#the very specific expression in harry’s face

[jarofstyles]

Strawberry Sunrise

Helloooo. Welcome to part one of a short series I’m doing. I’ve been dying to do a sporty/ personal trainer sort of thing so I’ve picked this back up after abandoning it for a bit! Please leave feedback if this is something you’d like to see more of on here!

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Warnings- mention of stalking, consent, gym culture, men being creeps, smitten H, anxiety

WC- 3.8k

Harry had always enjoyed the gym.

The burn in his muscles was his release of choice, choosing to express his innermost emotions with working up a sweat as he ran miles on the treadmill, muscles straining as he lifted and knuckles sore as he worked the bag. He’d spend hours working out purely for enjoyment and release in his time off, not only for the burn but from the community surrounding it. That being said, it made a lot of sense that when he got tired early on in the corporate world, he decided to become a personal trainer. A really successful one at that- thankfully, considering his father had been very skeptical at the profession change.

Working at a higher end gym, the facilities always remained spotless. There was a sauna and steam room, an in-ground heated pool and jacuzzi room, lush locker rooms with wooden locker cubbies and provided locks and fluffy white towels, and even held a boxing ring on the bottom floor which he loved to spar in in his free time. It was in a refashioned warehouse, lux looking in a rustic way.

He built his career and clientele over the span of a few years and had gotten into the groove of it fairly quickly. Working with positive reinforcement and meditative breathing before and after each session, people found his presence calming and many trusted him to help get them to their potential- which he proudly did. His routine varied but it always ended the day with a smoothie from the smoothie bar run inside the lobby. Choco PB, Mango Delight, or a Strawberry Sunrise with extra protein were his go tos.

One of his new favorite parts about his job, though, was the new receptionist at the front desk. Y/N.

A complete and utter sweetheart who, for a lack of better words, was a breath of fresh air in the usually gruff, testosterone filled setting. He loved watching her chat, even more watching her politely reject the many customers who tried to get her number. She didn’t seem to have a clue just how alluring she was. Her beaming smile and saccharine little giggle that made his toes curl, he was crushing on her big time. If he wasn’t afraid to risk her feeling comfortable at the work environment by potentially rejecting him, he’d have asked her out already but it was only 4 months in and she was a hit with everyone. He didn’t want to be the reason she left. Most of the other trainers were in relationships or married so she had been safe and had a good relationship with them all as colleagues, though Harry liked to flirt with her lightheartedly. He could tell she got her a little flustered and the arrogant son of a bit in him fucking loved it.

But what he didn’t love, though, was when she hesitantly found him with teary eyes after locking the front door with shaky hands as closing time finished and it was just employees of the gym. Her face was pale, spooked and Harry was not a fan of. Fear didn’t suit her.

“Harry?” Her shaky voice whispered. “I don’t mean to bother you at all, but if- could you wait for me before you leave? There’s… there’s that one guy, one of Liam’s clients? He kept asking me out and he got mad that I really said no and he’s been waiting outside at closing time and I’m just-‘I’m scared and….”’a quiver of her lip made his chest ache while also burning in rage.

Something he hated more than anything was someone who couldn’t take no for an answer, more specifically men who couldn’t let their bruised ego be healed in private, lick their wounds and accept that they’d not gotten what they wanted. Instead they harassed the other person as if the fucking answer would change. But to do it to Y/N? He felt enraged.

“He did what?” His mouth parted in surprise, brows pulling together as his shoulders squared up. Sure enough he could see a car parked right outside the door with the lights off, but someone visibly inside. Y/N parked close to the building and he must have known that. “Fuck, Sweets. M’sorry.” He groaned. “Absolutely not acceptable. M’gonna make sure Liam knows and that he’s dropped as a member here but of course I’ll walk you out. Are you almost done?” His hand reached for her shoulder to give an appreciative squeeze, bare skin meeting his palm. She wore a tank top with the gym’s logo and yoga pants, her name tag taken off already.

“Yeah- I just have to shut down the computers and sweep the front. Is that okay?” Her teeth chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry to keep you. I know you’ve had a long day and you have one tomorrow too, I just, I have a bad feeling and I’m scared. I wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t give me the creeps even before.”

Harry was vaguely familiar with the dude, mostly because he had snickered at Y/N’s polite attempt to tell him no to a date previously- but now, that wasn’t so funny. “Hey.” His thumb brushed over her skin. “Don’t apologize. I won’t hear it. Of course I’d do this for you, I care. I’d never let anyone be in danger, least of all you. You’re the best receptionist we’ve ever had and I’d be crushed if something happened to you. Everyone would.” Mostly him, though. His crush was real. However now wasn’t the time to deal with that.

“Thank you so much.” She sighed in relief, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “I’ll only be a minute, okay? Just stand right there.”

And he did. He watched as she shut down the computers and grabbed the little broom to sweep up the little bits around the front desk, thanking Harry when he brought the trash can out from the front desk for her to pour the dust pan into. Her thanks was gracious, grabbing her keys and nervously following behind him as he made his way out first.

It seemed that the man hadn’t expected Harry to still be there, as he had parked further back in the lot. The look of surprise made Harry irritated as he directly went to the car, knocking on the window. The man hesitantly rolled it down a little bit, Harry’s arm braced on the hood as he leaned down to speak to him.

“Absolutely unacceptable.” He said straight. “She said no. Dunno what or how that translates to ‘wait for her after work to crowd and stalk her like a creep’, but let me spell it out for you.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re going to stay away from her. She isn’t available, not for you. You’re going to listen when women tell you no, and leave it fucking be. Know she’s a pretty thing but that doesn’t give you the right to follow her around.”

“What are you? Her boyfriend?” The man sneered, making Harry’s jaw clench. Was he dense? Truly?

“S’not your business who I am to her. All you need to know is that she isn’t on the market, stalking is unattractive and if you don’t leave her the fuck alone, I swear to you that there will be consequences. I’d suggest finding another gym, mate.” He patted the top of his car before pulling back, finding Y/N standing by the glass doors, wringing her hands. The look of relief on her face as Harry approached and the guy’s car peeled out of the lot made his anger worth every bit.

“Told ‘em off.” Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he walked with her to her car and made sure she got her bag in. “Hey- let me follow you home, yeah? I’ll give you my number and you can text me if he bugs you again but I’d feel better knowing you got in safe and he isn’t out there waiting for you somewhere else.” He wouldn’t put it past an idiot like that.

“Normally I’d try to tell you no, but I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me.” Her body sagged in relief as she took him by surprise, taking him in for a hug. “Thank you so much. I was so scared he’d try to take me or something, I watch too much Criminal Minds or something but.” She shrugged, pulling back far too soon. It had taken him by surprise and he hadn’t had nearly enough time to appreciate her sweet smelling, warm body against his own.

“Anytime, Y/N. Seriously. Your safety is important to me.” More than she’s known. “Let’s get going, yeah? Know you had an emotional day.”

—-

Harry had driven her home, smiling and beeping once she had gotten inside her apartment building but waiting to drive off before he had gotten her little text of ‘ inside!!! :-)’

He spent the rest of the night trying to work away his anger, cooking a quick meal before heading off to bed. Y/N was too good for shit like that. He’d shot a text to Liam letting him know he told his client to fuck off and he’d help find another but was assured that it was a good loss anyways, which only helped ease him. The girl wouldn’t have to deal with it again.

He just hoped she would be okay.

—-

The next morning he was greeted by her smiling face, melting off the apprehension he had felt all morning. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with two loose tendrils around her face, looking as cute as ever as she waved at him.

“Hi, Harry!” She chirped. “I’ve got a smoothie with your name on it when you’re ready for it later. Thank you again for helping me last night.” His membership card was quickly scanned and handed back. Her smile was infectious, making his own rise on the corner of his lips.

“Yeah? I’m glad to have helped. I’m here for anything y’need, Sweets.” If only she knew how far that could go for her. Maybe it was better she didn’t. He was really into her but he was hyper aware of how it could come off now, so he would proceed with caution. “I’ll hold you to the smoothie when m’on my lunch.”

For the first time in quite a while, Harry had a hard time concentrating on his sessions. Of course he poured himself into it as much as he could, but he couldn’t stop thinking about last night. How shaken up Y/N had been and how she had been so appreciative. He couldn’t help it, because he’d already had a crush on her and the fact that she trusted him enough to come to him for help made him really happy. He was also still mad that the man had crossed such big boundary and genuinely scared the hell out of probably the sweetest girl anyone’s met.

Being in his own head also explained why said girl scared the shit out of him, making him jump as he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Jumping from the stool, he turned to a wide eyed Y/N and tore the earbuds out of his ears with a very, very embarrassing yelp. “Shit! Y/N, you scared me.”

As if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’m so sorry!” She peeped, hand over her mouth. “I said your name and I didn’t see you had in your earbuds. I’m so sorry.” Her babbling was very cute, but he didn’t want her to feel bad.

“It’s okay- just made me jump.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Shit, it’s my fault for sitting here with them on at work. You did nothing wrong.” His palm squeezed, making her shoulders relax just a bit. Thank god. There was no effort to remove it as he continued on, and no effort to step away from him. “Y’said something about a smoothie, yeah?”

His grin was probably a bit too big in regards to a smoothie but he hoped like hell that she would join him at the little tables they had set up. They were in the reception area, a bit public for his taste but considering what had happened last night he figured that was a better option than the break room. It was a delicate thing and he needed to go about it carefully. He really, really didn’t want to muck it up because his dick got ahead of his brain.

Although, she did look spectacular today, if he could say that.

“Yes! I was going to grab one too. What kind would you like?” One of the duties of the front desk people was to man the smoothie bar when needed. It wasn’t super demanding and the recipes were written out in a binder-

Harry would know because he’s had to do it before too- but she seemed to enjoy making them the times she’s done his. “I’m going for the Strawberry Sunrise and some energy boost.” Her hand squeezed his wrist before it was removed and she glided behind the bar, ponytail swaying as she did so.

“S’a good choice. Simple and effective.” He nodded in approval. “Think M’gonna go for… the chocolate peanut butter, if that’s alright?” His fingers drummed on the surface of the counter, slightly nervous habits showing when she was around. It was difficult to think. Even if he was this charming, charismatic, outgoing guy- he still got a bit flustered when talking to a pretty girl who was suspiciously angelic in looks and in appearance.

“Of course it’s okay.” Her laugh echoed in his ears. “I told you, it’s my way of saying thank you. Now sit and look pretty while I finish these.”

Harry was glad her back was turned because his face was most definitely flushed. Did she call him pretty? It seemed so. The man definitely didn’t go to the gym looking like a slob, but he had much better days outside of it. He liked to play around in fashion and the gym left little to experiment with unless he was okay with a sweat stain or ruining it. That’s why he wore cuter bandanas around his neck, or his stack of fabric bracelets that were meant to fall off. They were made of string and easily replaceable but they added color to his otherwise bland outfits he wore to keep from ruining his good outfits.

Apparently the last thing she had said was enough to keep him on his head until she finished, the large orange and white striped cup placed in front of him. “They’ve got to get rid of the styrofoam cups and do paper.”

Y/N sighed, looking at her own with a little frown. “I’ve suggested it but manager said we got to go through these before he’s gonna reorder. It’s only a few cents cheaper too, I was snooping on the order form.” She grumbled, making Harry smile. Y/N was known for her environmentalist tendencies and it only added to why he liked her. “Or, do like… have a bottle washing station and let us sell reusable cups with the gym logo and people can use those! Anything but these.” Leaning in closer to him, he caught her perfume as she let him in on a ‘secret’. “Plus, I fucking hate the sound of styrofoam. It makes my skin crawl. ASMR gone wrong.”

Harry swore he fell in love w little bit when she pulled back, laughing along with him as he nodded. She was fucking adorable and his hands itched to grab hold of that ponytail and keep her head still so he could kiss all over her face. Could you get cuteness aggression over another human?

“S’a great idea, actually.” He nodded, taking a sip with a hum. Y/N did the best smoothies. Shakes? He never was sure what to call them. “And you’re right. Styrofoam is awful for the environment and ears. I usually bring my water bottles every day but the amount of plastics we see here… S’a shame.”

“Exactly!” She slapped her hand on the counter. “It would only cost a little more to be more efficient. Do more water fountains so they don’t have to bring those plastic water bottles. Those are also on my hit list, when people crinkle those bottles…” her nose wrinkled in distaste, grabbing her cup and going around the counter. “Where did you want to sit, by the way?”

Harry’s heart grew three sizes, he thinks, when she was the one to initiate their time together. He’s been mulling it around in his mind, how to ask her to sit with him but apparently they were on the same page. “F’you want to sit out here we can, or we can go to the employee lounge. It’s your choice.”

“Do you mind if we go to the lounge? I had to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.” It was then he could see her shifting nervously on her feet, cluing him in to something else. Was the guy still bothering her?

“Course we can. Lead the way.” He extended his hand, letting her lead as he tried to figure it out. Y/N was a somewhat nervous person by nature and he knew from watching her pick at her nails or bounce her leg, twirling her hair or rearranging pens often, but he didn’t like the idea of her nervous around him.

So when they sat down at one of the smaller tables in the empty lounge, he let his concerns be known. “Are you okay? You seem a little nervous.” He bumped his knee with hers, bringing the smoothie up to his mouth for a sip as he studied her face.

“Yeah! Yeah I just…” there was a pause, her nails dragging down the cup to make a pattern. “I couldn’t sleep very well last night. I felt really safe with you and I’m really grateful for your help- you’ve no idea. I was scared if end up in a ditch by the time anyone came in this morning but….”’her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I don’t want to have to rely on anyone else. You’re not always going to be here. And I know- I know the people here are very strong and bigger than me, most of them anyways- but I need a way to protect myself.” She took a big breath before the words rushed out. “Do you think you could help me with self defense? Even just a little bit, I can pay you or clean your house or something I just really….” Her frazzled expression broke his heart. “I don’t want to feel helpless again.”

He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That he would stay every night and walk her to his car, that he would take care of her but the truth remained that he couldn’t always guarantee that for her. Sometimes he had to leave early, sometimes he had to stay later than her and it was just not possible. What she asked was absolutely the right thing, but he hated that she felt helpless.

“Y/N.” He crooned. “Of course I will. It’s not even a question, I’d be more than willing to help you out.” She must really not know his crush on her if she couldn’t see how he was mentally tripping over himself at the idea of spending time with her. It would be a double win. She could help herself and he could spend time with her alone. “I want to say M’really fucking sorry that men are shit and that you even have to worry. If I’m here when you’re getting off of work, which I usually am, I’m more than happy to walk you to your car, but I understand.

I hate that you feel helpless. You’re a lot stronger than y’give yourself credit for.” His hand reached for the one laying on the table top, holding it a lot more confidently than he felt. She squeezed it back, though, so a win was a win! “We’ll have t’do it after hours, though, if that’s alright? Just stay a bit longer after work. My days are really full right now and I know you’re working most days here so it’ll have to be a weird schedule but you don’t need to pay me a cent. Let me do this for you for my own peace of mind, yeah?” His eyes searched her face, like he was trying to find an answer for a question he didn’t know. “Was worried out of my head last night about you.”’

Y/N seemed to visibly relax, a smile growing on her soft little lips and her entire energy moving to a warmer one. What he didn’t expect, though, was for her to throw herself into his lap for a big hug. Y/N had always been touchy, but he never thought he’d end up with a lap full of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen whispering her thanks as her face tucked into his neck.

God, he hoped he smelled decent.

His arm wrapped around her as he clumsily put his drink down in surprise, stroking her back as she squeezed him tight- and it was like a dream. Soft body against his own and engulfed in her scent? He was happy if she never moved from here. Unfortunately she did, peeling herself up and her beaming smile making him melt. “Thank you, thank you so fucking much. You can have anything you want in return. You don’t have to think of it kow but… I trust you the most here.” She admitted, clamoring back into her seat. “You’re the coolest, H. Thank you again. When can we start?”

Harry knew he was in trouble when he wanted to cancel the rest of his day and offer it to her. She’d sent him through a wind tunnel of wild thoughts and his body was still reeling from having her so close, but he had to try and hold it together.

“Why don’t we start tomorrow?” He offered. “But be prepared to work up a sweat.”

[cringefailkralie]

ridiculously long list of things i’ve noticed about thomas grant and adam wadsworth’s portrayals of albus and scorpius

sorry in advance if this is messy, i wrote this at like 4am

albus flinches away when james steps too close to him!!!

when scorpius asks albus whether he prefers albus or al, he doesn’t have to think about his answer. instead he just looks shocked that someone was actually asking that, like nobody’s ever considered his feelings before. makes me feel like he’d been waiting his entire life for someone to actually ask him that.

tom’s albus doesn’t cry during the fight with harry like i’ve seen a lot of the other actors do. he just stares blankly ahead of him and completely shuts down. i’m head over heels in love with this choice because it really hammers home how hard it is for albus to express his feelings or communicate with anyone.

albus’s reaction to the love potion really really makes me believe that ron intended it to be a mean gay joke. even if ron didn’t intend for it to come across that way, that’s definitely what albus takes it as.

scorpius is just staring vacantly at a wall before he spots albus on the train in their 4th year. not sure if this is a specific acting choice or if i’m just reading into it too much?

they hold hands for a second and stand with their faces an inch away from each other as soon as they duck into their train compartment. their body language in private is so different from their body language in public.

albus squeezes his eyes closed when they hug. he really needed that physical affection but he hates anyone but scorpius being near him.

scorpius puts his hand on albus’s chest when the train starts moving. nothing to say about that its just really gay.

my favorite delivery of “oooo a quiz… WIZZO!!!” i fucking love how he does jazz hands when he says it, especially because it’s the second time he does jazz hands in that scene. he’s so me.

albus does so many little hand gestures in this scene, he’s way more comfortable being expressive around scorpius. he almost mirrors scorpius’s stupid little mannerisms.

bonus- not scorbus related but craig is first seen wearing his beanie on the train during the this sequence (where albus and scorpius decide to run away)!! idk if they don’t do this in other productions or if i just hadn’t ever picked up on it before, but it’s a really cute detail. does anyone know if he canonically got it when he became head boy?

when amos first tells them to leave, scorpius grabs onto albus’s sleeve

not even technically them but the ron and harry actors grab onto each other sooooo much (as albus and scorpius)

in love with how long scorpius hold out his “WIIIIIIIZZZOOOO” and how albus tries to match his energy with the “DOUBLE WIZZO”

delphi steals scorp’s little phrases and his awkward way of speaking and his mannerisms to try and appeal to albus because she knows that he reeeeally likes him- and i hate hate HATEEEE how she makes him feel like a freak for being himself when all the while she’s stealing his personality. scorpius plays with the fabric of his sweater and then fidgets with his hands after she tries to make him feel left out in the forbidden forest and i can FEEL what he’s feeling through the screen.

scorpius is JEALOUS jealous of delphi and when he talks to her his voice is quiet and monotone, which is the most un-scorpius thing ever. i love it. you can feel how much he hates her. i hate her too, this delphi is despicable. (very talented actress!!)

when scorpius tears his eyes away from the beautiful sight in front of them to look at albus and say “you’re my best friend” (which is crazy enough on its own) he talks in a really sweet, low voice before returning really quickly to his normal scorp-voice, as if he was afraid to let albus think about what had just happened

albus jumps up and down with excitement when they announce the triwizard tournament. he starts and then has to stop himself from cheering for hogwarts. funny that a guy who was just saying how much he hates hogwarts would do a thing like that.

everyone around scorpius gets startled when he starts cheering for krum because his screaming is so weird lmao

at the end of the scene where albus tells scorpius they’ll be better off without each other, scorpius just slumps over on the steps and stays there for the ENTIRETY of the next scene until he eventually gets wheeled off with the stairs. it looks like he’s fiddling with something? maybe his wand? maybe just his hands?

obviously the staircase ballet is the staircase ballet, but the way they look at each other is just AAAAUUUUGHHHHHHH

at the end of the ballet scorpius steps towards albus first, but albus is the one who reaches his hand out and slinks down onto the steps

obsessed with that gay little purse scorpius carries the time turner in

delphi gets scorpius to let his guard down during their conversation and scorpius starts talking like himself in front of her again!!!

albus does the little puke-gag-joke-thing in the library to try and make scorpius feel better </3

they’re both fidgeting with their hands throughout their whole conversation :(

ALBUS’S LITTLE GIGGLE WHEN SCORPIUS AGREES TO COME WITH HIM TO FIX TIME

this isn’t specific to this production but scorpius’s shoes are one of my favorite details. in the normal world, he wears big clunky shoes to showcase his awkwardness, whereas in the dark dimension he wears running shoes!! evil scorp is athletic!!!

the second “im fighting for albus” that comes out of scorpius’s mouth is said almost entirely to himself

their little hug in the water :,)

i LOVE LOVE LOVE that scorpius tries to hug draco and he pushes him away and throws his jacket at him in such a cold manner. it makes their hug near the end feel so much more important to their relationship. as soon as we meet scorpius he immediately refers to himself as having daddy issues and we don’t see nearly enough of that in this play.

bonus p2- one of my favorite parts of this show is the in trouble again number!!! i love the background gang and all of their little scenes like this. craig being a little gossip monger is funny as shit!!!! it gives him so much personality and makes his death that much sadder :(

the delivery of “scorpius….. he matters to me…. you know that don’t you?” is INSANE. tom grant delivers all of the coming out adjacent lines so perfectly.

i love how scorpius moves his body. he waves his arms around in the air so often.

scorpius tickled albus lmao they’re so weird

when scorpius talks about hating the other world, albus throws in “apart from polly chapman fancying you” quite bitterly and scorpius almost completely cuts him off. he doesn’t acknowledge what he said in any way shape or form and albus seems to notice that he’s not interested in polly.

scorpius rubs his socks on the floor while he talks :3

the choice to have scorpius move from his bed to albus’s bed and pull albus’s blanket into his lap when he tells him that he changed himself back for him is so AAAUGHHH

AND SCORPIUS DOES THE SAME THING THAT HE DID EARLIER AGAIN!!! he gets all quiet and sweet when he’s sort of admitting his feelings to albus and then all of a sudden he stands up and goes back to his normal loud voice

“MALFOY THE UNANXIOUS IS A PRRRRRETTY GOOD LIIIIAAAR”

delphi mocking scorpius and him immediately tensing up oh he hates her ass so much

scorpius reaches out to try and intercept albus handing delphi the time turner and albus giggles at scorpius because he’s happy she’s not extremely pissed at them

scorpius holds onto the railing right up until he gets his hands bound together because he’s afraid of heights. thought it was cute that adam chose to do this even though his fear of heights isn’t mentioned anywhere in this version.

i LOVE the torture scene in this version. albus is stone faced when delphi is threatening to torture him and then he IMMEDIATELY falls to his knees begging and pleading when she turns toward scorpius.

delphi is quite literally outing albus in this scene. the silence after she says that love is his weakness and points to scorpius is SO long and SO loud omg. it’s quite literally ten whole seconds (i counted) of albus and scorpius just looking at each other. it genuinely feels like she just spilled out what he’s been keeping inside of himself for so long, it’s gutwrenching. i guess they did just watch craig die so they do in fact have bigger problems, but you can see albus’s heart stop beating and its so terrible.

i love how albus turns to scorpius when the stationmaster starts unintelligibly talking to them like “hey, you’re doing the talking rn just so you know”

i’m obsessed with how excited scorpius is to tell albus all about the history of the place they’re in. in love with his little gasps at everything he sees and his jump when he says “SQUEAK!”

albus motioning for scorpius to stop when he’s demonstrating how to scream for help lmaoooo

albus pointing with both hands at scorpius while they try to come up with a plan is so cute. albus believes in him so much.

i love how scorpius keeps hugging draco even as he’s talking

their foreheads are literally brushing against each other my god these bitches gay

albus asks “and thats who you want in your palace?” in an almost panicked way like he’s afraid scorpius doesn’t feel the same way about him.

albus holds onto scorpius’s shoulders while rose tries to reassure them that they didn’t just get walked in on lmao

3rd and final instance of scorpius trying to change the subject- asking immediately about quidditch so albus doesn’t get the chance to say anything related to what just happened

scorpius says “come on” like he’s trying to get albus to come cut a rug with him at a middle school dance

obsessed with their little gagging and puking bit and how they made it a callback to what albus does in the library

maybe my favorite hug moment from any scorbus duo. i love how albus initially reacts with shock but then melts into it and closes his eyes, only pulling away to make sure he’s not reading the situation entirely wrong (he’s not)

my favorite ending scene by far. the coming out hits SO hard. the way albus fiddles with his zipper and scrunches up his sleeve in his hand, you can tell how absolutely terrified he is of saying this to his dad. the line delivery is genuinely fantastic. the more he pauses the longer you have to take it all in- and he pauses a LOT.

okie thanks for reading!!!!!

[finelinevogue]

the best thing

summary - you hate harry after that one night together, but when you need someone the most he will always be there

a/n : mentions of sexual assault, quite intense scenes, crying, angst, drunkeness

word count : +3.8k

pairing : ceo!harry x reader

You don’t know how you got here.

One minute you were eating crisps at home and watching reruns of Friends, then the next thing you know you’re at an exclusive event in the centre of London with your best friend; Leia.

Apparently, your best friend is now dating some actor who is in with all the A-list celebrities and so she can get into all these cool events now.

This party was hosted by none other than Harry Styles, billionaire and CEO of StylesTech. He happened to be the one man on Earth who you absolutely despised. Well, maybe he wasn’t the only one.

Harry became a celebrity when he got put on the front cover of GQ’s magazine for sexiest man alive four times. That’s right… four.

Harry was friends with James, your best friends new boyfriend, and had said she could also invite a plus one. The more the merrier was what Leia had said over the phone.

Now you were here.

Some rooftop bar in the heights of London. The lighting was very low, the music was very loud and the room was completely packed.

There was a dance floor where people were grinding more than dancing. There was a bar, which apparently was a free-bar. There was panoramic views of the city and tiny people below, making you feel like a Goddess up here in the clouds.

“We’re going to get drinks, you coming?” Leia asked you, James tugging on her hand to move them through the crowd.

“Yeah.” You nodded and grabbed onto her open hand.

You weaved through the crowds, apologising for people you bumped into.

You felt slightly too single here. Everyone seemed to be clinging onto someone and yet you were clinging on to a couple - third-wheeling to be precise.

When you reached the bar Leia and James ordered together, leaving you wait for another waiter to come to help you.

You waited a few more moments, before someone whistled behind you like they were calling over a dog.

“Oi, Henry. Serve this lady now.”

You turned around with a disgusted look on your face, only to be met with Harry Styles in front of you. He smirked at you when he noticed your facial expression.

You scoffed and turned back to Henry. “Don’t worry yourself about me. You can finish whatever job you were doing, hun.” You smiled at the young boy, who looked terrified of his boss behind you.

“No, he won’t.” Harry came and stood beside you. “She’ll have a vodka cranberry with ice.”

“She has a fucking name. Prick.” You mumbled the last word under your breath. “Sorry, Henry. I’ll actually have a Long Island Ice Tea, please. Thank you.”

Henry was off, probably to get away from Harry and make your drink.

“Sure your tolerance can handle a Long Island?” Harry laughed beside you.

“Don’t act like you know me, Harry.” You sneered his name.

“Oh, but I do know you. Don’t I? Know you very, very, well.”

You huffed, trying to not let his words effect you.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Specifically, the night he was talking about. It had been one night back when you were working in a rival tech company. You had been issued to attend a conference weekend, there had been limited numbers of rooms and Harry - the gentleman at the time - had offered you a space in his room.

That night you had too many vodka cranberries and ended up sleeping with Harry that night - although not much literal sleeping actually happened.

The point of hatred for Harry occurred when he left in the morning after you’d confessed that you could see yourself liking him. You’d offered yourself to him for a date together and all he said was; ‘I don’t do seconds.’

Hence, the birth of the hatred for GQs sexiest man alive x4.

“That was one night, years ago. Wasn’t anything to remember.” You sneered.

You lied. It was actually one of the best nights of your life and no one has been as good since.

“Except it was. You didn’t scream that much because you were hating it.” Harry sipped on his glass of whiskey.

“You’re a fucking pig.” You grabbed your drink that Henry had given to you now. “Stay away from me, Harry.”

“Then why did you come to my party?”

“I’m here because of Leia, not you.”

You scoffed and walked off, leaving Harry leaning against the bar in his gorgeous suit to stare at you as you walked away.

The little black dress and heels would do wonders for the power walk away from him. He could see what he has been missing.

You saw Leia and James standing at a table and went over to join them.

“Hey.” You said on approach.

“Hey babes.” Leia smiled as James wrapped his arm around Leia’s waist.

“Cosmo?” You asked, pointing to Leia’s drink.

“You know it. And what the fuck did you get?”

“Long Island.”

“Do you even like them?” Leia laughed.

“No.”

“Then why—”

To prove a point. “Dunno.” You shrugged, taking a sip and feeling sick already from how disgusting the drink was.

“Oh hey man.” James unwrapped his arm around Leia to shake hands with someone. Unfortunately for you, it happened to be the one man you were trying to stay away from.

“Hey. How are you?” Harry asked as they bro hugged.

“Good, good yeah. This is my girlfriend, Leia.” James introduced her.

Leia smiled politely, shaking his hand, and you suddenly wished you’d told her that the story behind the ‘One-Night-Stand’ guy had been this guy. “Hello. Great party.”

“Thanks.”

“And this is Y/N, Leia’s best friend.” James introduced you, not realising that you didn’t need an introduction.

Harry stuck his hand out for you. If you didn’t shake it someone would know something is wrong, so you could your hand in Harry’s and tried to ignore the soft skin against yours. Instead, you tightly squeezed as if you were trying to strangle his hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

You just tightly smiled, not feeling like returning the sentiment.

“Have we met before? You look very… familiar.” Harry had the cheek to say to you. He was an evil man.

“No. You don’t really have a face that I’d remember.” You pulled your hand away from him in disgust.

“Oh really? I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“It’s not.” You smiled, returning to your drink and trying not to gag with how awful it tasted.

“Uh, so, what are you drinking Harry?” Leia asked, clearly sensing some tension between you.

“Vodka cranberry.”

“Ah no way! That’s our Y/Ns favourite drink.” Leia smiled genuinely.

“How coincidental.” Harry faked a shocked face.

“Yeah. Truly.” You rolled your eyes.

“You two must be soulmates or something.”

“That would require two people going on an actual date.” You stabbed into the conversation.

“I guess..” Leia looked awkward now.

“Your capable of going on a date, aren’t you Harry?” You innocently questioned, turning to face him.

Harry’s nostrils flared and it looked like he was biting back from saying something brass. Instead of speaking, he shot back a good half of his drink.

“Lovely speaking to you, Leia. James, we’ll catch up in a bit.” Harry nodded his head to them both. You didn’t miss how he didn’t acknowledge you as he left the table in a hurry.

You breathed a sigh of relief after he’d gone.

“What the fuck was that about?” Leia asked you immediately.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“You and Harry. The sexual tension was insane!”

James nodded his head in agreement.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Y/N… C’mon. I’ve seen a penis and a vagina have less sexual tension than you and Harry. Get a fucking room next time.” Leia fanned herself.

“I give up.” You shook your head and downed the rest of your disgusting drink.

“Where are you going?” James asked.

“To find a fourth wheel for me.”

•••••

Twelves minutes later and you’d managed to find someone to spend the rest of your night with.

His name was Jordan and he was very good company. Attractive company too.

You two were cornered away in the back of the room in a circular booth. A tray of shots lay empty in front of you and another tray contained full ones.

You were playing a drinking game to get to know each other and now you were absolutely spinning. Your head had taken a hit after the fifth shot and now you were nine deep and couldn’t stop yourself.

“M-my turn.” You laughed as you hiccuped.

“Okay.”

Jordan sat close to you, his arm wrapped around the back of the booth where you were sat. His eyes were deep brown and his hair was light blonde. He looked the complete opposite of Harry, which maybe was subconsciously a choice.

“Favourite sex position?” You giggled immaturely.

“Hmm. Doggy. I actually hate seeing a girls face when we’re fucking.” He replied and you had to take a shot because he answered honestly.

That should’ve been your first red flag about Jordan.

You just laughed instead.

“My turn. Have you ever masturbated?”

“Alllll the time. No guy does it for me anymore.” You laughed sadly.

Jordan took his shot and then moved in closer towards you. You tilted your head so he could speak into your ear.

“I could fix that problem for you.”

Your eyes bugged at his forwardness.

“No thanks.” You shook your head and laughed to try and keep it civil.

“Oh c’mon. You’ve been flirting with me all night and you know it.” His hand dropped onto your shoulders and pulled himself closer. His other hand dropped onto your bare thigh and started rubbing up and down on your soft skin.

“No I haven’t!” You laughed the situation off.

“You have. And I bet you’re all excited ‘cause of it.”

He started moving his hand further up your leg. Due to your toxic alcohol intake your reaction times were a little slower, but when his hand had made it underneath your dress-skirt you gasped and tried to tug his hand away.

“No. Please stop.” You said softly, whining as he tried to push his hand higher.

His face came closer again and he started to kiss your cheek. You tried to move your face away but his other hand was there to trap you and keep you close.

You started to worry because of how dark it was and how hidden away you were. Everyone was busy dancing and drinking away and none the wiser about the situation you were in.

“Give in, you tease.” His hot breath felt disgusting against your skin.

“I said no. Please.”

You struggled to push him off. Both your hands were focusing on his hand on your leg that you couldn’t do much to get his face away from yours.

“You’ve been teasing me all night and now we get to play.” He laughed.

Tears formed in your eyes as you kept pushing and pushing and pushing. You kept saying no over and over again, but Jordan was just not listening.

He felt disgusting on you and it made you feel just as disgusting.

Jordan just kept laughing whilst you were crying.

An employee caught your eye - in fact, it was Henry. You thought he might��ve come over to you and help, since he could clearly see you crying and struggling with Jordan on you, but instead he turned and walked away.

You sobbed then, thinking that might’ve been your only chance to get help and he just left.

You wondered whether it was because Harry was a dick to him.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts as Jordan started attacking your neck.

You tried to think of Harry. It wasn’t hard.

He was constantly on your mind.

“You taste so good. Stop denying me all of you.” Jordan bit your neck too harshly to be pleasurable.

“Jordan, no!” You shoved with all your strength and managed to completely get him off. You were pissed now. Your mascara may have run, your eyes red and blotchy, your breath shaky, but that was all he was getting from you.

“No?” Jordan scoffed. “NO?”

Jordan grabbed your cheeks and pulled you towards him.

“Ow.” You mumbled through his harsh grip.

“Listen here you little bi—”

“The fuck is going on here?”

Jordan dropped your face and straightened his jacket, whilst you turned your head to find who you already knew was there; Harry.

His voice had sent a wave of calmness through your body the second he started speaking. Now he was standing there with a deathly look on his face you couldn’t help but feel relief.

And you noticed Henry standing behind him, looking just as angry.

“Hi boss. Just having fun.” Jordan responded.

Harry looked between Jordan and you. Jordan looked dazed and content, whilst you looked broken and scared.

“Are you okay?” Harry looked intensely at you.

“She’s fi—”

“I wasn’t fucking speaking to you, was I?” Harry rhetorically asked. “Y/N, come here, love.”

Harry held out his hand, palm facing up.

You made no hesitation as you weakly moved away from Jordan and towards Harry.

Harry helped you stand up and kept a tight hold on your hand. It grounded you, his touch.

“Can I touch you? Just on your face?” Harry asked you softly and you nodded.

Harry cautiously held your chin and moved your head to the side, noticing the red mark and blood on your neck. He hadn’t taken note of your legs yet, but he would come to find red marks on them too.

Your teary eyes were wiped by Harry’s careful thumb. You looked down at his shoes the entire time, too afraid to look at him. You knew you’d crumble if you did.

“Are you okay?” He asked you again.

“No.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I-I was really scared, Harry.” Your voice broke and Harry immediately cupped the back of your head and brought you into his chest. You collapsed there and Harry’s hands held you up strong.

“You’re okay now. I’m here, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Harry said, whilst nodding his head discreetly to the two security men.

They came over within seconds and yanked Jordan out of the booth. His protests were no match for the security guys. As he was being escorted out, Harry stopped him to say “See you in court.”

After Harry had thanked Henry with a nod and smile, he walked the small distance over to the same booth and sat down on the edge of it, pulling you to sit on his lap.

Your body was still wracking with sobs, but only because the adrenaline of the situation had been too much for you.

Now you knew you were safe, it was too much.

Harry made you feel safe.

He rocked you as he held you. It was too loud to have a quiet, serious, conversation, but his actions spoke loud anyways. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay now.

You heard Harry shout to someone for a glass of cold water, which was brought back to you within a minute.

"Here, sunshine, drink this." Harry spoke closely to you so you could hear.

He held the glass up to your lips and tipped it back slowly for you. Your hands were too shaky to hold onto it yourself, but you managed to drink carefully with the help of Harry.

He even knew when you'd had enough.

Harry's hand cupped the side of your head and brought you to rest back onto his chest. His head stayed rested on top of yours and you both just sat like that for ten minutes or so. It was hard to know exactly how long.

You just sat and thought about everything that had happened tonight and everything that could have happened. Mixed with that, your brain was constantly thinking about Harry and how much, no matter how hard you try otherwise, you like him.

Your heart feels constantly pulled towards him. He's like a beacon in the middle of a storm, safely guiding you towards home.

Just as those thoughts were circling your mind, Harry made his move.

He told you he was going to stand up, so you let yourself slide off his legs onto your own shaky ones. You thought he might be leaving you to go back and mingle with the other guests, so you stood shy to the side.

Harry leaned over to Henry and whispered something in his ear to which Henry nodded.

Before you could make plans as to what you were going to do now, Harry held out his hand to you again - giving you a choice to take it or not. Of course, you took it.

He squeezed your hand in reassurance and then lead you off and out of the room.

You two made no conversation as you wandered out of the noisy room and into a quiet staircase. Harry started walking up the stairs, so you followed him.

It was another two minutes before you made it to the top of the stairs and through a door that led to a rooftop. It was only very small. It overlooked the city skyline, with hundreds of twinkling lights casting shadows over the small space.

There were twinkling fairy lights too, up here. They were knotted around various creeping wall plants like ivy. In the corner of the square space there was a big L-shaped sofa with plenty of cushions and throws.

Harry turned back to smile at you, leading you to the sofa.

He sat down and let go of your hand, allowing you to choose where to sit.

You took one last glance at the skyline and up to the moon, before deciding.

"Wanna sit next to you." You said in a small voice.

"Okay." Harry smiled perfectly.

He shuffled back into the corner of the L-shaped sofa, sitting up and letting his legs stretch out on the chair in front of him. He patted his lap next with a smile. You shuffled over to him and sat on his lap, perpendicular to the way he was sitting so your legs stretched out along the other length of the chair.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Mhm."

Harry wasn't too sure though, and next thing you knew he was gathering a couple of blankets to throw over your legs and shoulders.

"Better. Thank you." You nodded.

"You're welcome."

"It's beautiful up here."

"I guess it is."

"Is it all yours?" You questioned.

"What? Everything up here?"

You nodded. Harry then took your hands in his and started to play with the few rings you had on.

"No. Not everything is mine."

You looked up at him and into his eyes, noticing he was looking straight back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you thought about the implications to his words. You couldn't help but let a blush and smile take over your face. If he was implying what you thought he was then maybe you were in with a chance of Harry liking you back.

"What do you want to have? You're a billionaire. You could have anything you want." You asked, curiously.

"No even a billionaire can buy everything." He smiled sadly.

"Well, what do you wish you could buy even though you can't?"

Harry chuckled under his breath, "Redemption. A second chance. Love."

You tilted your head back against the sofa, your head feeling less and less drunk by the minute. You sighed, looking at the beautiful moon and wondering how lonely she must be up there.

Loneliness is something you've suffered with for far too long.

You wanted to find that connection with that someone who makes you feel wanted, feel loved and feel chosen. You craved it.

You chuckled.

"What?" Harry asked, softly caressing over the back of your hand.

"It's just funny, is all."

"What is?"

"Us, wanting the same thing. Wonder if we want it from the same people." You tilted your head to the side to face Harry, watching him lick his lips as he looked at yours not-so-subtly.

"You already know we do." Harry said quietly, leaning in towards you.

Your breath hitched as he got closer, your heart beating faster than your brain was processing the motions. You knew you wanted to kiss Harry as badly as he wanted to kiss you, but not like this. Not yet, at least.

"Harry, wait..." You said, watching him stop immediately.

"Fuck. Shitting, fuck. Sorry, Y/N. That was completely inappropriate of me. I mean.. After... Tonight and us... and...."

Harry shot back to his original position and ran a stressed hand over his face as he tried to work through his thoughts.

You smiled as you watched him panic, before taking his stressed hands in yours and kissing the back of it softly - right over that small triage of freckles you knew sat pretty there.

"Hey. It's okay." You reassured him. "I'm not stopping you because of what happened this evening. I'm stopping you because I feel I deserve to know why I wasn't enough the first time around."

This was you standing up for yourself.

"Weren't enou-.. Y/N, love. God, I was such a dick. I never, ever, left you because I thought you weren't enough. I left because I didn't think I was. I was a nobody back then. I looked at you and saw someone who could literally be the epitome of sunshine, and then I looked at me and all I saw was a dark cloud that would cover you. I never thought someone as bright, as happy and as golden as you should ever have to be with someone like me. Hell, it's still a thought that niggles away at the back of my mind. But, I've learnt that I can't let those thoughts win. I owe it you myself, and definitely to you, to at least try."

"Well that was as good as apologies get." You sniffled, trying to hold back the happy tears.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, for our wasted years. I... I just wasn't ready for us back then and I know I was a prick about it."

"You were. A right big prick."

Harry wiggled his eyebrows and you had to fake punch him for it.

"I'm sorry." He said honestly. "And I'm sorry for tonight too."

"That wasn't your fault, okay? I promise." You squeezed his hand.

"Okay. I'm still suing that motherfucker though."

"You're a billionaire already!"

"So? I was going to donate the money to a sexual assault charity or something." He shrugged his shoulders like what he just said was no big deal - like he hadn't just shown his truest heart.

"You're a good person, Harry, who deserves good things." You moved closer to him.

"I am?"

"Mhm."

"Do these 'good things' include you?"

"I don't know. Do you think I'm a good thing?" You teased him.

Harry leaned in closer. "No. I think you're the best."

[themoonistalkingtou]

Pick a pile: What will the personality of your next partner be like + songs ⁺◦

Disclaimer: These readings are not professional, I use my intuition + tarot and a translator because English is not my native language! Choose the pile that resonates with your intuition ♥︎ you can choose more than one if you like. Your partner have neutral pronouns! sorry if some paragraphs are longer than others!

Pile 1 — Pile 2

Pile 3 — Pile 4

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Pile 1:

Knight of wands, 6 of swords reversed, Temperance

They like to live adventures and are impulsive. Furthermore, they like stimulation, although one must be careful as they have unresolved issues from their past which can cause difficulties. However, they are still able to remain calm and find harmonious solutions when problems arise in the relationship since they are capable of putting themselves in your place. 

"With you, chaos is ordered in harmony"

Pile 2:

9 of swords, the hermit, the empress reversed

They are a very lonely and anxious person. Additionally, they are quite shy initially. Furthermore, it is difficult for them to integrate into groups as they do not easily express their feelings. Instead, they are someone quite reflective who thinks a lot before acting. Gradually, they will start to open up emotionally, though they do this with only a few people.

"Resolve with your tenderness my secrets"

Pile 3:

3 of swords reversed, the devil reversed, 8 of cups reversed

They are mature and, while they had ex-partners before, they have overcome them and are ready to commit to a relationship. Specifically, they have accepted their pain and want to move forward. Namely, they know that being in a relationship is not easy but they will do their best to make it prosper. Notably, they demonstrate a lot of security and dedication to the couple as they are not afraid of commitment for a worthy cause. Essentially, they have freed themselves from many things and do not flee from conflicts, instead, they are willing to face everything so that the relationship succeeds.

"What used to tie me down no longer stops me, my heart is yours"

Pile 4:

King of cups, king of wands, the sun

They are a very compassionate, sensitive and happy person. In addition, they dedicate a lot to the couple and can understand the feelings of others. Also, they are very fun and dynamic. Moreover, they are meticulous and spread their good mood to people around them. Likewise, they are good at giving advice to people and have a lot of leadership presence as they radiate light and warmth.

"With you, life taste like colors"

[princesskenny1998]

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Muggleborn!reader ~ Unobtainable, PT. 1

You sat at the long Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, absentmindedly pushing a piece of toast around your plate as your friends chattered around you. Your eyes, however, were glued to the Slytherin table. More specifically, to Draco Malfoy.

There he sat, surrounded by his usual group of Slytherins: Pansy Parkinson practically glued to his side, Blaise Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle sitting nearby. Draco had that haughty, almost effortless air about him, his platinum blonde hair falling perfectly into place, his pale eyes scanning the hall with that signature sneer on his lips. He looked bored, as he usually did, but to you, even that bored expression seemed... alluring.

You sighed quietly, tearing your gaze away from him before anyone could notice where you'd been looking. It was embarrassing enough to have a crush on Draco Malfoy, of all people. A Malfoy, whose family made it very clear what they thought of Muggleborns like you. A Malfoy, who never passed up the opportunity to make a cruel remark or flash a superior smirk at you and your kind.

Yet, despite all that, your heart raced every time you saw him.

It had started in third year, a time when you were still figuring out your place at Hogwarts. You had always been a bit shy, more comfortable blending into the background than standing out. But one day, you'd caught sight of Draco in the corridor, his robes billowing as he walked with that confident stride of his, and something had just... clicked. You couldn't explain it, but from that moment on, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

It was ridiculous, really. He would never notice someone like you, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who kept her head down and stayed out of trouble. Draco only associated with the elite, the purebloods. And yet, you found yourself daydreaming about him far more often than you'd care to admit.

"Are you even listening?" your friend, Megan Jones, asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

You blinked, realizing that you'd been staring blankly at your plate while Megan had been talking. "Oh, sorry," you said quickly. "What were you saying?"

Megan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You've been staring at the Slytherin table again, haven't you?"

Your face flushed, and you quickly shook your head, trying to deny it. "What? No, I—"

"Come on, Y/N," Megan said, laughing. "It's obvious. You've had a thing for Malfoy for ages."

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks burning. "I don't—it's not like that," you stammered, but Megan just grinned knowingly.

"Right. Sure it's not," she said, giving you a playful nudge. "It's okay, though. I mean, he's... he's not bad-looking, I'll give you that."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. The last thing you wanted was for your friends to know about your hopeless crush. They would never let you live it down.

"It's just... he's so out of my league," you muttered, feeling the weight of the truth in your words. "He doesn't even know I exist."

Megan’s teasing expression softened slightly. "Well, I mean... yeah, he's a bit of a prat, to be honest. But maybe that's a good thing? You deserve better, Y/N."

You appreciated her attempt to cheer you up, but it didn't make the ache in your chest any less real. You knew you were setting yourself up for disappointment by harboring feelings for someone who would never look twice at you. But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to get over it, you just... couldn't.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur, and soon you found yourself in Potions class, seated at your usual table with your Hufflepuff classmates. Professor Snape was droning on about the intricacies of brewing a particularly complex potion, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at Draco, who sat a few rows ahead, his posture relaxed, yet his concentration sharp as he took notes.

You had always admired his intelligence. For all his arrogance and disdain, Draco was smart—there was no denying that. It made you wish, irrationally, that he would notice your intelligence, too. You weren’t the top student in your year, but you did well enough, especially in subjects like Charms and Herbology. Maybe, in another world, he might have noticed that.

But this wasn’t another world. This was Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy was... untouchable.

The lesson ended, and you gathered your things, heading out of the classroom with Megan by your side. As you walked down the corridor, you couldn’t resist looking over your shoulder, watching as Draco and his friends made their way toward the Slytherin common room.

"You really need to stop torturing yourself," Megan said gently, noticing the direction of your gaze.

"I know," you sighed, feeling a heavy knot of frustration settle in your stomach. "It's just... ugh, I don't even know why I like him."

Megan gave you a sympathetic look. "Maybe it's just because he's so... unattainable? I mean, people always want what they can't have."

"Maybe," you mumbled, though you weren’t entirely convinced. There was something about Draco—something that drew you in, even when you knew it shouldn’t.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself in the library, trying to focus on your Transfiguration homework. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thoughts of Draco from your mind. The way he walked, the way his hair fell perfectly into place, the way he looked so effortlessly put-together—it all swirled in your head, making it impossible to concentrate.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. Maybe Megan was right. Maybe you needed to stop torturing yourself. After all, Draco Malfoy would never look at you the way you wanted him to. He barely even acknowledged your existence. To him, you were just another face in the crowd.

But as you sat there, lost in thought, you heard a voice that made your heart stop.

"Y/N."

Your eyes flew open, and you turned to see Draco standing there, his expression unreadable as he looked down at you. For a moment, you couldn’t believe it. Was this really happening? Was Draco Malfoy actually speaking to you?

"Uh, hi," you managed to say, your voice coming out shakier than you intended.

Draco’s gaze flickered over your face, then down to the book in front of you. "You dropped this," he said coolly, holding out a quill.

You stared at the quill for a moment before realizing it was yours. You must have knocked it off the table without noticing. "Oh, thanks," you said quickly, taking it from him, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment.

Draco didn’t say anything else. He simply nodded, turned, and walked away, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence.

Your heart was racing, your mind spinning. Draco Malfoy had just spoken to you. He had picked up your quill. It was a small, insignificant interaction, but to you, it felt like the world had shifted ever so slightly.

For the rest of the day, you replayed that moment over and over in your head, analyzing every detail. The way he had looked at you, the sound of his voice, the brief touch of his hand—it was all burned into your memory.

But even as you clung to that small interaction, a part of you knew that it didn’t mean anything. Draco had only spoken to you because of the quill. He hadn’t sought you out, hadn’t noticed you for any reason other than that.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope.

Over the next few days, you tried to push the thought of Draco out of your mind, but it was easier said than done. Every time you saw him in the corridors, your heart fluttered, and every time he passed by without so much as a glance in your direction, that familiar ache settled in your chest.

You knew it was silly. You knew that you were setting yourself up for heartache. But even knowing all of that, you couldn’t stop the way you felt.

One evening, as you sat in the Hufflepuff common room with your friends, Megan nudged you playfully. "You know, you should just talk to him," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, though the thought of actually approaching Draco made your stomach twist with nerves. "Yeah, right. And say what? 'Hi, I’ve had a hopeless crush on you for years, please don’t laugh at me.'"

Megan laughed, shaking her head. "No, seriously! You never know. Maybe he’ll surprise you."

You smiled weakly, though you didn’t share her optimism. As far as you were concerned, Draco Malfoy was as unreachable as the stars.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if, just once, he saw you the way you saw him.

As you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you allowed yourself to dream. To imagine a world where Draco noticed you—not just as the girl who dropped her quill, but as someone worth noticing.

It was a foolish dream, you knew. But it was your dream, and for now, it was enough.

[draco-spencers-paramour]

May i please request a slytherin reader where she gets in trouble with umbridge and is punished with a "i must not tell lies" scar on her arm. She tries to hide it from draco but he finds out? Ive always wondered how draco would react ;) thank you in advance!

yes i’m on it!! x

draco malfoy x fem!slytherin!reader

tw: torture, violence, mentions blood loss, angst, fluff reader discretion is advised. And this is quite long

seeing between the lines

you knew it was a bad idea joining Dumbledore army after Harry had asked. But after all, Hermione was your best friend, to Draco’s dismay and you were the go between being a Slytherin you had access to the plans of the Inquisitorial Squad unfortunately led by your boyfriend Draco.

You felt awful lying to him but you were also angry at him for trying to destroy Harry and his friends, the DA to be specific which he was yet to find out that you were apart of. However it all fell apart for you very quickly when you were discovered by Crabbe and Goyle practicing defence spells with Parvati. They escorted you both to the office where you were met with the shocked face of Umbridge. You gave the two boys a fleeting death stare as to warn them off of telling Draco that you were part of the DA. “Restrain them.” Umbridge smiled as the Slytherin boys tied your hands to the chair.

“I am truly disappointed girls. Why ever were you engaging in such treacherous magic.” she clasped her hands together as you and Parvati glanced at one another fearfully. “In all due respect Professor, we were just having a little bit of fun it was nothing serious.” She furrowed her brows, still with that wicked grin on her face and walked towards you slowly “Don’t lie.” you shook your head “I’m not professor.” the next two seconds were a blur as she smacked you straight across the face “I told you not to lie Miss y/l/n. With many years of experience in the ministry I know a defence spell when i hear one. Unfortunately you will have to face consequences now.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes from the sting of her slap as you saw yourself in the mirror she had also drawn blood from your cheek. She turned to Parvati who was practically shaking in her chair “Are you practicing defence magic with other members of your class Miss Parvati? Like Mr Potter perhaps.” you knew how good of a liar Parvati was “No Professor. Of course not, it’s against the rules.” Umbridge took that bait.“One month detention. You can go now Miss Patil but I’ll watching you.”

The gryffindor girl nodded before being released and practically running for her life out of Umbridge’s office. “Now what to do with you Miss Y/L/N.” you struggled against your chair and she shushed you “Now now. What’s all this commotion? You’ve disobeyed the rules surely you realise you deserve to be punished.” you shook your head squeezing your eyes shut. “You think i don’t know about your….relations with Mr Malfoy. Which too, is also forbidden in my school. I suppose I should punish you for that too. However Draco has been more that helpful in assisting me to keep this school in order so I’ll spare that punishment…for now.”

She circled around to her desk draw, taking out her wand, a piece of paper and a pen. “I would like you to write lines for today’s punishment. You will write I must not tell lies seven hundred times on this piece of paper. You will not be released from my office until you have finished.” Crabbe released one of your hands “Wait outside the door please boys and lock it.” Umbridge explained. Your stomach dropped and you picked up the pen with a shaky hand before you started writing. I must not tell lies I must not tell lies I must not tell lies. as you began to write line number 15 you felt a sharp stinging pain in your arm.

You rolled up your sleeves and saw your own writing cutting into your skin. You eyes began to water again as the pain got stronger. You pleaded with Umbridge as she sat watching you, the happy expression never leaving her pug-like face. “Please…no.” you said in choked whisper. She sighed and shook her head “I feared you’d say that Miss Y/L/N. Now carry on or I’m afraid I will have to take matters into my own hands. I don’t like disobedient children.”

You carried on writing, each sentence cutting in the same spot in your arm making you cry out in pain until you could no longer write. Umbridge took clear joy from your punishment and stood up coming around her desk once more “I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice but to carry out it myself.” she fluttered her eyes with evil intent. “You’re the devil.” you cried , straining against the chair “That is an a terrible thing to say to your headmistress. You horrible little girl.” and with the flick of her wand she carried on the sentences, carving into your arm making you scream out in pain.

It went on for almost 4 hours. Even Crabbe and goyle felt bad and knew that they wouldn’t be the only ones able to hear your blood curdling screams that could wake an army. But everyone knew where they came from and who was causing them. The who would be the mystery unless the boys and Parvati were to tell people that it was you being punished which they probably would. When you were finally released, it was nightfall and you were seriously injured. “Mr Goyle please come back in.” when the boys opened the door and crabbe nearly passed out from the sight of you, half of you soaked in your own blood and struggling to stay conscious, surprised you were even alive.

“I hope you learned your lesson Miss Y/L/N.” You dragged yourself to the hospital wing assisted by Goyle “You tell Draco… and i’ll kill you.” you choked out at the boy holding you up. He said nothing and nodded. Goyle was going to tell Draco no matter what you said. Madame Pomfrey attended you immediately, luckily there were no other students in the hospital wing. She patched you up with a sympathetic look of deep concern on her face “Stay here till morning and then you can go back to your dorm. But you must rest for a few days. You lost quite a lot of blood.”

You sighed weakly lying in the hospital bed as pomfrey connected your bandaged arm to an IV and within minutes you were asleep. When you awoke the next morning you felt a hand holding yours. Opening your eyes you were met with the puffy red face of Hermione. “Mione.” you smiled groggily. “I’m so relieved you’re okay.” she wiped her tears and rubbed her thumb over the top of your hand. She helped you sit up in your bed fluffing the pillows behind you “I’m guessing Parvati told everyone.” Hermione shook her head “Just the DA. To keep everyone vigilant.” You bit the inside of your cheek nervously “Could you hear it? When Umbridge was punishing me?”

She cast her eyes to the floor “I was in charms class at the time but I’m pretty sure everyone could Y/N. You know thats how Umbridge frightens students to follow her orders. Remember when it was Hannah?” you rolled your eyes “I know. But everyone will gossip about it today.” Hermione gave you a weak smile as you continued “Wait. Draco’s in your charms class.” “Don’t worry Y/N. He looked visibly uncomfortable when it was happening but I don’t think he could tell it was you. Parvati covered for you and told him you were studying in your dorm and didn’t want any distractions from anyone. Whether or not he listened to her is another matter entirely.”

“Right well I better not waste anymore time he’ll be looking for me.” You insisted. Hermione shook her head “It’s sad really. He’s your boyfriend yet…” you finished her sentence “Yet he’s the head of the inquisitorial squad determined to rat everyone out just keep him and his idiot friends out of the trouble. Mione I know, I currently hate him for it.” She helped you up out of bed as madame pomfrey came over. She took your bandages off to reveal a fresh red cracked scar reading i must not tell lies.

Hermione observed your arm with a deep frown on her face “Oh Y/N….” you shrugged dejectedly as pomfrey collected a clean uniform and set it down on your bed. “I’ll still do whatever I can to help. Even more so now this happened. That she-devil needs to be chucked out of this school.” You pulled on your uniform making sure the scar was hidden under your jumper. Your arm was sore but it wasn’t unbearable you prayed Draco wouldn’t notice but you knew that facing him was going to be difficult for you.

You walked slowly back to your dorm, deliberately stalling. However it was no use and before you knew it you were making your way through the door of the common room. Of course there Draco sat on the plush green sofa. You immediately felt a lump in your throat and pretended not to notice him like it would solve the problem. He watched you walk by small smile on his face at your absent mindedness. As you got to the bottom of the stairs you felt is his arms wrap around your waist “Where are you off to my darling? I knocked on your dorm this morning but you weren’t in. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” draco sighed into your neck.

you turned yourself out of his hold looking up at him to meet his icy blue gaze “Sorry went to the library I’ve just been studying a lot. I’m still quite busy Draco so I’m gonna get back to my dorm” his brows furrowed “But I didn’t see you all day yesterday. Had to put up with all that screaming from Umbridge’s office and Patil, a gryffindor, letting me know that youd locked yourself in your dorm to study. Cant I just hang out in your room or you can come to mine-“ you felt yourself beginning to choke up and get angry at his words so you cut him off “Draco. I’m busy. Not now.” and you took off up the stairs as he stood rejected watching your figure retreat into the dark hallway.

You threw yourself on your bed sobbing into the pillows. You had no idea how to act in front of Draco. You were so angry yet you loved him so much. For the rest of the day you showered and got into some comfy clothes before catching up on some schoolwork and getting some more rest. You felt your stomach begin to rumble so you got up again and trudged your way down to the great hall. You came down into the common where unfortunately Draco and all his friends were still sat. Blaise noticed you first and nudged the blonde boy. Draco looked at you hopefully as you ignored him once again.

“Y/N.” he called out to you. Internally cringing you faced him with a polite smile “Hi.” he scratched the back of his head ���Did I uh- do something?” you shook your head as you felt the anger bubble within you “It just seems like I have. You’ve been acting really off with me today. Are you feeling ill? You don’t look well. You’ve been studying too much.” you rolled your eyes as your saw the other boys listening in on your conversation “I’m stressed, I need to study I already told you. Or is that not okay? I don’t want to do this in front of your mates Draco.” you turned to go back to your dorm but he grabbed your arm. The one with scar making you cry out in pain. He noticed immediately “Shit, are you okay darling? Did I hurt you?” You stepped back from him “No it’s fine. I just want some alone time Draco, please.”

You went back to your dorm even though you were starving and after an hour you eventually gave in. Giving it one last attempt you headed down to the great hall without any attention seeking from your boyfriend. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco were still sitting in the common room although this time there was no laughing or joking that could be heard “We have something to tell you.” Crabbe played nervously with the hem of his robe “Okay? what?” Draco looked at the boy suspiciously “You won’t like it.” Goyle admitted.

The slytherin prince sat back into the sofa “Well now you have to tell me. Is it to do with the DA? Cause you know we need to go to umbridge immediately if there’s information you’ve found.” Goyle sighed “No but well..sort of. Its complicated.” Draco frowned “For God sake spit it out.” “It’s Y/N.” Crabbe confessed “What are you talking about?”But if there was ever worse timing for you to return the from the great hall, this was it. you heard the heated exchange between the boys and caught Goyle ratting you out to Draco as you opened the common room door

“We saw her performing a defence spell with parvati so we took them to umbridge’s office. But we didn’t realise Umbridge was going to punish her with the lines. So the uh…the…the screams were hers. She was bleeding, that’s bit of an understatement really. And then I took her to the hospital wing after Umbridge had…finished with her. But I had to Draco.” You stormed into the room “Goyle! You asshole I told you not to say anything.” you yelled as Dracos heart dropped and eyes widened with horror as faced you.

“What? You mean yesterday when…all those screams..that was you.” his body when numb. “Yes. it was.” You eyes produced fresh tears as they flicked between the three boys “It’s your fault. All of you. Especially you Draco. You and your stupid fucking mates, you’ll do anything to destroy Harry. This is what your doing to people. To me. The person you love and the people trying to save this school from deatheaters and voldemort.” You screamed at him,rolling up your sleeve pointing at your arm with tears streaming your face as he stared at you as you headed off back to your dorm.

Draco ran after you shutting the door behind him “Y/N I-“ you cut him off, shouting “That monster of a woman tortured me for hours for using one defence spell. One. I nearly died! And yes I am part of the DA before you ask. I have to be if I want to survive in this school. God, Draco if anyone should be helping us it’s you! You hate your family and everyone knows they’re deatheaters anyway.” admittedly you felt bad for saying it but it was true. You turned away from him, sitting on your bed and sobbed “Go on turn me in then.” silence. You faced him again “If you have nothing to say then leave.”

he sat down and suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling you into his lap “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he whispered over and over as tears streamed down his face “i love you. forgive me.” his gaze flicked to the scar on your arm, feeling wracked with an overwhelming guilt. You both held each other until your crying had turned to sniffles. Draco held one side of your face as he cradled the rest of your body “I can’t tell you how much I regret acting this way. You wouldn’t have suffered if I hadn’t have been Umbridge’s pet. That woman deserves Azkaban.”

You smiled “It’s true. You’ve definitely made yourself even more hated than usual. You know that Umbridge is insufferable and inquisitorial squad is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. You lot made a lot of people suffer.” Draco hung his head in shame “I know. I promise I will spend a lot of my free time hating myself.” you giggled nuzzling into your boyfriend “Well I’m glad you feel that way. Though there is one thing you could do. You could stay in the inquisitorial but you wont tell on anyone. Make Umbridge think everything’s perfect and let the DA carry on to drive her out the school.” He nodded “If it protects you, I’ll do anything.” you gave him a stern look “So you’ll stop going after Harry too?” He sighed “Yes I will stop going after Harry. I’ll even talk to my father and the ministry about Umbridge.”

He kissed you deeply stroking your hair “I promise, anything for you. Now let’s rest and let me take care of you sweetheart.” You laid in your bed with Draco, his arms wrapped tightly around your body coaxing you off to sleep. And for the first time in a long time you felt hopeful about the future.

hope it’s not too dramatic lols. Also if you are following my Draco series I’m am still continuing with it I’m trying to finish the next chapter xx

[cheoridoll]

can you write a fic about listening to music w robby keene??

playlist of love

pairing: robby keene x reader

notes: thank you for the request! :)

warning: nothing, just Robby being cute

playlist for the fic: spotify | sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.

words counted: 1.030

It was a late Sunday afternoon, the time when the sun was already setting, painting the sky orange and pink. I was lying on the couch, playing with my phone, when Robby arrived.

"Hi, honey," he said, throwing his backpack on the floor.

"Hi Robby, how was work?" He shrugged, throwing himself on the couch next to me. The way he always felt comfortable around me made me smile inside. It was like he felt like this was his place.

"I thought we could do something different today."

"Different like what?"

"Listening to music together." — He answered, a little shy.

I raised an eyebrow, curious. Robby wasn't one to suggest programs outside the standard "watching series until falling asleep".

At first I thought: "Really? Music? Since when has this been different?" But then I realized that the way he said it seemed more special than simply putting on a random playlist. His small gestures made me smile, and I realized how worth every second by his side was.

"Okay." — I answered, curious and giving a slight smile.

Robby jumped up, excited, and started rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a laptop and two headphones.

"I made a playlist." — He said with a smile.

Robby was the kind of guy who didn’t show his feelings very much. So the fact that he had created a playlist for us to listen to together was basically the equivalent of writing a love letter in our modern language. He plugged the headphones into the laptop, put one side in my ear and the other in his. We were very close, with the cable of the headphones a little short, which made me laugh. He pressed play, and the first song started. It was Yellow, by Coldplay.

“You know that’s a cliché, right?” — I joked.

He gave me a sideways smile, the one that always made me melt.

"Cliché, but true." — The way he said it made me go quiet. There was something in the tone of his voice that said more than the words. We sat in silence, listening to the music. I knew he was trying to say something without speaking, and I think I understood. The next song started, and it was Home, by Gabrielle Aplin. I had never heard it before, but the lyrics caught me somehow. It was sweet, welcoming, as if the song had been made for that specific moment.

"This is beautiful" — I commented, a little embarrassed to say it.

"I thought of you when I heard it." — He replied, fiddling with the earphone cord.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

The playlist kept going, and every song seemed handpicked. It had a bit of everything: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Billie Eilish. In the middle of a Harry Styles song, I turned to him.

"Okay, confess, you spent hours putting this together, didn’t you?"

He laughed, neither confirming nor denying it.

"Maybe" — he replied, with that little smirk that always got to me.

I realized the playlist was more than just music. It was like he was trying to show me pieces of himself that he didn’t know how to express otherwise. Every lyric, every melody, felt like it was saying something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

When You’re Somebody Else by Flora Cash started playing, he finally broke the silence.

"I like spending time like this with you." — He said, staring straight ahead, as if he was afraid to look at me.

"Like this how?" — I asked, curious.

"Just... together. Without needing to say anything."

I smiled, even though he wasn’t looking. The truth was, I felt the same way. With Robby, there was no need for grand declarations or over-the-top gestures. It was in the silence, in the simple things, that we truly connected.

Midway through the playlist, I grabbed the laptop and opened my own Spotify.

"Now it’s my turn" – I announced, excited.

He made a face but gave in. I started with A Sky Full of Stars because I knew he had a soft spot for Coldplay. Then, I went through songs that reminded me of him: Sweater Weather, Electric Love, Falling.

"This one’s for you" – I said when Can’t Help Falling in Love began.

And for a second, I thought he was going to laugh, but he just smiled — that smile that made the whole world feel a little lighter.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

When the last song ended, we were silent again. Not that awkward silence, but one that seemed to fill the space between us.

“That was a good idea, Robby,” — I finally said, taking off my headphones.

“That was right" — he replied, looking at me with that look that I knew was only mine. He leaned in to place a kiss on my lips, and for a moment I smiled between the kiss.

And so, on a random Sunday, with a playlist and two headphones, he managed to show me that sometimes the best conversations happen without any words.

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 22 || 675 Words || Read on Ao3 —

13 October 1986

“Did you always know you were going to marry dad?”

Harry’s talent for asking blunt questions was bound to land her here one day, but still, Lily finds herself momentarily frozen while putting away a host of dinosaur plushies. There’s a simple answer to this: Yes, of course I did! I’ve always loved him and I knew we’d live happily ever after!

But she was very opposed to lying to her child.

So instead, Lily gives her six-year-old son a small smile, putting the stuffed toys in the basket in the corner of their living room and crouching down to his level.

“Well, no,” she starts simply, looking for the words to be honest and simplistic at once. “Your dad and I didn’t really get along much for a long time.”

“Why?” Harry asks.

“Well…” Lily trails off, looking for a way to skirt around the truth of he was a bit of a bully. One day Harry would get the full picture with all the nuances, but those specific details seemed unneeded at the current time. “We were very different. We liked different things and different people.”

“Then when did you start to like each other?”

Her lips twitch up in the beginning of a smile. “Your dad says he liked me from the moment he saw me on the Hogwarts Express,” Lily tells him. “But I think that’s a load of dragon dung. We started dating in seventh year.” Again, a little bit of a fib, but their six-year-old doesn’t need to know about the five-month secret-relationship that predated their public relationship.

“Seven years?” Harry exclaims, dumbfounded. “But if dad liked you, why didn’t you like him back?”

“Oh, Harry,” she laughs, smoothing down his hair. “When you get older you’ll learn that people don’t make much sense, ever. Less so when there are feelings involved. Your dad and I became friends in sixth year and that helped me to really get to know him, and fancy him.”

“You didn’t like him at all?” He’s slightly horrified, and she feels a blush creep up her neck.

“If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell?” Harry nods vigorously, and Lily leans in. “There was a time—when we were in fourth year—where I fancied your dad something awful.”

“But then why—”

“Just because you like someone doesn’t mean you want to marry them. There was a lot going on at that time, and though I liked your dad, there were other people that I was better friends with, that I had known longer, and they were more important to me.” She shrugs. “But when I got older, I realized those people weren’t really my friends, and your dad was there to make me laugh and feel better, and I realized that we had more in common than I expected, and when we started being friends, it all just clicked into place.”

Harry’s silent, ruminating on all this information, and Lily rises to her feet, affectionately smoothing his hair down again. “So I didn’t always know, but once I let myself see it, I knew pretty quickly.”

“That sounds really confusing,” he decides, face scrunching up, and Lily can’t help but laugh.

“You have no idea, my love. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

Harry scrambles out of the room, and when Lily passes through the doorway to the kitchen, she’s surprised to see James leaning against the wall, a smug smile on his face.

“I thought you were doing dinner with the boys?”

“Remus has been powering through a splitting headache all day and Peter got called in for a surprise audit, so we’re rescheduling,” he explains with a half-shrug.

Lily nods, going over to inspect the bag of take-away James has brought home and placed on the counter. She keeps her voice light and unaffected. “How long have you been standing there?”

He pushes off the wall and comes to stand across the counter from her, the grin wider. “Longer than you’d like. Fourth year, huh?”

[mysadcorner]

Hii! I just saw that your asks are open, and that you write for Kingsman. Yesterday I discovered the two Kingsman movies and I watched them both, and now I'm obsessed with both Harry and Merlin.

I wanted to ask you for a Merlin or Harry fic (whichever you want) of angst and the grovelling trope. Like, maybe he has a terrible day and the reader tries to confort him, but he ends up snapping at her and telling her some real hurtful things and so he has to grovel *a lot* to earn her forgiveness or something like that :)

If you don't want to write it or you're too busy I completely understand :)

Also, if you do write it, please tag me, I don't want to miss it for the world <3

Ps: My name is Leyla and I'm also 20 lol what a coincidence haha

Harry Hart Grovelling For Reader Headcanons

- Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in headcanons and read request rules -

Masterlist Navigation

• Harry would never mean to offend you or snap at you in any way, so when he does it’s just as much of a shock to him as it is to you afterwards. He’s usually very calm and polite, even in stressful situations, so he must have been under a severe amount of stress to even snap at you unintentionally.

• Despite what others may think of him, he would absolutely grovel to you in private if you’re truly not willing to forgive him. It only takes one bad look for him to start trying to get on your good side again and will beg if he feels like he’s not getting through to you in private.

• It would get quite emotional for him, mainly due to him not being used to being vulnerable or exposing his deeper feelings quite often. He’s extremely reserved, so when his emotions do come out they’re quite powerful which shows how genuine his grovelling for forgiveness is.

• Not only is he going to grovel, but he’s also going to do things for you that may win back your favour or your forgiveness for him snapping at you. Small acts of service would be his way of expressing his affection, much easier than him showing emotion in various ways, so this would be one of the first things he would resort to if he can’t get through to you.

• The guilt would be visible on his face whenever he sees you, even if you have forgiven him. So, even if he’s done with the grovelling and begging for your forgiveness, he’ll still make it very much known that he’s sorry for whatever he said for you for quite a while after the incident.

• His behaviour is never reckless, but for you it can be in subtle ways. As a part of his grovelling he may put himself into more dangerous positions for you, or go out of his way to prove how much he cares for you while others may only suspect that he had a small slip up while in action or getting a job done, mainly because everyone knows how capable he is. It’s only after you forgive him that his small reckless actions end.

[jmwdoesthings]

Hogwarts Professors Shenanigans: Severus and Minerva.

So I got this idea after seeing a headcannon: McGonagall and Snape being sort-of friends in Hogwarts and getting up to all sorts (laughing at student assignments, house rivalry, severely judging Umbridge together, etc) (A.k.a: Minerva having enough of Severus' everybody's drama) and dabbled a bit in my spare time.

In this one, Severus is having a bad day (definitely not Harry's fault) and Minerva finding out why.

Disclaimer: this is not a pairing and there is no romance. It's just the Slytherin and Gryffindor Heads being chaos.

Enjoy!

***

It was evening, and the staff room was empty. Or, at least, of all visible feelings, for Minerva and Severus were sitting on opposite sides of the room, pretending that nothing was amiss as they sat almost buried in piles of scrolls, marking homework. It was dark; candles were lit on the chandeliers and were hovering over the two microclimates that the Gryffindor and Slytherin head of houses had unwittingly created with their silence and expressions.

Severus was epically stone-faced and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. The movements of his quill were quite irregular. The quill hovered in mid-air, then swooped down like a carrion bird and slashed viciously at the parchment, then went back to hovering, scratched slightly upon expressing something with more words than one, then hovered again.

Minerva’s quill was similar, though it was poised rather like an owl, and was similar in movement. It glided over parchment and never slashed, barely audible in the silence of the room, rounded in both experience and patience that the dark-haired and young were yet to learn.

Nobody would have thought any conversation would have sparked between them, for speech was never thought necessary to fill silence between this particular pair. They both possessed a tolerance of it, which stemmed rather from the long friendship between their own selves and absence of a counterpart to embark themselves on, than giving others a cold shoulder. Though perhaps it was a more familiar aspect for the younger of the two; Severus Snape.

But conversation did spark.

Minerva shot out a traceable sigh through her nose.

“Eighty-five.”

Severus placed three rather vicious dots on the essay without raising his head. They didn’t need to maintain eye-contact, for their minds were very specifically wired to detect through other senses first, rather than with vision, from situations both ordinary and perilous.

“Eighty-seven,” Severus murmured, bestowing an update on his older colleague.

Minerva’s brows crept together a few millimetres, but other than that, both their eyes remained on the tasks they were both immersed in. Silence sank between them for another few moments, broken only by the faint rustle of parchment and scratching of nib against paper, before Minerva spoke again.

“Ninety-two.”

The faintest smile crept over the Slytherin Head’s thin lips.

“Ninety-three.”

Minerva’s eyes left her parchment this time, and flicked over to her reserved colleague.

“Ninety-three,” she repeated, incredulity only-just detectable around its rims. “You’re bluffing.”

Severus picked up a scroll and embellished the action of dropping it onto his ‘completed’ pile without as much as raising his eyes, then pulled another from a much smaller pile and resumed the vehement task of taloning essays with red ink. Minerva sucked her teeth and turned her sharpened eyes back onto her own pile, skillfully hiding the mild interest and scrutiny behind the steely glint of her spectacles, as her quill began to glide up and down and her eyes stumbled over, currently, Seamus Finnegan’s Transfiguration essay.

Quite a few flickers of the candle flames later, the head of the Gryffindor house potted her quill and shifted, directing her eyes at her younger counterpart. She observed him, taking note out of habit of all the miniscule details which had not changed for the past ten years: Severus Snape still sat as though his spine was a brittle, iron rod, to which his neck was connected; his hair had not been cut since 1990 and was rather neglected; black was still the only colour he wore, as though he wished to dress himself in his silence and reservation; his thin build was skilfully hidden beneath the dark drapes he clad himself in, visible only through the small circumference of his fingers and wrists and in how sharply the bones in his face stuck out. Not much had changed, since Minerva had taught him at Hogwarts, when he was still an adolescent and capable of earnest laughter and smiles, except for the latter and that he had grown taller than her. Nowadays, Severus Snape could have been compared to a very dark, thick bog, which was very hard to navigate through without sinking into its sludge, and there was simply no use looking into the green webs of puddles for any glimmer of lingering light. She wouldn’t have put it past the Potion’s Master to have made it seem so on purpose, as a way of not being disturbed by the less observant.

Minerva didn’t react to these thoughts at this moment, for she had made this comparison many times over the course of her life, especially the last twenty years, quite a few times in different mindsets and circumstances of feeling. It wasn’t a pleasant thought to dwell on and pursue, and she had deemed her opinion on this particular man drawn up and asserted. 

Yet, recently, on a day free from his vehement scowls, glares, displays of house-bias and downright snappish tones which seemed to be tailored to the Potions Master’s colour of clothing, when there had been less dark clouds and more light-hearted skies of sleet under his surface, Minerva had admitted to herself with pursed lips that she had actually grown fond of this strange, bat-like creature appointed as the guardian of the Slytherin house. They shared many qualities which prevented them from completely detesting one another or becoming intolerant to one another’s presence. For one, they were both too observant for their sanity’s own good; they were both accustomed to silence and coping alone, when need be; they both generally bestowed the crown of idiots onto more people than anybody else and for good reason, though Minerva was perhaps better with concealing her opinion; both knew very well when anything was amiss, whether that was a more complex plan of students drawn up to cause havoc or something of a greater degree, like the Ministry or any other conspiracy, and often shared silent glances upon sensing it. Also, both detested idiocy and stupidity.

Yes, Minerva thought, as she furrowed her brows and looked at Severus viciously slashing out the marks on his essays, we both detest idiocy and stupidity. 

But other than these more outright comparisons which both were aware of, there was another which Minerva kept to herself: both had lost far too much to speak about and both knew very well what it was like to suffer. That their tolerance and even amiability towards silence didn’t stem completely from possessing introverted characters, but because of what life had made them endure.

Minerva sniffed those thoughts away and spoke, turning her eyes away from the dark, almost isolated figure on the opposite side of the classroom to the scrolls, which she began to organise with both hand and wand. 

“One-hundred.”

Severus didn’t move, but kept scribbling on. Once he let go of the curling bottom of the parchment, he dipped his quill in his red inkpot and replied as Minerva had: without a glance from his current train of occupation.

“Ninety-three.”

Minerva paused, then directed her eyes at him, suspicious and incredulous behind her steel-rimmed spectacles. The candles seemed as surprised as she was, leaning over to look at Snape.

“Ninety-three?”

Severus didn’t pause, but neither did the small smile which flitted through his mask of stone, which Minerva, having eyes as keen as an owl’s when her glasses were on, caught, then rolled her eyes and pulled her eyebrows back down. 

“Of course,” she said. “I should have known what tactics you would have resorted to. Still, perhaps next time, Severus.”

“Twenty points to Gryffindor,” he muttered dryly in reply.

“Oh, don’t be so sour,” she said, flicking the last of the scrolls into a neat stack. “Practise spurs on perfection.”

“And yet, I sensed your unrest, Minerva,” he said, looking up this time and watching her face carefully. “You thought I was going to beat you at your field of expertise, at long last.”

McGonagall sniffed. It had been eight years, and Severus was still to perfect the art of marking with both speed and accuracy.

“Perhaps I did.” She hid an eye-smile behind her spectacles. “I do hope it was worth the effort.”

“Ruffling the wise, Gryffindor matriarch’s feathers?” Severus smirked, then directed his gaze back to his marking. “It’s always worth the effort.”

“Don’t sit up too long.” Minerva bustled to the door. “We don’t wish for any proud, black feathers to be raggled in the morning. Snapping at the striplings is exhilarating.”

“You mean refreshing,” he replied, but that was mainly to himself, for Minerva had stopped at the door and after a ‘good night, Severus’ had apparated to wherever she wished to be. Severus looked at the candles still shivering over where she had sat, felt the cold of the room and the darkness lingering in the corners, then sighed without quite knowing he did so and returned to his marking. 

*

“... by implementing these new tactics, retention of information will be increased and they will excel in their exams. We hope to bring up the scores in OWLs and NEWTs by at least ten percent next year.”

McGonagall was sitting with her eyes fixed on the board which Mr Piccadilly, the wizard responsible for informing teachers of programme changes and expectations, stood, retaining everything with ease and out of habit. She didn’t need to look at the speaker, but she did, for it was polite, though sometimes her eyes traversed around her colleague’s faces out of a curiosity that even her old age hadn’t managed to vanquish within her. Curiosity. What had Albus Dumbledore once told her? 

‘My dear Minerva, if you were any less of a lioness, you would have been undoubtedly placed in the house of Ravenclaw.’

Perhaps the Headmaster was right, but McGonagall held a deep regard for her own house, even so. A feeling so deep and long-lasting that it was like it grew a vein within her, connected to her heart, and so anything which tried to shame or disregard what had grown this vein was firmly shunned and put into place, for it twanged it most aggravatingly.

Her eyes flicked around the room briefly. Filius Flitwick was reading the information leaflet Mr Piccadily had provided. Sybill didn’t quite look as though she was paying attention, her expression dreamy and her magnified eyes half-closed as they stopped being of use for the moment she was in her mind’s eye. Albus was present for this meeting, and was nodding at what Piccadily had said as though he really was taking his words into consideration, running his knobbly fingers over his long, white beard.

Minerva glanced at Severus Snape and repressed the urge to snap at him to pay attention in class and sit up straight. Some habits really do never go away, she thought as she studied him, regardless of whether they had been out of use for more than twenty years. Then, her eyes narrowed and her own attention was most disrespectfully averted away from the speaker and towards the dark smudges beneath Severus’ eyes and the way he looked most strangely pitiable this morning. At least from her perspective.

“Thank you, Mr Piccadily,” Dumbledore spoke, after the speaker had wrapped up the meeting. “We will be sure to adjust to this practical advice; it is good one. Though, I regret to say, the stubbornness of some students to avoid the chances of retaining information is, whilst even impressive, an obstacle that even these refined methods will have trouble overleaping.”

There were a few mutters of agreement, most were fond. Minerva gathered up the leaflets as the rest of her colleagues did, aligned them with a few taps upon the desk, then swept out to match a certain person’s steps and billowing of dark cloak.

“Good morning, Severus.”

Severus spared her a glance. He even sounded relatively polite when he replied, which could have been mistaken for a bout of better mood if anybody but Minerva McGonagall had been on the receiving end of it.

“Good morning, Minerva. I trust the meeting was to your benefit.”

His tone was sardonic. For once, Minerva agreed with him, though it was with reluctance.

“It was nothing new,” she said. “Many of us have been implementing those methods since 1972, or earlier. They simply resurfaced after gathering some dust.”

“Certainly,” came the quiet, scoffing reply. “Dressed up in brighter clothes and introduced as though to idiots. I suppose Piccadily thought he had made a breakthrough in teaching techniques.”

She didn’t comment, though she pursed her lips and took this moment to run her eyes over his form. Severus must have felt them.

“Why do you scour me?’ Minerva was never one for sugarcoating, unless absolutely necessary. She was too old to spin words and Severus too sardonic to appreciate doing so. 

“You look awful today.”

“Ooh,” he scoffed. “Worse than usual?”

“Indeed.”

He chuckled darkly in reply, then snapped at some Gryffindors to keep a single file on the corridors, not even bothering to send her a glance at the obvious unruliness of her house. Though he did not answer and Minerva was intrigued as to the cause of such an impressively irritated and almost black expression, as to the sudden clenching and unclenching of his white fists, she did not press him. For one, it would be useless to do so as he would snap and skulk for the rest of the day and pretend his problems didn’t exist, secondly, she wouldn’t receive an answer anyway. So Minerva merely sniffed and acknowledged him when they parted at the second staircase - she went up, he went down to the dungeons for lessons to start.

For the purpose of convenience, Minerva kept the timetables of her colleagues stuck to the wall beside her desk. It came in useful multiple times, for classrooms were often changed and it came in useful when needing to find a co-worker during the school day. She swept into her second-year class, introduced the lesson, then in the brief pause in which they all stooped to fumble in their bags for their books, she glanced at Severus’ timetable. 

Gryffindor and Slytherin, year one.

Oh boy, she thought, raising her eyebrows, then made a mental note to check the house point chart in the main corridor as soon as the lessons were over and break began. She was teaching Ravenclaw - a good lot, for most were too intrigued in the lesson to talk about anything which wasn’t related to the matter at hand; in this case, turning teapots into porcupines - so the double period was over fairly quickly and without ordeal.

The ordeal arrived when she passed Hermoine Granger on her way down to the main corridor. She paused, eyes flickering up and down the small figure with bushy, brown hair, then stepped forward and apprehended her.

“Miss Granger? Is everything well?”

Hermoine looked up at her from under her smoking fringe and regarded her with wide eyes and full attention.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” came the reply, though its usual eagerness was staunched as the black ends of bushy brown were fingered sadly. “Simply some debacle in potions… The cauldron exploded, it burnt a few desks…”

“Humph. I thought so.”

Minerva took out her wand, then twirled it and restored the chunks of missing hair, burnt robes and the admiring smile and light in Hermoine’s eyes.

“The potions can be quite hard to comprehend, at first. Better luck next time.” She was about to step away, then regarded her favourite student once more. “Many points were taken, I suppose.”

Hermoine dropped her eyes, then looked up at her again.

She sighed quietly. “Quite a lot, I’m afraid, Professor.”

Minerva almost rolled her eyes, but restrained herself, as she restrained herself from patting the glowing student on the head. 

“Move along, Miss Granger,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll restore any losses in our glory in no time.”

McGonagall’s lip twitched as Hermoine flushed pink with pleasure and all but skipped off happily with a ‘thank you, Professor McGonagall, I’ll certainly try’, then paused in front of the point board. Usually, they were either up or down five, from different contributions and losses all across the school. Now, unless Minerva was much mistaken, they were down by no less than five and thirty.

She folded her arms as she studied it, then as she debated on the fors and againsts on going down to the dungeons and trying to wrangle out whatever poison was festering in the Potion Master’s chest that morning. If it was just after the incident and the classroom was still smoking, that wouldn’t be wise and, in fact, counter-productive. He would probably be steaming in no lesser magnitude than whatever concoction had been in the unfortunate cauldron before it had exploded. Not to mention that Argus Filch would most probably be overseeing detention that night and Minerva would have been inclined to bet ten galleons that a certain duo of a Potter and a Weasley would be on the receiving end of it. It was common knowledge - at least between her and Dumbledore and a couple of others - that Potter wasn’t exactly Severus’ favourite student. Reasons for why that was aside, it was fact, and so the against weighed more and Minerva directed her steps to the staff room instead.

She didn’t see the Potions Master until it had grown dark and it was an hour until student curfew at the hour of ten. Instead of resuming her marking in her office, she took up her fifth-years’ essays and waltzed off towards the staff room, in which she sensed she would find her sought object of interest, and when she pushed open the door and found nothing but darkness, she thought she was proved wrong.

Having gotten here, she didn’t quite feel the sense to go back, so she waved her wand and made her way over to the usual table she sat at to at least get through what she intended to. But when she lit the candles and the yellow, warm glow settled on the dark furniture and surroundings, she saw she was disproved again, this time in a way that she would have never liked to be.

She stopped, too surprised to even frown down her nose or furrow her brows. If she wasn’t Minerva, her voice would have perhaps gone for a moment, but this was Minerva, so instead it was present, full force.

“Severus?”

She placed the parchment to the side and took a few firm steps towards his form; he was sitting at the table, drooped over it, an empty glass in one hand and an empty bottle of Ogden’s by his head. She shot out a hand and grasped his shoulder. 

“Severus Snape!”

“I am not dead, Minerva,” came his voice. It was quiet and rather rough, though still impressively bothered, given his state. “You can sit down and mark the essays. I’ll be just over here.”

She picked up the bottle of firewhisky and placed it back down with a thunk in reply. “Did you drink all of this?”

“As you can see.”

“By yourself?”

His voice had only one tone and it was drawling one. “Who in my right mind would I share it with? Filius?”

She made a sound which could have been frustration and put her hands on her hips as she stared down at him. 

“Is this because of Potter?”

At this, she saw his eyes flash through the parting in his hair. He didn’t reply, but he shifted until he was almost in an upright position, and would have looked impressively in control if his hands weren’t taught and white in effort of keeping himself rigid. 

“No, this is not because of Potter,” he spat, words slightly slurred. “Why are you even here? Yes, I took fifty points off your house. Fifty points. Should’ve taken more.”

Minerva looked at him, then went and removed all the glass items off his table before anything happened.

“Severus, go to your office.”

He snorted.

“There’s nothing I would love to do more. My office. My […] office.”

Minerva’s jaw tightened at the expletive. She didn’t move as he rose, watching him clutching at the table, two dark caverns in the place of his eyes.

“I hate this. I loathe it,” he breathed, swaying. “I wish I could burn it, this place, right down to the ground.”

Minerva felt her temper flare. Her voice was sharp and quite appalled as she cut him off. 

“Severus, control yourself.”

He opened his mouth and forced out a laugh, his head hanging low, his hands slowly constricting with such force they almost left scratch-marks on the wood. It was an awful sound, this laugh, scraping like talons against iron. Devoid of light, hopeless; almost like sanity hanging by a thread. Minerva almost shivered.

“Control myself?” he whispered. “Yes. Control myself. That is what I have been doing for my whole life. I’ve perfected it in so many different ways. I have channelled all within me into one cold mass of iron and stone, and yet nothing I do… nothing I do will stop this hell I’ve walked right into. This hell which I have paved with my efforts and energy.”

Minerva listened, now that the initial shock had worn off. She looked at the man before her, remembering the dark, sparrow-like creature from twenty years back, looking up at her with wide eyes and a slight flush after a particular assignment had been written well and received top grades.

Good work, Snape, she had said with a nod, making herself smile at him, for she could tell from his nature, his malnourishment and the way he flinched at loud noises and skulked away from fights, from what background he had come from. Keep that work up, and you may just get to the places you want.

Yes, professor, he had said, smirking sheepishly, though he wouldn’t meet her eyes and tried to assume nonchalance. Thanks, professor.

Now, that sparrow was dead and this man stood before her, with his hands tainted black with murder, his head filled with memories which twisted his mood and his world a dark swamp which he could not navigate, his voice rough and splintered as he drowned in his faults and his silent tears.

She withheld her words and tears with effort, instead standing and listening, the best thing she could do for now.

“I teach little gargoyles the arts, like a fool,” Severus continued, unmoving though his shoulders moved as he steadied himself. “I teach them potions. People, my equals pretend in front of them that I’m one to look up to, a good representative of the Slytherin house, then frown and whisper behind my back. I hear them. Ha! Masks everywhere, and I’m sick of wearing them and drowning in their laughter and babble. I’m bloody sick.”

“You will be, if you keep this up,” she said, firmer than she ought to, but it was just a way of keeping her voice from wavering. “Sit down, Severus. Now.”

He swayed upright some more to make his point, then collapsed on his chair with a sigh heavy as a rock, burying his face in his bony hands. McGonagall drew out a chair and sat opposite him, waiting, her lips pursed.

“I always hear,” he muttered, his voice splintering. “It’s what I’ve been good at since I was a brat. I’ve been able to use information, retain it, piece it together, manipulate it…”

He took his hands away from his face and leaned heavily against the table. Minerva watched in silence as tears began leaking down his face and dripping into the collar of his robes. His face seemed indifferent, moulded into stone, yet his eyes and lips gave it away, as he sneered at himself and the world as tears stained his face thickly.

“I’ve passed it on… Oh, like a fool. And others listened to what I had to offer. They digested it, basked in it, then thanked me as I … As I passed it on.”

The last words were barely audible; his voice went. McGonagall watched as he bent his head and began to shake in silent sobs, miserable and pathetic, tears running down her own face and from underneath her glass as she watched him.

“It’s useless to move forward, Minerva,” he breathed, his head hanging limply. “It’s my fault. I should have died, instead of her... Damnation, I should have died instead of all those people. The pathetic wretch that I am.”

“Severus,” Minerva says, though where she gets this softness of voice from, she has no idea. Perhaps it's because of the idea of what could have been that they can both see, or perhaps both of them feel this sense of blame and twisted justice. Severus, after all, had served the Dark Lord freely. He had killed and tortured, and the Death Mark emblazoned on his left forearm is proof of all that. And yet, Minerva pushes it out of her mind as she looks at his crumpled form that she had only ever seen erect in its own way and storming or sweeping through the corridors like an evil force, black cape billowing and students scattering left and right. The students have no problem with choosing their antagonist, in their own little worlds where everything is still black and white. But this man wasn’t an antagonist; he was just as lost as the first-years, in a sense, that he was teaching.

She swallowed and regained herself.

“Severus. We all make wrong choices in life.”

He breathed out a strangled laugh and slapped the wet off his face, though it was everything but amused.

“Oh, yes. We certainly do. Though my existence is a torrid rift of spectacular failures, whereas what you are referring to is something as trivial as… choosing whether it is a good idea to have three coffees in a day instead of… one.”

He dropped his hands and wept on, voiceless, his torn breathing the only noise in the room. Minerva had no idea how to comfort him, this dubious character full of clashing opposites. A day ago, she would have believed that he still scorned all within his head and still pondered the acts which would have put him in Azkaban if Dumbledore hadn’t stepped up, but now, she didn’t think that was true. She did the only thing she knew: she insisted he go to bed.

“This won’t help, now, Severus,” she said, standing, and approaching him. “You cannot destroy yourself now.”

“Why not?” he whispered between silent sobs. “It won’t make a difference. It would do the world a favour. There is not a single benefit of me remaining alive.”

This, in turn, made old Minerva McGonagall very angry. She stood erect and clenched her fists, her nostrils flaring and eyes flashing in the glow of the candlelight.

“If I hear another foolish word out of your mouth, Snape, I’m going to take fifty points from Slytherin.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Minerva shook her head slowly and scowled in a way which only stern, elderly witches can. 

“O, ho, ho!” she cried, planting her hands onto her hips. “I’ll take one-hundred points off Slytherin, if you say another word on that awful topic. Fear my wrath, Severus Snape! It will be a terrible one, for I simply cannot stomach such foolish nonsense.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered. “You can’t take points off me, I’m the head of house.”

“You watch me, young man,” she said, then shook her head and rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come, now. There’s going to be enough trouble when you’re hungover in the morning and have first-year classes to teach.” Severus slumped onto the table instead, his hair splayed over the surface, his form still shaking. Minerva pursed her lips, though her heart was softened. She mildly considered having a gillywater after this, too, for this was really too much. She had done her fair share of conquering and convincing and all she wanted was a quiet rest of her life amidst her tartan couches and shortbread biscuits, with an ample amount of malt tea and fiction at her elbow.

Instead, she stared down at Severus Snape’s disobedience and despair in the darkness of the staff room, at the empty bottle and glass at the side and pursed her lips so tightly that anyone watching would have marvelled at the way her mouth vanished. The candles certainly did.

“Are you listening to me?”

“I cannot help listening to you,” he muttered darkly. “You’re shouting right into my ears.”

“Then stand up.”

It took him a while. He raised his head off the table, first, stared down at its surface on which a puddle of his own tears glinted, slapped at it clumsily with a scowl, then got up. He tottered on his feet.

“Can you make it to the door?” she said doubtfully.

“Don’t be foolish, McGonagall. My legs still work.”

Thunk. Clank, bang, ba-dum.

She looked at the form on one knee holding onto the upturned furniture without a change in expression.

“Are you quite done?”

Severus groaned quietly in reply, then heaved himself upwards and clutched at the table. He paused, grasped at his left arm, looking stricken, then looked around in a daze.

“My wand.”

Minerva held the black instrument up for him to see. She had picked it up a few moments before, when it had slipped when he tried to swat at the chair to grab it. 

“I have it.”

“Give it to me.”

She sniffed, looking at how dark his eyes were. “I don’t really don’t think so. You’ll receive it first thing in the morning.”

He scowled, then pushed himself upwards from the table, balanced himself, then stood there with his shoulders squared.

“Give me the wand, Minerva.”

“No.”

“You will not confiscate my wand.”

“I really just ought to use levicorpus on you,” she muttered under her nose, then directed her gaze into his eyes. “I told you what my conditions are. I’d be mad if I gave it to you in this state.”

He sneered. “I’m hardly in a state.”

“Now, really!” she cried, just about keeping herself from waving his wand around in exasperation. “Just now you have been talking about ridding the world of yourself! Seriously and with a straight face! Give you your wand? Absolutely not. Now, move, professor. It’s almost student curfew - there will be very few students about, and you are going back to your office.”

“Don’t make me curse, Minerva,” he hissed out through gritted teeth. “I’ve very little patience.”

“And so, quite frankly, do I!” she retorted, wagging her finger at him. “Don’t make me follow through on my word about points, young man, because I will do so!”

“Oh, you…” He snarled. “You’re a witch, McGonagall.”

They both looked at one another in incredulity. Snape looked rather baffled at what had just left his mouth. 

“Yes, Severus, I believe I am, indeed, a witch,” she said with a twitch of her lips. “Now, let us go, before anybody else sees you in such a state.”

She moved forward as though to support him, but he lifted up a hand and scowled. The remnants of tears still glistened on his cheeks and on his lower eyelids. 

“Spare it, Professor. I’ll manage perfectly well. Always have,” he said bitterly, walked a few steps, then stopped by another chair for support. “Always will.”

She watched him hobble off without a word, still holding his wand. 

“Severus,” she called, when he was halfway through the room, then hesitated, but followed through thoroughly after that. “You are not completely lost. You are aware of your faults and do not deny them, and that’s always a first.”

He stopped by one of the couches, swaying. Minerva shook her head at him, then tried to lessen the force of her words.

“I can imagine what you are going through-”

“No.” 

His voice was dark and scraped like stones being dragged across the floor. 

“No, you cannot imagine what I am going through Minerva.”

“Do you think you are the only one who has suffered!” she cried, unable to keep herself together for longer. “Do you think you are the only one who has had people… who has had friends torn from you?”

Her voice wobbled at the end, and she clutched at the piece of wood in her hand, her whole frame rigid.

“You are not the only one who knows well and truly what it is like to be alone, Severus Snape! The war was hell for all of us. We’ve all seen parts of it. We’ve chosen to keep going regardless of what we have seen, because it’s the only sensible thing to do!”

Severus stood there long. Minerva could see his body as stiff as her own was, trembling, his fists clenched so hard into the material of the couch, it was a wonder the fabric hadn’t torn in their grasp. Then, he turned to look over his shoulder at her.

“You are not responsible for the death of your friends, professor.”

His voice was barely a whisper, though it was trembling like a creature caught in an iron grip. 

“Your dreams aren’t full of reliving the death of the ones you had betrayed. You do not hold them lifeless in your grasp…”

He had to pause, for tears were running down his face in torrents, now.

“You do not relive the moments in which you could have made a decision to turn things your way, and instead did the opposite. The suffering of others was not your fault, and so many of you can live with yourselves, for it has been you that’s been wronged. I do not possess that luxury. I am the murderer in my story, the one to blame, the one to hate.”

His voice broke and he choked, then lifted a hand and furled it tight into the fabric of his robe, clutching at this chest. “You do not regret almost every word you have spoken, every thought which has crossed your mind, every step and motion which was entirely down to you and your mistakes. Your pettiness. Your pride-!”

He raised his voice, teeth bared in a snarl, tears running down into his collar in streams. Minerva was crying too, as she watched him, but her face was arranged carefully into something hard and unfeeling. Still, he saw her tears and scoffed.

“That’s right, Minerva. Cry for a wretch of a man. It’s an honour to be graced with the tears of a woman of stone-”

Another sob choked him and he hung his head, averting his eyes from hers. After a moment, he smiled, bitter and forced.

“As you can see, I am incapable of change. I’m my own torturer and my own prison. Azkaban…? Ha! What can Azkaban do to me, when I’m already in hell? The dementors would have a downright feast with all the happy emotions hidden inside me. Especially as I teach and look upon the son of the woman I betrayed. Damn all rivalries. James Potter I loathed, and, help me, I still do, though I saw him dead beside his wife and his living son. Merlin, I’m a wretch. Now you know this, Minerva. You can wrinkle your nose at me in disgust. I’m beyond the point of return… beyond the point of hoping for the better. I am scum… I am scum.”

He put a hand up to his temple, then dragged it down his face, moved awkwardly, half-crouched, then collapsed on the couch, bending inwardly, his thin arms pressed around himself, and wept, pressing his face into the couch, hiding it from the world.

“Don’t listen to me, I’m drunk,” he managed. “Is all,” then he broke down completely.

Minerva dearly wished she was in bed. She put her hands up to her temples and screwed her eyes shut. She was far too old for this. Far too old for all of this.

“Severus Snape.”

He sobbed in response. She dragged a hand down her face, then sighed and marched forward.

“That’s enough, Severus Snape,” she said, then did something she had never done before: she sat on the couch and pulled the man into a firm embrace.

He stiffened, this adult, this Slytherin head of house, this murderer, death eater, whatnot, then wilted and ducked his head, allowing his head to be covered in arm and shielded from the world as though he was back to being eleven.

“There,” she muttered with a sigh, patting his back, half a mind to make a cup of tea. “Stop that, now. None of this is your fault. Nobler than you have faced horrors which you have and turned down the dark path. But you turned from it of your own accord. You must remember.”

She placed her hand on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“Do you hear me? You still have a road ahead of you. You can choose which path you walk. Stop this talk of ending yourself. You’re still young.”

He swallowed, pursed his lips, then nodded his head once. Minerva rose.

“Come, now. I will give you your wand, but you must keep its point far away from yourself, am I clear?”

He sighed, sniffed, then swallowed.

“Like a crystal.”

His sardonic nature returned. A good sign. McGonagall nodded.

“Fantastic. Can you stand?”

“Probably.”

He rose and made it halfway up, though Minerva had to grab his arm to pull him upright.

“I’d appreciate it if nobody knew about this,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stumbled. “Not even the headmaster.”

McGonagall snorted as he leaned on her for support. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”

“A Gryffindor. The ones who always do the right thing.”

 “At least your senses haven’t left you completely.”

“Fear not. They will, soon.”

*

They made it across the staff room, then upon checking whether the corridors were clear - Minerva’s beak-like nose poking out and her hawk eyes narrowing as they scanned the vicinity - they began their journey across two of them, towards Snape’s office.

“Be glad we don’t have to climb any staircases,” Minerva muttered, her brows pulled together sternly as she scanned for any students and frowned at the gawking and gossiping people in the paintings. “That would be a task and a half.”

Snape made a sound which sounded like half a scoff, half a sigh. His head was pounding and his throat was raw from crying. Pathetic.

“I could just apparate, if it’s any use suggesting it. I don’t want to be the reason for any rheumatisms acting up later, Professor.”

“Silence, or I’ll let go of you,” she snapped, driving a sharp elbow into his ribcage as they stumbled, probably on purpose. "Insolent boy. Arthritis. And I was heavier than you when I was your age. There are first-years heavier than you, you impervious skeleton frame. Rheumatisms acting up, indeed.”

His lips twitched at his colleague’s grumbling. “I do apologise.”

Minerva scoffed, her eyes sharp and hawk-like behind her glasses. “Of course you do. And no, you couldn’t just apparate. You’d split yourself into two in this state.”

“Right you are.”

They stumbled across a corridor, then Minerva sighed.

“I should keep you like this for a little longer. You’ve never willingly agreed with me, yet.”

“I already said, I’m far from sober. I’ll be back to my own charming self in the morning.”

“You better be. There are quizzes to mark and Quidditch matches to oversee.”

They reached his door just as he moaned. “Quidditch… How could I have forgotten?”

Within moments, he was sprawled on his bed, face-first. McGonagall placed her hands on her hips and scowled at him.

“Just leave me here,” he said, though it sounded barely decipherable due to his face being muffled in duvet. “I will manage.”

She didn’t have to speak; even the silence was severely doubtful.

“I will manage,” he repeated obstinately.

Severus twitched, rolled from side to side, only to come to a stop in the same position as he collapsed on the bed in the first place.

“... There we go,” he muttered weakly.

Her voice was as point-blank as it usually was, but Severus wasn’t fooled as he felt her eyes on his back, no doubt amused. “Be glad nobody but me can see this.”

He severely doubted that was a cause for relief, as much as he was sure that he wouldn’t be hearing the end of this, though perhaps in subtle insinuations rather than direct statements of ‘Severus Snape being so incredibly wasted he couldn’t even get himself into bed’.

He heaved himself up, sat back down, then bent over to unfasten his shoes. Then, he paused, remembered he had a wand and looked up at the stern, elderly woman watching him with a frown. Perhaps this is what it would have felt like to have a grandmother present in his life.

“My wand.”

She pursed her lips. He sighed.

“Please may I have my wand, ma’am?”

She stood there some more, then shook her head at him and withdrew it from her sleeve.

“You are by far the most difficult student in this castle, Severus Snape,” she said as she handed it to him. He took it and heaved out a sigh.

“I won’t argue.”

He undid his shoes, took off his cloak, then climbed into bed, leaving his wand on the bedside table. His candles were still glimmering after McGonagall had lit them, drilling holes into his brain. He had no energy to put them out, but he didn’t need to.

“That’s that,” Minerva said, blowing them all out but one, which she took with her. “End of today’s nonsense. I expect you to be up at the normal hour tomorrow, Severus, or I’m afraid there will be consequences for you to face.”

He muttered something rude, then bit his tongue and opened his eyes a sliver, just to see her form sweeping to the exit.

“Goodnight, Severus.”

He breathed out a sigh, then spoke.

“Thank you, Minerva.”

She paused, then turned from the door to him, frowning, as though he was being insolent; but he wasn’t.

“I’m being genuine,” he muttered, feeling his head slowly sinking into the softness of his covers. “I don’t really have anybody else in this castle to turn to. You’re quite a good ear to talk into.”

He didn’t quite manage to stay genuine and sarcasm bled into his tone. He expected to hear something witty back, but the elderly woman just sighed and spoke in a slightly softened voice:

“Don’t hesitate to speak to me, Severus,” she said. “These matters are nothing to joke about, and you cannot do this alone. Plus,” she added, “I do enjoy your futile attempts to brush up on your grading abilities. Maybe one day, you will surprise me, and that will be the day in which I shall, perhaps, finally retire.”

“Looking forward to it,” he managed to mumble, before sleep took him, and that was that, for that day.

[familyabolisher]

i'm sorry in advance for asking you about what was essentially, a small part of a month old jokey reply to a post. that said, what would you consider the implications of the "this world is enough" quote being said by specifically Joyce Messier to be, along with the ensuing "(...) this is the greatest and kindest arrangement the atoms had in them"... it's just that this is one of my favourite quotes in the game and your post made me realize I had been engaging with it in a rather superficial way.

It’s a very beautifully worded passage, which I think contributes in large part to why people latch onto it so much. Unfortunately, it tends to fall victim to the classic phenomenon whereby lines which are rhetorically effective and on the surface appear to articulate a clear and compelling sentiment find themselves isolated from their broader textual context in fan reception & thus taken at face value. The full passage is:

JOYCE MESSIER - "Great bodies of water, forest-covered surfaces... clusters of light where the cities lie. You've seen the montage, we all have -- this world is enough," she concludes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - It *must* be. This is the greatest and kindest arrangement the atoms had in them.

Stripped of its political teeth, I imagine the idea of a world composed of the ‘greatest and kindest’ arrangement of atoms is somewhat comforting, as a poetic expression of a sentiment of hope and optimism for the world around you and for yourself in turn. However, it just can’t be easily cleaved away from the fact that Disco Elysium is an overtly and unsubtly political game; it’s a game about communism, and it’s a game which thinks about communism in such a way that the sentiment given here is undercut at just about every turn.

We see that this idea of a ‘greatest and kindest arrangement’ is coming in response to Joyce’s statement that ‘this world is enough.’ Joyce, in-game, is an ultraliberal strikebreaker invested with a huge amount of power relative to capitalist hegemony; put simply, she is not someone whose political voice is one with which the narrative aligns. To think about the present condition of the world as ‘enough’—and to respond, as does Harry’s Conceptualisation, with the suggestion that anything else would be less great and less kind than they are at present (such that all failings of greatness and kindness in the present state can be countered with the superlative)—is a sentiment coming from someone for whom the continuation of the capitalist social condition is hugely beneficial. Put simply, Disco Elysium, read holistically, is just not a game which believes that the capitalist social condition is ‘enough,’ and nor that it is the ‘greatest and kindest arrangement.’

Like—the game takes great pains to suggest that capitulating to the inevitability of the present condition only reveals the limitations of one’s framework. Time and time again, the game makes appeals to inevitability—of the fall of the commune, of the expansion of the pale and the consumption of Elysium—only to suggest that it is only by imagining a total rearrangement of the atoms, if you will, that we can prevent it. I wrote in more detail about this reading here if you’re interested, but the long and short of it is: the presence of the anomaly in the Dolorian church guides us as players towards the idea that the entropy of the pale is a construction of Dolorian moralism, which is to say, capitalist hegemony; the fact that infra-materialism, a theory of Mazovian socio-economics, suggests at the defiance of traditional laws of physics in a manner that may at first seem absurd but by the end of the communist plotline is proven possible in the fact that the tower is able to stand up on its own is in turn a suggestion that the pale’s entropy, too, is a ‘fact’ only inasmuch as it exists within the boundaries of what hegemony has termed factual. If the tower can stand, why can’t the world be overhauled at such a fundamental level that the expansion of the pale could be stopped and the Moralintern could be evaporated? This is the sentiment of the communist quest; rather than accepting the present condition of things (the “greatest and kindest” such that nothing else could possibly be better—it is worth remembering that greatest and kindest does not necessarily mean great or kind), the very belief that they could be changed is what allows change to take place. This is the sentiment communicated in Steban’s “In dark times, should the stars also go out?”.

My comment on the original post was just me being slightly glib about the fact that people consistently latch onto that line out of context. It’s a good line—it’s prettily expressed, and it’s certainly helpful for articulating the different political conditions at play in the game. However, I’m not convinced people are engaging with it in a way that fairly accounts for what it does relative to the rest of the text. This tendency to latch onto poetic language at the expense of thinking seriously about what the sentiment in question actually communicates reminds me of what Evrart says of Joyce:

You - "But she told me a beautiful story about the discovery of the Insulinde."

Evrart Claire - "Of course she did. Rich people have the best stories. About all the interesting things they've done and seen, all the beautiful places they've been to. It's just sentimentalism. She can afford to be sentimental -- and she can afford to lose as well."

I wouldn’t reify Evrart as the voice of the working class in Disco Elysium either, but I think this particular line cuts to the quick about how Joyce’s elevated, obscurantist language often makes it difficult for players to situate what she says within the context from which she appears to us.

[in-flvx]

I still find it interesting how so much of the perception of Sirius as a character is swayed by his haughty expression.

Most metas (this is not a dog against those btw, I love Sirius metas, just want to add my own) etc I've seen go with this, his ultra love for james, and his derision towards Peter as the most prominent shows of his character, and infer meaning into every other relationship he has from that point out.

And I think these are outliers.

He looks haughty? Some people are born with resting bitch face, what of it?

And I'll discard any mention of James and Harry right now, bc these are outliers of the greatest magnitude, and looking at every relationship Sirius as extensions of his love for james imo just cheapens his bond to him.

His derision towards Peter is very reasonable, and also the most obvious outlier, and I don't think I need to explain it further. Instead I'll add snape and mundungus fletcher into the mix here, and go on to talk about the often-talked-about usage of certain descriptors within the black family towards people they don't like. As others have pointed out before me, the preferred way to insult people within this family is to insinuate uncleanliness. Walburgas portrait, kreacher and I think also Phineas nigellus use these kinds of insults on a pretty regular basis - many of which go against Sirius as well. And Sirius has adopted these insults, and uses them when he really wants to cut deep. He has many people to be angry with, is surrounded by a whole lot of poor people (for example the entire weasley clan, Remus, and mundungus fletcher), and we even see him in battle.

But he notably uses these cleanliness based insults on two specific people: Peter, and snape. What do these two men have in common? For one, obviously, they all went to hogwarts at the same time. For another, Sirius has, or had had obvious respect for both. Peter as one of his closest friends, as a person he confided in and cared for, and who he then expected to care for him in return (and we know how that turned out). And snape as a rival. As much as Sirius likes to insult snape to his face, he also never misses an opportunity to praise his intellect. Similarly to the way he praises and goads bella in his last duel.

Meanwhile, again, he purposefully surrounds himself with people, who the malfoys regularly call dirty ( the weasleys, hagrid, Remus, hermione), and is also on notably good terms with mundungus fletcher, who everyone from the order likes to call these things too. All of which Harry has described in several shades of dirt as well, tbh. And I'm saying this not in a 'oh wow, the rich boy lowers himself to the commoners' kind of way, bc to me he never gives anything close to this impression. The weasleys come closer to this kind of mindset toward any kind of marginalized person lbr.

What we do see, though, is sirius being incredibly forthcoming and caring towards literally everyone.

He has discussions with hermione about elf rights and their projections of the coming year. He obviously cares about Ron's well-being, long after he mauled him. He jokes around with the twins, and helps them with their inventions. He forgives Remus for thinking Sirius was the spy. He makes a considerable effort to be friendly with Molly after their fight. He adheres to dumbledores bs orders. (I think he told ginny about the repellant charm on the doors but don't quote me on that.) He had the most emotionally honest relationship with lily we see in the text. He cared so much about Peter that lily notified him of his emotional state as something Sirius should see to. He organizes the best Christmas he can manage to keep everyone's mind off of their worry for Arthur. He came close enough to kingsley for inside jokes to develop - jokes urgent enough to be passed to him as quickly as possible.

In my eyes Sirius Black is singular in the way he develops relationships, and in the way he cares for everyone he surrounds himself with.

Even with those he hates.

[watermelonsugacry]

James corden and harry and yn pleeeeeeeaasee

The Final Late Late Show

A/N: how are you lovies?! its been a minute since I've posted but i just HAD to write about this as soon as I saw it! 💚

SUMMARY: For the final Late Late Show, YN and Harry are two of the three final guests. Here are some snippets from the final episode! (2.5k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry, famous!reader

SINCE 2010 masterlist

“Joining us also, he’s the biggest superstar in the world. He’s a three-time Grammy winner. He’s your friend, he’s my friend. Harry Styles is here tonight!”

Harry’s dimple smile appears from the small window on the door. “Hi, mate! Man, terrible timing with this door thing, eh?...Cause it’s yeh last show.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” James dramatically sighs in frustration.

“I mean what are the chances, you know? Absolute disaster,” Harry humorously rolls his eyes with a smile. “...cause it’s yeh last show.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware that it’s my last show, Harry, thank you very much! I don’t need anybody to tell me that. Nobody knows that more than me. This is a disaster!” 

“James! James!” YN steps in next to her husband and peaks through the tiny window through the door. 

“YN! Oh, thank God!” The talk show host sighs in relief. “Also joining us tonight is the multi-talented mega star of the century. She’s another dear friend of mine and married to this guy right here. Everybody give it up for YN YLN-Styles!”

She gives a small wave before turning her attention back to the host. “Don't worry, James. V’got everything under control,” YN says with a confident nods of her head.

“Oh, that’s great to hear. So you’ve called security to get the doors unlocked then?”

“Umm...no.” Fans can see Harry’s lips tucked in frown, shaking his head along to his wife’s words. “But I’ve got this fire extinguisher that m’gonna use to bash in the window.”

The audience members yell and cheer excitedly as they see YN hold up the red object and ask everyone to stand back. But before she can take a swing, the voice on the intercom lets them know that the door issue has been resolved.

...

“Everyone, please give it up for the one and only, Mrs. YN YLN-Styles!”

When the curtains zip open, YN has her back to the crowd. She comically looks over her shoulder and playfully acts surprised at the screaming crowd. As she walks down the stairs, everyone is able to see her full outfit for the night. Her white skirt and top combo hug her curves in just the right places but her (and Harry’s) favorite part has to be the white stain roses that hold the slide slit of her dress in place.

She smiles and gives high fives to the audience members as she passes them by. When she gets to James’s parents in the audience, she gives them kisses on both of their cheeks. And once she’s reached the stage, she happily takes her husband’s outreached hand as he helps her up the short steps.

When the third guest of the night makes his way onto the stage, Harry puts a hand on YN’s back and shuffles them over to the corner at what’s to come. They watch as Will takes swing after swing at James’s desk with a sledgehammer, destroying it into pieces. While Harry’s face expresses one of remorse over the obliterated scene, YN puts a fist over her smile as she laughs.

...

“Then you and your former bandmate turned wife—” James presents the couple sitting next to each other on the couch with a grand hand swing of his hands as he looks out to the screaming audience. “—came on the show a few years ago as a band. Then again when Harry hosted for the first time where you, YN, were one of the featured guests for that night. And you guys even played a game of Spill Your Guts Or Fill Your Guts.”

With the mention of the atrocious food game, James mentions how Will Ferrell loves the game so much that he specifically requested for them to play it one more time. Each guest is given their own cards with their questions on them and an obscene food concoction to eat if they do not want to answer their question. 

Soon after, YN claps along with everyone else but her jaw is on the floor at the hefty scoop and bite Will takes from his nasty food arrangement despite not having to do so. 

“Yeh really enjoyed that didn’t yeh?” She teases.

“It’s like Thanksgiving,” Will responds around a mouth full of bug trifles. “Alright, your turn YN.”

“Okay, mine says...” She says as she slowly gets the card out. Harry leans over to her to get a peek at the question and immediately lets out a chuckle, trying to cover it up with a cough to his fist but fails. “Uh oh. When and where did you and Harry have your first kiss together?”

The crowd goes into a frantic frenzy at the possibility of getting official confirmation of the heavily researched and hypothesized answer. She wiggles her brows in a playful manner towards her husband and it only makes him laugh harder. 

She contemplates on revealing the answer, it is the last show after all...but where’s the fun in that?

“Umm...” She hides her smile behind the purple card before shrugging her shoulders. “Guess m’taking a bite out of a grasshopper.”

“I’ll do one with you,” Will generously offers, already reaching for one of the little bugs in the small bowl. They clink their grasshoppers together before plopping them past their lips. While Will happily reaches for seconds, YN puts on a strained, pained smile as she chews. 

“Mmm, yummy,” She sarcastically says, making James let out one of his high-pitched laughs. She gladly takes the mug from Harry’s giving hands to rinse her mouth of the odd taste.

When Harry reads his question asking if there will be a One Direction reunion, the crowd erupts in screams once again. The couple gives each other a humorous look, absolutely eating up the way the audience goes crazy at the mention of their band.

“I think if there was a time where we all felt that that was something we wanted to do—” Harry’s interrupted by Will mocking the crowd awing and cooing at the mention of their old band. It has the two former band members giggling before he continues. “Then I don’t see why we wouldn’t.”

“YN, this question kind of goes to you as well,” James offers.

“Yeah, I mean. I totally agree with everything he said. We’re definitely not opposed to it. If it happens, it happens.”

“I’ll take that as a yes!” James exclaims. “I mean, we already have a permanent, mini reunion with the two of you being married.”

“Wait, you guys are married?” Will dramatically questions with faux confusion that makes everyone in the room laugh. 

“Wait, wait, can we please get a close up of this really quick,” James frantically moves his hands as the couple holds up their hands to show their wedding rings. It’s in this moment that fans realize that the two of them aren’t wearing any of their regular set of rings across their fingers, solely the ones that signify their promise to love one another forevermore. 

...

“Who’s more talented? Will Farrell, YN YLN-Styles or Harry Styles?”

There’s no forethought or second guessing with the couple’s response to immediately vouch for Will. 

“Sustainable talent,” Harry points out with a sweep of his hand.

“There’s literally nothing this man can’t do,” YN compliments.

The couple breaks out in bright smiles when Will begins to sing a solemn version of As It Was. But what has YN turning into a fit of giggles, her head leaning back as she hovers her hands over her mouth is when the famous comedian begins to sing 34+35 with a strong vibrato. 

It’s then Will’s turn to let out a string of giddy chuckles when James then asks the married couple to do an impression of the comedic actor.

“Ladies first,” Harry quickly says with a tap on his wife’s hand.

“Hmm...Oh okay, ‘ve out it.” YN comically clears her throat and readjusts herself on the couch. “Yeh ready for this? I’m singing. I’m in a store and I’m singing. I’m in a store, and I’m singing!” 

Will doubles over in laughter, applauding along with everyone else at her spot-on impression. As The Roots plays a snippet of celebration music, YN stands from her seat and takes a grand bow. 

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you, YN,” Will turns his attention to the pop star next to him. When she gives an encouraging nod of her head, he continues with a professionally acted sense of genuine curiosity, “What exactly does 34+35 mean?” 

While everyone else in the room breaks out into laughter, YN lifts her gaze to the ceiling as she contemplates how to explain the sexual song. She tries to hide her smile by tucking in her lips but it's really hard to keep it professional when there’s an iconic actor asking that type of question. Even Harry has his face in his hands, his shoulder bouncing as he laughs.

She clears her throat as she adjusts her skirt and places her clasped hands over her crossed legs. She goes to open her mouth to answer but instead leans over to whisper the answer in the actor’s ear with a cupped hand instead.

“So it’s not about solving a math problem?!” Will dramatically exclaims.

“Harry, what’s your impression of Will?” YN says through a laugh, playfully attempting to change the subject. 

Without saying a word, Harry gets up from his seat, grabs the sledgehammer, and smashes what’s left of James’s desk. YN puts her fingers in the corner of her mouth and blows a loud whistle at the sight before them as everyone else applauds with a mixture of cheering.

When it’s time for James to answer his question, he says, “So, we’ve known each other for quite some time, haven’t we? I would even go as far as to consider you both as family.” The married couple nods their heads in agreement. “But A, I watch Elf every year on Christmas. And B, I didn’t get an invitation to your wedding so,” James gives a shrug of his shoulders as the audience goes crazy.

...

In between a commercial break, fans and crew members record the interactions happening on the main stage. While James goes over to talk with Will, everybody else focuses on the married couple.

A cheeky sound technician plays Late Night Talking as background music. They watch as the two of them mouth along to the words and cheekily dance in their seats as they get lost in their own little world.

The fans watch them with hearts in their eyes. On some parts of the song, the couple will do the same little dance moves together, speculating that they do this behind closed doors as well: rolling their arms like they’re going to hit the woah, hands up and slicing the air in front of them as they move their upper bodies, and dramatically swiveling their heads to the funky beat—every move has them end up laughing quietly to one another. 

It reminds the OG fans of how the two would be on their third world tour with the band. They’re easily reminded of when the two of them would sit next to each other on the raised platforms on the humongous catwalk and get distracted from singing. They would lean into each other, talking in one another’s ears, and squeeze their eyes shut as laughter overtook them. Almost a decade later and the two still act like a couple of love-sick teenagers.

There’s even a part during the chorus where Harry gets up from his seat to move his hips with a swing of his elbow; YN does the same movements but from her sitting down position. 

When the couple turns their attention to the cheering crowd, Harry points to his wife and mouths, “She produced the song!” 

...

“And to add onto that,” YN places a hand on Harry’s arm after he complimented James. “I think I can speak for both of us in that we’re so grateful to have met yeh. You’ve been such a great friend to the both of us and I’m just super excited for what’s ahead of yeh.”

James pulls the both of them into a group hug from their spots on the couch and the audience laughs when Will scoots up to join the hug as well. YN can’t hold back the laugh that tumbles past her lips as the comedian reaches over her and her husband to pat James on the back.

When Will begins his mini speech to compliment the host on his hard work in the late night talk show industry, in the process he calls England a “shithole of a country.” While everyone knows he means it in a playful way and while the comment has James laughing, the married couple raise their eyebrows, purse their lips, and nod their head as they take the diss. 

And while Will tries to continue what he has to say, it's not long before Harry gets up from his seat and grabs the sledgehammer.

“Hold him down, lovie,” He tells his wife who's already playfully reaching her angry fingers toward Will. 

...

The Late Late music provided by The Roots mixes with the ear-piercing screams from the audience as they watch what’s happening backstage. Harry’s already sat in the photobooth’s seat and gently tugs his wife into his lap. She wraps an arm around the tops of his shoulders as they get ready for their picture to be taken. She tilts her head to touch his as he fully wraps his arms around her middle. 

Right before the countdown reaches its end, his fingers dig into the ticklish part in her side and she jolts up in a laugh. Just in time, the picture captures YN’s bright, open-mouthed smile, her eyes squeezed shut and her nose cutely scrunched up; her husband’s expression matches similarly to her own. 

In the end, the picture ends up in the middle of three pictures on the collaged wall: one of the band during their last Late Late interview as a four piece. YN is sitting in the middle of the group with a sly smile on her face as her long haired band mate has a hand on her shoulder. On the other side, one of Harry’s solo shots of when he first came on the show as a solo artist, and beside that one is one of YN when she came on the show when Harry hosted. At the time, her hair was barely below her ears, her naturally curly hair looked like a cloud on her head. She has one eye squinted shut, her tongue peaking out from between her teeth as she holds up a peace sign. 

Looking at the pictures in front of them, they reminisce on their shared history of being on this show. The Late Late studio has seen these two back when they were merely bandmates, secretly pining over one another with so many barriers in their way. It’s seen how they came back on the show as solo artists a few years later. It was a perfectly timed occasion for the both of them as they hid their secret relationship away from the public eye with a live audience and cameras in their faces. 

And now, as the last guests on the show, the studio sees the pair happily married and more in love with one another than they’ve ever been before.

.

.

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[blorger]

“Potter, meet Francis,” Malfoy said calmly, levitating the giant fucking tortoise in front of him. The thing was… unrealistically huge; it had to be at least a metre long, its dusty green-brown shell bulbous and overwhelming over its scaly legs and protruding head. It blinked docilely as Malfoy floated him into the sitting room and then carefully set him down in the middle of the rug. “My tortoise.” Harry scrambled to standing. “What– What did you– that’s not a turtle!” “I never said turtle, Potter,” Malfoy said. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out what looked to be a handful of small blossoms, then held his hand under the tortoise's mouth. It paused, then slowly reached its neck out, opening its mouth and taking the flowers from Malfoy, jaw working. Malfoy stroked its head with the tips of two fingers, an exasperatingly fond expression writ across his face. “I said tortoise. A Galápagos tortoise, to be specific. He won’t be any trouble.” “Trouble?” Harry demanded. “Shouldn’t it… I don’t know, be on the Galápagos islands or something? How are you expecting to take care of it? How did you even get it? Goddamn it, Malfoy, if I’d known you were going to pull some kind of stunt like this–” Malfoy flicked him an irritated glance. “It’s not a stunt. He’s my pet, and charms take care of his climate regulations just fine. We had him at the Manor. He’s been with my family for almost four generations. The peacocks were easy to find homes for — Merlin knows why, they had horrible temperaments — but no one had the experience to take care of Francis. I wasn’t going to just send him back to the islands, thank you, he’s domesticated — and magical, as well… Besides which, I’d never gotten to properly take care of him, growing up. My father preferred the elves to do all of it; I had to sneak off if I wanted to see him,” he said, voice going quiet even as he darted glittering, challenging eyes to gauge Harry. “And I’d always wanted to, so now he’s my pet,” he finished, giving its head another stroke with two fingers. Harry ran a hand through his hair, releasing a small cloud of dust. He couldn’t pretend to be comfortable with that glimpse into the Malfoy family dynamics, but having had it, he couldn’t find a proper way to say no, of course we’re not keeping your completely unsuitable pet here. Instead, he said, “How is it magical?” “Tortoise magic is very mysterious,” Malfoy said cryptically. “Which means what?” Harry asked, staring down at the placid beast, which had stopped chewing and was beginning to investigate the rest of the room — albeit at an incredibly gradual pace, thick stubby legs barely pushing against the floor. “It’s not dangerous?” “Of course not!” Malfoy sounded offended, and Harry looked up at him. His lip was curled in the beginnings of a sneer. “Then what?” “It’s none of your business,” Malfoy said vaguely, lifting his chin. He looked at the tortoise affectionately. Harry narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t do anything, does he?” Malfoy’s cheeks reddened. “Of course he does. As I said, he’s mag–” “Have you ever seen him do anything magical? Take post, for instance? Build wards? Fly?” Harry asked. “Hem your trousers?” “My trousers are all tailored,” Malfoy snapped. “And he’s still not quite a hundred; plenty of time for him to reveal what his magical abilities are — if he chooses to; tortoises are very private. Not that it matters; he’s stipulated in the lease contract. He’s mine. He’ll stay here.”

from The Claiming of Grimmauld Place by bixgirl1

[sallowtheories]

What does Sebastian’s name mean, and what does it say about his character?

In this post I will take a look at Sebastian Sallow’s name, and see what information we can obtain from it. We will first take a look at his first name, and see what the name Sebastian can tell us about his character. We will then look at his surname, and see where that can lead us, followed by a name pattern and character traits that I’ve spotted within Sebastian and other Harry Potter characters.

I decided to look up some of the names from Hogwarts Legacy, because from a storytelling perspective, there’s usually always a reason for characters to be named a certain way. And in the Harry Potter universe, people are certainly named for a reason. It has been proven again and again with Harry Potter characters, 

Being that Sebastian Sallow is my favorite Hogwarts Legacy character, I firmly believe that his character has so much more to offer in the overall Hogwarts Legacy story, along with the possible upcoming second game. And with his character being added til Quidditch, he is most definitely made to be remembered and make an impact.

The name Sebastian is of Greek origin from the word sebastos meaning ”venerable” or ”revered”. And me, having English as my second language, I decided to check up on what these words meant.

I must admit, that when I first read “respected”, I had a small chuckle. Not because I don’t believe Sebastain is respected, because trust me, he is - it was because of how fitting it was. Sebastian’s character has just been added to another Harry Potter game (Quidditch Champions) not too long ago, and it is pretty much impossible to Google Hogwarts Legacy, without his face and name popping up everywhere. But it also speaks to how he is viewed, within the world of Hogwarts Legacy.

When I first played Hogwarts Legacy, I didn’t choose to go to Hogsmeade with Sebastian. I am a true Gryffindor, and therefore decided to go with Natty, as that just made more sense to me. But during my second gameplay as a Ravenclaw, I decided to go with Sebastian, and that was when I noticed how the teachers spoke of him - with much revere. Many of the teachers express in some sort of way that they are impressed with Sebastain and his abilities. Now, this could also be because many of the teachers at Hogwarts most likely knew his parents, and have noticed qualities in him that they used to have as well. But they all also express some sort of sadness, as it seems like many have noticed a shift within Sebastian after Anne got cursed. They use expressions such as; “I fear his mind is elsewhere”. Now, I have a whole idea of what the teachers may be sensing within Sebastian, but that’s a theory for another day. What is important to focus on is that the teachers consider Sebastian a bright and gifted student, and whatever he is going through, is not “normal” for him.

It is not only the teachers that consider Sebastian gifted or have respect for him. Lucan even tells the MC, that if Sebastian told them about Cross Wands, they must really be good. Now, as many of you may have noticed, people talk about you and Sebastain when you wander around Hogwarts, and so in Feldcroft. These comments either show admiration for Sebastian’s abilities, or maybe even a tiny bit of jealousy. Now, these traits make me think of a few other specific characters, but I’m getting ahead of myself. For now, let us look at Sebastian’s last name.

First we need to figure out what the word ��sallow” means, and I found some quick answers.

When I first read “grayish greenish yellow color”, I must admit, I didn’t find it very flattering. All though, I have to say it’s a fitting name for what we see of the Sallows in the game. It perfectly describes the color of Anne’s skin after she has been cursed, and does give this vibe of sickness and disease. During my research, I also found that people pointed to how the name was fitting when it comes to Sebastian’s goal to find a cure for his sister, which slowly turns into a slow and sickening descent into dark magic.

However, as many may already have noticed, there’s another meaning to the name Sallow. Sallow is a form of three - a type of willow tree. I’ve already seen many people theorise that Sebastian’s wand wood may be willow, which would make a lot of sense. According to Pottermore, this is what Ollivander had to say about willow wands:

It is fitting that Sebastian, who tries to find a cure for his sister, would have a wand of wood with healing powers. However, the fact that this is a wand wood that often matches up with an owner with some sort of insecurity, is overly fascinating to me. Sebastian comes across as very charming and very confident, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was hiding some sort of (unwarranted) insecurity. His home life was far from the best with his strained relationship with his uncle, and how knows how Sebastian might have viewed himself. However, the part of Ollivander’s description that fascinated me the most, is this: “(...) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential (...). It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow”. This speaks volumes to Sebastian’s character, along with my firm belief that he will continue to play an interesting part in the Hogwarts Legacy universe, and maybe even the Harry Potter universe itself. With a wand of willow (known to be rare), I decided to take a look at other known characters with willow wood wands, and I was honestly quite surprised. Known owners of willow wands are characters such as Lily J. Potter, Ron Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy - all very important characters for the Harry Potter universe or the stories in which they’re mentioned.

Returning to Sebastian Sallow’s name, I noticed a name pattern seen in a few other Harry Potter characters. Sebastian is one of only four own characters in the Harry Potter universe, who has the initials S.S. The other four being Stan Shunpike, Severus Snape and of course Salazar Slytherin. It is unknown what house Stan Shunpike was sorted into, but it wouldn’t be too strange if he too was a Slytherin. With that being said, all four have more than just their house in common. All four have had run-ins or dived into Dark Magic. Stan Shunpike was sent to Azkaban, after he claimed he had inside information on the Death Eaters, and would at one point join/help the Death Eaters, though it was suspected to be under the Imperius Curse. We all know the story of Severus Snape, and there’s no need to explain Salazar Slytherin. All four of these characters have an important impact on the story that they are a part of, and are continuously returning, and I have a feeling that Sebastian Sallow will do so as well.

With all these things combined, just from looking at Sebastian Sallow’s, I fully firmly believe that we will see more of him in the upcoming second edition of Hogwarts Legacy, in which he once again will play an important part to the story. And as many of you may already have noticed, I believe that Sebastian is more than just a main B character in a Harry Potter game. I believe that he has an important role to play in the upcoming story, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he may be tied to Tom Riddle in more ways than just being a Slytherin and friends with one of Voldemort’s blood relatives. But that’s a theory for another time.

[ripeteeth]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thanks, @danpuff-ao3! You’re always a treat to see on the dash and I hope you’ve been having a lovely break <3.

I’m always a bit awkward with these, both from an itching sort of discomfort with staring my own artwork in the face, and I think from a lifetime habit of denying compliments out of a feeling of guilt or fear. So! I’ve had a glass of wine (and an edible) and I’m going to try to kinder to myself. I might be in the mood to talk right now. (Honestly, that’s a good sign. One of the big elements of my recent writer’s block has been an inability to express myself in any written way, even tumblr posts and comments. Maybe this is why I hit twitter so hard.)

My five favorite fics. Not my five best fics. Not my five most popular fics. My favorites. Hmm.

5. blood, bones, and butter | MDZS/The Untamed] SongXueXiao | E, 12,443

“A relationship, deconstructed. Served three ways.”

Ah, Yi City, that deliciously painful Shakespearean tragedy echoing Wangxian’s romance. The specific notes of obsession, revenge, love, and grief that run through these three make me completely unhinged. I love the quiet service and stoic devotion of Song Lan, the otherworldliness and power of Xiao Xingchen, the unchecked brilliance and cruelty that fill up Xue Yang. The Yi City fandom is easily one of the most incredible fandoms I’ve ever been a part of, full of uniquely talented and deranged writers and artists who love to really explore the dark edges and nitty-gritty of these character and let them be their fucked-up selves. The appeal of SongXueXiao isn’t to make it better for them, it’s to see how much you can make it worse.

It’s two pretty classic tropes: a first time after meeting at a bar, and also a story told from alternating POVs. I really wanted to focus on trying to carve out distinctive interiorities, like their motivations, their assumptions, their fears, their memories, and allow the reader to draw their own conclusions without spelling these all out outright. I’d recently rewatched Rashomon, and I love how the understanding of an event can be so differently shaped by each person’s POV and I wanted to show their first night together in that way, moving the lens over the night a few times, before it gets clear. It was a really fun process to focus on and I think it’s one of my best pieces of recent writing.

4. in search of the wind | Good Omens | Crowley/Aziraphale | E, 27,112

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

I remember writing this almost immediately after the show aired, in that heady summer of 2019, when I feel head over sweaty heels for that charming demon and his delicious epicure of an angel. This is essentially how I saw canon going on, this is the headcanon of my soul. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen season 2 yet? It was a pleasure to write, almost like knitting together different scenes, different pieces of history, like an extended version of the s1s3 cold open. It’s Aziraphale without a body, unmoored in time, turning up at different points along his and Crowley’s history, and realizing that his friend is in love with him. That his friend is heartrendingly in love with him. I love stories that play with structure, striking different chords each time.

I couldn’t write this kind of story again. This belongs to a very specific time.

3. White Light, White Heat | Harry Potter | Snape/Harry | E, 32,107

“In 1347, Benedictine monk and scholar Severus Snape goes to fetch a young man joining the abbey. In 1347, rumors come of a strange and unrelenting plague from the east.”

An AU set in a fourteenth-century Benedictine monastery in Britain during the period of the Black Death where the two men develop a bond through a special sort of crucible. Snape, as always, falls in love with all the grace of a cat being given a bath. As dark as the material is, this was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun describing the setting, peppering fun little facts like a Pop Up Video of Medieval History. I wrote this in a fever-fueled three weeks, absolutely obsessed with getting it down exactly as it was in my head. I loved writing the monster theme and using it as almost a leitmotif for Snape. There’s probably a literary term for that. Is there? Anyway.

2. the body as anagram | The Terror | Crozier/Fitzjames, Crozier/Ross] | E, 3090

“In the dark, it doesn't matter which James is in his bed. As long as Ross doesn't speak, the illusion holds true.”

I took the title from a passage on J.G. Ballard’s Crash by Baudrillard in Simulacra and Simulation: “Technology is never grasped except in the (automobile) accident, that is to say in the violence done to technology itself and in the violence done to the body. It is the same: any shock, any blow, any impact, all the metallurgy of the accident can be read in the semiurgy of the body — neither an anatomy nor a physiology, but a semiurgy of contusions, scars, mutilations, wounds that are so many new sexual organs opened on the body. In this way, gathering the body as labor in the order of production is opposed to the dispersion of the body as anagram in the order of mutilation.”

There’s something a bit haunting about the parallels of the two men who held the intimacy of Francis Crozier’s friendship. The name. The confidence. The bravery. The charming manner and handsome face. I love the idea of a Francis who sails out pining for one man and returns home loving another, switching between true love and placeholder. And I’m notoriously a slut for both proxyfucking and Gremlin!Francis, who just can’t stop pressing on the wound of his grief. It’s not the drink but it may as well be, for all this is good for either he or Ross, but Francis is a fool in love with a dead man and he does what he does to get by.

Something about this came together, from concept to finish, in a way I’m quite happy with. It was fun to play with concepts and free associate from them, focusing less on plot, but more on the vast empty grief in Francis’ chest. Everyone here knows this is a bad idea. No one is having a good time.

1. Revachol Calling | Disco Elysium | Karry/Kim | E, 35,321 [WIP]

“Somewhere in Jamrock, a church burns. A study in Kim Kitsuragi.”

Sometimes you just feel the next part of the story in your bones. When I first played Disco Elysium in 2021 it hit me in an incredibly familiar, emotional way. There’s something somber and hopeful about it. The writing is sardonic, dark and humorous. It’s nearly cynical but it’s cynical with a sad old smile, because cynicism is born through disappointment, and through not quite being ready to give up. I think we can all find ourselves in it, in one way or another and, like many, I’m hopelessly in love with Kim Kitsuragi, a wild creature who’s built himself within thousands of rules. I can’t play the game without craving his side of the story, his interiority, his history, so I grab at the little crystals of information, such as his secret love of Speedfreaks FM and his past with Eyes, and I try to imagine it might go. This is my sequel to the game and, more than anything, this is my love song to Revachol, a character of a city, and one that echoes vastly in all those of post-Communist country and family.

For some reason, this fic is extremely visual for me and usually in a Wong Kar-Wai sort of fashion. Think the saturated aquamarines of a neon diner sign. Think a studio apartment with cheap wallpaper and the yellow-orange flicker of sodium lights. It comes alive at night, when Kim is left alone with his thoughts, running out of rules to keep him safely in. I love that Disco Elysium has such a vast world to explore. It’s an endless playbox.

And this is also, in a way, a bit of an elegy to a belief I’d once held in a motherland, and do not anymore.

I’m almost done with Chapter 8, so hopefully it will be up soon <3

Tagging! @jaggededges123 @soft-october-night @wildcard47 @rcmclachlan @brawlite @zaxal @pearwaldorf @kiingbooooo @darcylindbergh @et-in-arkadia @itsevidentvery @iodhadh @iamwestiec @mia-ugly @laurashapiro-noreally @pinehutch and anyone else who wishes to!