#the knuts own my heart

[fruitcoops]

Way Down on the River

O’Knutzy Week Day 2 ( @oknutzyweek2023 ) : Bucket Hat (B1) + Advice (D1) with Leo’s grandmother <3 O’Knutzy belong to @lumosinlove, but I made up Apolline!

Sweet tea on a summer evening, and Leo is happy. Finn can see it from a room away. He hums along to the radio filtering in from the backyard, bass-boosted by the joy of his family. Logan is almost certainly charming Wyatt at the barbecue.

But Leo is happy without any of that. Condensation buds along his fingertips; he balances two fresh glasses of tea in one hand and reaches for the screen door with a childlike sort of excitement. The ice cubes ring almost as soft as his greeting through the fine mesh.

Finn lowers his voice and ducks his head. “So should I call her ‘MeeMaw’, or…?”

“We aren’t really about the ‘MeeMaw’ life here,” Eloise laughs beside him.

Outside, the porch swing creaks gently as Leo sits with a smile and a sigh Finn can hear through the door. Mismatched glasses clink on mosaic tiles.

Dusk looks good on him. Contentment looks even better. He loves it when Leo is happy.

“I really don’t think I can just call her Apolline,” Finn murmurs. The silhouette to Leo’s left waves a hand through the air; more laughter siphons after it. “I mean—I know she asked me to, but it feels wrong.”

Eloise’s smile crinkles her nose. “You are too sweet sometimes, Finn O’Hara. The kids call her Granmѐ. Everyone else goes with Mama Lee.”

Finn nods slowly. He’s been lucky enough to call Leo his for over a year now, but he can’t fathom a world in which he calls his boyfriend’s beloved grandmother by her first name. His mother would be horrified. He would be horrified. His ancestors would rise up and smack him for the sheer disrespect.

“Mama Lee.” It’s not so bad. Eloise looks pleased, at least. Finn tilts his head from side to side, weighing the sound. The porch lights cast Leo and his grandmother in a neverending sunset on their shared seat.

Outside, Leo says something that sends them both into peals of giggling. Eloise huffs under her breath and sets a dry plate aside. Her eyes are bright and warm when she glances at him. “I hope you know you’re not getting him back.”

“Not a problem,” Finn laughs.

“It’s a wonder we ever got him home from sleepovers. Though—” She pauses and cranes her neck to look out the door. “—between the two of us, I think my mother is about ready to adopt you boys at the first opportunity.”

And you must be Finn. Light brown skin and dark eyes and smile lines that told of a life well-lived and well-loved. A peacock-blue shawl of cloudlike softness, a carpet bag bulging at the clasp with gifts and food. Call me Apolline, honey. A voice like summer thunder on a lazy river. Magnolia and citrus perfume. I hear you like cards?

“You think so?”

Eloise shakes her head, grinning. “You were hers the second you knew how to play gin rummy.”

Finn sends a silent prayer of thanks up to his own grandmother for training him with ‘Wheel of Fortune’ and cookies. “I was not prepared.”

“Nobody ever is.” Eloise nudges him with her elbow and casts a significant look out the door. “She counts cards, you know. Like she’s in Vegas. Swear to God I’ve seen her with aces up her sleeves.”

--

A sharp burst of laughter fills the house before someone—his mother, he thinks—hurriedly shushes it. “That’s your boy, mm?” Granmѐ gives an approving nod. “I like his voice.”

Leo buries his smile in the rim of his glass. “Me, too.”

“You said he reads out loud?”

“Sometimes.”

She nods again, settles deeper into the cushions, and tucks her shawl close with a long exhale.

“He should work at the library. Kids want a voice like that.”

“He wanted to be a teacher if hockey didn’t work.”

Granmѐ’s pleased hum echoes in his memory, a threadline mapping a hundred honeyed afternoons. The breeze cools them both; he slides his feet beneath the folded lap blanket, but keeps his tea close. She made it. It’s rich and sweet the way he has never managed to replicate. It sticks to his teeth, his throat, his heart, and shoos the drenched heat of summer off like a naughty cat from the yard. If he closes his eyes, he can taste the sun inside it.

“He likes you.”

She says it with the surety of someone who simply knows these things. Leo catches a drip of tea that threatens to slide off his glass. “He does.”

“Cher, he likes you something fierce.” She spares him a sly glance before looking back to the street, where the sun has long since set over the roof of their neighbors’ house. One slippered foot extends to give them a push off the ottoman—the hinges whine, but rock them nonetheless. He has fallen asleep out here with her so, so many times. Granmѐ clucks her tongue. “Your other one, too. Your français.”

“Logan,” Leo supplies.

She waves him off with a tch that makes him grin. “I know.”

“Ouais, Granmѐ.”

Her clever eyes dart over him, up and down. Her mouth is set firm but he can feel her amusement like a cradling wind. “I know,” she repeats. Leo could listen to the syrupy slide of her French forever. “The love life of my grandbaby is up here somewhere.”

Up here somewhere. As if she isn’t the sharpest person in the room at any given moment. “Ouais, Granmѐ.”

She hums a playful warning, but smiles when he sets his glass aside and scoots closer to her. “There is a difference,” she notes without preface.

“Hmm?”

“The liking.” She casts her shawl aside with a flick of the wrist; her touch is gentle as she takes the bucket hat from his head and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He has his father’s height, but he knows he’s his mother’s son in her eyes. “And the loving.”

She watches him. Just…watches. Her hand lingers by his face, warm fingers drifting butterfly-soft over his skin. Summer has painted her with the deep brown freckles that stipple his memory—the marks he would trace with grasping hands in childhood Augusts, and the ones she would map on his own nose and cheeks with a fingertip to show they were just the same. They spent ages in the grass like that, across from each other on a gingham blanket as old as his mother, a namesake and her mirror.

“They love me,” he says softly. It’s part promise, part reassurance. He’s not sure who needs it more right now.

The wrinkles by her eyes deepen with contentment. “They do.”

“I love them.”

“You love so much, boo.”

“But them—I really do.” She needs to know this. He needs her to know this. She had known everything, like always, even before he told her. And he told her before anyone else.

Granmѐ, I don’t think I like girls like I’m supposed to.

Is that what you’re so wound up in? She hadn’t even looked up from her puzzle. Mmhmm. Come find my corner piece.

Crickets and frogs fill the silence, growing bold in the hastening night. The windchime twinkles at the corner of the porch. Leo has never met anyone who sounds the way his grandmother does. She has the whole depth of the river in her voice. Spanish moss pours off her words. He can see the breadth of the bayou in her searching eyes. “Give your heart to the people that deserve it, Leo.”

He is five years old and falling asleep against her in the rocking chair, and she is humming to jazz records with a hand on his back, and he is safer there than anywhere in the world.

His voice shakes when it slips out. “Do they deserve it?”

“How could I tell you a thing like that, hmm?”

But she’s smiling. And Finn laughs again inside and the smile stays, wide like his own. Leo sags with the relief. She doesn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug that seals up the hairline cracks of homesickness with golden honey. He twists a tassel of her shawl between his fingertips and allows himself to pretend the world is as simple as it was when they’d lay out under the spilled-milk stars and she’d bundle him in peacock blue to chase away the chill.

His next breath comes out wet. “They deserve it.”

“I think they’re going to work very hard to make sure they keep deserving it.”

“I love you.”

Her hand is so strong when she passes it down the back of his head. He feels her answer in the pressure and the slowness, as if she doesn’t want to pull away. But she does, and still, their arms touch when they take their tea back. Leo rests the side of his head on her shoulder and wonders if he should feel silly about it.

“Mama’s worried about you living by yourself out there,” he says once one song bleeds into the next in the backyard. It’s not even midnight. They’ll have time for the party later.

His grandmother scoffs. “Do I look like I need help?”

“Non.”

“Then you tell her I’m just fine.”

“I will.”

“And tell your daddy, too. Man thinks the bayou is dangerous, like he didn’t live there for years.”

“Ouais, Granmѐ.” The vowels drag out like a good stretch on sore muscles.

She gives a harumph that makes them both snort—Leo barely glances up when there’s a knock on the doorframe. “Bonjour. Do you need anything?”

He smothers a laugh at the crispness of Logan’s accent against their own. “Non, I think we’re okay—”

“Ah-ah,” his grandmother interrupts. Her fingernails tap lightly on the side of her glass. “More tea, if you’re asking.”

“Bien sûr, madame.”

Leo catches Logan’s eye as he bends and gives him a look of disbelief, mouthing madame? with a healthy amount of incredulity. The consequences come swiftly; the loving hand running through his hair bestows a firm swat upon the side of his head.

“Apolline,” Granmѐ corrects in a voice at odds to the smarting skin above Leo’s ear. He rubs at it and pointedly ignores Logan’s bitten-back grin.

“I’ll be back in a moment, madame.”

Logan’s gone with a smile and a wink that makes her bark a laugh. “He’s a good boy.”

“See?” Leo tilts his head towards the inside of the house. “Deserves me.”

“I don’t think your rouge will call me by my name, either.”

Leo shakes his head and sits up with a stretch that makes his wrists pop. “Told you they were raised right.”

“We raised you too well to even look twice at the rude ones,” she sniffs. Her haughtiness lasts only until their eyes meet, and then the joy breaks free. The porch swing sways in the night breeze; they laugh at the stars with tea-sweetness on their lips and thick cornbread warming their bellies. Yes, Leo thinks, they raised him too well to accept anything less than this.

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

I’m doing a comparison of all the English dub versions of winx. Just got to Nick. The animation makes me SO ANGRY

[spindrifters]

In honor of impmas 2024, I present to you good godfather sirius black and the one and only time I will ever write harry, ft. some groupchat crack treated seriously. happy birthday, @impishtubist!

“Where have you been?”

Harry jumps, the uncanny impersonation of Molly Weasley reverberating through the dusty rafters and black lacquer front hall of Grimmauld Place. Sirius smirks, grabs the lanky fifteen year-old by the scruff and pulls him into an all-encompassing hug.

“Didn’t half scare me, Sirius,” Harry grumbles into his chest, and there’s the whisper of an attempt to pull away, but his heart isn’t really in it. In any case, Sirius doesn’t let him go, just buries a grin into that mess of hair. Lemongrass shampoo and London grime.

“Serves you right, sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“No? What time d’you call this, then?”

“A perfectly appropriate time of night to go for a walk,” his godson continues to grouse. “Needed to clear my head.” Only it doesn’t escape his notice that there hasn’t been another attempt to pull away. And he’s not wrong. It’s barely half eleven, only Harry’s at double risk on his own these days. If not Death Eaters or another bloody dementor, then the press who’ll hound him to the ends of the earth should they catch sight of the Boy Who Lied—fucking cunts—alone on walkabout without so much as his friends for a buffer. There’s a reason the Order’s got about ten layers of protocol surrounding his protection at all times. If it were anyone else who’d caught him slipping in through the front door, there’d be hell to pay.

Harry’s not stupid, though. Far from it, Sirius thinks, that old pride swelling in his chest. And he’s got James’s cloak for good measure, clutched in a hand that smells of hot concrete and pigeon shit.

Harry seems to sag against his chest, Sirius’s hand still wrapped around his nape. Summer sweat of a teenage boy on the brink of becoming a man.

“Knut for your thoughts?”

“M’fine.”

Liar.

These are the things, then. The little tells beyond the way Harry strains toward him like a houseplant yearning for the sun. It’s not the same as sniffing out smells—daffodils and murtlap essence and the endless putrid fecal stench of Azkaban—but it’s just as strong. Pheromones or some muggle toss like that, something he might ask Hermione Granger about if he remembers before she heads back off to school.

It’s something Sirius noticed a long time ago, the change that happened in fifth year when his own heightened senses were lent keener by the dog that now lived inside. He remembers that Prongs was bright and coppery like triumph when he stepped off the Quidditch pitch, or cinnamon-fresh like home. He remembers being sixteen, frustrated and hormonal and knowing he’d die on the spot if anyone caught him with his nose buried in Moony’s discarded trousers to see if there was anything there that might even hint he wasn’t alone in this.

And Harry…

Something sour signaling frustration. Harsh metallic that means fear. Beneath that, the sweet damp scent of hurt. Sirius can hardly blame him. Fuck Peter Pettigrew, if he ever gets out of this fucking godforsaken house arrest, Merline Maitland and the rest of her staff at the Prophet are at the very top of his hit list.

“Go to bed,” he tells him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty brow, one that smells of rubbish bins lining the streets for the morning to come.

Green eyes flick up, half shock. “Thought I’d get it in the neck.”

“Nah,” says Sirius, guiding him up the stairs. “Just let me know next time. Maybe Snuffles can come along, too.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, though they both know he won’t. Sirius doesn’t need to sniff that out to know. He still thinks he has to protect Sirius just as much as Sirius knows it's not his job to do it.

He’s a good boy, Prongs. Too good. He doesn’t deserve any of this.

And.

You’d be so bloody proud.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hey !

I love reading your posts , you are brilliant truly.

I would like to request an analysis of James potter and maybe his relationship with lily Evans.

Thank you so much for your time !

Hi!

Thank you so much! 💕 I love writing these analysis posts, and I'm so glad other people enjoy reading them!

Now, James and Lily Potter, I'll start by giving my biased opinion which is that I like them as characters (especially Lily, love her) and their relationship.

So without further ado:

James Potter's Childhood

So before the Pottermore article that revealed Fleamont and Euphemia existed, the common fanon parents of James were Charlus and Dorea, I'm going to go with Fleamont and Euphemia being his parents though. (I still sometimes prefer his parents to be Charlus and Dorea in fic, even though it makes less sense with what we know about James, as I'll mention later).

So what do we know about the Potter family?

We know they are pretty rich. Not Malfoy or Black level rich, but they have a substantial amount of money as shown repeatedly:

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

(PS, 57)

We also know, from Pottermore, that the Potters are relatively newer money, making a good portion of their wealth from Henry Potter’s potions business (James' grandfather).

We also know Potters are common enough members in the Wizengamont from Pottermore. I posed here that the Wizengamot seats pass down families, which will place the Potters as wealthy and influential in the wizarding community as a whole.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said. “Blimey,” said James, “and I thought you seemed all right!” Sirius grinned. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?” James lifted an invisible sword. “’Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.” Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him. “Got a problem with that?”

(DH, 567)

We know from James his father was in Gryffindor and probably his grandfather too. His distaste towards Slythering and anything resembling Dark Magic probably came from home. The same way Draco came to Hogwarts with his notions of blood purity and how Slytherin was the best house because he was parroting his parents, James is the same. He is an 11-year-old shouting off whatever he hears at home.

This is why I mentioned Fleamont and Euphemia make more sense as James' parents. As much as I personally like the idea of his parents being Charlus and Dorea, it wouldn't make sense with what we see. Dorea was born a Black, which means James would likely know who Sirius is and would probably have different notions regarding Slytherin house if his mother was there...

James Potter, then, grew up as the only child of a rich and politically influential family of Gryffindors, he was spoiled and used to having anything he wanted whenever he wanted, which is clear from his behavior.

James yawned hugely and rumpled up his hair, making it even messier than it had been. Then, with a glance toward Professor Flitwick, he turned in his seat and grinned at a boy sitting four seats behind him.

(OotP, 642)

He is brilliant and he is aware of it. Lily refers to him as arrogant often before they start dating, and I have to agree with her assessment of the teenage James. James at 15 is lounging in his seat and feels untouchable. He is at the top of his own world, popular, rich, and brilliant. So of course he's arrogant, he feels like nothing could reach him.

Ron said, stopping mid-sentence at the look on Harry’s face. “Why are you grinning?” “I’m not,” said Harry quickly, looking down at his Transfiguration notes and attempting to straighten his face. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree.

(OotP, 704)

But it isn't that simple. James chooses to appear unbothered and untouchable, and I do think he is prideful but not as arrogant as Lily and Snape make him out to be, even at 15. The reason I think that is the above passage. I never really saw anyone bring it up in association with James' character, but Harry mentions Ron messing up his hair as he brags about his Quidditch save in much the same way James did in the memory he saw. The reason this is interesting is that we know Ron, we know how insecure he is and that all this hair messing is show and bravado that isn't fully backed up.

And considering the parallels I already mentioned James having with Draco and will mention more of them later, I wonder if James really does have insecurities he covers up with pride and arrogance — something we see both Ron do (in the above scene) and Draco do in general.

James Potter, when it comes down to it, has more in common with Draco Malfoy than with Harry in terms of his personality and even character arc, down to some of the things he says:

“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him, and with a jolt, Harry realized that it was Sirius. Sirius did not smile.

-James Potter to Sirius Black, 1971 (DH, 567)

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

-Draco Malfoy to Harry Potter, 1991 (PS, 58)

So James is spoiled, snobbish, and used to getting his way in everything, unlike Lily and Sirius, who grew up with siblings and were more used to having to share or give up their wants sometimes. James also feels the need to live up to certain expectations, he has to be the best (the way Draco thought he would be at Hogwarts), he needs to be popular and top of the class and a lot of his pride and confidence probably hinges on these external sources, his arrogance is superficial. I just can't see a character who has real self-confidence be shown in narrative parallels to either Ron "self-esteem issues" Weasley or Draco "Arrogance to Hide Weakness" Malfoy.

The Mauraders

We move on to James' time at Hogwarts. He gets sorted into Gryffindor and befriends the Mauraders. I kinda want to talk about their friendship dynamic a bit, because it is interesting.

We saw in the earlier quote from the train, that Sirius was the first of the Mauraders James met, and he was the closest to him out of the bunch. I'm going to talk more about Sirius and James' friendship later in this post as they are a separate entity from the Marauders. I mean, there's a reason everyone in PoA keeps mentioning James and Sirius in a single breath while Lupin is never brought up.

(I know the reason is so JKR could keep the reveal for later, but in universe, it's quite telling)

Now, from what we see of them, they have a very clear dynamic. James is the leader, and Sirius is his second and only real equal (academically and by popularity) who are the closest to each other. Then we have Remus, who is friends with them, but they don't take him or his concerns as seriously. Remus was usually afraid to speak up against James and Sirius because he felt he was expandable to the friend group, a feeling Peter shared, if even worse than Remus. James and Sirius didn't really treat Peter great:

“Put that away, will you?” said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer. “Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement.” Wormtail turned slightly pink but James grinned. “If it bothers you,” he said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off.

(OotP, 645)

Sirius is the one James actually takes cues from and vice versa. Pettigrew is often belittled and made the butt of their jokes and Remus:

“I’m bored,” said Sirius. “Wish it was full moon.” “You might,” said Lupin darkly from behind his book.

(OotP, 345)

“How thick are you, Wormtail?” said James impatiently. “You run round with a werewolf once a month —” “Keep your voice down,” implored Lupin. Harry looked anxiously behind him again.

(OotP, 643)

Is treated friendlier than Peter, but not with the same respect James and Sirius reserve for each other. James mentions Remus is a werewolf in a crowded hall, Sirius endangered Remus' secret during The Prank. We see Sirius doesn't really take Remus' Lycanthropy as the serious concern it is for Remus. Obviously, Sirius gets better about it, but this is the dynamic of the Marauders the way we see them. It's a far cry from a healthy friend group, but they were teenagers, and teens actually do on occasion have these kinds of friend groups that you question if it can be called friendship (I know I've seen a few of these in my school). I think the adult Remus and Sirius we see in OotP are closer than they were in school, and the reason for that was the war and having no one else really, but this is a James meta and not a Mauraders in general meta, so I'll focus.

Prongs

Many in the fandom already talked about what a brilliant and insane feat of magic becoming animagi at 15 is. We know James was a prodigy in Transfiguration and other areas of magic as well considering his confidence regarding the DADA exam. What I want to talk about Prongs, in particular, is the symbolism of a stag as one's Animagus form.

I talked about this a little already here, but basically, stags and deers in general represent:

The cycle of life and death

Agility and grace

Bravery

Nobility

Stags additionally represent:

Masculinity

Authority

Leadership

Fatherhood

So, what does all this tell us about James?

Well, it tells us he is as Gryffindor as they come (Bravery & Nobility), the cycle of life & death is his connection to the Peverells and his own early demise. Agility and grace make sense as well if you take it to mean he was a talented and graceful dueler, which is very possible and even likely.

And then we have the stag-specific traits. These are traits I think James only grew into later in life and would've grown into more. I mean, he was always charismatic and had the ability to lead people, he was leading the Mauraders and was incredibly popular. But I think the traits of the stag with fatherhood and authority suggest maturity, something the young James definitely lacked. I think his Animagus, more than anything proves he did change, and would've continued growing into himself to truly become the stag if he was given a chance to grow old. Because stags are positive leadership, father figures, and authority, they are supposed to represent the noblest kinds of leaders they have the internal self-confidence James lacks. And if that is the animal that represents James, it means he had it in him to be what the stag represents.

Bullying and Maturity

Sirius said it well enough:

“Yeah,” said Harry, “but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because — well, just because you said you were bored,” he finished with a slightly apologetic note in his voice. “I’m not proud of it,” said Sirius quickly. Lupin looked sideways at Sirius and then said, “Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did — everyone thought they were the height of cool — if they sometimes got a bit carried away —” “If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean,” said Sirius. Lupin smiled. “He kept messing up his hair,” said Harry in a pained voice. Sirius and Lupin laughed. “I’d forgotten he used to do that,” said Sirius affectionately. “Was he playing with the Snitch?” said Lupin eagerly. “Yeah,” said Harry, watching uncomprehendingly as Sirius and Lupin beamed reminiscently. “Well . . . I thought he was a bit of an idiot.” “Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly. “We were all idiots!

(OotP, 670)

James was an awful bully, toward Snape:

“This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,” said James quietly. “Look who it is. . . .” Sirius’s head turned. He had become very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. “Excellent,” he said softly. “Snivellus.”

(OotP, 645)

“And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin. “Even Snape?” said Harry. “Well,” said Lupin slowly, “Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?” “And my mum was okay with that?” “She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,” said Sirius. “I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?”

(OotP, 671)

And even toward Peter, who Sirius and James constantly belittle:

“How thick are you, Wormtail?” said James impatiently. “You run round with a werewolf once a month —”

(OotP, 643)

I mentioned above how the 15-year-old James wasn't really the embodiment of the stag just yet, like Sirius said they were idiots. Sure, Harry rightfully calls them out that it isn't a good excuse for anything they did, but Harry is a very mature 15-year-old.

As for what motivated his bullying?

Honestly, I think it wasn't all that dissimilar to Draco, in terms of motivations at least. I mentioned above how James' conception of himself is tied to his being at the top, the most popular, the most talented, the top student. One way to feel at the top is to put others down. Most of his bullying was probably fueled by this need to assure himself he is better and assert control (but, more on that later).

I don't think Snape should forgive James or any of the Mauraders or anything like that, not at all, what they did to him was awful and the fact James continued seeking him out even after he mostly dropped the bullying makes it so much worse.

But at the same time, I tend to believe Sirius, Remus, and Lily about him changing, that, given time, he would've matured even more:

“Look,” he said, “your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.”

(OotP, 671)

I'm a big believer that people can and do change over time, especially teenagers. Life experiences change who you are, especially big and traumatic occasions, and James encountered one hell of a life experience to kick-start his growth and maturity:

The first wizarding war

I won't go into the full detail on what happened in the war but I want to talk about how the war changed James.

I discussed the progression of the first war as part of my analysis of Voldemort here and when James and Lily went into hiding here. Now, the Marauders were in school between September of 1971 and June of 1978. As I mentioned in the Voldemort analysis post I linked, the war really started getting bad, the first casualties, were in 1975 when the minister of magic was replaced. This makes James and the Mauraders 5th or 6th years when the war truly begins. I personally think this was late in 1975, as in November or December when the Minister was booted from office, aligning well with James' change.

What I think this was for him is a moment the rug was pulled from under him.

I think, the same way the second war showed Draco who he is as a person, that he doesn't want to hurt and torture, not even muggleborns, the first war was the same for James. He learned about himself and his own priorities. He just learned different things than Draco because James is very much willing to hurt and probably kill for what he thinks is just and for the people he cares for. He can be cruel and ruthless.

The wizarding world is an incredibly small community, with this kind of small population that almost all work together (the ministry) when someone dies, especially someone important (I believe the first deaths were high in the ministry or even Wizengamont members) it rattles everything. For James, who felt his skill, money, and status made him practically untouchable, this is a slap in the face. This to him starts his journey to see he is not above anyone else and he is just like anyone else — can die and hurt like everyone else.

War, even when you aren't on the front lines, even just hearing that Mr. Whatever's brother was killed and your old neighbors who moved away lost their son — it doesn't leave you unscathed. It forces you to confront how little control over certain aspects of life you actually have. And in a community so small that every death is someone you at least knew in passing or knew someone who knew — every death hits hard. Every death feels too close to home.

I think this is part of why James continued bullying Snape even after his change in approach. It wasn't out of the same arrogance as before, now it's by a need to feel in control. To hurt a familiar enemy that represents the Death Eaters to feel a semblance of stability under his feet. I think, this was part of what motivated James, a roundabout justice against the Death Eaters at large when he felt powerless. So he took it on whoever he could — in this case, Snape.

I'm not trying to justify it, I'm just explaining what I think motivated James and why he would do that if he was in the process of changing for the better.

All of this gives James ample motivation to join the Order, after all, he wants to hit back against the Death eaters, he wants to feel balanced and in control again. So he probably jumped at the opportunity to join the Order.

The Order of the Phoenix

We don't know much about what James did in the Order, and it doesn't matter too much for the sake of analysis. We know he joined at graduation, so, June 1978. I also mentioned in the aforementioned post how the war got worse in 1979, which means that before he went into hiding, James was probably involved in a few skirmishes in the war when it was already at its peak.

We also know James and Lily got married incredibly early, almost immediately after graduating. That too, is probably influenced by the war. After all, war can either speed up life events or slow them down, depending on various factors among which is the optimism of the people involved. James and Lily getting married and pregnant in the middle of the war tell us something about their characters — it tells us they were incredibly optimistic and hopeful for the future. They got married and had Harry in the hope and belief that the war would be over soon enough and Harry would grow up in a better world. That is what they believed in and I think this is just, really interesting.

Then they went into hiding, and we know what happened from there. There are two things I want to mention about this period in hiding in regards to James' character.

First, James' first choice was Sirius, Sirius is the one to convince him to choose Pettigrew instead:

“Harry . . . I as good as killed them,” he croaked. “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me. . . . I’m to blame, I know it. . . .

(PoA, 365)

As I mentioned above, the Mauraders looked down on Pettigrew. I think the plan always was to tell everyone Sirius was the secret keeper so he'd draw the fire and torture and potential death, so the real secret keeper, and the secret, would remain safe even if he was killed for it (which is a sad thought, but that's about Sirius).

Pettigrew was chosen by Sirius for how unassuming he is, Sirius is so ready to sacrifice his life for his friends that he couldn't fathom Pettigrew wouldn't do the same. James didn't choose Pettigrew because of his faith in him as a friend the way Voldemort implies, no, I think James chose Pettigrew because of his faith in Sirius. If Sirius said its a good idea, then it was a good idea to James.

Second, is this quote:

James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell

(DH, 158)

There are two things I want to unpack in this one sentence (I do love doing that).

James, quite similar to Sirius in OotP, doesn't like being cooped up away from the action. He hates not being out there for very similar reasons to Sirius. He loathes feeling useless like he isn't doing anything to help while people are dying. While his friends are risking their lives. James, at his core, is a person who cares deeply for the people he considers his, he would feel incredible guilt sitting safely behind magical protections while they were in danger.

Lily says James is trying to hide how frustrated he actually is, this is significant, why? Well because the 15-year-old version of James who complained easily about being a little bored wouldn't have hid his complaints. He would have voiced them to anyone willing to listen. The fact he isn't doing that shows some of his growth and maturity, it shows he is self-aware enough about the situation that he knows he shouldn't be the one complaining considering he and his family are safe. He still feels frustrated for the above reasons, but he tries to be considerate and keep things at home with Lily as intense as he can in the way he thinks is best. He is actively trying, and I think that's important.

Now, James has two important relationships that really define his character for me. Sirius and Lily.

Quite the Double Act

I adore James and Sirius's friendship honestly, they were each other's most important person and I can't really talk about James without talking about Sirius (as seen in this entire post), after all, no one in the books seems able to operate these two when talking about them in POA:

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

(PoA, 204)

Sirius and James met on the train at the age of 11 and couldn't be separated since (well, until death, that is). They are the heart of the Mauraders as a friend group and I've seen some other blogs bring up already how unhinged their friendship was:

This is a two-way mirror. I’ve got the other. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you’ll appear in my mirror and I’ll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.

(OotP, 858)

They literally invented an advanced magical communication method so they wouldn't have to go an hour without talking to each other. When we see them finishing the exam in SWM, the first person they look at is each other and communicate with no words that the exam was great.

These two are just, on the same wavelengths. I had a friend in high school who, when we would talk to other people, and she'd be unsure how to say something so she'll just turn to me, communicate a whole ass concept in eye contact alone, and then I'll explain it aloud to whoever we were talking to. I am convinced James and Sirius were like that too, where they didn't even need to talk to understand each other, they just knew.

For them the answer to "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" was always "Yes" or "Now I do"

Sirius was the best man at James' wedding, Harry's godfather and he still held a special place for James, to the point Lily was very aware of it:

If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.

(DH, 158)

I mean, I don't know of many friendships like this, where the guy's wife asks his best friend over because they were apart for too long and getting antsy. I mean, it is bizarre.

In my head, if there wasn't a war, Sirius would've probably practically moved in with James and Lily. Sure, he had his own apartment, but you'd rarely ever find him there.

During the war it was too risky, James and Lily were in hiding and Sirius was doing missions for the Order, but again, if there wasn't a war, I think Sirius and James would've still been joined at the hip way into adulthood.

Sirius is one of the only two people James would ever take cues from no questions asked. I just, love them, okay.

Head Boy and Head Girl

Now, to James' second most important relationship: Lily.

James' crush on Lily started pretty early in their school years. We know it wasn't quite a love-at-first-sight as in the meeting on the train we don't really see any of it. I would guess his crush on her started growing as he got to know her as a housemate. I think James liked how smart and talented Lily was. James considers himself the best, his best friend is also the best, a top student, handsome and popular — his crush would be the same. Lily's kindness, likeability, and intelligence were huge turn-ons for him, not just the fact she was gorgeous (but that too).

I want to talk about this quote:

then back at James, who was now doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters L. E. What did they stand for?

(OotP, 642)

This is adorable. James is a romantic guy, he was doodling Lily's initials on a spare parchment. I bet he wrote out "Lily Potter" in hearts and everything. I find it hilarious and adorable and it both shows he had a crush on her, but it also shows a really dorky and romantic side that no one (of the characters we meet) mentions because they probably haven't seen it. Well, Sirius probably did, but he doesn't really get many chances to talk to Harry about James unfortunately.

Sirius mentions that they went out on dates (something Harry and Ginny don't really do), and with James doodling Lily's initials I bet they were super cheesy and romantic. He'll take her out to picnics and light candles and carve their initials in a heart on a tree.

If they lived to raise Harry, they'd be the kind of parents who had a weekly date night and left their kids with Sirius for the evening.

“I didn’t mean—I just don’t want to see you made a fool of—He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he’s not. . . everyone thinks. . . big Quidditch hero—” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily’s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead. “I know James Potter’s an arrogant toerag,” she said

(DH, 569)

Now, about some of the downsides of their relationship.

Yeah, James was persistent in flirting with Lily for years before she agreed to go out with him. He bullied her best friend and acted like an idiot. She considered him an "arrogant toerag" which isn't very complementary.

That being said, even when she calls him out, she still defends him to Snape in the above conversation. While Lily disapproved of James' behavior, I don't think she ever really hated him, not the way Snape did. She didn't like how he was acting, but she didn't hate him:

“Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around,” said Sirius, shrugging. “He couldn’t stop himself showing off whenever he got near her.” “How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!” “Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius. “She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin. “Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius.

(OotP, 671)

I think Sirius is right about this for the reasons I mentioned above. Lily never really hated James, just thought he was an idiot (rightfully so) and once he got less arrogant, she was more willing to date him.

I think their relationship wasn't a bad one, I think they did love each other and mostly got along really well. I think Lily liked James' sense of humor after it mellowed out a bit and she liked that he's smart and talented. I think James liked Lily's calmness and intelligence and how much she cared for people.

Yeah, they probably argued about a lot of stupid things (I think they enjoyed their stupid arguments and barbs on occasion not unlike Ron and Hermione), but overall, I do like their relationship, I think they balanced each other out. James pushes Lily to allow herself to be a little silly, and Lily can put James in his place when he is being an idiot or needlessly cruel. And they are both incredibly smart and compassionate people... whenever I think about them it kinda makes me sad they didn't get to raise Harry. That Harry wouldn't have such a low view of himself, he'll probably have younger siblings, be used to having Sirius (and Remus too, to a lesser degree) around constantly, he would've been the top student in practically everything... I mean, he'd have a different set of issues, I'm sure, but, I don't know, I just made myself sad.

The fandom is pretty split on James, some talk about him as if he's some flawless sunshine child, which isn't the case. Yes, James is loyal, brave, and compassionate, but he can be cruel and ruthless and he uses arrogance as a mask for his insecurities and need to be great (I think James Potter could be a Slytherin, tbh). But on the flip side, some fans consider him nothing but a bully, and I tend to give him more credit than that. I think he was always more than that, but I believe Sirius, Remus, and Lily that he did change, and he probably would have continued to improve to become the brave and compassionate leader the stag represents if he had lived longer.

This post turned out way longer than I expected it to, but, here you go, James Potter's analysis of the top of my head.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 25 - Makeovers

@wolfstarmicrofic May 25, word count 720

Sirius and Remus had received many strange gifts from their friends over the years, but when Marlene handed over a gift card for two drag makeovers, she really took the biscuit. 

“I’m excited,” Sirius remarked on their way to the club. “I’ve already come up with my name. Sue Knuts.” Remus nearly lost control of the car he'd snorted so hard. 

“Christ, Sirius, are you trying to kill us?” Remus gasped as he tried to catch his breath. 

Sirius’s fingers were digging into the padding of his seat. Remus tried to get him to calm down. “What about me? Have you thought of a name for me?” Sirius slowly relaxed his fingers as he thought. 

“Lycan Madix,” Sirius finally came up with. Remus had to pull the car over before he actually crashed the car. 

He had to take a few minutes to calm himself before he pulled back into the traffic. 

They had a wonderful time being led around the club. They got to see the stage and the chaos of the dressing rooms. 

There was makeup and wigs everywhere. Remus felt nervous as he was led to a relatively clear area. Sirius, on the other hand, was in his element. He gushed to the Queen, who began to apply his makeup, asking for the brightest colours she had. 

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got you.” He was spun around and makeup was spread across his face. 

He was spun again once the makeup was on, and he had to admit it wasn’t half bad. His artist had used blue and silver on him. He looked severe, almost dangerous. She led him over to the dresses and wigs and picked out a few things for him to choose from. 

He opted for a black number that pooled to the floor and was covered in sparkles, like the night sky, and a white wavy curled wig.

“You look like the night goddess herself.” Sirius purred at him, already decked out with his own dress and wig. They were red and gold, he looked like he was on fire, especially with the orange wig he had over his black curls. “Remind me to thank Marlene for her gift.” He grinned. 

“Hey, darlings, are you ready to hit the stage?” Sirius’s queen asked them while she closed her makeup box. 

“Wait, what?” Remus, froze. Nowhere on the gift card had it said they were going to perform. “What am I even meant to do?”

“You could sing. Duets are popular for first timers. It takes the pressure off. I’ve got you babe, don’t go breaking my heart, stuff like that,” She shrugged. He looked at Sirius and thought about what she’d said. 

“Do you have under pressure?” He asked, staring into Sirius’s eyes. 

“Sure do.” They followed her out and onto the stage. They were handed microphones and the crowd cheered. That had surprised both of them, as the club had been empty when they arrived. He reached out and took Sirius’s hand. Then the iconic opening chords started, and the crowd cheered again. 

“Pressure, pushing down on me,” Remus lip sang uncertainly. Sirius was more confident. 

Remus took on the darker Bowie lyrics while Sirius took Freddie's lighter ones. It matched their outfits perfectly. As the song went on, Sirius’s easy movements brushed off on Remus and made him relax.

By the final part, he and Sirius had wrapped their arms around each other and sung. 

“Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?

'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word.

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night.

And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves,

This is our last dance.

This is our last dance.

This is ourselves,

Under pressure,

Under pressure,

Pressure.” 

He was breathless and Sirius’s wig was tippling sideways from his exuberant performance. But Remus felt amazing as the crowd whistled and clapped at them. They took a bow and disappeared into the dressing rooms where they changed back into their own clothes and used half a pack of baby wipes to get all the makeup off their faces. 

“Yeah, we really need to thank Marlene,” He said as he pressed a kiss to Sirius’s lips. 

[isalisewrites]

SUMMARY:

Being trampled by a raging hippogriff was surely a kinder fate than Newt Scamander’s current predicament.

And he would know, having been kicked by one on more than one occasion.

---

One accident. That was all it took to upend Newt Scamander's life into the unknown. Confused and unsettled, Newt is put into the care of a complete stranger with black hair, bespectacled green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar.

Meanwhile, Harry struggles through his guilt - nothing could make up for his terrible mistake. It’s all my fault. Taking the man in was the least Harry could do, but it hurt so much, knowing that he was the reason for Mr. Scamander’s current predicament.

And Newt being exceptionally handsome isn’t helping either!

---

CHAPTER SEVEN EXCERPT:

“Where is it we’re going?” asked Newt, as they walked towards the public floo network. A couple of years after the war, a line of fireplaces had been built in the center of Diagon Alley for the general public’s usage. Harry dropped three knuts in a small tin on the mantle; another small tin next to it opened to reveal floo powder.

“To the Burrow,” said George with a wink. “I’ll go first.”

George took a handful of floo powder and was off in a burst of green flames. Harry gestured for Newt to go next, wanting to make sure he made it through and wouldn’t be left behind to fend for himself.

There were no other motives. None at all.

“Ah, thank you,” said Newt, nodding with his usual shy air. A gentle smile tugged at the side of his lips. He stepped forward, grabbed a handful of powder, and said, “The Burrow!”

He disappeared in a roar of green flames.

Harry stood there, inhaling an unsteady breath. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his trousers. Going last had nothing to do with being nervous about showing up at the Burrow after his separation with Ginny. It also had nothing to do with his anxiety about sporting this more than obvious crush on their newest guest. Harry swallowed; he rubbed a hand over his face.

Because it’s not like this new crush so soon after separating isn’t a huge fucking betrayal to Ginny and the family.

This growing infatuation for Newt wasn’t wrong, per se, but it was also so very wrong on so many levels and Harry couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself. I need to pull myself together—it’s just family dinner. I can do this. I can face them. In a self soothing gesture, he ran a hand through his hair and stepped towards the grate. With a handful of floo powder, he shouted his destination and the flames consumed him in a blast of warmth. The floo at the Burrow spat him out and, coated in a thick layer of soot, Harry stumbled out of the fireplace.

“Oh, dear—”

A strong hand grabbed Harry by the upper arm, steadying his balance and preventing him from face planting onto the floor. Harry’s heart leapt into his throat as he glanced up; his face went hot.

“Are you all right there?” asked Newt, brow furrowed in concern. “Did something happen?”

Harry righted himself, chuckling with a sheepish expression and brushing uselessly at the soot on his clothes. He hoped the soot on his face hid the evidence of his intense blush. He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine,” he said with a light laugh. “I just never have any luck traveling through the floo. I’ve never managed  to grasp the, uh, the art of it.”

Newt’s chuckle was almost a giggle. “I suppose not, but that’s not the end of the world. May I?” he asked, lifting his wand.

Harry nodded, words caught in his throat. He’s so nice. Dammit.

Newt wordlessly vanished the soot from his clothes and pocketed his wand. He smiled. “That’s better,” he said with the brightness of the morning sun. Harry’s heart fluttered at the sound of his voice.

Well, I’m a lost cause. Just put me out of my misery. There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to hide this.

Fuck.

[nikarie5]

Shiver - snippet

General rating and trigger warnings: General audience, but you are asked to imagine someone in a shower. Singing in a shower. Overthinking.

Ships: Finn O'Hara/Logan Tremblay/Leo Knut Credit to Taylor Allison Swift and Jack Antonoff for this one, as well as @lumosinlove, @noots-fic-fests, and @hazelnoots, of course.

It has been established, here on Tumblr, that O’Knutzy are Swifties. It is also known that Logan lives a lot in his own head. When Midnights comes out, he can’t help but feel that Bejeweled is how Finn must have felt about their situationship before they were officially together. So, of course he has a little fun playing with the lyrics as he mentally tortures himself about possibly having mentally tortured Finn. So, picture Logan in the shower, singing out random snatches (in bold) of these lyrics, with a very confused Leo and Finn overhearing the snippets as they do important stuff in the kitchen (and wishing they could join him in the shower):

“Baby ‘Lo, I think I've been a little too kind Didn't notice you skating all over my peace of mind In the boots I gave you as a present Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their first line And by the way, I'm gonna play tonight

Best believe I'm still bejeweled When I walk in the rink I can still make the whole place shiver And when I meet the team They ask, "Can you be mean?" I can still say, "I don't remember" Familiarity breeds contempt Don't put me in the basement When I want to be on the roof of your heart Diamonds in my eyes I skate real, I skate on ice Nice

They only just got him singing the proper words to Blank Space a week ago. --

Meanwhile, Finn, in his first year with the Lions, adopted Bulletproof as his bop, because he missed hearing Logan call him Roux, and if this was all he could get, then by d*mn he was going to take it. Plus, that song slams. Finn wants to make one of La Roux’s outfits his next Hallowe’en costume, but he also doesn’t want Logan to listen to the song too closely. He doesn’t want Logan to start having a conversation with the-Finn-in-Logan’s-brain about why Finn identified so strongly with the song.

[speckle-the-crow]

Every time I read a book by Fredrik Backman, I'm left speechless. !!!LONG RANT BELOW!!! + my reviews of the books I've read by him

It all started one year when the book "A Man Called Ove" was chosen to be read in my bookclub. The teacher was talking about how he has a different style of writing and I'm like oh alright bet let's try it out.

GOD. That book was a solid 10/10. It touched dark topics like death and suicide while also having a good humor. The chapter with the cat being almost frozen to death had me giggling a little too much 😂 I loved seeing it on screen when the movie came out.

So many good quotes were in this book. Especially between Sonja and Ove. “You only need one ray of light to chase all the shadows away,”  “But if anyone had asked, he would have told them that he never lived before he met her. And not after either.”  “Of all the imaginable things he most misses about her, the thing he really wishes he could do again is hold her hand in his.” 

This book was just so amazing. I have nothing bad to say against it and strongly recommend it to be the first book one should read by Fredrik. It shows the dark themes he touches while having humor, how good the flashbacks are shown. How they leave you with more questions until you're gut-punched.

Alright. Second book I've read was Beartown. I got it as a birthday gift along with Anxious People (I'll talk abt that later). I knew Beartown revolved around the topic of rape. But god, it was still a hard read. Watching a small town get torn apart over the drama, how nobody really believed Maya and she was even bullied for lying. It broke my heart, leaving me in tears.

The worst part? How real this felt. How it's probably happened to countless girls and guys before. Being raped but not believed, then being bullied and harassed.

The quotes hit hard in this too. "It's not always obvious, because the people around a bullied child assume that he or she must get used to it after awhile. Never. You never get used to it. It burns like fire the whole time. It's just that no one knows how long the fuse is, not even you." “Everyone has a thousand wishes before a tragedy, but just one afterward.”  “What you create, others can destroy. Create anyway. Because in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and anyone else anyway.” 

I don't have too much to say on this book as it was an extremely hard read and took me about a month to finish. But it was still a great story. I don't know if I'll finish the other two books anytime soon. I think what makes it hard is that there's no "happy ending." The rape can't be undone. The damage can't be undone. Maya will forever be scared of the dark. How Kevin has status, keeping him safe. Yes, he is scared of the dark now, but it's not enough. Nothing will fix what happened.

And what I just finished reading today, Anxious People "It's a story about a bank robbery gone wrong? How can that make me cry?" -Me to my teacher.

God. What a book. This book made me laugh and almost brought me to tears. If I wasn't in school while reading this, I would be ugly crying.

This book perfectly embodies Fredrik's writing style. How EVERY little piece matters. Every character is important. You're reading and then hit with a plot twist. Knut being dead? Never expected. That one COMPLETELY threw me in for a loop. The way the chapter hopped back to the flashbacks and then to the interview, oh my god I loved this so much. Might be my favorite one yet.

Every character was so diverse with their own story and struggles, yet they all came together and helped each other when they needed it. I loved the fact that there wasn't a villain in this story- the bank robber wanted to harm nobody, just take care of her kids.

So many of these quotes hit home. The funny ones, the serious ones.

“Not knowing is a good place to start.” I always tell my therapist "I don't know." She said I'm the only person she allows to say that. The fact that a psychologist said that??? It just comforted me so much.

"...but inside she was standing in a forest screaming until her heart burst. The trees grew until one day the sunlight could no longer break through the foliage, and the darkness in there became impenetrable." This one also hit home for me. I'm a very angry person but try my best to control it. Multiple times a day, I imagine myself running into a forest, screaming and yelling my heart out, nobody hearing me. I felt so understood, so seen in this.

"Can you imagine what a bad parent you must have been for your children not to want to be parents?" Woah. I had to close the book and think about this. I don't have the best relationship with my parents, but they are okay parents. They might not rob a bank for me though 😂. But this quote just... I don't know. It really puts a different view on things. It almost makes me feel a bit bad. All in all, this is a quote that lives in the back of my head rent free.

Ever since the first page of this book, I knew I was in for a ride. It felt so long ago, reading chapter 2, "don't think about cookies". This book is a solid 100/10, I will never get rid of it and will reread it many times to come.

Please. If you're looking for a good book to read, please just do ANYTHING by Fredrik Backman. His writing style is unique, fun, just so different and a breath of fresh air. His books will make you cry and laugh and you'll find quotes that you carry on with you for years to come. As I write, I find myself often writing in his sort of style. He is truly an amazing writer and comes up with amazing plots. Before reading his works, only one book ever made me cry. (A Mango Shaped Space). But no movie has ever made me cry. I sobbed in the theaters watching A Man Called Otto. Can't wait to watch Anxious People on Netflix now! I've heard bad stuff, but I'll still watch it.

I hope I managed to convince someone to read a book by Fredrik Backman. Or possibly even re-read a book. I know I want to keep reading books by him. Maybe My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry?

[reaperheir]

people being traumatized by TS2, a compilation

[fruitcoops]

Kindling & Embers

O'Knutzy Week Day 5 (HA!!): Camping (B4) and Borrowed (D4)! Characters belong to @lumosinlove, and one last massive thank-you to @oknutzyweek2023 for the most fabulous of fests <3

For more of this AU, check out First Burn and Spark ;)

TW for mentioned alcohol

Deft hands plucked two bottles from the picnic table; they hung loose for a moment’s hesitation, then vanished in the shadows as a figure turned away from the bonfire and began heading Leo’s way with startling purpose.

Sweet mother of fuck, Leo thought, dragging his eyes along lambswool lapels and porcelain wrists. He even looks delicious in denim.

Footsteps came to a soft halt in the blanket of pine needles. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Leo winced at his own breathlessness. His small t-shirt—perhaps too small, but he could take a bit of ribbing from Remus if it meant he got to pick up tonight—suddenly felt too warm. “Uh, hi.”

“Leo, right?”

“Knut.” He caught himself, and shook his head. “I mean—yes, I’m Leo. Leo Knut. Station Twelve.”

“Right.” A smile cracked over rose-petal lips like a firework. The bottles clinked lightly as they were transferred to one hand, the other held out in offer. “Finn O’Hara. Seventeen.”

“I know who you are,” Leo said through a smile, though he shook Finn’s hand. It was cool and long-fingered; the touch lingered at his wrist for a split second. His stomach plummeted. His heart soared.

Finn’s eyebrow arched in curious mischief. “Oh, do you?”

“We’ve met.”

Finn’s smile dropped. “Fuck, have we?”

“Yeah,” Leo laughed. Christ, who was he, a middle schooler with a crush? “The Christmas party?”

He was gifted reprieve from earnest, sparkling eyes when Finn glanced to the side, one canine tooth poking out as he bit his lip. His thumbpad traced a dewy bottlecap. Leo kind of wanted to stick it in his mouth. “The Christmas—” Finn’s gaze snapped to him. “Oh my god.”

“It’s fine—”

“Oh my god,” Finn repeated, raking a hand through his hair. “Yes, no, I remember you. God. Fuck. Sorry. About this and—yeah. Christmas.”

“I told you, it’s fine!”

Merry Christmas!

…hi?

Hi! Can I sit on your lap?

Leo had been so distracted by the teasing press of tongue to a pointy tooth that he had utterly forgotten about his dumb, ‘I-lost-a-bet’ costume.

Huh?

Santa, right? I’m Finn. Can I sit on your lap?

Finn’s blush looked just as magical in firelight as it had under twinkling false snowflakes. This time, though, it was more mortified than bold. “I…am so sorry,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Hey, no apologies.” Leo pushed him gently on the shoulder and immediately regretted it. Under the soft denim, Finn was fucking firm. Sneaky little firefighter. He half-wondered what else was hidden under adorable layers. “You were not the only person to ask me that.”

“That, I can believe,” Finn huffed. The tips of his ears went red. “Oh—sorry, that was out loud.”

Another laugh bubbled out of Leo. He should just start kicking his feet and twirling his hair at this rate. He took a shaky breath and nodded to the beers. “Got something for me?”

“What?” Finn glanced down, then gave a bit of a start. “Yeah, I—yeah. You didn’t have anything, so I figured you might…you know. Want something.”

A door, opening just a crack. Leo dove for it. “I do,” he said carefully, ducking his head with a small smile. Finn’s pretty eyes flickered over his face. He cracked the caps off the bottles in two quick motions and held one out—Leo let his pinky brush the curve of Finn’s fingers when he took it. “Thanks, Finn.”

Finn’s throat bobbed. “You can call me Harzy, if you want to.”

“That what your friends call you?”

“Mhmm.”

Leo hummed. Condensation cooled his burning palms. His pulse hammered with concerning speed. “I like your jacket. Very REI-chic. Ready to go camping in the Adirondacks.”

“My brother gave it to me.” Finn held his arm out. “I used to borrow it, like, every day in high school. The elbows and the cuffs are kind of fucked, see?”

Leo reached out—past the threadbare cuffs, past the patched sleeves, until he could take the woolly lapel in his hand. It was unbearably soft under his thumb, creamier than Finn’s freckled skin. He was close enough to risk a touch like this. An inch up and he’d know what that razor-sharp collarbone felt like. “Nah,” he said instead, forcing back the tremor in his voice. “Suits you.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he felt Finn sway toward him. “Hey,” Finn began. “Do you wanna take a walk?”

A smile fought its way onto Leo’s face. “Sure.”

“Sick.” Finn stuffed his hand in his pocket, grinning into the rim of his beer. “I really love these get-togethers, but the smoke gets to be a little much, y’know?”

“It is kind of ironic. Guess that’s the point.” Something clicked in Leo’s memory as they headed for the perimeter. “Y’all do wildfires, right?”

Finn, halfway through a swig, shook his head and swallowed. “Yeah, but just the regular for me. Seventeen’s a combo unit, since we’re way the fuck out there.”

“I was chatting with one of your guys at New Year’s.” Among other things. That night had been interesting, and Logan, even moreso. His glossy lashes still haunted Leo’s best dreams. “Guess there aren’t a lot of houses to burn in the yeehaw sector.”

“Right,” Finn snorted. “We’ve got a tight squad, though. You should visit sometime. We could use another set of hands.”

“I don’t pull people out of buildings, Harzy. I just stick ‘em back together.”

“And I bet you do a mighty fine job of it.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Maybe.” Finn’s face seemed to dance in the distant light of the fire. Sir, please put your freckles away.

Leo brought his beer to his lips to cover his smile. His trachea and esophagus were wound around each other, screaming without end. “Hm.”

“Come on,” Finn teased, nudging their shoulders together. “I gotta get a couple in to make up for Christmas.”

“I told you, I’m really not bothered, or offended, or anything.”

“Makes one of us.” Finn paused, then tilted his face toward the sky. It was dark enough to pick out a few stars if Leo squinted, but…he didn’t really want to look away from Finn. “Seriously, that was dumb and rude of me.” Finn’s voice was quieter than before, more serious. “I shouldn’t have flirted with you, and especially not like that.”

Leo’s trachea-esophagus pretzel constricted and sent words popping from his mouth like a bottle rocket. “You can flirt with me if you want.”

…fuck.

Finn’s brows had disappeared under his thick, floppy hair. Leo could see his wide eyes even in the near-total darkness of the woods. “Do you want me to?”

Jesus, please strike me with a convenient case of lockjaw.

Leo tested his jaw. No such luck.

“I—” He wondered if Finn knew Logan. A tight squad, and all that. He wondered if Logan had told anyone about New Year’s. About rough red brick leaving stains on the back of Leo’s coat for days. About so many almosts and panting pleases and hands desperate for something before the clock ran out. About pressing hot and close in the frigid bite of December-January until they heard the party start up again inside. Logan had fit against Leo’s body like a puzzle piece finding home, and took something with him when he left.

The wildfires were bad this year, burning out of control. Finn was here, under the silent stars. Finn was here, and Logan was not. Flushed pink against his borrowed jean jacket and watching Leo with concern and—and a little bit of hope.

“Yes, please,” Leo said quietly.

This smile was newer. Softer. Finn’s chin dipped; his blush was strawberry-pink and warm when Leo reached out to run his knuckles over it. He felt and heard Finn’s breath stutter.

“Finn…”

Finn was nodding before he could even ask, sliding an electric hand along Leo’s hip.

“Harzy,” Leo sighed into the first press of lips to his own. Finn made a questioning noise; Leo bit his smile into Finn’s lower lip. “Can I sit in your lap?”

[daydreams-magic01]

You remind me of a Dragon

(Charlie Weasley x female reader)

(Not my gifs, credit goes to the creators)

Main Masterlist

Requested by:

Fandom: Harry Potter (Golden Trio Era)

Request: ‘Hi! I love the works you've posted here so far! ❤️ I'd like to request a fluffy, pining!Charlie Weasley x Reader fic, where a fully adult Charlie falls head over heels with the reader at first sight. He decides he wants to shoot his shot, but he's woefully bad at making romantic gestures and ultimately just keeps confusing the poor reader. Because who wouldn't love a good fic about being terribly wooed by a dragon taming himbo just doing his best?If that premise doesn't inspire you, I'd honestly just be happy to read any Charlie x Reader fanfic from you.’

Thank you so much for this request and amazing idea!

Warnings: Nothing but some swearing.

Words: 1.2K

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.

This should only be found on my blog.

Author is always me on this blog: @daydreams-magic01​ .

A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.

Thank you.

:)

“Who is she?” Charlie Weasley, a man of about twenty-two with large muscly arms and a few burns scattered along his body, asks.

“Who?” His supervisor then follows his gaze before looking back down to his clipboard. “No one yet, just the new girl.”

Charlie doesn’t take his eyes of the woman, a gasp emitting from his mouth, “she is not nothing, she is... she is...”

He only takes his gaze off the gorgeous woman when his friend snorts, “excuse me?”

“It’s just - it’s just,” the bearded man whispers out between laughs as he looks up to him, “you haven’t even met the poor girl yet, you daft sod. You can’t be in love with her already.”

His gaze hardens into a glare, “it’s love at first sight, like Guinevere and Arthur.”

“Didn’t she cheat on him?”

He does not care to listen, as he forgot most of the stories and facts that they grew up with; dragons are far more interesting, in his opinion. He does not let the man finish as he begins to walk away.

He takes her appearance in as he walks up, trying not to look like a perv and make her uncomfortable - he wasn’t looking at her inappropriately, but Charlie does tend to be a worrier. 

She wears beige trousers with a poet shirt tucked inside and knee-high brown boots. She looks gorgeous, with her hair in a bun underneath her large sunhat.

He fancies her already.

“Hello,” he starts, forgetting his manners as he jumps into the conversation.

“Hello,” her mentor starts, tucking her clipboard under her arm and sighing disapprovingly.

“Hi,” the girl of his dreams starts, flashing him a smile that could make anyone’s heart skip a beat.

“Mind if I...” his mind stops, and he says the first thing that comes to mind, a terrible pick-up line he heard Tonks say once in a discussion about something to do with pick-up lines, which he can’t remember, “Slytherin?”

That’s what it was!

It was a conversation about awful lines.

His cheeks instantly flush, and so does hers as he asks himself why he didn’t just introduce himself.

Laughing nervously, he quickly covers himself, “I say that to all the newcomers, so don’t worry. It’s nothing special.

That is how these three people ended up in one of the most confusing silences ever upon this Earth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If for every time that someone as beautiful as you came and spoke to me, I’d have one Knut.” He instantly regrets saying that, especially as it is George’s creation after all. 

It takes all his willpower not to burrow his head into the pillar beside the two of them.

The woman tilts her head and smiles softly, although she is slightly offended and very much confused.

“We talk every day, Charlie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s your name?”

Before she can reply, he interrupts her, slowing down his steps as he comes to walk next to her, “because it would be better as Weasl-elbeen?”

She stops, scrunching her nose as she turns to him. “We’ve known each other for three months, and you still don’t know my name?”

His eyes widen as he fumbles his hands into his pockets.

She places her hands on her hips.

“And what is a Weaslelbeen?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Embarrassed and regretful, he approaches her again later that night.

There’s a bonfire, and everyone happily surrounds it, talking and drinking several pints.

Noticing her in the corner, a pint in hand, he approaches her.

He needed to make this right.

“You remind me of a dragon; you are so angry.”

He meant fiery, but apparently, Merlin and the universe despises him.

She is not amused as she practically growls out, “my name is (Y/n), and I am not a dragon!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) first thought Charlie Weasley to be a kind, charming and attractive man when they had first met, she has heard so much of him.

She realises now that she was wrong.

First, he jokingly gave her a pick-up line, which is awful, and then called her a ‘Weaslebeen’, after informing her he does not know who she is, and just now he called her a dragon and angry!

Oh, how Charlie Weasley infuriates (Y/n) (L/n).

She never sees him watching after her longingly every day, and she is yet to notice that he always tries to get a seat next to her each meal. She also does not see his obvious infatuation with her.

Charlie gave up so much hope that he wrote to his brother William, and after that did not work, he wrote to his younger brother Percy, then George and then Fred, and even Ron. He is beginning to wonder if perhaps a woman’s opinion is better suited to the situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginevra Weasley responded quickly to her brother; she feels sympathetic for the poor git.

She suggested romantic gestures.

So, when Charlie brings (Y/n) a bunch of flowers, her heart skips a beat, and she became all giddy.

He says nothing.

Two days later, he gives her a single rare magical flower found in Romania.

She loves it.

He says nothing.

Charlie figured that speech isn’t his strongest suit.

Today, a week later, as Charlie walks over to her, her heart flutters in hope. She longs for him to clarify what is going on and whether or not he returns her feelings.

He smiles instantly upon seeing her.

Stopping in front of her, he drawls a gasp out of her as he says, “(Y/n)”, and nods.

A grin takes over her face, and she can’t help herself from bouncing on the back of her heels. “Yes?”

Smiling, he hands her a note; but before she opens it, he leaves, nodding in farewell.

Swiftly turning around, she waves her hand in the air and shouts out, “Charlie!”

Panic begins to flood his veins as he realises he will have to talk to her.

“Would you like to join me in town this weekend?”

“No!” He shouts out. 

(Y/n) does not bother reading the note after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “I was supposed to ask you out,” he tries to explain, days later, as he enters her tent. Sighing, she turns from her mirror, brushing her hair.

She doesn’t register what he says, incredibly annoyed.

He sighs as he notices the bunches of flowers in her bin, as well as the note, unopened, on top. “You should have read the note.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I was asking you out.”

“Oh,” she freezes, her heart thumping in her chest.

“I’m not very good at talking, you see?” He jokes, removing his hands from his pockets as he slowly strolls over. 

She lets out a quiet laugh, “that is true.”

Stopping in front of her, he looks down at her, giving her his signature infectious smile. “So, would you like to go out with me? I didn’t mean to be so rude or offend you. I messed up; you see I -”

“Yes.”

[dramioneasks]

hi do you know any fics that gossip girl themed or inspired by gossip girl? i’ve checked the tags under ‘based on movie/tv series’ and checked the complete list but found none of gossip girl :( thanks!! xx

We have a tag here: dramioneasks (tumblr.com) (sorry about leaving the tag off the list, I will add it), but here are some more:

In for a Knut, In for a Galleon by Schmem_14 - M, 16 chapters - The shelf behind him began to tremble, and then to shake in earnest, rumbling ever louder until with an almighty tip, it toppled forward like the slamming of a trap door on a hinge, taking Lucius Malfoy and half of his precious hieroglyphic scrolls with it. Wham. The ungodly boom of the shelf, the splintering of wood, and the thunder of ancient tomes against carpet lodged themselves on an eternal loop in Hermione’s mind, keeping perfect time with the gallop of her tell-tale heart. ***** Hermione is in trouble, and Draco has a wild idea that will keep them both safe. A murder, a marriage... and a happily ever after? Gossip columnist Watching Witch is on the case...

xoxo, Gossip Witch by starrnobella - M, WIP - Hey there, Hogwarts! Gossip Witch here. I’ve been hearing all kinds of interesting stories floating around the grounds, so I thought it might be time to spread the news. I can’t be everywhere at once, and this is where I’ll need your help. Everyone’s got a secret... Keep an eye out for my parchment plane blasts. Don’t be afraid to send in some of your own ;). You know you love me. xoxo, Gossip Witch

-Lisa

[lumosinlove]

Between Fifth And You

AO3

chapter two

~

It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.

Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.

“Shoot, shoot!”

Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.

Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.

“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”

Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”

“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.

Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”

Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”

“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”

Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”

Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.

“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”

Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”

“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”

Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.

“Hey, feel like lunch?”

“I thought you had to be back.”

Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.

“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”

Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”

Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”

Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”

Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”

Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.

“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”

Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.

“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.

Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.

“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”

Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”

Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”

Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”

“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”

Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”

They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.

“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.

The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?

“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”

Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.

Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.

XOXO

Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?

Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.

XOXO.

[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]

Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.

“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you,” Julian said.

“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.

But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.

“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.

“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”

“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.

Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”

Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.

The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.

I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.

Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.

Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?

Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.

But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.

Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.

“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.

Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.

“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.

“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”

“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”

Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.

“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”

XOXO

“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”

Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”

“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”

“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”

“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.

“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”

Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.

“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.

“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.

“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.

Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.

“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“

Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.

“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”

“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”

“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.

And then there was Logan.

Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.

Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.

“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”

“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”

Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”

Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.

“Green,” Finn breathed.

“What?” Alex asked.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.

“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.

“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.

“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”

Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”

“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”

“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.

Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”

Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.

XOXO

“What say you, Capulet?”

Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”

“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”

“Yep.”

Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”

Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”

Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”

“What else is new?” Sirius said.

Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.

“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—

“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.

“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”

Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?

“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”

“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”

“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”

Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.

I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.

“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.

“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”

Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”

She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”

Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.  

“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”

She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”

It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.

“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.

“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.

Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.

“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”

Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.

“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”

Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”

Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”

“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”

Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.

“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”

“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”

Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.

In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.

Remus had been waiting for him back stage.

“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.

“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.

But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.

Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.

Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.

“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.

XOXO

Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.

“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.

“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.

“Me or my mom?”

“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”

Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”

Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”

Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”

Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.

“Another drink, sir?”

Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.

“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.

“I’m working, sir.”

“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”

“I don’t think so,” Luke said.

“Oh, no?”

Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?

“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”

Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.

“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”

The barkeep turned away.

Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.

XOXO

The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.

Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.

“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.

“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.

Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”

“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.

“Who’s Leo?”

“My boyfriend.”

Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”

“You didn’t—“

“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”

Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.

“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.

Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.

XOXO

Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.

Green.

“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.

“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”

Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.

“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.

Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.

“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”

[shes-a-gryffindor]

Hypothetically

Just a feel good one-shot, with a bit of Jily fluff and lots of Marauder banter.

As the air grew steadily warmer and the stress of exams seemed to melt away, the end of their schooling loomed ever nearer; until, as if all at once, the weeks had come and gone and they were sat in The Three Broomsticks, having a final drink as students of Hogwarts.

From a table in the middle of the crowded haze of the pub, Sirius Black’s voice could be heard over the raucous laughter of his friends… “No really, hear me out,“ he said, “she’s the type you can tell used to be sort of fit in her day.”

Lily choked on her drink mid-sip, Remus shook his head in amused exasperation and Peter was doubled over the table in a fit of giggles.

“I suppose McGonagall does fit the bill,” said James through his own laughter.

“Ah Prongs, a man after my own heart!” Exclaimed Sirius, clapping James’s back, “see... he gets it,” he added, looking smugly at the rest of them before taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, I get it,” said James, nodding earnestly, “Pads doesn’t mind ‘em stern and a little scary, do you Pads?” Then looking pointedly at the other three added, “ mummy issues,” causing Peter, who’d only just recovered from his last bout of giggles, to dribble a mouthful of Butterbeer down his chin, sending them all into a fresh fit of laughter.

“Gits,” said Sirius, scowling half-heartedly at them before laughing in spite of himself and downing the last of his beer; setting his empty glass back down with a thud, Sirius smacked his lips. “Right,” he said, “anyone up for a stretch of the legs?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” said Lily, downing the last of her drink as well, “… looks like Slughorn’s requested another song from the band and I don’t fancy another round of karaoke, d’you?”

“Absolutely not,” agreed Remus, so with the scraping of chairs against stone and the clattering of sickles and knuts being left on the table, they weaved their way through the crowd of tables and out into the village of Hogsmeade.

Filing out one after another onto the cobbled street, they began walking aimlessly along the path towards the far end of the village. It was a gloriously warm day, the sky was scattered with only faint wisps of cloud and the sun beamed happily down onto the thatched cottages and bustling shops, picturesque as ever.

Sirius and Peter made a game of trying to step on the each other’s heels, dancing around one another and occasionally running ahead, Remus strolled casually behind them, hands in his pockets and Lily and James trailed along last, James with an arm hanging loosely around Lily’s shoulders, talking and laughing as they went.

“I’m going to miss it here you know,” mused Lily, as they passed by a group of younger students excitedly rummaging through their shopping.

“You won’t get a chance to miss it too much, we’ll still come here all the time,” James responded, smiling down at her.”

“Oh will we ?”

“Well, you didn’t think we’d be spending all our time at the Cokeworth pub, did you?” He teased.

“Hey!” Laughed Lily, elbowing him playfully, “Cokeworth has… it’s charm,” she said, sounding rather like she didn’t much believe it herself.

“The only charm Cokeworth has, is you love,” he responded.

“James,” she groaned through more laughter, “you got me, I’m dating you, please enough with the awful pickup lines.”

“Never.” He said, grinning that lone-dimpled grin she loved, before pulling her closer to swiftly kiss her through her smile.

“Keep up lovebirds!” Sirius yelled out to them.

The bustle of the village was now behind them and a wide, beaten grass track replaced the cobbled stone of the street. The cottages that lined either side of the track were becoming fewer and farther between and they seemed to be walking steadily downhill.

“Where are we actually going?” Asked Lily.

“We’re going, Evans, to a rather special little spot,” Sirius told her, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Special?” She said questioningly; James’s lips were now also tugging at the corners.

“Here we go,” sighed Remus.

“Well, if you must know,” Sirius began, “I happened upon this particular spot whilst looking for a bit of… privacy,” an insolent grin now spread across his face, “brought many a sexual conquest here in our day, eh Prongs?” He finished, winking at Lily.

“Right… so just each-other then,” she responded before James could interject.

Sirius pushed her playfully into James, his bark-like laughter drowning out the others.

They continued much in the same fashion until finally, they reached a low, cobbled wall lined with coarse, unkempt grass; walking along it until they came to a very old, very splintered stile. Sirius stepped over the first few rungs before leaping over to the other side and the others followed suit.

It was easy to see why privacy had been the main selling point of this particular spot; the wall was alarmingly eroded, with chunks of stone jutting out it looked on the verge of collapse. The thick, thorny brambles that flanked either side of them created somewhat of an alley, opening up to a desolate clearing that stretched out of their line of sight, eventually turning up into hilly mountains.

“Charming,” said Lily, her cheery tone dripping with sarcasm.

Sirius, obviously unaffected by her assessment, simply winked at her. “Make yourselves at home,” he said before slumping down onto the grass to lean against the decrepit wall.

Peter sat on the lowest rung of the stile while the others slumped down next to him, joining Sirius on the grass. Lily sat with her legs crossed over James’s and Remus on her other side sat next to Sirius, who was wrestling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Should we be worried? You’re not planning on snogging us all are you?” Asked Remus with mock concern.

“This,” Sirius began, flipping open the packet, “is why we’re here,” and he pulled out what looked like a cigarette with its top twisted off.

“Where’d you get that!?” Asked Peter.

“You know I have a certain talent for sniffing these things out Wormy,” he responded.

Peter and James chortled, “Wow,” said Lily, “that is some James tier humour, Black,” making Remus laugh now too. James looked at her with feigned offence.

“Put it away before it’s confiscated Padfoot,” he told Sirius, smirking and nodding in Lily’s direction.

“Pfft” scoffed Lily, and with a mischievous grin, snatched the joint from between Sirius’s fingers.

“Lighter, Black,” she demanded, holding out her hand.

Sirius obliged, tossing it to her.

Pressing the joint between her lips before lighting it, she took an exaggeratedly long drag. All four boys stared at her incredulously. Removing it from her lips, she held her breath momentarily, winking at Sirius before turning to blow the smoke at James.

Sirius whooped and snatched the joint back from her, before taking a drag himself.

James was still staring, a little dumbstruck, at Lily, “Merlin you’re sexy,�� he told her.

“Oh please don’t ruin smoking for me” groaned Sirius, handing the joint to Remus.

“You’ve already ruined it for me,” mumbled Remus with the joint now between his lips, “for all I know you’ve shagged some poor bird in this exact spot,” he said, gesturing to the patch of grass on which he was sitting.

“Nah, not there,” responded Sirius in earnest, waving a hand dismissively, “I have there though,” he added, gesturing with his thumb to where Peter was sitting.

“Ergh!” Peter jumped away from where he was sitting to slump against the wall next to a laughing James.

“Don’t be such a prude Wormy,” said Sirius, grinning lazily.

“Can we talk about anything else,” said Lily, trying to stifle her own laughter.

“Please,” agreed Remus.

“All right then… I’ve got a hypothetical question,” said James, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth, “say, hypothetically, there’s no war… you have your pick of anything after Hogwarts, and, hypothetically, Auror is off the table… what are you doing?”

There was a moment of silence before Lily asked, “is this hypothetical?” The boys hooted with laughter. The effects of the smoke having kicked in, everything was much funnier in their bleary state.

“Go on then,” chuckled James, taking another drag and passing the joint to Peter.

There was another moment of silence as they all considered it; then, with a stony look on his face Remus spoke first, “pretty sure... war or not, I’d have about as many options as I do now,” he said despondently, absentmindedly ripping clumps of grass from the ground.

Sirius and James exchanged a grimace, Lily however, smiled ruefully at Remus; squeezing his hand in her own, she rested her head on his shoulder, “come on Moony… hypothetically,” she said, pouting comically up at him in her best impression of James. James thought his heart might explode with love for her.

Remus smiled stoically back down at her, “well…” he sighed, allowing himself a moment of self-indulgence, more to appease the group than anything else “… I suppose I’ve always found my dad’s job interesting, Boggarts at least are fascinating…perhaps something like that.”

“You’re braver than I am Moony,” said Sirius, clapping him on the back, “couldn’t pay me enough to go looking for one of them fucking things,” he added with an exaggerated shudder.

“Can’t face a Boggart, but you’ll go running ‘round with a Werewolf once a month,” he responded sarcastically.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “you fold your underwear and you won’t eat a meal without tucking a little napkin into your collar…yeah Moony, you’re a real monster,” he jeered, before continuing, “I reckon I’d fancy something like The Three Broomsticks, like old Rosmerta… y’know a pub, open my own...”

“I can see that,” said Lily, picturing in her mind’s eye a too-charismatic-for-his-own-good Sirius getting into all sorts of trouble in his own pub, “you’d be a right menace to society behind a bar though, with all that free alcohol,” she added.

“As opposed to the perfect angel he usually is,” sniggered James.

“Fair point,” she agreed, laughing.

Sirius appeared to still be musing over the idea, staring hazily into the distance he mumbled, “could call it Hair of The Dog or something…”

They roared with laughter, “that’s actually not bad,” spluttered James between coughs.

“And you Prongs? What are your hypothetical post-Hogwarts aspirations,” Remus asked.

“I’ll venture a wild guess… something quidditch related?” Said Lily, grinning at him.

“Reckon I’d be a shoo-in for the Cannons,” he answered, grinning cockily, “… or England for the cup,” he added.

“At least he’s modest,” said Lily, ruffling his hair the way he usually did himself.

“All right Head Girl, Slug Club protégée, potions extraordinaire… what’s life after Hogwarts look like for you then?” He teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She weaved a hand through his at her shoulder and thought for a moment before answering, “a Healer perhaps, or a Mediwitch… think I’d be good at that,” she said conclusively.

“Very fitting” said James, smiling down at her, “although to be fair, you’d be good at anything you decided on,” he added.

Lily smiled warmly back at him before turning to Peter, who hadn’t yet given his answer. “What about you, Wormy?” She asked brightly.

Staring distractedly off into the distance, his eyes glassy and unfocused, Peter appeared to be deep in thought, “… We’re never coming back to school,” he said slowly, as if only just comprehending this fact.

They burst out laughing, jolting Peter back to the present, “caught on, have you?” said James, coherently as he could through his own hysteric laughter. Sirius was now howling, sprawled across the grass on his side, clutching his stomach.

When they’d finally managed to compose themselves, Peter was still looking ahead, his brow slightly furrowed, “I genuinely have no idea what I’d be doing…” he said quietly, more to himself than in response to the question, his eyes darting side to side as if he was beginning to panic a little.

“I think we’ve broken Wormtail,” laughed James.

“Blimey mate,” said Sirius, laughter edging back into his now voice too, “just as well a bunch of lunatics are trying to kill everyone then, or you’d have ended up polishing Prongs’s broom or something.”

Peter laughed half-heartedly along with them.

“Don’t listen to him Wormy,” said Lily, “he’s just jealous he doesn’t actually get to polish James’s broom …” she finished, using two fingers of each hand to draw imaginary quotation marks around the word 'broom', sending them into another bout of laughter.

They continued like this for a while, making jokes at each other’s expense and laughing much too hard at things they ordinarily wouldn’t find nearly as funny; the minutes ticking on until there was no reprieve from the very bright sun that had sunken a little lower in the sky, blaring down on them.

Groaning and grumbling about how hungry they were, they began the trek back to the castle. Lily and James trailing behind again, hand in hand.

“Many a sexual conquest, eh?” Said Lily, grinning lazily.

“I’d hardly call them conquests… Sirius was just winding you up,” responded James, pinching her nose playfully.

“hmm... Personally I’ve always found the spot near the shrieking shack to be much better,” she said, “much more privacy.”

James laughed, pulling her closer again, “is that where all that howling's coming from? Merlin Lily, what have I been doing wrong?”

“Not funny!” Remus yelled over his shoulder.

Lily threw her head back in laughter and let go of James’s hand, skipping ahead to link arms with Remus, “oh, come on Moony!” She said playfully.

Watching her for a moment, stumble and laugh, arm in arm with his friends... James thought he very much knew exactly what he’d like to do after school. With or without a war.

[chudleycanonficfest]

The Switch

Day 10, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: The Switch

Author: adenei

Pairing: George Weasley/Angelina Johnson

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Mentions of character death

***********

The shop is quiet as George locks the door to his office. It’s been a month since the grand re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the steady thrum of customers has put the business back on track to where it was before the untimely closure due to the war. Things are different, of course, with Fred not being there, but George’s family and friends have stepped up and offered more support than George knows what to do with—not that he wanted it in the first place.

  In retrospect, he is thankful for his family and friends, Ron and Angelina in particular. They helped him put down the bottle and get his life back on track. 

  “Fred wouldn’t want this.” Angelina had told him late one night while she and Lee were staying over in his flat that smelled of days-old Firewhisky and hadn’t been cleaned since before they’d gone into hiding at Aunt Muriel’s.

  “How would Fred feel if you let everything the two of you worked for go to shit? How would you feel if the tables were turned and if it was—” Ron had yelled as he snatched the half-full bottle away from his brother and dumped it down the drain. The emotion was raw as the words caught in his throat, the end of the phrase hanging between them like the weight of a bludger pulling them down and grounding them.

  At first, he’d been pissed, but they were right. Fred wouldn’t have wanted George to resort to any of that. And even though he’d been begrudging in accepting help to begin with, George knew he wouldn’t have gotten the shop up and running as swiftly as he did without everyone’s help. The hole in his heart still ached, and not a moment went by where he didn’t miss his brother, but finding a new stride in this post-war life is exactly the push George needed to not only move on but also honor and make Fred proud.

  As George makes his way onto the main floor of the shop, a figure standing behind the counter makes him pause. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, the unrequited crush from his Hogwarts days now thrust back in his life, as if to taunt him of just another thing he’ll never have.

  “You’re still here?” The exhaustion is apparent in George’s voice after a ten-hour day.

  “Yeah, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stay on and try to do all the inventory yourself again like last week.” Angelina runs her fingers over the various displays of fireworks that are locked away behind the checkout area as she lightly teases George.

  “Nah, I learned from that mistake. Besides, don’t you have your regular job that you need to get back to? Now that things are running smoothly again, we’ll be able to manage without the extra help. Especially once things die down after the first.”

  “I don’t mind spending a few hours here after work, you know that. Things’ll start to pick up again soon once the Quidditch season gets underway, I’m sure, but right now, my corresponding duties are light. Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed spending more time with you lately. Almost makes me feel like we’re back in Hogwarts, you know? When real life and responsibilities seemed so far away.”

  A chuckle escapes George’s lips. It was true, all this time they’d been spending together, especially with Lee and sometimes Alicia, almost made everything feel right again.

  “Well, we can hang out in other places, too. I swear I don’t live at Wheeze’s.”

  “George, you live upstairs.”

“Ah, bugger off.”

  “I’m only teasing.”

  “And all I’m saying is if you want to do something outside these walls, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Are you hungry, then?”

  A genuine laugh bubbles up into George’s throat at Angelina’s brazenness. “Bloody hell, woman! Impatient much?”

  His outburst brings a smile to Angelina’s face, brightening the dark circles under her eyes from the extra hours spent helping out. 

  “You’re the one who said to ask. So, what do you say? Fancy a drink and a meal down the street? It’s late enough that the Leaky shouldn’t be too busy.”

  “I s’pose it couldn’t hurt. Beats making something for myself, that’s for sure.”

  “Great, let’s go.” 

  Angelina walks around the counter and reaches out to take George’s hand in hers. An electric shock shoots up his arm from the point of contact, and George has to stop himself from pulling away from the surprise of it all. A memory flashes through his mind of twinkling lights amongst a silver backdrop in the Great Hall all those years ago. He sees two figures dancing and twirling to the music of the Weird Sisters, one with flaming red hair much like his own and the other whose sapphire gown swished against the travertine floor. The memory brings a reminiscent smile to his lips as Angelina tugs him out the door.

  When they reach the Leaky, the pair settles into a quiet booth in the back of the establishment, away from curious eyes. It’s late in the evening for a meal, which is made evident by the empty tables and chairs scattered throughout the pub. Only a handful of patrons litter the bar, allowing Tom to be attentive to their needs. 

  George takes a large swig when the barkeep returns with Butterbeers, and they place their orders.

  “No shot of Firewhisky tonight then?” 

  George shakes his head. “I told you, Ange, I was serious about stopping. I can’t use the bottle as a crutch for grief anymore.”

  Angelina nods as she observes him intently. George can feel the heat of her gaze trailing over him as he takes another sip from his drink. 

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Oh? And here I was thinking I was mesmerizing you with my dashing good looks,” George quips. 

  Angelina smiles, and for a moment, George thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks before she recovers.  For all the time they spent together during Hogwarts, and more recently in the months following the war, George finds it odd that they’re struggling with conversation now.

  “Knut for your thoughts?” asks George.

  “Just that it’s been nice reconnecting with you. And Lee. Circumstances are shit, of course, but with my hectic schedule during Quidditch season, I don’t get much time for socializing and friends. I even had to drop my registration for the semi-pro league I was hoping to play for.”

  George nods, and his stomach twists as he processes her words. That would mean she’d be leaving soon once things got busy. He’s overcome with the urge to see if her job is something she’s passionate about.

  “Do you love it? Your job, I mean.”

  “Well, yeah, if I can’t play professionally, the next best thing is writing and commentating. Plus, I’ve gotten to see the world all on the Ministry’s dime. Can’t complain there…”

  “But is it something you see yourself doing for a long time?” George presses. He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he needs to know if it’s even worth it to pursue.

  “Well, after graduation, it seemed like the right fit. The opening was there, my parents were encouraging me to see the world, and I didn’t have anything tying me down. Honestly, I think my parents thought it was safer for me to travel, especially with the war on...”

  And what about now? 

  George is nodding his head up and down while the question ricochets in his mind. He opens his mouth, gathering the courage to allow the four words to escape his mouth when Angelina interrupts him.

  “Well, there are some openings that would allow me to stay in London that have just come up. They’re looking for commentators and stats writers for the matches played in the Kensington stadium. So, if you needed an extra hand at the shop, I could stay—”

  “—I don’t want you to stay for the shop. If you want to travel the world, you should. I doubt you’ve seen all the world has to offer in two seasons.”

  No! What are you thinking! 

  George can almost hear Fred chastising him for his rash response. It doesn’t come out the way he meant it to sound, and he knows he messed up given the crestfallen look on Ange’s face.

  “I only meant—”

  “I-I’ve actually already put in for the London job, George. And I promise it’s not because of the shop. Lee promised to help me with commentating, and this way I can play again. I start training next week. You know how much I missed playing Quidditch, and now that England is safer, I can stay and have the best of both worlds.” 

  The longer she goes on, it feels like she’s rambling and going on with a laundry list of pre-prepared reasons, which doesn’t sound like the Angelina he knows. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself that those are the reasons she’s staying, and not for anything else.

  “Oh.”

  Ange rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know you and Fred always used to think you two were the center of the universe, but I promise I didn’t choose to stay just for you.”

  Her voice is light, and she’s smiling, but George can’t help but sense something else lingering beneath the surface. Disappointment, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just reading into things too much. Hoping something might be between them that really isn’t. He forces himself to stop overthinking and simply enjoy her company instead.

  “Well, I, for one, am happy you’re staying. We’ll be able to get together more often, and it’ll almost feel like our Hogwarts days. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince you and Alicia to test new products again.”

  Angelina nearly spits out her Butterbeer at George’s joke as Tom approaches with their meal. He knows he’s not fooling either of them; the irony is that the girls were always two steps ahead of him and his brother. They were the only two in their year who managed to avoid becoming test subjects to all of their prototypes.

  The two fall into more reminiscing as they tuck into their fish and chips. George doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating, and he’s even more grateful for Ange’s suggestion now.

  As they are polishing off the remainder of their baskets, the topic of conversation falls on the Yule Ball, as Ange remembers how Fred had tossed the wad of paper at her.

  “It was romantic, wasn’t it?” George jokes as he remembers his brother’s ridiculous attempt at asking a girl out. “Still don’t know why you said yes to that tosser.”

  To this day, he’d always resented his brother for drawing his wand first and asking Ange to the ball. Of course, George knew it was all meant to be a bluff. It was Fred’s attempt to get his brother to buck up the courage and ask Angelina for himself. 

  George remembers it vividly. “Just ask her. What’s the worst she’ll say? No? Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.”

  When Fred had gotten Ange’s attention, George had no idea what to expect. They were usually well in tune with each other, and George could anticipate Fred’s moves, but when his brother had asked Angelina himself, it took George by surprise.

  “We were getting down to the wire, weren’t we?” Angelina interrupts George’s thoughts. “No one else had asked me, so I figured it was better to go with one twin than none at all.”

  George chooses the wrong moment to polish off the last of his chips. The fried potato catches in his throat, and he coughs it up, all while reaching for the last dredges of his Butterbeer to clear things out.

  Did she just say it was better to go with one twin than none at all? But then that would mean… 

  “Ange, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to ask you.”

  She shrugs and averts her eyes from his gaze. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you’d asked, let’s put it that way.”

  After this revelation, George burst into laughter. To anyone else in the near vicinity, it probably sounded like he should be admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward. He hasn’t laughed this hard since he and Fred were able to pull off a prank on Muriel shortly after arriving at her Manor at the end of March.

  “You—Fred—I—me—” He can’t seem to formulate a coherent string of thoughts until Angelina goes from amused to offended.

  “Honestly, George, I didn’t realize it was that funny. Forget I said anything.” She checks her watch and gathers her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. It’s getting late, and clearly the thought of the two of us together appalls—”

  She’s in the process of standing up when George sobers from the onslaught of irony and reaches out to grab her wrist.

  “Ange, wait. I’m not laughing at that. Just—just give me a chance to explain, yeah?” He pulls her into the bench beside him, where she lands on her bottom harder than she needed to as she lets out a loud huff of indignation.

  “Fred never intended to go with you when he asked.”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have raised so high on her face that George is surprised they haven’t gotten lost in her braids.

  “No, what I mean is, he’d been pestering me to ask you since the ball was announced. He knew I had a thing for you—obviously—and was being supportive.”

  It felt weird for George to admit that he fancied Angelina in school now, after so many years of keeping it close to his chest. Fred and Lee were the only two who ever knew.

  “So, what are you trying to say, then?”

  “When Fred asked you...I was shocked, too. I didn’t realize he’d already devised a plan that I didn’t cotton on to right away.”

  The look on Angelina’s face transformed from defensive to shock to comprehension, all in the span of a few seconds. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Being an identical twin has—er, had—its benefits.”

  “So.. are you trying to tell me that I didn’t go to the ball with Fred?”

  “Nope.”

  “And at the end of the night, when I kissed Fred in an attempt to make you jealous, I was actually kissing you all along?”

  “Sorry if it was disappointing.” The wisecrack escapes George’s lips before he can stop it.

  Half of him is expecting Angelina to slap him for the ‘switcheroo’ that he and Fred pulled, and in fairness, they deserved it. What if Ange actually had fancied Fred, and they’d pulled one over on her?

  But to his surprise, Angelina does the opposite. She leans in and kisses George right then and there. The same shock he felt when holding her hand earlier ignites within him once more as he lets his body take control. He allows himself to get lost in the feel of her lips, realizing that it’s the first time he’s truly felt like himself since Fred’s passing. He even dares to let himself think he’s found happiness again.

  Eventually, George pulls away as his lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. They remain close, foreheads touching as he offers a weak smile. 

  “Y’know, I was going to tell you it was me at the end of the night, but how could I when I thought I was going to break your heart when you thought you’d kissed Fred?”

  “You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

  “Yeah, but you can’t argue with sixteen-year-old George’s logic, can you?”

  Ange rolls her eyes and leans back. George misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” Ange raises her eyebrows in question as if tempting him to follow when she scoots out from the bench a second time.

  George pulls enough money to cover their meals out of his wallet and leaves it on the table before scooching out behind her. He pays no mind to the remaining customers as he pulls Angelina back into him and whispers in her ear,

  “I’d say we’ve wasted five years of pointless pining to wait any longer.”

[yn-dreamlife]

The sun and moon

Sirius Black x Reader

A/N: I know this wasn't what I put on the masterlist, frankly it wasn't planned. I wrote it through McGonogalls eyes because I feel like she was really a mother figure to Sirius, as she is to all students she takes a liking towards. And all I could imagine is how she would feel watching as he fell in love.

Also, some people may not know and it will help you understand the last line but 'Sirius' is a name for a star more commonly known as the dog star.

Warnings: Fluff

| Main Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist |

Quiet, with soft smiles, and even softer words. Invisible at times- no not invisible just... faded. Faded into a background of seemingly much louder personalities, that's what Minerva McGonagall saw when she looked at the girl.

Loud, with bold grins, and even bolder shouts. Front and center, bold and bright, not afraid for others to see him, that's what Minerva McGonagall saw when she looked at the boy.

Trapped, rule abiding, alive yet barely living, just going through and living the times that life had forced upon, that was how she lived.

Free, unaffected by rules, not afraid to live life, living every second of the day instead of just hand picked moments, that was how he lived.

Nothing in common, two different worlds, and yet it was there. The flicker of eyes across a classroom that stopped, for seemingly just a second when a bell like laughter filled the air. The briefest pause in the hurried steps down the corridor when loud cheers were heard.

You two had never spoken, it was the first year and she knew. Minerva McGonagall had never been wrong before. “Mark my words Albus those two,” a swift flick of her eyes to each of the seemingly polar opposite students before continuing “those two will be each other's sun and moon.”

“Come now Minerva, for once I think you may be wrong,” his words seemed doubtful but the glint in his eye was one of recognition.

Bold, visible, bright, brave, there never could be a peaceful day with him around, him and his infectiously loud personality and bold actions, every moment was filled with electricity around him. That's how she felt about the now young man she had taught for four years.

Timid, hidden, shy, conformative, every day was peaceful when she was around, her and her calming aura with her old books and warm tea, and yet no minute was perhaps dull when she was there. That’s how she felt about the young woman she had taught for four years.

Nothing in common, seemingly two different worlds and yet it was still there. The swift pause of the flicker of an eye that turned into a curious gaze. A gaze caught on the anomaly that was how one person could be so confirmative to everyone, so faded and yet he saw her everywhere. The once brief pause in stride now turning into a lingering stance, accompanied by the much slower pace down a corridor, how did he always catch her eye, was it because he was so bold? Or perhaps it was because she knew he wasn't always like that.

“Want to take back what you said or are we raising our bet twenty sickles again?” Albus whispered.

“I will win this Albus, I’m telling you I’m never wrong.”

“And yet, they still have yet to speak.” He spoke his tone being his usual amount of dreamy. But she knew that not to be true because she had seen it. She had seen in their second year at Hogwarts the moment they had shared for the briefest of moments compared to every other.

It was the first time she was called a ‘mudbloood’, spoken by a greasy black haired Slytherin boy. Minerva wanted to check on the girl, make sure she was alright but when she had found her in the corridor, knees drawn to her chest as she sat atop a bench beneath the stained glass window, that now reflected the emotions of the girl she had stop dead in her much smaller than usual tracks.

To her shock she was not alone, she hadn't even noticed the young boy beside the girl as she first approached, he faded just like she had. The girl's emotions now shine brighter than his own. He was soft and small, timid and hidden, just as she had needed him to be. Minerva didn't mean to linger, she wanted to give them their privacy and yet she had. Maybe it was the concern for the girl or the shock of the unusual softness of the boy.

“He doesn't know what he’s talking about y/l/n,” he had whispered.

“But… I am. I’m not a pureblood let alone a half blood. How do I deserve to be a witch? Perhaps… perhaps I do have dirty blood,” the whisper had made Minerva's heart ache for the girl.

“No you don’t,” there was no question in the boy's words, no doubts in his mind. But the girl didn't look at him, she didn't move. Her gaze still on the window where it remained until he forced it his way with his hand on her shoulder. “I’m serious y/n, there is nothing dirty about you.” And in that moment both the females in the corridor knew he was in fact being serious. He didn’t grin or chuckle at the somewhat ironic phrase he had used like he would have normally.

And then there it was, that soft smile and the softer words Minerva was used to, the quiet whisper of “thank you.”

And then there it was, that bold grin that was so commonly seen from the boy, met with an uncommonly soft response of “of course.”

He was everything she wasn't but he was everything she wanted to be, but in the same regard she was everything he wished to be more of. He wasn’t afraid to think of what was next like she was, but she wasn't afraid to stop in the present and bask in the calm like him.

Minerva could see it, ever since one project in fifth year, one seemingly random event she hadn't even planned. The two had been paired by a random draw of names from a goblet, she watched as the young man grinned widely at the name on the paper, his eyes instantly finding the girl.

“I assume you know Mrs. Y/l/n.” Minerva feigned ignorance, she pretended she had not known of their soft shared moment all those years ago, that she had not noticed the looks passed from one to the other that the other person always had seemed to miss.

“Yes minnie dear I would dare say I do.” The grin on his face and the glint in his eyes brought a warmth to the girl's cheeks as she watched him approach. Minerva watched on with a warmth building in her own chest.

Brighter-not blinding but brighter, with shining smiles and brighter words. The girl who once allowed herself to fade was now shining, sometimes allowing herself to be seen. After six years that’s how Minerva saw her.

Confident- no longer the loud sort of confident but confident, with delighted grins and occasionally soft spoken words. The boy who once always had to be doing something now could enjoy the moment he lived in. After six years that’s how Minerva saw him.

No longer just lingering gazes and short passes in the hall. No longer silent curiosity’s and soft blushes. No longer secret moments and private thoughts of admiration.

Now playful banter and times spent together, studying under trees and running through corridors. Bright smiles with no chance of being able to fade as long as the other was near.

Minerva watched as the girl who was once so shy grew confident in herself, grew to be a proud young woman as opposed to the timid girl who wanted to disappear.

She watched as the boy who was loud and the center of attention grew to appreciate the sidelines which he wasn’t allowed at home. He grew to be a self assured young man as opposed to the insecure boy who just wanted to be seen for something good.

“How did you-“ but Minerva cut Albus off.

“I told you I always know.” But there was no exchange in what now had turns from knuts to galleons because it had not yet officially happened.

Happy, freed, living life, and present. That’s what Minerva saw when she looked at the woman before her. No longer did she fade into a dull background of those around her.

Happy, freed, living life, and present. That’s what Minerva saw when she looked at the man before her. No longer did he outshine those around him.

She became the calm warmth to the ever present storm brewing inside him. He turned from being a crippling and dangerous electricity to a pleasant buzz of life inside of her.

The moon had found her place to shine, basking in the light from the sun. Soaking it in and allowing it to free her from the prisons the night sky had placed her in.

The sun had found his place to shine, for once he had been seen. He no longer had to outshine the rest in fear of being overlooked.

Y/n Y/l/n had graduated as a woman. She wasn't the same girl she was when she entered and that was because of him. He had shown her how to look forward to the future and enjoy every second she was given. He was her freedom.

Sirius Black had graduated as a man. He wasn’t the same boy he was when he entered and that was because of her. She had shown him how to enjoy the present and how he didnt have to constantly think of what was next. She was his freedom.

Minerva had smiled triumphantly on the first day of that year she remembered when she finally had proof she won. When the two walked in hand and hand and parted with a swift kiss, and despite losing Albus couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. Because he was delighted to watch the young love unfold.

You had become his moon, and he had become your sun. Because after all the sun was just a star.