have headed home, but then he’d have to explain to Lucifer where he had gone and even the well read Satan had no idea how to explain this without having to deal with that smug look on Lucifer’s face. “Are you okay?” She nodded, a little less tense now that he wasn’t standing menacingly over her and now the initial shock has worn off. “Can you speak?”

He gave her a Moment to wipe her eyes and collecte herself. “Y-ya, sorry… a-are you a-a demon?”

Her hazel eyes looked at him. She still seemed scared, but she wasn’t cowering in fear at least. “Yes, I am a demon.” He wasn’t going to lie to her, but he also didn’t want to deal with her panicking again.

She clutched the blanket to her. “And I summoned you?” He nodded. “But… how?” She picked up the book that had fallen next to her, with all the other books thrown about Satan hadn’t noticed that particular one, and flipped to the page with an identical basic summoning circle. “It didn’t say anything on what it would summon… it wasn’t even supposed to work.”

The demon skimmed the book of witchcraft over her shoulder. The circle she drew was exactly like the one in the book, but he could tell whoever wrote this book had no idea what they were talking about. “Do you mind if I take a look at that book?”

She sniffled and handed him the book. “S-sure. I’m gonna, um, go blow my nose.” The brunette shakily got up, put her blanket on her bed, and walked out the door.

Satan skimmed through a few pages while she was gone to confirm his suspicions, whoever wrote this book had no idea what they were writing about. Judging by a few other books scattered around Satan could guess that the human who summoned him was novice, still budding, witch. She was obviously pretty impressionable and, judging from the amount of child-like things adorning her walls and shelves, fairly innocent. From hundreds of stuffed animals, cute child-like furniture, even glittery fairy stickers on her wall that she most likely stuck on when she was small. Which brought up another question, how old was this girl. Satan would never love it down if his brothers found out he was summoned by a child.

Said human had broken him out of his thoughts when she entered the room again. “So, um, what happens now?” She stood at her doorway, her eyes and face still red and she was shaking slightly still.

The demon stood, noticing he was much taller than her. She looked so small, in every sense of the word. “Well, usually when someone summons a demon they usually want that demon for something and offers something else in return, though considering how you didn’t even expect this to work I doubt you’ve thought about this part.” She looked at the floor again. Satan was almost irritated about how she refused to look him in the eye, always at his feet or the floor. He decided to let it pass since it was clear the human was nervous and scared. He waited but she just stared at his feet. “Well then, I guess we should get formalities out of the way, names and all. I am Satan, Avatar of Wrath, and you are?”

Her gaze rose to his chest, it was a start. “I’m, um, Allie. No special title, just Allie.”

He moved to sit on the bed, it was small, purple with butterflies, and was filled with more stuffed animals and pillows. He motioned for her to sit next to him. As they sat in silence Satan weighed his options. He could make a pact with this girl, this succeeding in his goal of pissing off Lucifer, or he could simply go home and have to explain this whole ordeal later. If Satan had to be honest with himself he would rather just make a pact then try to deal with the embarrassment of being summoned by accident. Still, there was one question still on his mind. “Tell me Allie, how old are you?”

She was looking down at her hands now. He caught her eyes glancing at him, but nothing more than a fleeting glance. “Seventeen.” He was a bit relieved she wasn’t as young as he thought, with how small she was he assumed she was around thirteen, but she was still fairly young.

“Well Allie, is there anything you would want from me?” He didn’t mention the pact at first only because he knew she probably didn’t know what a pact was in the first place and he wanted to ease her into the suggestion.

Unfortunately for the Avatar of wrath, this girl did not exactly respond the way he expected. “I don’t know.”

He raised a blond eyebrow up at the human. “You don’t know?” The human simply shrugged her shoulders, still watching her own hands. Satan could feel his anger rising, but he did his best to control it. “Surely you have some idea of what you could want.” Still more silence, Satan got up from the bed and began to look through one of her four bookshelves. For an infuriating human he was at least glad he was summoned by one that likes to read. He figured maybe a book would keep him calm, but as he looked through the shelves something else drew his attention. As he walked closer to a pile of stuffed animals he heard a familiar “Hisssss” and looked over to a small grey kitten that looked frightened by him. “You have a cat?”

He heard the human get up but his attention was still on the kitten. “Ya, her name is Kira.” The human knelt down and started to pet the kitten. “It’s okay Kira, it’s okay baby girl.” The little kitten seemed to relax a bit at its owner's touch, but it’s eyes were still fixed on Satan. The demon went ahead and sifted to his human form, trying to scare the kitten a little less. He held out his hand and after a bit of hesitation the kitten bumped her head on his hand. “This is Kira, she’s a Russian Blue, or at least I think she is.” The girl looked over at the demon and saw that he was similar but different. He still had the same messy blond hair but his horns and tail were gone and his black and green outfit was replaced with a sweater and jeans. He looks like a regular handsome man.

Satan caught the girl staring, but since she still wasn’t looking at his eyes she didn’t immediately notice he had turned his attention to her. “I figured she was probably frightened by my demon form, in case you’re wondering.”

Kira warmed up to him and the demon began petting the little grey kitten. “Hey,” The human got his attention, but was still not looking in his eyes. “Do… Do you know magic? Like Witchcraft and Wicca?”

The demon raised a blond eyebrow. “Well, Witchcraft and Wicca are two different things, albeit usually intertwined, but yes I know quite a lot on the subjects. Why do you ask?” Satan had an idea why, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

She looked over at her scattered books. “Um, what would you want in return for teaching me?”

Now he had her, though he had to admit that teaching a novice witch The Craft wasn’t the worst thing he could have been asked for. It also helped that she didn’t seem like a particularly irritating human. “Well, I’m actually looking for someone to make a pact with.”

The girl looked at his mouth at his shoulder as he spoke, that particular habit he was going to have to get used to. “What’s a pact?” He knew this question was going to come.

“Basically it’s like a deal, or a contract. We’ll be bound together, to a degree. You can summon me specifically, and I’ll help you, but I will require something in return.” He left out the part about him being able to control him, as nice as Allie seemed he didn’t know if she would take advantage of that power or not.

She shook her head, seeming to understand. “Well, what would you like in return?”

The demon had to give her a little credit, she was at least thinking this through. He looked around, he knew she most likely would say no to the entire arrangement if he asked for anything extreme. Though he had a reasonable idea in mind. Leaning back and picking up a book that he didn’t recognize, but looked considerably interesting. “How about books?” She had a confused look on her face, but before she could voice her question he continued. “Getting books from the human realm can be tedious, and I do love reading. So, do we have a deal?”

He held out his hand, her kitten still bumped her head on his hand wishing to be pet more. It didn’t sound like a bad deal to her, so she decided she might as well jump in. She wasn’t sure how else she was going to find a teacher, and ,for a demon, he was actually pretty nice. “Deal.” She took his hand and instantly felt something. She wasn’t sure what it was, like she had been shocked without the pain.

She felt something was different, but it took her a bit to figure out what. She thumbed at her upper right thigh, something felt off there. He smirked a bit as he watched her finger at her shorts, right where he placed his pact mark. “Don’t worry, that’s just my pact mark.” He was actually a bit impressed that she was able to sense his pact mark so soon, she did at least have some potential.

“Pact mark!?” She immediately let go of his hand and lifted up the leg of her shorts to reveal the tattoo like formation wrapped around her thigh. It looked like he had written the words that delicately wrapped around her thigh himself. Two simple lines, making up their promise. That he would teach her magic in exchange for literature. Such a simple promise, but a very important one. She fingered the mark. It was more than just a mark, it was her new connection to him and vice versa. As she swiped her thumb across the letters he could feel her curiosity and wonder, then the fear and self loathing starting to bubble. “My dad is going to kill me if he sees this….” She was still fingering the pact mark so he could tell there was something else bothering her, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. The pact was still new, so it was sensitive but not yet strong.

Either way, Satan had gotten what he wanted and felt it was time he headed home. “First order of business, I’m going to teach you how to summon me and send me home. Thankfully, with this pact, there is no need for a summoning circle.” That was her first lesson, and the book he took back with him was the sloppily written book of witchcraft that she had used to summon him on accident. He wanted to correct it as much as possible before the naive girl learned any bad habits or misconceptions that were common amongst novice witches, and with her actually having some natural talent made it possible that those could get her killed.

Of course by the time he made it home it was past curfew, which made running into Lucifer inevitable. The green eyed demon couldn’t help but to smirk when he heard that bastard's voice. “Satan! What were you doing out past curfew?”

The eldest was already upset, perfect. Satan could barely contain his excitement for what was to come as he turned around. “I was summoned, just got back.” He couldn’t hide his smirk as Lucifer understood where this was going. “I couldn’t let Asmo have all the fun in pact making could I?” The lecturer he got that night was worth it.

#oc talk #Little Witch Allie #sorry it’s so long #obey me

34 notes · View notes

tvdversefanfiction · 4 years

Text

Origins of Magic

Warnings: I do not own the rights to the television series “The Originals”, “Vampire Diaries”, or “Legacies” and do not own any of the characters within the TVD universe, I am making no profit from this and have no intention for this fanfiction series except for readers to enjoy. 15+ Mild to Strong Violence, Strong Language, Witchcraft, sexual scenes, and sexual references. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN HERE

Chapter 14 - Christmas Eve (Christmas Special)

Caroline Forbes-Salvatore and Lizzie Saltzman

“Let me just tell you that if one brides’ bouquet is not white roses with the slightest drizzle of pink and the others pink with the slightest drizzle of black then I will personally cast each and every one of you into a prison world personally designed to fit and every one of your ideas of hell…do not try me!” Lizzie shouted at her wedding staff, standing in front of them all within the Salvatore Boarding School. “Careful now sweetie you’re starting to sound more and more diabolical by the second.” Caroline joked with her daughter as she walked into the room, before turning her attention to the wedding staff. “You guys better run and get to work now while I distract her.” The wedding staff who looked more than a little terrified of Lizzie jumped at the opportunity to leave her office, scurrying out within seconds of Caroline finishing her sentence. “The kids have only just left for the holidays and I’m already bombarded with Mikaelson’s showing up constantly looking for their room to crash, drink and murder god knows who in.” Lizzie complained as she walked over to her mother. “Planning a wedding for Josie, simple…planning a Mikaelson attending event that does not end in murder on the other hand…” “Sweetie, please…they are not that bad…anymore! Besides, I am sure Klaus will personally dagger any of his siblings who dare steal the attention on his daughter’s wedding day and if he does not then I sure as hell will.” Caroline promised her, attempting to calm down her clearly stressing daughter. “As long as you do not decide to catch up on lost time with Klaus at the reception, I’m sure I can handle a few Mikaelson murders.” Lizzie teased her mother. “Although, I know that is quite the ask mother.” “I could kill Alaric for telling you about that.” Caroline admitted to her daughter. “I just find it funny than you narrowly avoiding being a bride to a Mikaelson and then your daughter winds up getting hitched to the daughter of the man you one day could have and perhaps still could wind up with.” Lizzie laughed, more than amused by the awkwardness of her mother and Hope’s father’s special connection. “I am going to help your sister with getting ready and then check your father has not been too heavy on the bourbon before we walk her down the aisle…please feel free to going back to full planner zilla mode as long as it keeps you off gossiping about my past.” Caroline replied, eager to get out of this situation, knowing that’s exactly what Lizzie wanted her to do.

Elijah Mikaelson and Bonnie Bennett

“Well, if it is not Bonnie Bennett, can you believe we are meeting on a day where neither of us are plotting a move against the other?” Elijah greeted Bonnie after he vamp sped into a beautiful garden area, located near the back of the Salvatore Boarding School, where chairs were placed correctly to each side an arch of beautiful flowers stood freely at the end of the aisle between the two different areas of chairs, all ready for a wedding. “To be honest no but neither can I believe Josie is the niece marrying a Mikaelson but hey the biggest miracle is that somehow despite having your brother’s DNA, Hope has become a truly remarkable woman and will no doubt be a beautiful and deserving bride today.” Bonnie replied to Elijah, being kind despite their troubled past, knowing that despite her issues with the Mikaelson siblings, that Hope, and Josie were perfect for each other. “I am glad you think so, Hope really is what all of my family can only ever hope to be…and I know Hayley will be watching over the proceedings today somehow as happy as we both are for both Hope and Josie.” Elijah responded, wishing nothing more for Hayley to have been able to join Klaus walking their daughter down the aisle. “I’ve been looking for months in preparation of this wedding to find some spell for Hayley to be here, when the Black witches broke the afterlife, I had begun believing there might have been a way…but they fixed all that before I made any real progress.” Bonnie admitted to the noble Mikaelson original. “But I am going to surprise them with a little magical wedding gift to really make this wedding festive.” “It honestly means the world to me Bonnie that despite everything you would try and do something so unbelievably kind for my niece.” Elijah confessed to her. “As for making it snow today if you need any assistance or magical anchor, I am more than willing to volunteer myself.” “It’s a simple spell…not so simple for high school me but I’ve really learned my craft since then.” Bonnie politely refused. “Not boasting or anything but Caroline has given me full permission to take down anyone and I mean anyone who even so much as coughs during the wedding and I am pretty sure she was not joking.” “I doubt she was.” Elijah laughed, genuinely touched by the moment shared between a former enemy.

Kol Mikaelson and Davina Claire-Mikaelson

“I’m not coming for your best friend or anything, but I just think we should’ve maybe got someone else to watch the kids or better yet taken us with them.” Davina said to Kol, as she sat on the passenger seat of her and Kol’s car as Kol drove them on an empty road towards Mystic Falls. “I know you have known her for a long time, but I’ve only had a Greek glimpse into that family, and he is meant to be the best one.” “Davina darling, Rose was a little lost after another failed attempt to find whatever the bloody hell she is looking for and I am sure the kids will love the insanity that she brings.” Kol tried to reassure his wife. “We will not be here long and before you know it, we will be home on time to prepare the presents for Christmas Day.” “I would not miss Hope’s day for the world either Kol I just wish we took the kids this whole Christmas Eve wedding then rushing all the way back home is insane even for us!” Davina continued to complain. “Next time somebody in your family gets married we are taking the kids and nobody else gets to claim Christmas.” “I highly doubt any of my siblings will get married Davina so gladly there will only be one hectic Christmas rush.” Kol laughed, finding the idea of Klaus, Rebekah or Elijah settling down amusing. “If we ever go to another wedding, we will make sure to bring the kids.” “I’m not too sure about that one Kayne does not strike me as a kid person and I’d rather not have whatever the hell he is complaining about my kids on his big day.” Davina laughed. “You really think my brother Klaus is going to wind up marrying anyone?” Kol scoffed. “I know he’s changed a lot lately, but he is never going to find someone even remotely insane enough to tie him down…although Kayne is that level of crazy for sure.” “Elijah’s always dressed for a wedding maybe it will be him, Rebekah was married to Marcel albeit briefly maybe, they two will give things another shot, or she’ll fine somebody to walk her down the aisle.” Davina contemplated, wondering whose wedding she would be attending next, hoping whoever it was, hoping that it was not on Christmas.

Rebekah Mikaelson and Mayor Matt Donovan

“I had hoped you would one day get yourself out of this town, instead you’re the bloody Mayor although I admit of all the Mayors, I have slept with in my time you were definitely the most memorable.” Rebekah declared, after vamp speeding her way into the Mystic Grill in an attention-grabbing red dress, finding Matt Donovan stood there in the empty bar, wearing a smart suit, ready for a wedding. “It’s been a long time Rebekah, I heard you had a wedding yourself, but I guess having the sort of ex-boyfriend there would have not been good especially considering your husband is an upgraded original…whatever the hell that is.” Matt replied to her, with a smile on his face, happy to see an old friend. “Marcellus and I parted ways not long after marriage…if I am to one day get that cure once Damon has lived a long human life than I am going to need a human partner to grow old with and bitch about our grandchildren together.” Rebekah admitted with a sense of sadness, the wounds from her breakup with Marcel still fresh. “What about you Mr. Mayor? Were there any weddings I was not invited to on your behalf?” “There was someone once…” Matt confessed, struggling to think about the loss of his fiancé Penny Ares. “But she died before we got a chance to make it down the aisle.” “I am genuinely sorry to hear that Matt, if anyone deserves all the happiness in the world it is you.” Rebekah told him truthfully, before quickly changing the conversation. “So, why is the dear Elena Gilbert and the severely whipped Damon Salvatore missing the wedding of the century?” “Elena Salvatore is away doing doctors without borders and Damon’s in New York spending Christmas with their daughter Stefani who’s in University there, he was trying to make it here but did not want to risk missing Christmas with his daughter considering it’s his first without Elena since they both turned human.” Matt informed the female original. “Which is probably a good thing considering he’d wind up saying something stupid and get himself killed by Caroline.” “Stefani Salvatore is in University now?” Rebekah asked in shock, before going on to joke. “I would say something human like I am getting old but since I am over a thousand years old the ship has most definitely sailed.”

Klaus Mikaelson and Alaric Saltzman

Klaus Mikaelson and Alaric Saltzman’s history were a large and tangled one at that, considering Klaus once inhabited Alaric’s body and Alaric on multiple occasions tried and failed to take down Klaus, although many people had tried to kill Klaus to be fair. However, during the time in which Klaus had died, Alaric had become an important mentor to Klaus’ daughter and a father figure that Klaus could not be at the time, it was through Alaric’s acceptance of Hope that led to Hope becoming so close to her eventful bride Josie and her twin sister Lizzie and Klaus knew this was one of many reasons to be grateful to the retired vampire hunter, despite how reluctant he was to admit it. So, when it came to the two fathers of the brides meeting within the Salvatore Boarding School’s gymnasium, Klaus and Alaric found themselves for the first time ever, bonding over the most important day of their daughters’ lives. “Rumour has it, Caroline is trying to hunt you down.” Klaus stated, as he sped into the gymnasium, finding Alaric drinking a bottle of whisky while sat on the bleachers. “I however was hunting down a good drink.” “Who would have thought all those years ago when you were trying to murder Elena at any given moment, and we were all trying to get rid of you that one day my daughter would wind up marrying your daughter.” Alaric replied to Klaus, as Klaus sat down next to him on the bleachers. “Back then I’d have bet good money that either you’d be the death of us, or we’d be the death of you.” “I have to thank you for the part you played in Hope becoming such a wonderful woman that I could not be prouder to call my daughter.” Klaus admitted as he snatched the bottle off Alaric and took a swig. “To put your hatred towards me aside to raise her when I could not and then to not interfere with her and Josie…well it takes a great man to be that accepting.” “Hope was always one of my favorite students largely due to the fact she took more after her mother than her father.” Alaric joked as he snatched the bottle back off Klaus. “Although she has a lot of Mikaelson traits, the best ones…as for her and Josie I always knew they would wind up together and Caroline’s just happy Josie never wound up with Penelope.” “I have yet to see Caroline,” Klaus said with an excited smile, as Alaric took another swig from the bottle of whisky. “I bet she is as breathtakingly beautiful as the last day I saw her.” “Yeah, the last thing Hope, or Josie need to see at their reception is you once again trying to get with Caroline, although I suppose with all the changes it’s kind of creepily comforting to know some things have stayed the same.” Alaric told Klaus, wary of Klaus and Caroline’s inevitable reunion.

Freya Mikaelson and Keelin Malraux-Mikaelson

“Okay so Nik’s off spending the weekend in New Orleans with Vincent and I’ve checked in with work still not getting Christmas Day off but at least I do not have to miss today.” Keelin informed Freya as she walked into the living room of their family home in Mystic Falls. “Well, I did offer to cast a little spell on your boss but you’re the one who said no.” Freya laughed as she gave her wife a kiss on the lips. “With the number of suspicious humans in this town the last thing we need to be doing is casting spells on them.” Keelin replied, before going on to say. “You know it feels like just yesterday we were walking down the aisle and Hope was your teenage niece attending our wedding.” “It’s crazy to think they will soon be starting a family of their own and that my little brother Klaus could one day be a grandfather.” Freya stated, with a sense of excitement for her family’s future. “We just got to hope your family Klaus especially find a way to behave themselves long enough for Hope and Josie to actually get married.” Keelin joked with her wife. “Trust me if anyone can keep my brother in tow it’s his daughter.” Freya promised her.

Bride to be Josie Saltzman

Josie Saltzman had come along way from her goody two shoes student days at Salvatore Boarding School and being daddy’s perfect little girl, after a brief time allowing the darkness within her to take over Josie found herself, her real, unapologetic self. After graduating from Salvatore Boarding School Josie went on to study psychology only to later return to the school as the new guidance counsellor, sharing her expertise alongside her twin sister Lizzie who at that time took on the role of vice-headmistress, the magics teacher Freya Mikaelson and her soon to be bride Hope Mikaelson who had taken on an official protector role within the school, as well as recruiter for students and trainer. It was at Salvatore Boarding School Josie’s love story began, continued, and would now get its happy ending and as Josie stood within the room that was once hers and Lizzie’s staring into a mirror taking in the beauty of her wedding dress, she could not help but be filled with happiness as the excitement over marrying Hope Mikaelson continued to grow. “I must admit despite all the insane intensity she brings to the job your sister Lizzie makes one hell of a wedding planner maybe she missed a calling by taking over the running of this place.” Alaric stated as he walked into the room, continuing to walk over to Josie before giving his daughter a hug. “You look positively stunning although as your father I am clearly biased.” “Well as your mother who is not remotely biased, I can honestly say you are the most beautiful bride in all of existence.” Caroline complimented her daughter, after speeding into the room in a very vampire style.

Bride to be Hope Mikaelson

Hope Mikaelson had found herself sitting on the edge of the bed in the room that was once her bedroom within the Salvatore Boarding School, instead of being unbelievably happy she had found herself in a sad moment as she remembered the dress she was now wearing once belonged to her mother which led her to wishing now more than ever before that her mother was not dead, a wish that was somehow granted. “Considering it’s your big day I kind of expected you to be a little happier.” Hayley said as she walked in, shocking her daughter by her impossible presence. “Well, are you going to hug your mum while you can still see me?” “Mum,” Hope cried, as she stood up from her bed and rushed over to her mother, hugging her tightly. “How are you here right now?” “Some jolly old guy who kept calling himself Santa did some Christmas magic, said he owed you one for helping him out with Krampus at first I assumed he was just some crazy ass witch until suddenly bam here I am.” Hayley explained as she hugged her daughter tighter and tighter. “He said he owed you a favour, guess when I’m watching over you, I miss a thing or two like Santa freaking Claus.” “I’m so happy you’re here, I miss you so much!” Hope continued to cry, beyond happy to be reunited with her mother. “Unfortunately, I have a very small window before I’m back to the afterlife…I would’ve asked to stay for longer but the afterlife’s just getting back to normal.” Hayley explained to her daughter. “Wait, you’re not going to be here for my actual wedding?” Hope asked, as she broke off the hug, her happiness limited after realizing this reunion would soon end. “Oh honey,” Hayley said as she lifted her hand on to Hope’s face, before gently stroking it. “I am always here, always right beside you, watching over you. I was there when you fell in love for the first time with that Phoenix boy, I was there with every monster you killed as you protected your friends, I was there for your Graduation and I’ll be here for everything that comes after your wedding, its just you get to see me today, but I get to see you every day.” “I do not want you to go.” Hope pleaded with tears in her eyes. “I love you!” “I love you too sweetie, but you got a wedding to attend and although you won’t see me, I’ll be watching with nothing but happiness in my heart.” Hayley told her as she gave her daughter another hug. “I had an epic life and now I get to watch you have yours, do not waste anytime not being happy because you deserve the world Hope, and I cannot wait for the two of you to make me a grandmother.” Hope laughed at Hayley’s casual mention of children for a moment before Hayley completely disappeared out of Hope’s sight, out of her arms but instead of feeling the loss of her mother she now realized just how much her mum was never really gone and that realization made her full of happiness and more than ready to get married, knowing her mother would be watching…

5 notes · View notes

thedoctornumber11 · 4 years

Text

Munday post

I figured maybe this week I’d do a different type of Munday. Most of my long time roleplay partners already know me quite a bit and I also try to introduce myself to newer partners as well, however I figured this could be a good chance for everyone to really get to know me. I’m including everything under a read more not because long post and also because I know not everyone likes seeing this type of thing. It’s just a bunch of random facts about me and my favorite things along with a munday pic under the cut. I didn’t want to just throw out a munday picture like most would do. I’ve done that plenty of times before and there’s nothing wrong with it, I just felt like doing something a bit more unique and different this time that might really give people a chance to get to know me :D

So long post under the cut.

So, first off, my name is Derek. I’m the mun. I just recently turned 30 and I’m from Indiana. I work in a preschool, essentially as a glorified baby sitter. I help the teachers get their breaks.

I’ve been interacting on here since November of 2013 and I’ve had this exact blog with this exact URL the entire time. I wanted something really generic and not just a quote or something like that. I first tried TheEleventhDoctor, but obviously that was taken so this ended up being what I went with. As for the theme, it too was made a VERY long time ago. The TARDIS theme with the opening doors on the TARDIS actually used to be quite popular when I first started interacting on here, particularly with the Doctor Who RP fandom. Although I’m the only one I see with it these days, if you go looking for older Doctor Who blogs that have gone inactive you are actually likely to find a few other blogs with it. As for the background picture, I found that one myself except for the part with Matt Smith/The Eleventh Doctor edited on. That part was done by someone I used to interact with who just surprised me with it one day and unfortunately isn’t on Tumblr anymore :( Having been on this platform for so long I’ve obviously seen a lot of blogs come and go and I miss every single last one of them :( However I also enjoy everyone I currently interact with and would recommend almost any of them. Seriously, if anyone is looking for new people to interact with, let me know you are looking for people and what fandoms you enjoy and I can probably recommend a few blogs!

Outside of Tumblr RP, I enjoy video games, yugioh, reading comics, general super hero related stuff, watching movies, playing Pokemon Go (I help run the local PoGo community) general board games, watching my shows, figure collecting, and cosplay, most of which I’m sure is stuff many of you also enjoy. My fandoms include Doctor Who (obviously), DC, Star Wars, The Legend of Korra/ATLA (I’m one of the few that likes LoK more than ATLA), Marvel, Star Trek, Firefly, Power Rangers, The Walking Dead, Yugioh, Pokemon, Sherlock, general Nintendo fandom, Digimon and Harry Potter.

Here’s a few things about me in list form.

My favorite musician is Weird Al Yankovic.

My favorite book is Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robbison. As someone who’s been diagnosed with aspergers syndrome myself, this book really spoke to me in my original read through and since then I’ve purchased it multiple times. I own at least three or four different copies of this book, partially because I kept loaning it out to people.

My favorite book series is the Harry Potter series. Don’t ask me for a favorite book in the series, I love them all about equally.

As for comics, right now my favorite thing I’m reading is the Power Rangers series that Boom is putting out. Some of my favorites of all time include Power Ranger Soul of the Dragon, the Star Trek TNG/Doctor Who crossover, the Power Rangers/Justice League Crossover, the original Spider-Gwen series, Poison Ivy Cycle of Life and Death, The Dark Knight Returns (I know anything Frank Miller related is a bit controversial but I enjoy it for what it is) and Batman: Hush.

Favorite movies include UHF, Scott Pilgrim VS the World, Captain America The Winter Soldier, Captain America the First Avenger, Avengers End Game, the Justice League movie, anything and everything DC animated, anything and everything Spider-Man related (yes, I even like Spider-Man 3 although it wasn’t as good as the others), anything Star Wars related although I’d say Force Awakens is my favorite one, the 2017 Power Rangers movie, Serenity, The Lego movie and it’s sequel, Yugioh Bonds Beyond Time, Mystery Men, Galaxy Quest, all the Star Trek movies, the corny 90′s Mario movie, the Doctor Who movie, and Detective Pikachu. Really, any of the Marvel and DC movies could probably make this list as well, I’m not super picky when it comes to movies.

Favorite TV shows is something I am a bit pickier about. Doctor Who is obviously on the list, and I’ve watched and enjoyed most of the Marvel and DC live action stuff although I have a huge preference for the arrowverse and 70′s Wonder Woman. Animated stuff tends to vary but a lot of the older stuff from the early and mid 90′s seems to be best for that. Power Rangers is obviously on the list as well, along with The Walking Dead, Digimon, Avatar the Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra, Sherlock, Yugioh, Firefly, and off the top of my head that’s about it. Everyone always assumes I’m huge into anime as well, but I’m not actually that into it. Just not my thing.

Now video games has potential to be my longest list as it’s easily my favorite medium of story telling due to the interactivity. First off, Nintendo and Playstation are my general consoles of choice. Nothing against Xbox, I have a lot of respect for the brand but I can’t really afford to have three consoles (even though I wish I could) and Nintendo and Sony have more offerings for me personally. I also do dabble on PC a bit, but I don’t really have a high end PC and it’s mostly just for Sims. That being said, my favorite games and game series include Watch_Dogs, The Sims, Mario (mostly the “main series,” 3D games and 2D platformers but I do enjoy some of the off series stuff like Mario Kart and Mario Party as well) , Pokemon, Super Smash Brothers, The Force Unleashed series, Injustice, most of the Spider-Man games, The Last of Us, Tomb Raider, most of the Batman games, Wario Ware, The Last of Us (still haven’t played the sequel yet. Waiting to get it for cheap after seeing reviews), Days Gone, Control, Horizon Zero Dawn, No Man’s Sky, 51 Worldwide Classics for Switch, No Man’s Sky, the Tony Hawk Games (still haven’t played the new one yet), Time Splitters, The Movies, Hulk Ultimate Destruction, Zombies Ate My Neighbhors, Kirby, The Legend of Korra game (the 3d one, not the really bad one for 3DS), Donkey Kong, Street Fighter 2, Punch Out, Metal Gear Solid 5 the Phantom Pain, Sonic Heroes, and the list could go on and on.

My favorite drink is root beer or chocolate milkshakes if that counts

My favorite alcoholic drink is probably just a basic screwdriver tbh

My favorite food is Cheeseburgers, although Chicken Pot Pie is also a top contender tbh

My favorite color is green

My favorite Doctor is Eleventh obviously, but Thirteen, Two and Twelve are tied for second

Favorite companions are Amy, River (if she counts), and Donna

Favorite New Who episode is The Eleventh Hour

Favorite Classic Who story is Genesis of the Daleks

Since I’ve mentioned super heroes a lot, my favorites are Batman, Wonder Woman and Spider-Man, although Supergirl, Batgirl, Captain America, Scarlet Witch and Black Widow are also pretty high on the list.

Favorite game in the Pokemon series is X and Y

Dragonite is my favorite Pokemon

Favorite 3D Mario game is Odyssey although Sunshine would be next up on the list.

This is my only Tumblr RP blog. I also have an ask meme blog and I used to have a personal but I haven’t logged onto it in years.

I’m on discord and I do add people from Tumblr on there, but I mostly only use it for Pokemon Go tbh

I spend every Wednesday and Sunday at the local comic book shop playing Yugioh

For anyone wondering in relation to that last fact, my current competitive deck Barrier Stun. Some of my favorite casual decks that I play or have played in the past are Lightsworn, Blue-Eyes, E-Heroes, Greed, Sacred Beasts, Penguins and Six Samurai.

In the last decade I’ve moved about 3 times

I own pets! I have one dog and one cat currently, but a few years back when we lived in a more country like setting, we owned 7 cats and 2 dogs at maximum. Most of them died of old age over the last few years.

Before my current job I used to work at Walmart. Long time followers of the blog may remember that I hated it there.

I don’t have a whole lot of writing experience outside of Tumblr tbh. While I do enjoy writing on here, it’s the interactions itself that makes it fun for me and while I’ve tried to write a few things myself, it’s just not the same as roleplay.

Anyway, I just sort of wanted to do something different for munday besides just posting pictures of myself so I hope anyone who read this enjoyed it. Here’s a pic of the mun to go with it.

#munday #ooc #long post #Honestly I just felt like writing this all out for some reason

10 notes · View notes

theaurorfileshq · 4 years

Photo

– The Boy in the Painting

CASE LEVEL: One

POINTS REQUIRED: Seventy-Five

OVERVIEW:

Within the town of Santa Rita, Guam lives an elderly witch by the name of Rosalinda Sandoval. Rosalinda is well known in the Guam wixen community as a friendly elderly woman, who most would probably describe as a bit of an eccentric, but all would say is a welcome and rather friendly woman. Rosalinda can often be found on the island, zooming around on her moped, which almost always has a cart attached to it filled with various yard sale and dumpster treasures she’s found that day. It was one of these very treasures of Rosalinda’s that’s recently caught the attention of the local auror division.

Last Sunday, Rosalinda arrived home to comb through her finds for the day, when she discovered something odd about a painting she’d bought at a flea market earlier that morning. The painting was a lovely landscape scene of a quiet pond, on a quiet farm, with one lone brown cow grazing nearby that only cost her three dollars and fifty cents. However, when Rosalinda went to hang the painting up in her living room among the plethora of others that littered her walls, she was astonished to find a small boy had suddenly appeared in the picture. At first the old woman thought she’d somehow overlooked the child when she first purchased the painting, and thus hung the piece of artwork and chuckled to herself as she shuffled away to make herself a cup of tea.

When Rosalinda returned from her small excursion to the kitchen though, she was once again shocked to see her new painting had changed again, this time the child had moved- but even more shocking was that a brief message had been spelled out in the flecks of green painted grass with small brown painted stones. The message read “Help Me” and the boy stood motionless beside it, looking out to any onlooker who viewed the painting. Concerned for the small painted boy’s safety, Rosalinda quickly took the painting to the local auror division, to report the child in distress. Initially the auror’s waved off Rosalinda’s claims, figuring the woman hadn’t seen the message before, but then the message changed once more, this time in front of their very eyes. The second message would read “I am Alberto Blas”. This message would cause local aurors to immediately contact Chief Lin from the MACUSA squad, as Alberto Blas had been a well known missing child- who’d vanished from the island thirteen years prior. Whether the boy in the painting is truly Alberto is still a mystery, but the local aurors are hoping they can solve it with the help of the Pacific Squad.

PERSONS OF INTEREST:

Rosalinda Sandoval: The elderly witch who purchased the painting. Rosalinda’s memory of the person she bought the painting from is quite vague, and unfortunately she can’t quite remember just which booth at the town’s flea market she bought it from. According to her though, the attendant at the booth was most definitely someone she’d never seen at the market before, and was selling a whole matter of strange and peculiar items.

Sergeant Manu Chaves: The auror who witnessed the painting’s message change. According to Sergeant Chaves, the boy never moved at all when the message changed, more like the first messaged simply faded and was replaced by another. Sergeant Chaves has kept the painting hanging up in one of the division’s conference rooms, and has been routinely checking on the painting for any new additional developments, but nothing about it has changed since the second message appeared.

Nestor and Paola Blas: Alberto Blas’s parents. Nestor and Paola have been searching for their son for the last thirteen years. According to the two, Alberto had been playing in the backyard with the family dog when he disappeared. Nester and Paola have been brought into the division to see if they recognize the painting at all, or the boy in it. When both viewed the painting, the two did indeed say the boy in the painting was wearing the same clothes Alberto did the day he disappeared. Paola has grown hopeful that the boy in the painting is her son, while Nestor is more pessimistic, believing that whoever took their son is responsible for the painting and the painted imitation of his son within it.

CHIEFS’ NOTES:

Portraits moving and talking isn’t anything unheard of in our world, but this all seems very different compared to a simple charmed portrait. Whatever is going on here, it has to be tied to the Alberto Blas case. Head out to Guam as soon as you can, and hopefully we’ll finally be able to figure out just what happened to this poor child.

- Chief Lin

The fact that the boy’s clothes match seems significant, but it could also very well be the case that some asshole who read an article about this kid, decided this would be a fun way to get their rocks off. Look, I’m really hoping this is our kid, but you gotta be careful making too many assumptions here, especially when you have two parents who will be desperate to know if you think this is their kid or not. Hope is a dangerous thing to spread here, be cautious with it, the last thing we want to do is make these folks needlessly grieve twice.

- Deputy Chief Harbird

CASE STATUS: TAKEN

#the boy in the painting #level one #tcase

2 notes · View notes

sunevial · 4 years

Text

Old, New, Borrowed, Blue

Commissioned by @hewhowalksbehind way too long ago.

I have commissions open here.

Something old.

From a practical standpoint, there wasn’t much left to worry about. The ceremony was small, just a handful of people from both sides of the family and friends who they couldn’t have kept away if they tried. Music and decorations had been handled by the church, and her family was making sure everything would be ready for the party at the new house. Laughter and chatter floated through the window, signaling that people had started to arrive. Inside was nearly as busy, the occasional shout or bumped furniture as her bridesmaids donned their outfits in the changing room two doors down. She could hear some pacing and muttering outside the room, possibly the priest going over his lines one last time.

If it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t want to cause a scene, Gale would have requested a spider in a heartbeat. There was a decent chance she still might. A large fuzzy friend to pet and scratch would make all of her problems disappear. It would also create several more problems in the process, as is to be expected when said spider is the size of a large dog, but at least those were familiar problems.

“That much tension in your shoulders will absolutely give you sore muscles in the morning,” Bookkeeper said, brushing a knot slowly and methodically out of Gale’s hair. Clicking her tongue, she deftly parted the strands and wove them into a bun fit for a proper lady. Her aunt looked shorter than normal, perhaps a necessity to better blend in with the ladies of the time, though her face was still plenty youthful. She was dressed in green and gold, a tasteful ensemble with just enough jewelry to show off her apparent wealth. “Not to mention your posture is atrocious.”

“Yes, right, sorry Aunt Nova,” Gale said with a wince, settling her shoulders back and relaxing into her aunt’s swift and precise hands. It certainly wasn’t the flashiest updo possible, but it was functional. More importantly, it could hold a veil. Dear gods, it would be holding a veil in just a manner of…minutes? Hours? What was time anymore? Did it ever exist?

That question may have been slightly rhetorical, given the nature of her family, but that was well beside the point.

The ghost of a smile appeared on Bookkeeper's face. It was the same expression Gale remembered from when she was small, curled up in her aunt’s lap and listening to her low voice roll around in her ears. Her first teacher, the one who methodically taught her letters and numbers and penmanship. To this day, she still had the best handwriting in town. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your soon to be husband for all of the massages you’re going to require.”

“If you’re really that nervous, I can get you some tea to calm your nerves,” her mom said, picking a few loose threads from the veil. To the wider world, she was the Witch, a member of a god’s court, utterly terrifying in her innocence. To her, she had always been just mom. Her dark brown hair showed just a few streaks of gray, though the majority was currently hidden under a sunhat. Though she knew it was all for show, a few creases were pressed around her eyes and cheeks, an attempt at showing her age. In a bit of a wardrobe change, she wore a conservative purple dress instead of her typical magenta.

“No, I’ll be quite fine,” Gale stammered, swallowing her words down along with the butterflies in her stomach. Her gaze was focused straight ahead, eyes glued to the mirror as the two women worked their proverbial magic.

Bookkeeper sniffed, biting a hairpin between her teeth as she began securing hair into place. “Lying is unbecoming of a bride, sweet miss.”

Gale sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to keep a strong face once that nickname was thrown out. “I don’t want the tea, but I’m…well, I feel like I’m looking over the edge of a cliff and my stomach is turning itself over.”

“Ginger it is,” Witch said, setting the veil to the side and opening the door to the linen closet. Though Gale didn’t dare turn her head, she was fairly certain that her mother wasn’t looking for an extra towel. Hardly a second later, a warm cup of tea was in Gale’s hands. “Not the best brew I’ve made, but it’ll do to settle the nausea.”

Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she drank down the entire cup in what felt like only a few gulps. The soothing and pleasantly spicy mixture slid down her throat, a welcome distraction to…well, everything. Her eyes flickered up towards her mother’s. “Were…were you like this on your wedding day?”

“I don’t think so,” her mom said, giving a warm smile as she took Gale’s hand into her own. “Then again, I married out of duty, because that is what happened to everyone back then. But I’d imagine if I did manage to marry for love, I’d probably be at least a little nervous.” She squeezed their hands together, palms warm and comforting. That pair of hands that cooked hearty meals, that mixed tinctures and remedies when she fell ill, that held her tight during all of the difficult times. An eclectic assortment of aunts and uncles had helped take the load off, but when the sun slipped behind the horizon and it was time for goodnight kisses, it was always just the two of them.

The Witch and the Witch’s daughter.

Gale gave a slight nod as her other hand fiddled with a bracelet around her right wrist. Thirteen silver beads were strung together on a thin red thread, each one etched with a different symbol. A gift, her first gift, painstakingly made by the combined efforts of Bookkeeper’s meticulous rune work and her mother’s gentle spellcraft. Worn proudly throughout her youth, the charm bracelet had grown with her, never sitting too tight or too loose on her wrist. It was meant to keep her shielded, to keep her warded, to keep her safe. It was a reminder just how different she was, how much her family had sacrificed for her, how much her mother had given just so she had a chance at life.

She never took it off. That wasn’t about to stop today.

Something new.

When Vincent asked her about her family, she had given the answer she had given everyone who thought to ask. Her mother was a midwife back in the old country, helping mothers deliver babies and keeping them well. She had married a soldier, though less out of love and more because she had no choice, and he ended up dying on the battlefield not even a few months into their marriage. The men of her village shunned her, and so unable to find a husband who would treat her well, she immigrated and decided to raise her daughter on her own. Aunts and uncles and other members of her extended family helped support the two of them throughout the years, effectively meaning that she had been raised by seven different people. So, yes, it was entirely necessary to invite them all. Leaving anyone out just wouldn’t feel right.

There was also the issue that Priestess might actually kill her for the insult, but that was another matter entirely.

“Alright, dear, turn around, let us get you buttoned up,” Priestess said, tapping her chin twice in thought. This was perhaps the first time Gale had ever seen her look this old, hair nearly entirely gray and face streaked with wrinkles. If anything, it only served to make her look even more intimidating, which was a feat in and of itself. Her gown was in tasteful yellows and greens, perfect for a spring wedding. “I do hope that magazine I found was correct. Fashion styles start to blur around this period, and the last thing I need is for you to be wearing something a decade too early.”

“I think it looks just fine, Aunt Trisha,” Gale said, complying absolutely immediately and turning away from the mirror. As she did, she could feel hands gently gather the fabric at her back and slowly button into place.

A light knock echoed through the room, followed by a voice Gale was always happy to hear. It was a voice that invited excitement, new opportunities, and typically the best presents if luck was in her favor. Even now, it was enough to raise her spirits at least a bit. “Am I allowed to come in now?”

“Yes, yes, get in here,” Priestess called, smoothing out the collar and sleeves. “Do remind me, are trains typically attached separately by this era in time?”

Not bothering to use the door, not that Gale actually expected him to use something like doorknobs in the first place, Advisor instead dropped in from the ceiling. It was honestly disconcerting to see him with light blond hair, even more so seeing it so short. Presumably not wanting to upstage the bride either, he had swapped his typical white coat and maroon shirt for a respectable tan suit and hat. Even with all of the changes, the very tail of his jacket still blew in a wind that was not there. He gave a quick glance over, the gears obviously turning in his head. “I believe that assumption can be made, otherwise doing without a train seems to be more than acceptable.”

“Excellent, because I would hate for this bit of lace to exist only to be soiled by dirt and mud,” Priestess replied, undoing a number of buttons that Gale wasn’t entirely sure were there a second ago and removing the fabric. “Stay still, dear, the sash is next, and this bow will not tie itself.”

Gale nodded her understanding, holding her arms out in anticipation. The nerves and nausea had left along with the tea, replaced instead with the mild discomfort that was being in the presence of her most terrifying relative. Though she had a feeling she would never get the full story, she knew Priestess was the closest thing she would ever get to a grandmother. In her own way, she was kind, teaching poise and etiquette and gifting the occasional sweet treat. Even so, Gale always made sure to be on her best behavior around the woman. The others would tolerate her antics from time to time; ‘Aunt Trisha’ absolutely would not. “Well, what do you think, Uncle Ara?”

“Well, I suppose no matter what I say will be seen as biased,” he said with a good natured smile, putting his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall. “But that being said, you look positively radiant, Miss Gale.” Though she wouldn’t dare say it out-loud, she liked Advisor best out of her uncles. Perhaps that was because he always treated her with a fond respectfulness that even now was rarely received. She always got the impression that children especially fascinated him, and so he always brought her exotic gifts and carved out time to talk. Like Bookkeeper, he was more often than not a teacher, lecturing her on all manner of scientific topics, from biology to astronomy to the physics of worlds she could only imagine.

Gale smiled back, feeling a flush rise into her cheeks. “I do have you both to thank for that, I suppose,” she shyly replied. “Though you really didn’t have to get me a dress for the occasion.”

“Dear, if one of our own is getting married, the least we can do is make sure you make everyone and their mother green with envy over such fine tailoring,” Priestess said with a grin Gale could feel, securing the sash with a final tug.

“It was our pleasure,” Advisor echoed, giving a small bow. As he did, the wall behind him shifted and warped, wallpaper turning a shining silver. He stepped to the side with an equally dramatic flourish, revealing a full length mirror. “Though I suppose you should see the final results for yourself.”

The underdress was soft, smooth against her skin and shaping her waist into a fashionably slim frame. Overtop was the real artistry; the entire overdress was made of fine lace, each leaf and flower and vine intentionally placed into a gorgeous tapestry. The collar sat high, allowing for more designs at the neck and down her back. Sleeves stopped just past her elbows, which was about as daring as she was willing to go for an already fairly sheer top. A simple white sash was tied around her waist, fixed into a cute bow just at the small of her back. It would have taken hours to make something as detailed as this by hand or machine, and it would not have been cheap either.

The chances they bought this dress were slim, though, knowing their love for fashion and how the dress fit her like a second skin. If she had to guess, Advisor wove the fabric and Priestess sewed the dress. She felt his touch in the way it almost shimmered in the light, the way it kept her at a comfortable temperature, the way it pulled her eyes to just gaze at her own image. She felt her touch in the way it flattered her at every angle, the way the lace seemed to almost be alive, the way it was equal parts modest and incredibly glamorous.

She would only wear this once. That would be more than enough.

Something borrowed.

Gale had friends; that much was evident by the fact she had enough bridesmaids to match Vincent’s groomsmen. They had been collected over the years, mostly through the people she met while at school or attending church or saw around the neighborhood. Even so, making friends wasn’t something that came easy. Girls her own age were concerned first with learning domestic chores, then impressing boys and fashion, then getting married and having children. In fairness, she was now focused on the last one, but that was a recent development. A lifetime of knowing there was more to the world made those conversations horribly mundane. Combined with all of the secrets she kept close to her heart, be it magic or her family’s true nature or her own dabbles in the arcane arts, she had no choice to keep a bit of distance between herself and friends. No guests over without permission, no in depth conversations about home life, no outward symbols of her true faith.

Her friends always believed that she was just embarrassed about her living situation, having no father to speak of and living in an immigrant community. If it kept people from prying, she wasn’t going to correct them on their inaccuracies.

“Now, you sure you’re okay getting hitched?” Huntress asked, planting her hands on Gale’s shoulders and looking her square in the eyes. Her aunt looked decidedly uncomfortable in a dress, the ensemble carefully crafted of a light orange fabric to give the wild woman enough mobility for her tastes. A well crafted illusion made her look approximately as old as Witch, fitting as this woman might as well be her second mother. “If you need to back out, just holler and I’ll start punching people.”

Gale held a hand to her mouth, trying to keep a laugh from bursting out even as the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. “I’m more than sure, Aunt Diane.”

“There’s the smile I was looking for,” she replied with a smirk of her own. One hand reached for the veil, gently adjusting it so the lace draped over Gale’s shoulders. Though she had seen her aunt almost rip a man in half for daring to make a vulgar gesture her way, her touch was always soft and caring. She was also a strong believer that Gale shouldn’t go defenseless, explaining why Gale was known for her mean right hook if push came to shove. “Shouldn’t get married with a frown on your face. It’s bad luck.”

“So is the groom seeing me before the wedding, but I think he might’ve stolen a glance as I was coming inside.” Her smile widened a touch. Luck was something Gale had never truly believed in; when you have access to small magics, it was typically better to make your own luck.

Huntress chuckled a touch, taking a few flowers and weaving them just under the veil. “Well, then we’re just going to have to make up for that. Can’t have something going wrong on your big day.”

“If we want to avoid that, then she shouldn’t be getting married in a church either, but that’s just me,” Part Timer called from the other side of the room, taking a bit of shoe polish to a pair of Louis heels. In probably the best glamour work Gale had ever seen, her uncle actually looked and smelled like a normal human being. His dark hair was combed back, face streaked with a few lines and eyes able to focus on the world. He wore a simple blue suit, both sides perfectly pressed and without signs of decay, though his coat and hat were currently hanging up on the wall. Seeing him like this was honestly more than a little eerie, a bit like seeing a wax sculpture come to life. “There’s a perfectly good hall down the street, and all you’d need is a judge to sign the papers.”

Huntress sighed, rolling her eyes as she marched over to the much taller man. In one motion, she swiped the already polished shoe from the windowsill. “You’re just cynical, love.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault religion was considered conspiracy theory nonsense by the time I was born,” he said indignantly, though the smile on his face said otherwise. His voice was surprisingly steady, marking one of the few times Gale had ever seen him jitter out every few seconds. He was the most recent addition to her ‘family’, apparently not joining until she was already born. In some ways, that made it a little more difficult for Gale to accept him for who he was, especially considering his face was quite frightening as a little girl. But Huntress trusted him, and she had gotten to watch them both slowly fall for each other as the years passed. So, when he was able to hold a steady form and voice, the two of them would play pretend with her dolls and piece together puzzles. “But seriously, Gale, just remember to say the words at the right time and cry if you need to cry.”

“Please, Uncle Gil, I don’t cry that easily,” she replied, pulling her dress up high enough to reveal stocking feet. “You really don’t need to fuss over me this much.”

“Well too bad, young lady, you’re getting fussed over,” he said without room for debate, setting aside the polishing cloth and holding the remaining shoe up to the light. “There we go, all shined up and ready for their debut.”

“About time, at this rate she’s going to be late for her own damn wedding,” Huntress said with just a mote of frustration, slipping the first shoe onto Gale’s foot. “Get over here and help me tie these laces.”

“But of course, my darling lioness,” he said with a chuckle and just the smallest amount of tease.

Knowing there was no way she could protest, Gale allowed for the bit of pampering as she got used to how the shoes felt around her feet. While most Louis heels were made of silk or other cloth, these were made of a sturdy leather stained silver. Whether done by magic or a very talented cobbler, they were surprisingly soft. More importantly, they were well broken in and easy to walk in without tripping. They also were not her shoes. Though Huntress might have detested wearing the dresses of this time period, she still wanted to blend in reasonably well when the occasion arose. These were her favorite ‘dinner shoes’, worn on special occasions and kept in absolute pristine quality. Gale had tried to politely turn her down, knowing her aunt would want to wear the one pair of fancy shoes she considered acceptable on such an important day.

She hadn’t won that argument.

Something blue.

Every so often, Gale would ask mom about her father. She knew the two of them would never meet, at least not in this life, but she was morbidly curious about the man who had married her mother all of those years ago. From what little she had scraped together, he was in fact a soldier, a Roman one at that. It had been a political marriage to seal some sort of important treaty, given her mother was the daughter of a village elder. He was tall, strong, grim, but treated her well and never laid a hand on her. According to her mother, Gale had his eyes and hair.

When he died, her mother mourned, knowing there would be few men who would consider marrying a widowed folk healer. Except there had been one, a young man who was known for his carpentry and had been smitten with her for years. If things had gone differently, their wedding would have been joyous, filled with music and laughter and dancing for they truly loved each other.

She never did figure out what happened to that man. From how her mother’s eyes looked to somewhere in the distance when she spoke of him to the way her smile turned wistful whenever Gale asked about him, she hoped he lived a good life.

“Is there anything else you require, little wind?” Lieutenant asked, glancing around the corner in a gesture that was definitely more for her sake than his own. Even dressed up, he had kept his wardrobe as simple as possible, wearing a black suit with as few embellishments as possible. His long hair was neatly tied back, and Gale was fairly sure this was the first and only time she would ever see him wear a hat. Still, it was odd seeing him without his telltale wings, dark and yet sparking with little stars. She knew they were still there, hidden behind a veil of magic she couldn’t see past, but seeing him look so…human did not feel right.

Gale shook her head, clutching the flowers in her hands. According to the florist, the sheaf bouquet was all the rage, as the long stems gave a sense of rustic splendor. She cradled a collection of pale yellow ranunculus blossoms, pink and white roses, and tweedia in her arms, doing her best not to squish anything down. “At this point, I really don’t need much more, Uncle Oliver. We’re just waiting for the procession to begin.”

“Yes, your mother told me as much,” he said, furrowing his brow in slight confusion. “First are the men who are accompanying your fiancé, then your mother and his parental figures, then the women accompanying you, your…honored maid…”

“Maid of honor, yes,” Gale said with a smile, listening intently as music began to play. Unlike most of her other family members, Lieutenant made it no secret that he was unsure how to precisely deal with mortals, much less a human child. He would consistently ask her opinion or insight on her actions, his curiosity apparent in every moment the two spent together. Perhaps that is why he felt a need to treat her with the same respect that he gave her mother, asking her for clarifications at times and inquiring into exactly how mortal minds functioned. This also might have been why he trusted in her abilities enough to let her visit other worlds, sometimes on her own if the situation arose.

Now, whether or not her mother appreciated her visiting other worlds was an entirely different story. Intellectually, Gale understood why dropping a seven year old into spider land was a bad idea. That being said, they were actually quite docile if you treated them with respect.

“Maid of honor, then the boy and girl with the rings and flowers, respectively, and then I am supposed to escort you to the altar,” he continued, stepping to her right and offering his arm. “Though I am still unclear as to why my presence is necessary.”

“The idea is that you’re supposed to ‘give me away’,” she replied, slipping her arm into his. “Normally, it would be my father doing this, but since I don’t have one, I need a close male relative to take his place.”

Around the corner, the doors swung open, and feet began to step into the congregation hall. This time, his voice was quieter, though she wasn’t entirely sure he was using his mouth to form the words. “Then why not choose one another of your other uncles? While I am content enough to partake in the ceremony, it seems more…sensible for someone with a better understanding of human traditions to do such a thing.”

Gale opened her mouth to answer, then paused for what felt like an eternity. In truth, she hadn’t really given a thought as to why Lieutenant would be the one to walk her down the aisle. When the wedding preparations had begun, all she knew is that if she needed someone to uphold the tradition, it absolutely had to be Uncle Oliver. He was correct; either of her two uncles would have been more sensible choices in many respects. Advisor had a much better grasp on how human rituals were conducted, and while Part Timer might not like religious ceremonies, he at least understood the traditions.

Her eyes traveled to the ribbon tying her bouquet together, a simple silk ribbon dyed pastel blue. She had been ten years old with a bit of pocket change left over from the holiday season in her pocket. On Priestess’s advice, she had dragged Lieutenant out to a summer fair to have some fun. The years had stolen the exact memories of the event, but she knew they had a couple of sweet treats to test how his sense of taste was coming along and stopped to feed a couple of goats. However, she remembered the two of them playing a simple ring toss game, and Lieutenant had failed absolutely miserably at getting even one onto a bottle. Even now, the memory of his baffled face made her giggle. When her turn rolled around, she managed to land each and every one, winning her a ribbon to take home.

She remembered his face, no longer expressionless and cold, but displaying something that just might have been pride.

“Because, Uncle Oliver-” she replied, straightening her back and putting on a brave smile. “-no one else has come that close to being like a father.”

He gave her a smile in return, gesturing with his free hand. “Then shall we?”

One deep breath in, one deep breath out.

“Yes.”

It was time.

#commission #my writing #the followers

8 notes · View notes

ai-katsuu · 4 years

Text

Wonderland Ball (3/4)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

previous chapter next chapter

---

At the opposite end of the room, Queen Alice, finally done with greeting her audience members, sighed back on her throne in content. “This is the best outcome of any party Fairy Tale Island has had. I mean you’re amazing, Hatter!” she grinned at her dearest friend.

“But of course, Alice dear.” he tipped his hat, “Throwing parties are my specialty after all.”

“I was the one who brought the guests over,” the Cheshire Cat intervened. “Wasn’t easy, you know?” he smiled at the Hatter who only frowned back.

“Oh, yes. Tell me, how did you manage to get the Fearless Seven to come?” Alice excitedly asked him.

“He transported them here without warning,” a short witch with a grey bun walked into the scene. “I saw the whole thing myself from my room.” she calmly mentioned.

Alice gasped at the Cheshire Cat, who now had his tail in between his legs, “Is Zeniba telling the truth?”

“Well, in a sense yes.” he mumbled.

“He was also rude to Prince Jack’s wife.”

“Yea, called her a servant.”

“You know I don’t fancy you two being here.” the Cheshire Cat frowned at the twins who had just entered.

“Cheshire, how could you?!” Alice scolded then turned to her friend in the white suit. “Rabbit, could you call her for me please? I want to apologize on his behalf.”

“Wife isn’t here, miss. He failed to include her in his transportation spell, just like how the F7 fails to be on time.” he grumbled.

“You left her behind?” she stared at him.

“I wouldn’t say left, more like, dis-included?” he looked sideways. “Alice, with all due respect she wasn’t even a princess. He married a commoner.”

“Your point?” Alice challenged, “Royalty or not that is his family, now both of them will be apart from each other on Christmas Eve. I want you to write an apology letter to this woman and apologize to Prince Jack yourself. That’s an order.”

“Oooh, someones in trouble.” the Mad Hatter grinned. The Cheshire Cat glared at him before bowing at Alice,

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty, Prince Howl is here,” Zeniba smiled, a young blonde man charmingly smiled at her.

“I’ll take care of this. Hatter, make sure he follows through.” Alice told him before standing up and greeting the wizard.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Once midnight had struck, the ball had come to an end, and the others went back to their suite. Exhausted from all the mingling and formalities, the group immediately fell apart when they got to their beds.

“I think I might have bruised my arm when I threw Peter over the table.” Arthur examined his bicep.

“Shut it, at least you weren’t chased around by two she-demons who want to put a dress on you.” Hans grumbled.

“You think Papa sent Jiminy on purpose?” Noki asked.

“Please, I don’t want to think about it.” Kio responded.

They all awoke the next morning and spent the day in the Wonderland Palace. They had high tea in their suite, played several games, and even got a chance to meet with Queen Alice herself. They were wrapping up the conversation when Alice stood up,

“Prince Jack, may I speak to you?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

She pulled him off to the corner of the room and it took Jack by a great surprise when she bowed; not as a greeting but as an apology. “Your Majesty? Please raise your head!” he told her.

“Prince Jack, you have my deepest apologies for how my right hand man treated your wife. I’m sincerely sorry she could not be here. His actions do not reflect Wonderland’s beliefs and morals.”

“Your Majesty, I am not upset with you. You weren’t the one who said those things after all. Though I would be lying if I said I was not disappointed with how he treated her.” he sadly told her.

“Apologies are in order from him. Please, allow me to let you and your friends leave early.” she said. And that’s what happened. The Cheshire Cat appeared right beside her and waved his hand, the purple mist covering them as they were transported back to the gates to the White Palace.

“I will never get used to that.” Briar said, holding her head.

“Well at least we’re back. That was exhausting, not gonna lie.” Pino said, twisting his back.

“Do you hear music?” Gwen asked them. The others nodded and followed the sound that echoed through the halls. It led to the doors of the ballroom they saw bright lights that's shone through its cracks. Briar opened them to see a sight that none of them would have expected.

Townspeople, man and woman, kids of different ages, running around, singing, dancing to their heart's content. Elders gave gifts to their grandchildren, grandchildren played around with ribbons that were attached to a large pole, adults ate and drank while watching the band perform.

Somehow, snow was falling from the ceiling and people of all ages were making Snowmen, sledding, having snowball fights, or creating snow angels. It was full of laughter and fun, a different energy radiating from the Wonderland Ball.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, be of good cheer!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

“What is this…?” Snow felt a small smile coming to her lips from the excitement and liveness everyone was exerting.

“Are these all the people from Golden Goose?” Merlin questioned.

“Why are they all here?” Hans looked around.

“Oh, Your Highness'!” Isabella, in a lovely green dress, curtsied to the thirteen princes and princess’ “Welcome back!” she beamed.

“Isabella, what is all this?” Jack asked her.

“Golden Goose's annual Christmas Eve Party, Miss Audrey had the suggestion of moving it to the palace ballroom so that it would be much bigger! She planned all the songs, the presents, and hosted the whole event.”

“She did all this?” he looked around at the green and red festive lights.

“You bet your high privileged ass she did.” Frost floated down to the group. “With my help and Isabella’s, this was all possible through her hard work.” he threw a snowball directly at him. A few sparkles appeared on his eyes before Jack started laughing, but quickly regained his composure. “Oof, tough one.” Frost laughed.

“Where is Audrey?” Arthur asked.

Frost smiled, leaning on his staff and gestured to the crowd behind him.

There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting

And caroling out in the snow

They'll be scary ghost stories

And tales of the glories of Christmas's long, long ago!

Amongst the crowd Audrey was singing along with the band, playing with the children and dancing with adults. Her hair was up in a bun, loose hair stands out, and wore a red dress that extended just below her knees. Her see-through heels made it a bit difficult for her to walk, but Isabella made them just for her. Not a trace of sadness or jealousy was on her face as she sang an unfamiliar song to them.

“It’s a traditional song from the outside world.” Frost told the group, “She’s been playing a lot of Christmas carols from out there. Honestly much better than the ones they have here.”

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

There'll be much mistletoeing and hearts will be glowing

When loved ones are near!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

The crowd applauded as the song ended, as did the group. Frost threw his staff up lightly after clapping, “Well your highness’ I have to help a big red man deliver his presents for Christmas and I’m already on the Naughty list. Probably,” he went to the nearest window and opened it, “later nerds.” the wind started blowing in his direction.

“Snow Queen said hi by the way.” Jack called out.

“Wait, what?” Frost turned back, “No wait! Just when the conversation was getting interesting!” but was then blown away by the winds.

The group had decided not to interrupt the party and went back to their rooms, hoping to greet Audrey after. After the party had ended, Audrey made her way to the parlor exhausted and removed her gloves.

“I didn’t know you could sing. You always refused to.”

Audrey turned around to see Jack smiling with his arms crossed. “Jack! You’re back!”

Jack beamed as he welcomed her with open arms as she ran towards him. “I missed you so much, I’m so sorry you got left behind..” he buried his head on her shoulder, trying to make sure he didn’t ruin her hair.

Audrey shook her hair, “It’s fine. I got to plan this party and meet everyone from Golden Goose. Oh Jack, they’re all so lovely and their traditions every Christmas are amazing!”

Jack nodded, “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but it’s not okay. You should not have been left behind, that was rude of him to leave you out.”

Audrey shrugged, “I guess, but at least something good came out of it.”

“Yes, you won’t have to spend Christmas with them next year, don’t worry.”

“What do you mean?” Audrey laughed.

“Spending the evening with commoners is hardly the right way to celebrate Christmas, there should be balls, and elegance.” he told her.

“Well, sure but there’s nothing wrong with their traditions.” Audrey’s smile thinned down.

“It’s hardly fitting for someone married to nobility. You should be spending it with all of us at these balls.” he raised a brow.

“I’d love to spend it with all of you, but the traditions you just saw are not ‘hardly fitting’, they’re wonderful.” she frowned.

Jack rolled his eyes, “Audrey please, why spend your holidays in the cold filthy streets when you can spend it warm and cozy in a palace.”

“There is nothing wrong with where they live.” she said now angry, “Their happiest memories are on those streets. And mine are too, wandering around several towns, I’ve seen the joy they all have.”

“That’s impossible, no one can be truly happy there.” he firmly told her, “I don’t want you to live or be treated like a commoner, you deserve much more than that. For goodness sake, you’re married to a prince!”

“What’s wrong with being a commoner? They’re the same as you, they just have a different lifestyle!”

“Commoners don’t have all these riches you see around you. They’re not as well off as we are. We can easily afford anything we want. If we have the money then we can spend it, what’s wrong with that?!”

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong with the lifestyle of a noble but neither is the lifestyle of a commoner! They’re two different things but that doesn’t mean that either status is worth greater or less of value, they all deserve equal treatment!” Audrey stared him down, “Maybe if you actually experienced the life of one you see that we aren’t as pitiful or filthy as you think we are.”

That crossed the line for Jack as he looked at her one more time and stormed out of the parlor. The twelve people who had their ears pressed to the door heard footsteps coming and they quickly hid behind the large curtains. Jack pushed the door open with violence as he marched through the halls. Audrey on the other hand, not realizing the error both of them had made, made her way outside of the parlor and walked the opposite way.

Once the two were out of sight from each other, the twelve princes and princesses came out of the curtains.

“That can’t be good…” Gwen frowned.

#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes #red shoes movie #rsat7d #rsatsd

3 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 20: The Revelations

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The danger is far from over. Tired of laying low Nadya and the others go on the offensive. Nadya, Adrian, and Kamilah go to the Musea Sanguis to confront the Trinity about the trial.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Adrian wants to be the one to take the risk but Kamilah forbids it. And when he goes to do it behind her back anyway she gets to it first.

“I wish you would just trust me sometimes, Kamilah. I know which members of my Clan will keep my secret.”

“It was a greater risk on your part. It’s done — leave it at that.”

The old phone vibrates in her hand. She glances at the first and only message it will ever receive before making quick work of snapping the SIM and tossing the battery and mobile in two different ponds.

“There’s a shred of luck in our favor,” she starts a brisk pace down the park path — doesn’t wait for Adrian and Nadya to catch up, “as they’re still in town.”

“Good — we can grab a taxi to their hotel. I don’t think we have to worry about one driver.”

“They aren’t at their hotel, Adrian. They’re at the Musea.”

Adrian mutters something under his breath Nadya can’t quite catch. But from context whatever it is it’s not a good thing. “So much for luck.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Despite his position in my Clan I’ve never found Jameson to be the most loyal.”

“He’s a good man, Kamilah. Maybe we can convince him that we’re only seeking justice.”

“I… I’m unsure of how he’ll respond.”

“Any chance we won’t run into him?”

“About as much chance as we would in the sunlight.”

The Musea Sanguis is a historian’s heaven and hell. Filled to the brim with artifacts and accounts from every period and civilization collected in one place not only for their study but also for their safekeeping. But unlike every other collection that would boast the same claims the one at the Musea is special in that it holds the mystical ‘truth’ everyone searches for.

Werewolf packs roaming the New World before Columbus ever stepped on her soil. Witches sealing deals with Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Vampire soldiers in every war and on every side. The Musea Sanguis told the tales forgotten and erased in the name of preserving the shadows and their secrets.

A necessary evil.

“So why would the Trinity come here now?”

Kamilah doesn’t answer; fixates on finding something hidden — a panel made to look like the white outer brickwork that slides aside to reveal a keypad.

Adrian shrugs. “Probably nostalgia; since the Ball brought them out of hiding. They’ve contributed to the Musea for centuries.”

“Wait — that doesn’t make sense.”

“The Musea is wherever the collection goes. New York is just its most recent home.”

Musea or not — Nadya had no idea she’d be able to cross ‘Break into a Secret Museum Within the Met’ off her bucket list. She’d have to add it first.

Kamilah punches in the final digit in a sequence and the maintenance door unlocks with a thunk of metal. The part of Nadya that was forced to endure the Heist of Monaco miniseries with Lily for thirteen hours straight knows this is too easy. Waits for something to jump out of the blackness when Kamilah opens the door and ushers them inside.

Or maybe life just isn’t a television minidrama.

The door closes behind them and darkness swallows them whole.

It’s beautiful, magnificent — ancient too but there are so many words she could use and Nadya quickly gives up trying to find them all because she’d need to go to another part of the gallery for a dictionary.

The temptation to stop and bask in the wonder of strange objects in glass cases is hard to ignore. Then she sees Adrian five steps ahead and rushes to catch up to his and Kamilah’s long strides.

There’ll be time to look at everything later. When everyone is safe.

“I can feel them,” Kamilah hisses; jerks her head towards an archway at the end of a turn, “quickly.”

The arch is rough and worn sandstone — as much an exhibit as anything under a podium or on a shelf. The exhibit’s wallpaper peels away from it; recoils from history it knows it ought not touch. If once there were engravings in the carved sides they’ve since faded with time.

Nadya lets herself indulge — brushes her fingertips along the porous surface as they pass.

“Peculiar, in fact, that as I stand before you and confess my intentions to rid myself of the pest Hydarnes, that a more loyal soldier would attempt to run me through for my wicked tongue. Yet there you stand; immobile.”

“Not immobile — Immortal. I know my place.”

“Ah, but that is the great lie. So called ‘Immortals’ walking among men… yet a blade would fell you as easily as it would a commoner.”

“Then you underestimate me, Augustine.”

“Perhaps I do, Valdemaras… Perhaps I do…”

“Nadya?”

She’s in two places at once. There’s the world in front of her; the stone pressing into her nails and feet rooted to the floor and Adrian and Kamilah turned back towards her with matching looks of confusion and worry.

Then there’s the archway; cut in sharp definition and painted vibrant to match the late King Cyrus’ famed conquests and with a familiar face glaring at her from across the room that both is and isn’t there.

She blinks rapidly — takes the choice away from her mind in where it wants to reside and forces it to focus on the here and now. To Adrian who is stopped before he can advance on her.

He looks down to Kamilah’s hand — confused.

“Let it be.” She doesn’t give him the chance to speak. But the look she gives Nadya is a knowing one. And isn’t that a big relief.

Kamilah releases him, gestures ahead. “They’re in the atrium beyond. Scout to see if Jameson is near. We won’t have long.”

Even when Nadya puts on her best ‘I’m not having strange visions I can’t explain and everything is fine’ face he doesn’t buy it.

“Are you…?”

“I’m okay. I promise.” Squeezing his hand. “Go.”

When he’s three bookshelves away Nadya goes to speak — finds herself silenced by Kamilah’s finger over her lips. They watch Adrian pass three more shelves and round a corner.

“What did you see?”

But it’s already fading — another in a long list of forgotten dreams. “It’s hazy…”

“Try Nadya, please.” And she doesn’t like the insistence in Kamilah’s voice only because it’s heartbreaking and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. “Breathe deep and try.”

She breathes. Breathes again, deep this time. Feels the gritty sand from the arch under her nails.

“It was… it was Valdas — or… his other name.”

“Valdemaras?”

Nadya nods. “Mm. Something about… I think I was him, again. I didn’t see him. Me. My face.”

But putting it into words is like painting without paint; or a brush or a canvas. She can mimic the motions and mouth words soundlessly but nothing is right.

“Come on. Adrian needs us.” She knows Kamilah and knows Kamilah won’t let it go. So she pushes the issue aside by evading the hand that moves her way and practically sprints to join Adrian around the corner. Leaves Kamilah behind only because looking back at her face is too much pain for her to focus on just then.

She comes to an abrupt stop when she turns and collides straight into Adrian’s back.

“Ow!” He doesn’t budge. More throbbing pain for her — hooray.

When the ringing in her ears stops Nadya catches a honey-sweet voice in laughter. It echoes off the domed ceiling and travels around the room like a malevolent breeze.

“There she is. Where Adrian Raines goes one can be sure his human toy follows close behind. But she isn’t all there is, is she? No… I can feel a familiar one close. Kamilah — surely you aren’t so naive as to try hiding. You’re better than that… or maybe you aren’t.”

But Kamilah isn’t hiding. She comes up right behind Nadya and coaxes Adrian forward with a hand at his back.

Isseya’s laughter continues from where she lounges on an old velveteen chaise; one of many such places to sit scattered around the vast and sparsely-filled room.

In fact as Nadya looks around there’s nothing to take up the decorative marble floor at all. The attraction lies instead in a dozen paintings hung on the walls. Each given a wide berth from the other.

Even with her glasses she can’t see the details of some at the far end of the gallery — but she doesn’t have to see them. She can hear them just fine.

Hear their voices, whispers, screams and cries of lust and loss rise and fall in tides. Hear to her left the clatter of steel and whinnying cry of warhorses as their hoofs pound a skull to dust. Hear to her right the rustle of thick curtained veils and the damp squelching of a dagger in the back.

Just as Kamilah comes beside her Nadya’s legs give way — stopped from collapsing to the ground only by the grace of Kamilah’s supernatural speed.

She claps her hands over her ears and opens her mouth in a silent scream. Feels tears sting her eyes and Adrian’s hands join in holding her up.

Their mouths are moving; her protectors trying in vain to find the source of her agony. She can’t hear a word over them.

“It seems you were right again, my love.”

Like someone’s found the dial in her mind the voices and their noises dim until they’re dull and in the background; a movie on in another room.

With bleary tear-filled vision Nadya looks up, up — focuses on the figure with his back turned to them. His attention unable to be ripped away from the painting as tall as he and a head more.

“How much did we bet?” asks Valdas in a calm echo. He turns and begins a leisurely stroll towards Isseya’s seat.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Shame — but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I’ll be benevolent this time; you can pick my prizes when we return home.”

It takes everything inside her, which isn’t much left at this point, but Nadya musters up enough of her own voice to speak.

“Wh—What’s… hap-peni—ing… to m-mme…?”

The god-like vampire gives them a fanged grin. Isn’t fazed by anything so weak and unimportant as the snarls Kamilah and Adrian throw his way.

“Something wonderful.”

There’s a change in Adrian — she feels it first, is too slow to react — watches him rush the Trinity in a blur. “Whatever you’re doing to her, st—”

Valdas throws Adrian across the room effortlessly; waves his hand as if swatting a fly.

The younger vampire’s body collides into a stone pillar with a crunch. He falls to the ground limp but conscious. Struggles to stand.

“Adrian stop.” A shudder overtakes her as the voices crescendo again but Kamilah’s ready this time; holds her tight. “We did not come here to fight you, Domine. This is needless torture!”

Isseya snarls. “Is that sympathy, Kamilah? From you of all vampires? It’s disgusting.”

“She is an innocent.”

“She is beloved by that cur,” Isseya throws a gesture as Adrian struggles to stand, “and nothing he does is innocent.”

Her words fall flat as her lover rests his hand on her shoulder. “Isseya — calm yourself. Look in her eyes. She doesn’t know what she holds in her grasp.”

In silence something dawns on the wicked woman’s face — it falls into pity and scorn. “That’s her own fault.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Enough. It’s too much. Make it stop! “Make it-t stop, Kamilah, please…”

“Valdas!”

Whether he’s hesitating because he relishes her pain or because the idea of doing anything for Kamilah disgusts him — it doesn’t matter. Every passing second the voices and sounds clash and collide together and scalding pain stings at her temples.

Then a blink. That’s all it takes for the ancient vampire to cross the room and cup her cheeks in his large palms. She remembers now; recognizes the same face from the backs of her eyelids through the archway. The same features unchanged but now hardened by eternity.

“No!” Adrian cries. Nearly collapses in his haste to separate them but Isseya yanks him back by the throat with an almost feral grin. “Let go of — get away from her! Kamilah! Kamilah do something!”

She does. Looks into Valdas’ red eyes and sees something there Nadya can’t understand.

She doesn’t pull Nadya away from his grasp. Lets it be.

“Kamilah!”

“Trust me, Adrian, please!” And she asks the same thing of Nadya in silence.

Trust me. Please, trust me.

She does. Even when it feels like the noises around her are splitting her skull into fragments she does. When Valdas places two fingers on each temple she does.

There’s a vaguely familiar tugging in her gut — then nothing at all. No noise, no pain, no air on her face or sweat on her brow. There is blackness and a void and the feeling of blood pounding in her temples and roots growing out from the tips of her fingers and toes…

… then it’s gone.

Valdas stays close — she can smell the spice of his clothes. And something deeper than that… two thousand sheer veils hovering between them that she can brush away with a mere thought.

She can see the hall with her eyes closed; feel Kamilah and the leaden weight of her years and Adrian’s, too, the same but different in a way that can’t be defined. Nadya feels all the organs in her body yearning towards a brightness she can only call ‘devotion’ at the other end of the room.

So much blood, so bright…

But around her—around them—the world is empty. Dark and dim; filled with nothing but feathers that arrive on one wind and vanish on the next. The fragility of human life crumbling to a fine powder underneath their touch.

The moon was once bright but no longer holds the same appeal. In a world without cities or smog or the fake light of mankind there was once a forest bathed in the light of the endless stars. And in that forest there was a lover.

But that lover is gone now.

Right?

Nadya inhales and begins to plummet back down — flew up to the moon but wasn’t close enough to touch. Eternity rushes back within her, roots withered and dried and rotting away from her stems. The forest too gone in a single second.

When she opens her eyes the noises are silent. The hall is just a hall — startlingly empty for the crowd and clutter of the shelves they passed.

A rough thumb strokes her cheekbone and brings her back to herself. Causes Nadya to look up into Valdas’ golden eyes. She struggles to catch her breath.

Kamilah strokes her hair — tries and fails to keep the worry from her voice.

“Nadya — are you all right?”

She replies with a nod. Can’t — or maybe just doesn’t want to — tear her eyes away from the man before her.

“You’re so alone…” So many voices have tried to make a home in her head that Nadya doesn’t recognize her own right away. “You cling to what’s left but beyond her there’s… there’s nothing.”

Nadya reaches up and mirrors Valdas’ touch with gentle hands. “You’d rather wither as a corpse than live as a man. They’re the same thing to you; both empty and tired.”

“To know completion only to lose it was to be ripped in two.” Valdas says.

“But… having half of yourself must be better than nothing at all.”

“Such a way of thinking is mortal and beyond me. I wish it weren’t.”

“Eternity doesn’t settle for anything less.”

Her own words surprise her. That’s not Nadya’s way of thinking — it’s so pessimistic. But then again it’s not really her way of thinking now is it?

Valdas confirms the thought with an appraising look.

“Indeed…” His touch slides down her face — she’s seen what those hands can do; their violence. Yet he cradles her gently. “What I would not give for even a moment of your power.”

Power. It breaks the spell they’re under. Makes Nadya push herself away and back into Kamilah’s waiting protection.

She doesn’t have any power.

Hard eyes glance to where Adrian struggles desperately against Isseya’s impossible hold. The look she gives Valdas is pleading. Earnest.

The man waves his hand — silent permission given — and Adrian is at her side.

“What—did he—Nadya—I—”

She lets him know she’s okay with a touch. But that’s not what they came here to do. That’s not what they’re risking everything for. She’s risking everything for him and not the other way around.

“Why did you lie to the Council?” There’s no room for doubt; no room to oppose her. She knows — he knows that she knows.

She just wish she knew how she knew. And the confusion of it makes her skull want to crack open like an egg.

When Valdas doesn’t answer she tries his lover; “Why did you lie and say you weren’t with Adrian? You knew it would condemn him to death. What do you have against him?”

“Turn your accusatory eye elsewhere, little girl,” Isseya snarls, “perhaps to those you so vehemently protect. The best liars hide in plain sight.”

Adrian tenses. “How did I lie? Whatever Vega’s told you about the Ferals —”

“You think we care about a meager infestation?” Valdas barks a laugh; returns to Isseya’s side with a protective arm around her waist. “We’ve seen the likes of worse and weathered them still.”

“So this isn’t about the Council?”

“We couldn’t care less about you, them, or the problems you make for yourselves.”

“We’ve seen it all before.” agrees Isseya.

But Adrian’s struggling — refuses to let it go. “What you heard at the trial was lies; all of it. Vega fabricated it to point the finger at me. I… I don’t know why. I wish I knew why. But if you tell me why he made you lie then maybe I can figure it out.”

Adrian’s focus is on Valdas like he’s the one who makes all the decisions. But Nadya knows better — watches behind him as a peculiar expression melts onto the priestess’ features. She knows that look.

If it wasn’t for Adrian’s healing blood she’d probably still have bruises from that look.

“Wait —” it dawns on her slowly, “— were you there to testify for or against Adrian in the first place?”

Smart girl, says the glint in Valdas’ eyes.

“We were called to speak on behalf of the accused — on Adrian’s behalf. And when certain mysteries came to light we decided it was best to extend the same courtesy to him that was given to us.”

Adrian struggles to make sense of it. “What does that even mean? When did I lie to you? What—what courtesy?”

But it’s like the more questions he asks the more their silent rage builds. There’s a rope being pulled between them and every confused outcry Adrian gives is another slash of the knife. She doesn’t want to see what will happen when it finally snaps.

If she wasn’t still consumed with the raw feeling Valdas left inside of her — some parting gift, jerk — Nadya knows she’d be able to focus. But her insides are sandpaper and every breath, movement, thought makes them grate together.

Her only solace is that Nadya knows what that feeling is like. Felt it on her own level deep inside when she saw Lily losing her grip on the edge of her life. And again when she turned back against her better judgment to watch her friends leap into a Feral mob to keep her safe.

And again when Adrian was sentenced to death.

Eternity doesn’t settle.

The burning in her body is grief without an outlet.

How dare he. Innocent faces hide deceitful minds. How dare he. Our lifetimes are haunted by ghosts we dare not give names to — yet this is more. He is more. But dare we hope again after all this time?

Is it better to hope for a spec of eternity than to grieve for the entirety of it?

“I remember him fondly, Domine, though I would not dare to say my memory is worth more than yours. Strange, though, that Adrian would know nothing of you, your infamy, or your grief.

“And to weigh the bulk of his innocence on a creature that could very well be Cynbel’s reflection… We all saw it — even Kamilah felt haunted by his presence. You did the right thing Valdemaras. You did the right thing to he who would rather see you and your love continue to mourn than help you hope.”

Okay, so, whatever he did to her Nadya very much wants taken back — only because she’s not asleep and not hallucinating and both of those would be preferable to standing where she feels safest in the world yet somehow can’t escape the villainous drawl of Adam Vega.

Even if it answers a lot of unasked questions.

God, please let her be right about this.

“It wasn’t Adrian who lied to you. It was Vega.”

Adrian frowns. “Nadya, what are you talking about?”

“Just what I was going to ask…” growls Valdas in warning. She can feel the rumble of his voice deep in her own breast.

So Nadya turns her words — and attention — to Isseya. The uncontrollable hurricane. The coin of fate.

“Isseya, please. Think about it. You were so angry that night, right? I made you think about him — the one you lost — and you wanted to —”

“I wanted to rip you limb from limb and feed your organs in little pieces to the pond fish.”

Artful. And shudder-worthy. “E-Exactly. So I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to sit in that trial and see Cadence. He looked just like him.”

“You saw it too…?” She asks in an almost broken whisper. Digs her nails deep into the meat of her lover’s upper arm; makes blood run down in thin strands that begin to drip-drip-drip on the white floor.

Nadya nods. “I did. And if I did then you can be sure Vega did with me. And I think he realized he could use your grief against you and for himself.”

Kamilah stays silent behind her. She doesn’t need to speak — Nadya knows; finally understands what her ominous warning was meant to serve as at Cadence and Katherine’s departure.

There’s a sliver of doubt, now — something hasty and makeshift to mend the fragile rope between them.

Isseya clings to her partner. “I told you, I told you…”

“I know, my love, but —”

“But that,” Nadya interrupts — and keeps going fast before he decides to do something irrational like snap her neck for her insolence, “right there. At the Ball you guys didn’t care who heard you but all of a sudden you were lying in front of the tribunal. You’re better than that — you said so yourself, Valdas.

“You don’t care what happens; to Adrian or to the Council. So why deny it so quickly? What do you gain from lying?”

The man grits his teeth. “If there is a point you ought to reach it. Quickly.”

Her heart begins to race. “Vega talked to you after the Ball didn’t he? He asked you about the questions you asked Cadence and then brought up all those painful memories of your lover, Cynbel.”

“Vega was an old acquaintance.”

“Pretty convenient timing though, huh?”

“He knows better than such insolence. We are —”

“No one cares who you are anymore!” And as the only one in the room with a pulse she really hates how hers keeps skipping every other beat. It’s just not fair. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you guys but the world moved on even if you didn’t. Nobody cares about the Trinity when there aren’t even three of you.

“Look at the facts, Valdas, please. Vega triggered your grief and — and used your hope, Isseya — to make you think Adrian was lying to you.”

“It… makes a modicum of sense.”

Kamilah steps out from behind her. Pensive thoughts and connected dots race through her mind. “If, through some means, Vega knew the man Adrian would call as his witness — knew the resemblance he bore — then it would be easy to reaffirm your doubts once the trial went in his direction.”

“And how would a youth like Vega know we would choose to deny your Adrian’s claims?” Valdas scoffs.

“Because he has moved on with the world, and knows we will always stay true to one thing.” Isseya relinquishes her bloody grip and coaxes her lover to meet her eyes.

“The rest of the world may burn but we will remain through the ages.”

Nadya, Kamilah, and Adrian watch the couple now enveloped in each other; gentle touches to eternal skin and one kiss in the wake of thousands — maybe even millions.

Adrian tries to advance — moves aside the hand she reaches out in warning — and moves slow and purposeful. Aware of the bloodshed just beneath the surface in front of them.

His sincerity makes his voice break. “I know what it’s like to love someone — and to lose them. How it never really goes away and… and how we have all these years to keep feeling the hurt. If I had even an inkling that your partner was still alive I would have done everything in my power to help you reunite.”

“See? Adrian isn’t capable of what Vega claims. He’s, well,” Kamilah looks him up and down, “he’s too damn soft, frankly.”

Isseya is the first to pull away. Keeps herself in the safety of Valdas’ embrace while scrutinizing Adrian and his words.

“I see none of the Godmaker’s ambition in you. Adam was always prone to bold and fantastical claims but that… that was a lie and he knew it.”

The Godmaker. Nadya doesn’t want to know. One problem at a time.

And speaking of problems — time is going to become one if they don’t start hurrying. She can’t let herself drown in the strangeness of what’s happening.

So here she goes. “The fact of the matter is Vega used you both. He used your loyalty to each other and I’d even say he used the memory of your partner to get what he wanted out of you and out of the Council.

“It’s despicable, and wrong, and downright evil. But he’s a career politician so I can’t even pretend I’m surprised…” Nadya shakes her head to get her thoughts back on track. “So please help us get back at him. Help us clear Adrian’s name and figure out who the real person at fault is.”

The couple exchange looks — Nadya’s actually sweating waiting for an answer. Then Kamilah makes… a surprisingly good point.

“If mortal altruism is not enough to spur you forward, then consider the state of your reputation should Adam succeed through manipulating you.”

That makes up their minds. If Nadya’s a little disappointed in them for it she doesn’t let it show. Something’s better than nothing.

At first glance it looks like Valdas’ focus is elsewhere — perhaps in the symbolic distance. Then Nadya follows his eyes across the hall to a painting alone in the far corner. Tucked away as if to be forgotten on purpose.

A dull throbbing starts in her temples. Not the same roaring pain from before but similar. The longer she looks the stronger it gets.

She doesn’t know how she knows; she simply does. Can hear it in the back of her mind the same way she’s heard everything else this night.

“What are the chances that this scrap of canvas will survive? Especially if you insist we leave it behind?”

“Do you not wish to see what will become of it, my dear? To see if it — like us — persists the ages?”

“A grand experiment for a later date. I have a meeting with Parliament at dusk.”

“Parliament will not rot from the inside after one day, Holy One. Stay with us. I beseech you.”

“You know how to tempt me so.”

“I may have an inkling after all these years.”

“And for the years yet to come.”

That’s why they came here. Nadya’s certain. Knows that if she runs across the room she’ll see two familiar faces and the one from the painting at Marcel’s castle. The Trinity.

Another familiar face, too. It lingers in the doorway at the far end of the room; silent, stoic.

She lets herself take in the gaunt features for what feels like the first time. Notes every inch of greying flesh and black veins pulsing out of throbbing temples disfigured with bumps like horns. Stares at lips peeled back and bitten off in the frenzy of hunger; the sharp and almost pristine tip of every fanged tooth.

The yellowing illness around bulging eyes. Pupils narrowed into slits. The way they tremble and struggle to hold her transfixed in their horror and, strangely, their splendor too.

She opens her mouth to speak. Breaks the spell they were held under.

The Feral lets out an unearthly howl and rushes in for the kill.

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #adrian raines #playchoices #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: isseya #oc: valdas #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

7 notes · View notes

brideofedoras · 5 years

Text

Soulbound: Almost Human

Disclaimer: I do not own Almost Human or the characters, only my OCs...

Word Count: 2900+

Rating: 18 +

Warnings: Death and injuries, anxiety, asthma. More warnings to be added in the future.

Chapter One

“Samuel Jacob Williams is… was… my hero,” she schooled her grimace as she stared down at the paper in her trembling hands. For a moment the blue ink blurred out of focus, but three rapid blinks of her baby blue eyes cleared her vision. “He was a wonderful husband and father, the best dad a girl could ever hope for, and he was a great detective.” A slight wheeze rattled up her throat. “He always knew he would die in the line of duty, more than once he would tell me he wouldn’t go down without a fight but he would be damned proud to give his life if it meant The City would be safe for another day.

“He spoke often of his old partner and the rookies he’d break in, the fresh new detectives he trained. They were more than coworkers, fellow cops and detectives, they were his other family. His brothers and sisters in blue. I grew up hearing many funny stories about the job, and as I got older he opened up about the harder cases. Losing Eddie Kennex had been one of the hardest moments for him, Eddie lost his life shortly after Mom lost her battle with cancer. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to hear him drunk and arguing with Sandy and two other detectives as they dragged him into the house and to his bedroom. It took him a week before he could open up about Eddie, and another week before he could face his coworkers and Eddie’s son.” Her eyes blurred again. She blinked them several times to clear them, gripping the podium with her free hand to ground herself as she realized it was her anxiety rearing its ugly head. “He made me promise not to follow in his footsteps as a cop, and I reminded him that I preferred to tinker with the guts of an android or a computer. I’ll help keep the city safe by keeping the MXes in tiptop condition.”

Her ears perked up when she heard someone seated behind Sandy mutter something that sounded like “Kennex”. She looked up just in time to catch the look that crossed her godmother’s face.

Sandy shook her head, indicating for her to continue.

“Daddy was proud of every one of you,” she went on, only to stop when she noticed several of the cops were whispering to one another. She caught “Kennex” and “setup” and “he never should’ve been leading that raid”.

Anger flooded through her, white hot. The hand holding the paper her notes were written on clenched. “We are here to remember a detective, not trash talk a fellow cop,” she snapped. “Daddy spoke highly of John Kennex! He spoke more about John and Martin Pelham, Eddie and Sandy than he ever spoke about anyone else! He would be ashamed that you guys are on a witch hunt at a memorial service for a fallen detective!” She wadded up her paper and threw it aside. “This is the hardest thing I have to do today, saying goodbye to my father, the only blood family I have left! And you’re talking crap on a man who is in a coma in the hospital, hanging on by a thread when his best friend and his mentor died!” She looked out among the crowd of fifty men and women gathered in the chapel, taking in the shocked looks on their faces. “Here I am, twenty-five years old and honoring the life and death of the most important person in my life and you all are acting like a bunch of immature assholes ganging up to beat the hell out of someone!” She took a step back from the podium, pride filling her chest for standing up and speaking out in defense of someone who wasn’t there to defend himself. “I hope you’re proud of yourselves for ruining what should have been a remembrance!”

Her chin wobbled. Her eyes burned. Her chest tightened.

Her vision blacked out.

Emily Williams zipped her backpack and set it on the table next to the teddy bear and the vase with a small bouquet of sunflowers and daisies.

Her phone vibrated on the bed behind her. Her eyes slid shut for a moment as she drew in a slow, deep breath before she picked up the device. Seeing her godmother’s name she tapped answer. “Hey, Sandy.”

“Hi, Sweetie,” Captain Sandra Maldonado’s voice sounded a tad frazzled. “I can’t leave just yet to pick you up. We had a lead come in a few moments ago.”

“On the ambush?” She reached up with her free hand to rake her shoulder-length chocolate brown locks from her face.

“Not the ambush, but on a related case,” Sandy told her. “It’ll be maybe half an hour before I can leave the precinct. I know you’re ready to get the hell out of the hospital--”

“It’s fine, Sandy,” Emily couldn’t help the smile that teased her lips. “I’m in no hurry to go… to go home. I am ready to get out of this room. I’ve already told one of the CNAs to just rename 418-B the Emily Rose Williams Room.”

Sandra laughed at that. “They do keep admitting you to that particular room, don’t they?”

She shook her head. “Yeah, they do.”

“Well… Since you’ll be there for at least another hour, would you feel up to going upstairs to visit with John? I’m not going to be able to visit with him tonight. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be here late working this lead.”

“Sandy, I could always call a cab or one of my neighbors to come get me,” Emily offered, moving toward the window to look out at the street below. “If this case is related to the raid I don’t want to pull you away from it.”

“I’m coming to get you, Emmie, I need to give my brain a break for a little while and check on John,” Sandy’s tone brooked no argument. “I’ll be there when I get there, we’ll grab lunch, and if you decide you want to stay somewhere else tonight you are more than welcome to go to my place.”

She couldn’t help but smile again. There was no arguing with the redhead. “All right. I’ll go sit with Detective Kennex and wait for you.”

“Any place in particular for lunch?”

“I’m not really hungry, but considering breakfast was turkey sausage and rubbery eggs, I’d settle for noodles,” she shrugged.

Sandra snorted. “You and Kennex would get along famously, Kiddo. He would live off noodles every day if he could get away with it.”

“With all that salt?” Emily shuddered. She loved Chinese noodle dishes, but every once in a while was enough for her. They tasted too salty for her.

“Yeah,” her godmother murmured. “Will you need to stop anywhere else before I take you home?”

“I’ll call the pharmacy to deliver my prescriptions,” she answered.

“Okay. I’ll be there when I can. Oh, and Emily?”

“Yeah, Sandy?”

“Talk to Kennex? They say that a person in a coma can hear when someone speaks to them. John could use another friendly voice.”

Emily nodded. “What would I say? I’ve never met him, Sandy.”

“Talk about your dad, or about yourself. Tell him you’re applying for an internship with Rudy. Those two butt heads a lot.”

“Sandy, you know I hate talking about myself!”

“John’s in a coma,” she reminded the younger woman. “He needs to hear a friendly voice. And even if he were awake, he wouldn’t tease or pick on you. He’d probably flirt with you.”

“I doubt that, Sandy,” Emily turned away from the window.

“Oh, he would, and he’s so terrible at it,” Sandra’s humor faded. “John’s going to need all the support he can get.”

“I’ll do what I can, Sandy,” Emily agreed softly.

“Okay,” her godmother murmured. “I’ll see you when I get there. Hopefully I can sneak out of here in thirty.”

“You’re the captain, you can do whatever you want,” she grinned, knowing full well what Sandra was going to say.

“I am, but I prefer to lead by example,” she laughed.

They ended the call with a quiet see you later.

Emily slipped her phone into the back pocket of her distressed skinny jeans before she walked over to the chair near the bed to wait on the charge nurse to bring the discharge paperwork and doctor’s orders.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself standing in front of the private room Detective Kennex was in.

“It’s good to see someone other than Captain Maldonado visiting the detective,” the CNA escorting her murmured.

Emily looked at the blonde, eyes wide. “No one else has been here?”

Sarah, she belatedly recalled the woman’s name, shook her head. “Not a soul. Does he not have any family or friends?”

“His dad died ten years ago,” her heart ached for the man. “A few months after my mom passed away… His mom… I think my dad told me Detective Kennex’ mom passed away when he was in high school. As for friends… I honestly don’t know, I’ve never met him,” she confessed. “He worked with Daddy, he’s close with Sandy. He lost his entire team in that raid, and everyone else is working long hours trying to find the people responsible.” She dragged her eyes from the frosted panel of the door to the CNA beside her. “Sandy said he has a girlfriend. She’s not been in?”

“He’s been here for thirteen days,” Sarah’s mouth twisted into a frown. “The captain has been the only visitor. And now you.” She pressed a button on the panel beside the door. “Come on, let me introduce you to our resident strong and silent detective.”

Emily followed the blonde into the room, her baby blue eyes sweeping the sterile space. No flowers, no cards, no stuffed animals. Just a framed photograph on the small dresser by the bed and a dragon figurine. She set her bouquet and bear on the counter by the sink before slowly approaching the bed.

“Detective Kennex, you have a new visitor,” Sarah spoke in a cheerful voice as she gently adjusted the detective’s position and checked the leads and IVs. She stepped back and motioned for Emily to come over.

Emily shrugged her backpack from her shoulder and set it on the chair as she joined the CNA. She looked at the blonde. “I have no idea what to say to him,” she whispered.

Sarah smiled as she squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “Basketball or hockey scores, the weather, maybe something you’ve tried recently that you absolutely love. We talk to him every time we’re in here, hoping he’ll wake up and tell us to shut up. A couple of us are keeping him up to date on our favorite soaps, even if he’s not a fan.”

She managed a smile at that. “I don’t watch soaps or sports, I’m a grad student.”

“Then talk about your studies,” Sarah headed for the door. “Thank you, Miss Wililams, for coming up here.”

She nodded before she slowly turned back to face the detective. She reached out and took John’s left hand in her two cold hands. A shiver of heat coursed through her from the feel of his limp, callused hand in hers. She smiled shyly as she studied the healing bruises and cuts on his face, the scar on his chin. “Um, hi, Detective Kennex, I’m Emily. I hope you don’t mind me, someone you don’t know… I… I’m not exactly a stranger since you worked with my dad… I hope it’s okay for me to come visit you while you’re in the hospital. I’m waiting for my ride to pick me up and she wanted me to wait here for her. She’s been visiting with you a lot, and I… Nobody should be alone in the hospital. If it weren’t for her, I.... I, uh,” she laughed nervously when she felt his hand squeeze hers. His heart rate kicked up briefly on the monitor attached to the bed. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry. I’m, yeah… You probably can’t even hear me since you’re in a coma, but I want you to know that I hope you have a quick recovery.” She reached up with her right hand to comb her fingers through his dark hair. She smiled when his brow furrowed slightly. Was he ticklish? Was he responding to her touch? Or was it just a random tic totally unrelated to external stimuli?

She quickly shrugged that thought off before reaching over to move her backpack off the chair. She pulled it toward her and sat down.

“I just finished up my own hospital stay,” she said after wracking her brain for something else to say. She frowned when her lungs grew tight and shifted to fish her inhaler out of her jeans pocket just in case her growing anxiety brought on an asthma attack. “I have asthma,” she admitted with a twist of her lips. “I’ve got it under control for the most part but it’s mostly triggered by anxiety attacks. Three days ago was my dad’s memorial service. Quite a few of the officers and detectives attending were being disrespectful of Daddy, being disrespectful to me, they were talking about you, blaming you for the… for the lives lost… and I lost my temper. I stopped in the middle of the speech I’d prepared and ripped them a new one. I cussed in a church,” she could laugh about it now. Three days ago it had put her in the hospital. “I was so caught up in my emotions I didn’t realize my anxiety had gotten the better of me. One minute I was feeling proud for shutting them up, the next I’m waking up in the emergency room with an oxygen mask on my face and all kinds of monitors attached to me.” She stopped herself from continuing, remembering that initial panic and ripping the mask and the leads from her chest before the nurse returning to the trauma room stopped her. She didn’t need to unload on the detective. “Anyway they decided I could go home today. I’ve been meaning to come up here and visit with you anyway. I want you to know I don’t believe a word they were saying about you. I don’t blame you. Daddy thought the world of you, he was always talking about you to me. Said he wanted us to meet, but never did anything about it,” she smiled, shaking her head. “I asked him one time if he was ever going to take me to McQuaid’s to meet you some evening and he told me, ‘You’ll meet him when you’re supposed to meet him, Princess.’ I don’t know what he meant by that, he never answered when I would ask why.” She idly played with the callused fingers of the hand she still held. She blushed when she realized what she was doing, and stammered out an apology. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, standing up to gently lay his hand on the blanket by his hip. “I’m holding your hand as if I have a right to, and I don’t, I’m so sorry. I just… I didn’t realize I…” She stepped back from the bed as she scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m… I’m just not used to… to… this.” She started to pace the room. “Sorry, my anxiety is getting the best of me, and you’d think I’d be excited about getting out of the hospital after being a patient here myself. I am, but I’m not. I’m… I don’t want to go home to an empty house. I’ll… I’ll probably be ordering a pizza tonight, I don’t think I can handle cooking dinner for just myself. Dammit, I’m sorry, Detective, you’re in a coma and I’m unloading on you. I…” She jumped when the door opened, looking over to see Sandra Maldonado standing there with her coat draped over her arm.

“Any change?” Sandy asked softly.

Emily shook her head. “No, just reflexive movements,” she answered. She turned her attention back to the detective, her left hand curling over his left once more, her right hand stroking through his hair. “Can… can I come back…” She laughed nervously at herself. “Why am I even asking, you’re unconscious… If it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back tomorrow to sit with you,” she finished in a whisper. “Hospitals get awfully lonely.”

Her eyes were drawn to her hand when she felt a slight squeeze.

“Did he just…?” Sandra asked slowly.

“I think it’s just reflexes,” she shrugged, but she squeezed his fingers. “I’ll be back tomorrow, sometime, Detective Kennex. I need to get my assignments and get caught up on what I’ve missed in my classes.” She smiled to herself as she pulled away. “Maybe I’ll work on my assignments while I’m here, work on them out loud. Some of the classes are very boring, I’m hoping that you’ll wind up coming to just to tell me to shut up and get out.”

Sandra laughed. “That sounds like something John would do, but I doubt he’d ever say that to you, Emily,” she smiled. “I’ll just hound him about the paperwork that was supposed to be turned in weeks ago on the Andretti Corp case.”

Emily giggled. “Daddy hated the paperwork part of the cases.”

“We all do,” Sandra leaned down to grab Emily’s bag. She smiled sadly when she saw the flowers and the bear by the sink.

“Thought I’d brighten up his room,” Emily shrugged.

She nodded. “He’d appreciate it.” She slipped her arm around the younger woman when she walked over to her. “And I think he’d appreciate the company.”

#almost human #john kennex #john kennex/ofc #soulmates #angst

19 notes · View notes