#thestrals and thunder

[thestralsandthunder]

Honeyed Flowers // People — Narcissa Black

“Oh my—fuck!” She screamed. Her heart thundered like it was going to pound straight out of her chest.

Narcissa looked altogether too pleased with herself as Hermione glanced up at her. Her blue eyes danced with mirth in the evening lamplight, but she allowed Hermione a moment to slow her breathing to a normal level.

“Sorry, darling,” she smiled softly, “I thought you would have heard me approaching, but it seems I underestimated your ability to concentrate.”

“It’s ok,” Hermione breathed, placing a hand over her heart in examination, “At least I think it is. I’m not entirely certain what a heart attack feels like, but this could be one.”

[theanoninyourinbox]

Sorry if I'm late, but if you ever have the time, could you draw a pegasus Longtail? Feel like he'd be fast on his feet as well as his wings, but I haven't thought about some Warrior Cats MLP stuff in forever.

(haircut inspired by the amazing longtail design of @just-some-cat-art)

The number one racer of Thunder Falls, Shockwave is one of the dozen Thestral-blooded ponies in the Four Towns - his father was one! Call him Shocker, Hotshot, or Rudecolt, he IS the fastest being in the skies. His talent however, lies in his voice - he can project so loudly that glass shatters and clouds break apart, throw it across a room, and imitate just about any voice he hears.

He quickly became an antagonist to the recently moved in Rusty Sparks, but after finding out that the stallion he admired was a literal monster AND a massive racist, Shockwave started to cool off towards the earth pony. Their friendship wasn't cemented until Rusty helped save the life of Swift, Shockwave's rising star of a student, from an Umbrum attack. He was even the one that suggested Rusty Sparks change his name to Flaming Comet.

Eventually, Shockwave was attacked by an Umbrum infected Diamond Dog and partially blinded. He thought his flying days were over, but with the encouragement of his friends, he figured out how to echolocate through the skies, with goggles to protect his eyes. He one day will race Rainbow Dash herself, and run his own flight school for special needs students, with his old coach friend Swift Sprint.

[loop-hole-319]

What mythical horse centaurs I think the batfamily would be.

Bruce - Thestral / Batpony

Ties in well to witnessing his parents death. I think he will be able to control his invisibility although if you have scene death you will be able to see through it regardless.

Dick - Peryton

Specifically that one image of the one with the peacock tail. I just think it fits his flamboyant personality and is so colorful. It would also be dishonorable to give him something that couldn't fly.

Jason - Nightmare

I like to think it was a normal centaur but then something bad happened transforming him into a nightmare. I have a vivid image of him entering a building while wearing a smirk with a giant gun on his shoulder. With every step he takes embers fly from his feathering and a magma like texture spreads from his glowing hooves.

Tim - Kirin/Quilin

His appearance would be similar to the ones in My Little pony. With a horn that looks similar to an antler and a set of sharp fangs from dragon-like traits. With a dark red coat and gold scales with a gold horn and highlights. Also keep the setting itself on fire when pissed off cuz it's funny and opens up a whole bunch of scenarios for him.

Damian - Shadhavarr

Combined with constantly being mistaken for a unicorn with the fact that his horn seems to serve no other purpose then as a noise maker has put a damper on his mental health. After all, a wind instrument being stuck to your head is not beneficial to an assassin. He was supposed to have wings, he was supposed to be a Thestral. Although he did inherit his father's black coat and fluffy ears.

He does eventually find love for music in this AU mirroring his love for drawing.

Cass - Thestral / Batpony

Not much to say for her other than aesthetics and that would look badass. Although she is much more fluffy than Bruce.

Steph - Unicorn

Her highly pigmented shiny purple coat and yellow mane almost make up for the fact she can't use magic.

Babs - Hippocampus

Being a Ichthyocentaur on land would be a lot more upsetting if her tail was paralyzed because some asshole The Joker purposefully ran her over with their boat.

Duke - Descendant of Skinfaxi

Despite lacking a horn Duke has the most magic out of everyone in the herd. He can do basic light manipulation and his coat is extremely reflective.

Alfred - A White horse

The one death rode in on.

Jason likes to keep Dicks antler sheds so they can play fight with them later in the year.

Duke and Jason form a glow-in-the-dark club.

Jason likes to piss off Tim to make him flame up. Damian secretly thinks the flames are pretty.

Dick likes to make feather jewelry with his feathers.

Despite being partially paralyzed, Babs is extremely mobile in her wheelchair although she cannot swim.

Steph paints everyone's hooves she needs help with her back feet.

Despite three family members having wings, they rarely use them. Dick uses them the most by giving himself extra air time with jumps.

Despite being an extremely lanky awkward foal, Jason is a Shire. His running has been described as thunderous.

Jason once kicked a man's head off

When Bart met Tim he got extremely excited over 'horsey' and jumped on his back. Tim immediately bucked him off.

Tim kicked Kon in the nuts (thank you invulnerability) once on reflex because he smacked him on the ass. Kon later defended himself by telling him that he lived on a farm and he gave the horses butt pats all the time and it was ingrained.

Jason likes to play Rodeo with his friends. No one has stayed on for more than 4 seconds.

Once out of the assassin Colt Damien takes a deep dive into music and learns like seven instruments.

[racfoam]

Some more nynn Deathly Hallows AU

The rest had taken off. Ili stirred as the thestrals and Sirius’ motorbike whooshed into the air. Harry placed her right hand on the dragon's neck, onto the scales.

Her ribbon was gone. It had been that way the entire summer. The words were bared to the world for a full month, and Harry still felt naked without the ribbon tied around her wrist. But there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Harry looked up into the dark night sky, watching it for any signs, hoping nothing happened. Nobody except the Order members knew she was being moved tonight... Voldemort probably had the wrong date... There was no need to worry.

A sudden chill raised goosebumbs on her arms and up her nape. Thunder rumbled high in the sky, flashing white.

That didn’t make sense... The forecast was clear skies, not a storm...

Then, again.

And again.

Harry felt she was going to be sick. Maybe they just bumped into two patrolling Death Eaters... Maybe it was just a short exchange of spells.

A sickening green light, up in the clouds, illuminated the sky and every thought vanished.

Harry settled her left hand flat on the scales, bent stomach-flat on the nape, pasted her legs tight around the width of Ili’s body, gripped the closest spike tight with her right hand, and thought hard, “Fly!”

Ili stood on her hind legs, craning her head up to the sky, where multiple colours were blooming. From here, they looked like fireworks, but Harry knew very well they were not something as simple as that. They were spells.

Harry thought again, focusing on the thread between herself and the dragon, created by the touch on the scales. Up! Fly!

Ili gave a hollow, reptilian bellow, and Harry thought it was over — Ili was going to throw her off and eat her for dinner — and then wind rushed against her face, and she felt the hind legs leave the ground, felt the great flapping of large, bat-like wings, its wing joints moving up and down behind her trainers.

Ili was flying nose-first, up toward the lights blooming across the sky. Harry was holding on for dear life, in every sense of the word. Ili was as fast as the Firebolt, streaking upward. The only surprise and advantage they had was the fact they were concealed and Ili may be able to maneouver easily through the chaos.

A sense of wonder momentarily filled Harry. She was flying. On a dragon. Were Harry not so terrified, she would have laughed in joy.

They were approaching the dark clouds now. The air grew colder, seeping into Harry's bones, assaulting her ears.

They erupted through the clouds, entering into the eye of the storm.

[vukovich]

HI THIS IS PRIMA

I formally request: “One Last Time” by Ariana Grande ❤️

The Wrong Sort

Draco half-rolled, half-fell onto his back, his skin sweaty against Harry’s sheets.  He licked his dry lips and exalted the plaster ceiling with, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Harry’s head settled onto Draco’s chest, and Draco ran fingers through his sweaty curls.  Harry let out a self-congratulatory “mm hm."

“We’re entirely too good at that.”  Draco’s thundering heartbeat came to a canter, and he relaxed into the pillows.  “We should co-author a book.”

Harry hummed again, drowsily, but his breathing didn’t slow.  His jaw muscle pulsed against Draco’s chest.

“Pen names,” Draco said curtly, the solution to the unspoken problem.  “Just two unknown blokes, writing the book on fucking,” he said, confidence waning at the end.  “Just… some… blokes.”

Harry didn’t reply, but he didn’t pretend to fall asleep.  Normally, he fell asleep on Draco’s chest afterward.  But maybe Draco didn’t know what ‘normal’ was yet.  He only had a sample size of a dozen nights, or maybe fifty, but probably closer to a hundred.  Not that he’d been counting.

But tonight was different.

He wiggled down in bed until Harry’s forehead was against his chin.  He kissed Harry’s scar, then spoke against his skin.  “I got your wedding invitation in the post today.”

At that, Harry deigned fit to speak, but not until he’d drawn a full breath from against Draco’s skin.  “I still have yours in my vault.”

Draco scoffed.  “You do not.”

“Mm hm,” Harry hummed again, wrapping an arm and leg over Draco.  “Between the gilding and the misprint, it might be worth something.”

Draco scoffed again and laced his fingers with Harry’s, then pulled until Harry’s arm was tucked fully around his chest.  “Between the gifts, the refunded deposits, and the travel insurance, that wedding was quite valuable.  Even split two ways.”

“How is Astoria, anyway?”  Harry mouthed at Draco’s chest hair.

Draco slapped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Changing the subject.” Harry went still, but was too tense to be sleeping.  Draco let out a sigh that was all but relaxed.  “You told me.”

Harry barely moved air when he whispered, “I know.”

“You specifically said you wouldn’t let it get to invitations.”

“I know.”

“Because invitations means expenses, and they can’t afford it.”

“I know.”  Harry’s arm and leg were dead weight.

“But you said you’d call it off before she picked a date, too, so why did I believe you about the invitations?  Why did I believe you when you said you wouldn’t buy her a ring?”  Draco’s chest and face ran hot, and the tips of his ears burned.  “Why do I always fucking believe you, Harry?”

Harry had the decency to sniffle and hold Draco tighter.  “I don’t know.”

Harry’s tears dropped and smeared against Draco’s shoulder.  Draco wrapped his arm around the back of Harry’s head and pulled him close.  He buried his face in soft curls and whispered, halfway to a smile, “I’ll come, you know.”

Harry said nothing, but his cheek crinkled in a grin, and he rolled his weight against Draco.

“Don’t think I won’t.”  Draco stroked the curls from Harry’s forehead and kissed him again.  “I’ll show up at your wedding on a Thestral.”  Harry tried to hide his smile against Draco’s shoulder.  “I’ll show up stark naked on a bloody Thestral and announce that you, Mister Potter,” Draco tugged his curls with his lips, “are no marriageable maiden.”

“I know,” Harry snort-laughed into Draco’s armpit.  

“No blushing bridegroom here, folks!”  Draco hoisted himself up on one elbow and shoved Harry onto his back.  “Go home, everyone, this man has been sullied!  He is unfit for the marriage bed!”

Harry grinned up at him, his hands clasped behind Draco’s neck, and in a split-second Draco saw his future and his doom written in curls against cotton.

Draco let himself be pulled down, onto Harry, between his thighs, inside him again that night.

After Harry came, and Draco admitted ejaculatory defeat, they lay together again, this time with Harry’s back against Draco’s side.  Draco rolled over, curling himself around Harry.

Draco hated begging, and this felt like begging.  “Owl me as soon as you call it off?”

Harry wrapped Draco’s hand around his, then brought their knuckles to his lips.  “I will.”

--

He didn’t.

Months ticked by, and no Owl message came.  Harry came.  Plenty.  His house became off limits, so he came to Draco’s.  He came to Draco’s bed more than he stayed in his own.

He came with flowers, with candy, and once with a set of cufflinks.

Draco accepted them out of politeness.  “You’re buying me jewelry?”

“I… yeah.”

He also came with excuses.

“I’ll call it off by the end of the month,” he’d say. “Before we pick a venue.”  And then, “Next week.”  

Last night, he’d said, “Tomorrow.”

Tonight, he says, “I”ll just not show up tomorrow.”

Draco is on his side, running one hand up and down Harry’s back.  “Leave her at the altar, hm?”

Harry turns his face towards Draco, a smirk already on it.  “That’s an old joke.”

“What is?”  Draco pinches the bridge of Harry’s glasses and pulls.

Harry lifts his head and lets Draco remove his glasses.  “How could anyone leave a woman like that at the altar?” he says from an old script.

“How?” Draco folds Harry’s glasses and puts them on the nightstand.

Harry smirks again.  “Fuckin’ fast, is how ya leave her.”

“That’s terrible.”  Draco gives him a courtesy chuckle, then turns out the bedside lamp.  “What time do you think you’ll be at the cottage?”

In the moonlight, Draco catches a twitch in Harry’s jaw muscle that wipes his schedule tomorrow clean.  “Depends,” Harry mutters.  “Whether she Avada Kedavra’s me immediately, or gets the whole family to join in.”

Draco’s smile is fake, but he tightens his lips to make his words come out convincingly.  “So, six-ish, then?”

Harry’s face is placid, but he huffs a laugh.  “Eight, at the latest.”

--

There are too many people here for a cancelled wedding.  It’s standing room only on the south lawn of the Burrow.

The invitations said 11 AM, so Draco had shown up at 11:30.  It couldn’t take more than a half hour for a crowd to clear out after Ginevra Weasley’s public embarrassment.

But there are hundreds of people.

Draco lingers at the edge of the field, where it meets the orchard.  He can’t see anything in front of the crowd apart from a sliver of a rose-covered arch.

He stands on tip-toe to no avail, wishing he could elbow someone and casually ask, “Did Potter show up?” and then when they say he didn’t, Draco would reply, “Oh, you don’t say?  And what’s that?  He yelled that he’s bent as a tin nail and that he’s met the love of his life?  Oh, how shocking!”

And then he would exit quietly, stealing himself a piece of cake on the way.  No, two pieces of cake.  And he’d meet Harry at the cottage, and they’d stay in bed and feed each other cake between goes.

But Draco can’t ask that, and he can’t see past the crowd or why they’re all still gathered.  Maybe everyone is still waiting for Harry to show up.  The Weasley groomsmen would be getting restless.  Ginny’s bridesmaids would be cooing platitudes to her.  Granger would be screaming into a Howler and sending it.

Draco bounces on his tip-toes, but still can’t see.

He glances around, into the orchard behind him.  How fun would it be to wait for Harry’s ‘bent as a tin nail’ speech on the bough of a tree, then holler down at him while eating an apple?  For the nostalgia.

Draco hoists himself onto a low branch, the bark rough against his wool trousers.  The apples are still green, but he picks a large one and shines it on his shirt.

Just as he’s about to take a bite, he looks down, into the crowd.

Harry is on the dais.  Not giving a speech.

He’s holding a ring.  But only briefly.  The ring slides home on Ginny’s finger, and Draco’s apple tumbles to the ground.

Draco stares, unbreathing, as Ginny accepts a ring from a frizzy-haired girl.  His brain goes blanks as Ginny takes Harry’s hand, holding it between them, above her belly.

She’s pregnant.

Draco’s feet hit the ground, eyes shut, because he cannot, in his life, see another second of that.  It’s like getting a lifetime dose of radiation.  A single particle more, and it would mean his deathbed.

He has to force his eyes open as enters the orchard at a quick march.  It’s as fast as he can walk without running, and he’ll be damned if Potter ever made him run from anything.

Harry God damned Potter.  And his shit promises.  And his flimsy lies.

Draco passes another tree with hard, green apples, and he rips one off, cracking the branch.  He slows to a walk as the orchard gives way to the west lawn.  A catering team is setting up a buffet under a tent.

Fuck Potter and his lies, and his wife, and his ugly fucking baby. 

On his way past the steam trays, Draco casts a wandless Extinguo along the tray warmers.  His shoes crunch against gravel.  He avoids eye contact with all the people in aprons, his path a straight line toward the gate.

Fuck Potter and his whole fucking life, right down to the Draco-shaped hole in it.

The apple in his hand swings like the morningstar of a mace.

A levitating wedding cake rounds the bend.  Lofty white icing. Five layers.  One for every knuckle.

Draco rears back and punches the apple into the heart of the cake, leaves it there, and hopes it’s rotten.

[nyctophicbtch]

MASTERLIST

Drabbles, Fanfiction, Headcanons

Requests are closed. I write for multifandoms so feel free to request any fandom. request rules

MARVEL

Realms Away - Loki Laufeyson

Detour - Peter Parker

Relation between Druig and the Maximoff twins

Being Nat and Steve's daughter - F!reader insert

Being a Maximoff and dating Bucky - Bucky Barnes

Dating Tony Stark - Tony Stark

Night Patrol - Peter Parker x DruigxMakkari!daughter!reader

Stubborn Speedster - Druig x Makkari

Artemis and Apollo - DruigxMakkari!daughter!reader insert

Grocery Shopping - Druig x Makkari

Beautiful, Dumb Makkari - Druig x Makkari

Artemis - DruigxMakkari!daughter!reader insert

Druig and Makkari as parents - Druig x Makkari

The Last Deviant - Druig x Makkari

Cure - Druig x Makkari

Taco - Peter Parker

Nails - Wanda Maximoff

Breakfast and Mornings and Things - Avengers

Jealous Pietro when someone hits on you - Pietro Maximoff

Needy Kisses - Pietro Maximoff

Midnight Fuss - Bucky Barnes

Is That My Shirt? - Pietro Maximoff

When they have a crush on you pt 2 - Avengers

When they have a crush on you pt 1 - Avengers

Brother's Betrothed - Loki Laufeyson

HARRY POTTER

Interesting Activities - Theodore Nott

Being Harry Potter's twin sister

Being Ron Weasley's twin sister

Fred Weasley being in love with you - Fred Weasley

Winter, Books and Thestrals - Theodore Nott

Smitten - Theodore Nott

THE GRISHAVERSE

The King's Healer - Nikolai Lantsov x F!healer!reader

AVATAR

The Right Way - Ao’nung x f!Sully!reader

Wandering Human - Neteyam x f!human!reader

Sleep Deprieved - Tsu’tey x gn!avatar!reader

But We’re Different - Lo’ak x F!avatar/human!reader

Seeing Neteyam for the first time in years - Neteyam x F!reader

Courting Rituals - Ao’nung x Gn!Omatikaya!reader

Should’ve Saved Me Sooner - Ao’nung x Gn!Metkayina!reader

The Spirit Tree - Neteyam x Gn!Omatikaya!reader

Na’vi - Colonel Quaritch x F!Tawkami!reader

Not a Freak - Rotxo x F!Sully!reader

A Little Push - Ao’nung x F!reader

Being Ao’nung’s Sully mate - Ao’nung x F!Sully!reader

Neteyam with Tonowari’s firstborn daughter - Neteyam x F!Metkayina!reader

Heartfelt - Ao’nung x F!Sully!reader

The Songcord - Neteyam x Gn!Omatikaya!reader

Neteyam with Tsireya’s sister - Neteyam x F!Metkayina!reader

Being Ao’nung’s expected mate - Ao’nung x Gn!Metkayina!reader

Lo’ak with a Metkayina Mer - Lo’ak x Gn!reader

Outsiders - Neteyam x F!Metkayina!reader

THE HUNGER GAMES

I Love You - Finnick Odair

Oyster - Finnick Odair

Critters - Peeta Mellark

OTHERS

Human ATM - Nick Jonas x F!reader (The Jonas Brothers)

Why Hire A Model When She Has Me? - Joe Jonas x F!reader (The Jonas Brothers)

Dating Sapnap - Sapnap x Gn!reader (MCYT)

Prison Break - Dream x Gn!reader (MCYT)

Thunder - Fundy x Gn!reader (MCYT)

Cerberus

Halfbreed pt 2 - Orm Marius x F!reader (DCEU)

Halfbreed pt 1 - Orm Marius x F!reader (DCEU)

Dating Henry Turner - Henry Turner x Gn!reader (Pirates of the Carribbean)

Being Edmund's twin sister - F!reader insert (The Chronicles of Narnia)

Being the youngest daughter of the Bridgerton family - F!reader insert (Bridgerton)

[narcissawilted]

where: outside for sure with: open

narcissa gently spurred fortunato with her heels to push him towards a faster gallop. the dark horse had always been temperamental. he never saw fit to listen to anyone, with the sole exception being his rider to whom he was unquestioningly loyal. there were clouds on the horizon that made her steer them both back towards the stables, but they were still a distance away from home. lightning branched through the sky illuminating a silhouette in the nearby brush as thunder clapped around them that spooked the poor animal. fortunato reared back and cissy was thrown from her saddle. “oof-” she landed on the ground hard as the frightened horse continued to gallop towards home unaware. once she’d managed to get back onto her feet, cissy was surprised to be face to face with a thestral. “hello there.” she said, reaching out gently to pet it’s nose. “are you all alone?”

[unknowncountrygirl]

Drunken Confession: Ben

Jae arrived in his typical outlandish behavior, wielding two large bottles of Fire Whiskey.

“Look alive boys, our Thursday night just got a lot more interesting!”

“Where did-” Charlie started but waved his hand, “you know what, never mind, I don't want to know.”

���I got cups in my trunk! Gather round boys, it's going to be a good night! Hope you don't have anywhere to go early in the morning.” He summoned his and Murphy's side tables and put them back to back to make a small table in the middle of the room. He then placed the two, rather large bottles on the tables, and went to dig in his trunk.

“This is?” Orion questioned, picking up one of the bottles.

“Irish brewed Firewhiskey, aged in barrels for years. It's the good stuff.” Jae mentioned, placing a array of cups on the table.

“You and I have different ideas of what good stuff is.” Murphy eyed the amber liquid that Orion was sloshing around.

Charlie got off his bed and walked over, looking at the small shot glasses.

“So... You brought it for us all to try?” He asked innocently.

“I have something actually more interesting in mind.” Jae said slyly. “Unless you are all a bunch of softies.”

“Hardly.” Ben replied deadpanned, picking up the second bottle to crack it open, and began to pour it into the glasses, filling them to the top. “What were you thinking Jae?”

“We've all known one another years now, lets get to know each other a little bit better.”

“This is your way of just trying to get information from us that you can blackmail us with later.” Murphy looked up at Jae, feeling very suspicious of him. Jae said nothing, just smiled slyly and took his shot before pouring himself another.

“Take a drink if you have ever used a unregulated potion, I'll go first.” He took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Ben lifted an eyebrow, but played along and poured himself a drink before taking a drink. Charlie, Orion, and Murphy simply nodded as they were handed their own drinks, not touching the liquid to their lips.

“Take a drink if you've ever... Seen a dragon?” Charlie tried. Jae, Ben, and Charlie took long sips.

“You are going to have to include something that we have done.” Murphy almost pouted with a smile on his lips. “Like if you've been voted most dashing Quidditch Commentator.” It was silly, but an excuse to take a drink himself.

About 20 questions, some laughter, light conversation, and the entire first bottle of Fire Whiskey, most of the boys were starting to feel the effects. Ben and Jae held their liquor the best, more then likely because this was not either one's first time drinking underage. Charlie and Murphy were about one drink away from being completely gassed, and Orion was one away from finding world peace.

“Oh, I've got a good one.” Jae slurred slightly. “Take a drink if you've ever had a crush-” All the boys lifted their drinks, but Jae finished his thought, “on Iris!” They all laughed lightly, but the laughter died out when all five of the boys continued to take a shot.

Murphy and Charlie almost immediately sobered up, and Ben froze like a statue.

“Soooo, we have all had dreams of Iris Rosewood?” Orion clarified.

“Is that a question we are suppose to drink to?” Murphy questioned, looking down into his glass.

“More clarification, perhaps I shall word it this way...” Orion drawled, “if you have a crush on Iris.”

Again, the room fell silent as all five boys took another shot.

A couple of the cleared their throats, Jae coughed into his hand. It had become incredibly awkward, incredibly fast.

“This is uncomfortable.” Charlie broke the silence.

“You all may have crushes on her... But I've loved her.” Ben admitted, swirling his Firewhiskey in his cup. “We have been through too much, and she's been there every step of the way for me.” The other boys stopped murmuring and looked at him. “She brought color and vibrancy into my world and I repaid her by hurting her. Hell, all I ever wanted to do is make sure no one ever hurt her and I think by doing that I've been the one to hurt her the most.” He stated more to himself then anyone else in the room. “I think I've done so much damage that no matter how much I love her, what hope I ever had that she could reciprocate is gone. It died when Rowan did.” The air in the room when from light and jovial to heavy and dark in just a few sentences. “I'm going for a walk.”

“If you get caught after curfew-”

“What? Get detention?” Ben stood, grabbed a jacket of his that had been on the end of his bed and left the dormitory.

His foggy mind supplied that going to the Forbidden Forest was a good idea, and he headed that way. Thunder boomed and lightning popped overhead and he thought briefly about heading back but he continued.

Half way down to the forbidden forest, the sky opened up and let down a torrential rain like Hogwarts had not seen in a very long time. Ben hated getting caught in the rain and made a beeline for Hagrid's hut, hoping the half giant wouldn't mind if he waited out the storm in his house. In about twenty steps he was pushing the door open and going inside.

It was dry and he pulled his wool sweater off and shook his hair to remove excess moisture.

“Hagrid?” He called, but there was no light on and Fang lifted his head up to give him a look. He figured Hagrid must not have been there and walked over to the fireplace and put some logs in a pile to start a fire. He ran his hand over the mantle feeling for matches or anything, but decided to cast a simple spell to ignite the wood. There was instant warmth in the hut as he held his hands out, warming his fingers.

The door to the hut opened, and he turned, his wand at the ready to see a figure in the doorway that was far to small to be Hagrid.

“Ben?” The voice called, before stepping into the light of the fire.

“Iris?” He asked, sliding his wand up his sleeve. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for Moondew for growth potion, I need it for my Herbology project and Snape is being greedy.” Iris explained as she peeled her wet rain slicker off and hung it on the coat rack. “What are you doing out here? Isn't it past curfew?” Ben opened his mouth to tell her, she cut him off. “Never mind.”

“What?” “You'll just say something snarky and I've had a good day, so we'll just leave it alone.” Iris stated as she took out the little jar from her bag and inspected her Moondew leaves. He was about to remark that he wouldn't have done that, but that in itself would just prove her right.

She placed the small corked bottle on the table and stepped over to the fire.

“Where's Hagrid?” He asked.

“He's presenting at the Ministry about Thestrals. He won't be back until tomorrow I think.” She informed him, holding her hands out to the fire, a content look on her face. “Fancy a snack? I know where Hagrid keeps his tea, and I have some chocolate and orange scone in my bag.”

“Why do you have scones with you?”

“I wasn't sure how long I'd have to look for the Moondew, so I brought something to eat with me. Plus sometimes I have to bribe Fang to come with me.” She explained as she went to collect the tea he had stashed on a shelf and get the kettle ready over the fire. Ben felt himself blink rather hard, the effects of the Fire Whiskey starting to turn on him. He was suddenly very hot, and the room was a bit spinny.

He had already shed his sweater, and unbuttoned his collared shirt before he made to sit down on the rug in front of the fire. In hindsight, he should have sat farther from the fire, but he honestly wondered if he would even be able to make it to the chair without spilling himself on the floor anyway. Iris was also Head Girl, if she found out he had been drinking she would either have to report him or deal with it herself and he didn't want to incur her wrath.

He twisted his neck, feeling a pop that seemed to relax him as Iris held out a plate with the scones on it. He took a bite,

“these are really good. Did the house elves make this?”

“Oh no, I've made friends with Pits, he let me make some yesterday down in the kitchens.” Iris explained as she tenderly added the tea into a pot and poured the hot water into the hilariously floral teapot that Hagrid had.

“You could make friends with a dung beetle.” He joked, only partially. She laughed lightly.

They sat in silence for a while before the tea was ready and he watched as Iris poured the tea into two mix matched floral cups and handed him one. He reached for the cream and noticed that Iris blew on hers and drank it straight. It was a new little tidbit of information for him to lock away.

“Do you remember back in 2nd year, you wouldn't go up into the astronomy tower so we turned the artifact rooms ceiling into the night sky?” Iris asked suddenly.

“What made you think about that?” Ben asked as he looked over at her. She shrugged.

“We had tea and scones then, remember?” She gestured at the scones with her teacup. “I just... I like that memory.” Iris admitted.

“Back when I was afraid to even-”

“Would you just shut up!” Iris snapped, clacking her teacup loudly against the saucer. “It's a memory that makes me smile, and that I enjoy, why do you constantly try and belittle things that make me happy? Are you that full of bitterness anymore that you won't let anyone enjoy something as simple as a memory?”

“You're defensive tonight, what has you so wound up?” He snapped back just as angrily.

“I'm defensive?” Iris shouted, standing up to tower over Ben, ready for a fight that had been brewing for weeks. “You're the one that can't even let me relive a memory from when we were twelve without you belittling it!”

“I don't like reliving those memories, it was when I was weak-”

“It was when you were kind.” Iris cut in dangerously. He placed his hands on the floor and hoped that he could stand without falling over. He stood on his feet and looked down at her, truly looked at her for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Iris used to have this childlike innocence about her, with her round baby face, porcelain skin, blue eyes that were wide open for the world. He wasn't exactly sure when the last time he took the time to study her, more then likely before Rowan died, and it looked like everything she had experienced had finally caught up with her.

It was only a matter of time, one can only keep loading the camels back before something as simple as a napkin will break their back. He wondered when it was that Iris had finally broke, and wondered if anyone had even noticed. Iris was the unbreakable, she was the epitome of what people wanted to be, of course people thought she was sturdy as stone. They had taken her for granted.

Hell, he had.

Her lips were almost always in a natural smile, now seemed to be downturned in nature. Her eyes, those were what had grabbed him when he first made eye contact with her because he had never seen eyes that were just that blue, had always been bright and happy. Now, they looked like the good china that people put away for safe keeping, dust piling on it where you can see the color, its just muted. Everything about her seemed muted. Her skin, her hair, she was a soul with the weight of a Kingdom on her shoulders. There was more expectations on her at seventeen then that of twenty people.

Ben felt regret in his belly, and he couldn't keep up this conversation. He knew she was far too close and one push would send her over that edge. He had done enough to push her there, he wasn't going to be the one that pushed her to the breaking point.

“I'm not going to have this conversation.” He shook his head, beginning to button up the few buttons he had loosened earlier. Rain be damned, if he had to get soaked to get away from her and let her cool down, he would. He was just about to walk to the door when Iris called,

“You want to know what I think?” Iris told him firmly, it was not really a question but a thinly veiled declaration masquerading as a question. “I think that you're still terrified.”

That stopped him in his tracks. His hand hovered over the door knob, and the rational part of his brain that would have told him to walk away was flooded by Firewhiskey. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She was not going down this time, and she was not going to be ignored. “You are still the terrified Muggleborn you always were, only it's the fear that people will still see you as that person.”

“I am not-”

“I can see it in your eyes! You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me.” She pointed at herself. “I know you better then anyone, Benjamin Copper!” It was a fact that was mildly terrifying, and he hated to admit that. “It's a different type of terror, but it's still there and it still controls you down to your core-”

“No it doesn't! I'm a not that person anymore!” He shouted at her. It wasn't the first time he had raised his voice at her, but it felt much different then the times before. Because she had struck a nerve.

He wasn't the one in control anymore.

His delicate control that he had been clinging to since after the buried vault was quickly disinigrating in his hands and he was scrambling to keep it.

“You haven't become brave, you've become cruel!” Iris told him. He could almost see it like an actual image in his mind, she was taking a sledge hammer to his carefully constructed statue of power, bravery and control. Others had chipped away at it, but Iris had come in and went for the Achilles heel that only she seemed to know existed. “Your trauma is what navigates every single decision you have made! Every decision has been made in fear from the moment you stepped into Hogwarts!” Another critical hit, cracks that could never be fixed started to grow threatening to topple over all of himself.

“That's not true!” He yelled back at her, as though he was trying to convince himself.

“Really? Give me an example.” She dared him.

Her attack seemed to stop because she had chipped away and found the one part of his bravery that wasn't an act. That one tiny part of himself that had been bright and true since the beginning.

The part that she overlooked.

Because it was her.

“You.” He stated simply. Iris jumped a bit at the declaration, clearly not seeing his answer coming. “You terrified me. You were loud, outspoken, brave, already good at magic and dueling, you came from a pure blood family, and you were attractive. What wasn't intimidating about you? Especially to a muggleborn like me?” It was his turn to talk and he was going to seize the opportunity, as it seemed he had shocked her into silence in the middle of a fight. “But I approached you first, remember that? I thanked you for standing up to Merula. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, I felt like I was going to vomit, yet I rejected that fear to talk to you because there was something about you that felt like a damn gravitational pull!” He took a step closer to her and she held her ground, starring up at him. Her eyes were still alight with fire but there was something else there, a vulnerability that he had seen in her eyes too often since the buried vault. “From brooms and books, to time in the artifact room, I cared about you more then I cared about anyone else, so much so that I went with you to the buried vault! Despite the fact that I thought I would die, I went because I cared more about you then I did myself!”

Iris's lips were in a tight line, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she shook her head.

“Ben don't.” She warned, almost knowing where he was going.

“You're right, every decision I have made has been in fear... The biggest fear I have above all others-”

“Ben stop!”

There was no stopping now. He had regained the control.

“The fear that some how, in some horrible way that I can't control, that you will be hurt or die because you put everyone ahead of yourself in the most reckless and honorable ways!” He felt like he had become a new man, and that he had become braver in the years since the buried vault, but the fire whiskey in his veins was a form of liquid courage that he was sure no potion could replicate. His thought process was interrupted by stinging on his cheek.

Iris had slapped him.  

“Don't you dare say it.” She warned, her voice like ice. “Not after the way you have treated me-”

“I love you!” He wanted to shout it at her, hoping that if he yelled louder then her that she would realize he was being truthful, but all it would do is prove her point that he had just became cruel. She closed her eyes, and he watched a her fight within herself, her fingers curled into fists and he was worried for a moment that she was going to deck him. “Iris.” He reached out and placed a hand over her curled fist, “I love you.”

She shook her head but made no effort to pull away from him. They had went to war with one another and now both stood in front of their dismantled battlements.

Iris was the first to move, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his sternum.  

“I miss you, Ben.” Iris almost sobbed. His hands let go of her fists, and wrapped protectively around her back, holding her tightly. He lowered his head, his nose resting on the top of her head and breathed deeply.

He had finally admitted it, and said it out loud, given it a sense of being. He felt like a weight had been lifted, and he didn't know he had been carrying it around with him.

“I'll work on being less cruel, and more kind again.” He promised her.

“I'll accept that.” Her hands that had been balled up and resting against him opened and she laid her palms and fingers out flat against his chest, before moving them up to wrap around his neck and pull him into a hug. She had to stand on her tip toes in order to get her chin to rest on his shoulders. “Remember when I used to be taller then you?” There was a lightness in her voice that he had missed, and he smiled.

“Yeah, now you're short.” He joked.

“You're no giant yourself.”

“At least I'm taller then you.”

“Everyone is, except for Professor Flitwick.”

“Even that's pretty close.” He laughed and she tapped the back of his head with her hand. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, and smiled gently, placing the hand that had previously slapped him delicately on his face.

“I'm sorry I slapped you.”

“I'm just surprised it took you this long to slap me.” He told her honestly. “I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I'm going to endever to do better.” Iris nodded and wrapped her arms around him again and listened to how fast his heart was beating, and smiled, knowing hers was beating just as fast.

He had not expected his drunken evening walk to end like this.

[madeye-mccdy]

Bell Tolls & Clock Strikes

Date: January 1st, 1979

Location: Alastor Moody’s Home

Tagging: Self-Para

Triggers: Death & Violence

“For those of you who haven’t taken polyjuice potion before, fair warning, it tastes like goblin piss.”

“Have lots of experience with that, do you, Mad-eye?” Fred interrupted, to which Moody only gave a harsh stare and horrid silence as a reply, “just trying to diffuse the tension,” he heard the other add as an after-thought before drinking the ghastly brew.

The plan for moving Harry Potter to the Burrow was well-thought out, with every precaution The Order could take, in place. With the trace still on the young man, The Ministry, which they gathered had been infiltrated, would know if he so much as sneezed. That was why they stood at the ready to fly on brooms and thestrals alike - to keep him hidden as they got him to safety. However, it was an ambush right from the start.

Abruptly, the skies filled with flashes of green and sickening cracks of jinxes reverberated as though thunder. Hagrid had been given strict orders to get Harry to the Burrow - even if it meant leaving the others behind. As he watched he blast of fire from the back of the motorcycle, Moody grinned only ever so slightly. At least the boy could have a fighting chance. However, the grin soon faded, remembering the mission at hand and the dangers that came along with it. And once Alastor caught a glance of The Dark Lord, taking flight without a broomy, he aimed his want, ready to take on the powerful wizard.

It came as no surprise as Voldemort made targeted Moody and Mundungus. He had expected the dark wizard to go after the the most skilled of their group, throwing him on a rather wild goose-chase throughout the clouds - weaving through Death Eaters and allies alike. Spell after spell, Alastor covered and protected Fletcher as if he were The Boy Who Lived himself, giving the beasts a run for their money - leaving many to scatter or regroup. It was only when Bill and Fleur came into his sights that Moody realized the worst: Voldemort, right on their flank, and Fletcher’s eyes widening. Before Alastor had even a moment to think, the coward disapparated - with a green flash of light (meant for ‘the boy) striking him right between his eyes; becoming the last image Alastor would ever see...as he fell backwards to the world below...

JANUARY 1ST, 1979

Heart pounding, Alastor awoke in a frenzy - feeling as though he’d been falling back into an abyss, when in reality, he safe was on his bed. His bed...Alastor blinked, with eyes from a lifetime ago, looking at the aegean colored walls of his old home. Still vivid in color before the shadows and light refractions of his foe-glass and other spy glasses crowded the space. A time before he lost limbs or gained a magical eye. A time before his paranoia...

Had it all been a dream?

No. It couldn’t have. It shouldn’t have. Everything he’d experienced was so volatile; real. Either this was some twisted torture...or he’d traveled back...And if the later, where there others? Was The Order still intact? Why had he been returned with his memories still intact, but residing in a younger body? Had a spell gone wrong?

With a grunt, Alastor sat up in his bed, almost falling over from the unusual sensation of the extra weight of his real leg, rather than his clawed prosthesis. Merlin’s beard...he thought, then stood to pour himself a drink into his hip flask. His first order of business would be to find Albus and go to headquarters. Whatever mess he’d wrapped himself up in, the place would need as many protections as possible, as well as an alley in the midst - in case anyone else had found themselves in this peculiar predicament. Seeing this new world through the eyes of which he was born...

[drarryspecificrecs]

H/D Erised 2019 : (fics only)

@hd-erised || official masterpost || AO3 || stats : 33 fics + 16 arts The Mods : @dictacontrion​, @firethesound​, @gracerene09 Banner © : @greaseonmymouth​ (x)

Ardour of Karma by @xx-thedarklord-xx [E, 17k]

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft [E, 63k]

The Break-Up by @persephoneapples [G, 4k]

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by @nerdherderette [E, 24k]

The Company of The Rose by @lower-east-side [E, 31k]

Dancing the Mooncalf Quadrille by khalulu [G, 8k]

A Dark Curse, an Interfering House-Elf, & a Self-Sacrificing Gryffindor by @camisoul-stars [M, 6k]

Darkest Before the Dawn by @dualwieldteacup [M, 47k]

Every Kingdom by @thistle-verse [E, 7k]

Feeling the Burn by @maesterchill [T, 500]

fly like paper, high like planes by @harryromper [M, 47k]

A Frightful Notion of Self by @toomanydreamers [T, 48k]

Home by @gnarf [T, 29k]

House of 1000 Curses by @diligent-thunder [E, 59k]

I-A-M-D-R-A-C-O-M-A-L-F-O-Y by @maraudersaffair [E, 10k]

Inevitable Collision by @dracospungen [E, 16k]

A Lick and a Promise by @tackytigerfic [E, 55k]

Maybe This Time by @professordrarry [T, 15k]

Midnight in the City of a Hundred Spires by @shiftylinguini E, 25k]

Pensieve For Your Thoughts by @fencer-x [E, 22k]

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy [M, 66k]

The Quandum Quandary: Harry and Draco’s Month of Mayhem by @violetclarity [E, 34k]

Quibbler Unsolved by @acciotomriddle [T, 17k]

Red Thread (that will lead me home to you) by xErised [E, 35k]

The Seeker by @kedavranox [E, 27k]

Some Lessons Can't Be Taught by @orpheous87 [G, 23k]

That which hurts (and is desired) by @shealwaysreads [E, 19k]

Thunder by @keyflight790 [E, 21k]

Truth and Tradition by @malenkayacherepakha [M, 16k]

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid [E, 99k]

within these walls by @candybarrnerd [E, 19k]

A world just for us by @greaseonmymouth [G, 2k]

you, a violent desire by @alpha-exodus [E, 47k]

---

✔ other fests in 2019 ✔ fests in other years

[thestralsandthunder]

⚡️ Cissamione // One Shot ⚡️

Wax Dripped from My Wing — 4.3k words

by: ThestralsandThunder

The eerie silence pervading the city did little to shake her resolve. She was no longer that impetuous little lion rushing into battle. Hardhearted and ruthless, she was a dagger of impenitent steel. A phoenix succumbing to her ashes with ardor, prepared to asphyxiate the insidious villain that threatened their world.

Hermione Granger was an icarian weapon, but Narcissa was the sun.

OR

A smutty, angsty Cissamione one shot that might end up being developed further. Who knows.

[bridenore]

HD Erised 2019 recs

Here are some of my favorite fics from @hd-erised 2019. Listed in alphabetical order.

***

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft [63k]

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts.

When Draco Malfoy is arrested for gross indecency, Harry’s comfortable life begins to unravel. He’s forced to decide if it’s worth risking everything for love in a world where following his heart is a criminal offence.

The Company of The Rose by @lower-east-side [31k]

Six years after the war, Draco Malfoy has been restoring magical estates, while sidestepping his mother’s plots to marry him off and resolutely avoiding his issues. An advert in the Prophet takes him to a remote island, where a mysterious stranger has purchased an abandoned retreat. But the house has a few secrets of its own, and Draco will be forced to deal with not only his past, but the possibilities of the future.

Darkest Before the Dawn by @dualwieldteacup [47k]

The last thing Draco wanted was to show up at Harry Potter's door, cursed blind and holding a boxful of his friends Transfigured into snakes, but here he was.

Between breaking the curse, adjusting to life without sight, and teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, Draco's got his hands full. Being forced to live with Harry Potter might just be the death of him.

This is a story about the bonds of friendship, fairy tale endings, and learning to ask for help (even from Gryffindors).

fly like paper, high like planes by @harryromper [47k]

Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins. Soon he’s dealing with goblins for the first time since the war, traveling to Prague, eating dodgy squid, and maybe, just maybe, accepting that Quidditch, Malfoy, and even Harry himself are still capable of change.

Inevitable Collision by @dracospungen [16k]

It was difficult to pretend everything was the same as before the war thundered over them, forcing their childhood out of their hands a little too early. The war might be over now, but for Draco Malfoy, the world had lost its colour, his existence diminished into a dull grey hue... until he stumbles upon Harry Potter. Potter is danger, blood pumping fast through Draco's veins, technicolour explosions of emotion, making Draco feel alive—and Draco can’t help but crave more.

A Lick and a Promise by @tackytigerfic [55k]

Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts!

When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help.

Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover—as DADA Professor, naturally. He’s going to need the help of the Ministry’s foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he’s not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea.

Things are complicated between them—what’s new?—but they know they have to learn to work together (and keep their hands off each other in the corridors) in order to solve this case. Luckily for them, Hogwarts itself wants to lend a hand.

A tale of love, lessons, and learning to really live.

Midnight in the City of a Hundred Spires by @shiftylinguini [25k]

Harry Potter is a missing person. Draco Malfoy is a vampire. They are the last two people one would expect to bump into each other in a Creature Bar in Prague, yet to Draco’s absolute shock that is definitely Harry fucking Potter sitting across from him.

Even more surprising is that Potter may have a case for him.

Pensieve For Your Thoughts by @fencer-x [22k]

Ostracised from the more discerning social circles after the war, Draco decides to spend his final few months at Hogwarts attempting to ingratiate himself with the Boy Wonder in the hopes he might be able to salvage his reputation in the doing. But when has anything involving Draco trying to be Potter’s friend gone right, really?

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy [66k]

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Red Thread (that will lead me home to you) by xErised [35k]

It takes four years of travelling and mutual pining for Harry to realise that Malfoy is the only one for him. Of course, he has to express his feelings in the most scandalous way possible—by stopping Malfoy's very proper, very pureblood wedding.

The Seeker by @kedavranox [27k]

Draco’s position with the International Association of Quidditch has always been tenuous, but that may be about to change with Harry as his source on the biggest case of Performance-Enhancing Potions doping of the decade. But Draco soon learns that things are not as they seem, and he has to find a balance between his commitment to the IAQ and his evolving relationship with Harry, as they uncover secrets that even Harry has fought to keep.

That which hurts (and is desired) by @shealwaysreads ( onereader ) [19k]

Draco was lying still, and pale, on a bed in a private room in St Mungo’s. The sheets were white, clean, enchanted against stains, vanishing the blood that kept spilling out of him. He hadn’t moved in two days. Not a twitch of his elegant fingers. Not a blink of his fierce eyes. Harry couldn’t even see the faint flutter of his pulse in his throat from where he stood at the foot of the bed, helpless, impotent, furious.

There is nothing Harry wouldn’t do for the people he cares about. As it turns out, that might bring him everything he’s ever wanted.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid [99k]

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise?

Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself.

What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

***

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[spindlta]

Ginny Weasley and Riddle’s Diary

Harry was dead. That was all Ginny knew. That was the only thought she could form. Harry is dead. Harry is dead. Harry is dead.

At some point it morphed to Harry is gone. Which was different, because dead was just an adjective--it could be anything. Harry is young. Harry is tired. Harry is dead.

But Harry is gone.

Harry is gone.

A hand squeezed hers. She looked up, to Bill, standing on her left. He didn’t say anything, though he opened his mouth as if he wanted to. Arthur stood to Ginny’s left, his arm half up as if to stop Ginny from running towards the body lying on the floor. She had tried to do that, hadn’t she? She had tried to run, when she first saw it, but now she could only stare at the broken figure, limp, with blood soaking the t-shirt. The killing curse doesn’t do that, though, Ginny though. A spark of hope was born and then floundered in her stomach. No, the killing curse didn’t cover the victim in blood. But then, maybe the Dark Lord hadn’t used the killing curse. That didn’t change the fact, Ginny knew, deep down, that Harry was dead.

A scream cut through Ginny’s reverie. Neville. Flames. Flames on Neville’s head. The sorting hat. And then Ginny heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted towards the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Hagrid’s giant brother came lumbering round the side of the castle and yelled, ‘HAGGER!’ His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort’s giants: they ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves, and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise.

The wave of Death Eaters pushed towards the crowd. Arthur was trying to pull Ginny back, and she felt her wand arm rise at her side. Bill had jumped in front of her, and Ron, Hermione, and George were sending off curses like there was no tomorrow. Maybe there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Hagrid’s shout split the air and Ginny came to her senses, stumbling back, but at that same second, Neville moved too.

In one swift, fluid motion he broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming Hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle

The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd, or the sounds of the clashing giants, or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke, Neville sliced off the great snake’s head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the Entrance Hall, and Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet –

He’s going to die, Ginny thought. And then her wand arm was moving and Protego and a silvered sheet of air shot between the two groups, between Neville and Voldemort, but it wouldn’t last long. Arhur was still pulling her back, the entire Weasley unit simultaneously stumbling backwards, pulling with them anyone they could find, then a single person- first Ron, then Percy, then Hermione- shooting forward to send curses or hexes towards the mass of black and gold, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them. Then, over the screams, and the roars, and the thunderous stamps of the battling giants, Hagrid’s yell came loudest of all.

‘HARRY!’ Hagrid shouted, GET AWAY – DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HARRY!’

Ginny’s heart seized up. Harry. He was still out there. His body-- he was still-- she could see him, half-shielded under Hagrid’s crouching form, still on the ground. Chaos reigned around his corpse. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants’ stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Ginny saw great winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort’s giants, Thestrals and Buckbeak the Hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummelled them; and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Voldemort’s Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle. His body was near to being trampled by the retreating crowd.

‘NO! GINEVRA, DON’T YOU DARE!’ Molly’s hand gripped Ginny’s and pulled her backwards.

‘Mum, he’s there-- let me-- let me go!’

Their hands were ripped apart by the force of the crowd, but even then Ginny couldn’t break free. She was pushed back, back, back into the Entrance Hall. A fight was already flourishing inside it, this time in closer quarters than ever before in the battle. Slughorn dashed up the steps, still in his emerald pyjamas, dueling Yaxley. Flitwick was locked in combat with Dolohov. Students, too shocked to fight, were stumbling out of the way, crouching in corners, and others were joining the fray with renewed zeal.

Like Ginny should. She pushed herself away from the wall she had come to be leaning against, and stunned a black-cloaked figure backing towards her. Just as she prepared to surge forward and carve a path through the Death Eaters for Harry, for Harry-

The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the Entrance Hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog’s voice audible even above this din: ‘Fight! Fight! Fight for my master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!’

They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters, their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Ginny looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.

But it was not over yet: a gleeful laugh arose, high above the shouts and bellows, and Ginny realised she could never stop fighting until the creature that had killed Harry was dead.

She sped between duellers, past struggling prisoners, and into the Great Hall.

Voldemort was in the centre of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. Ginny only stared. He was not how he had been in her second year. He was not charming, and handsome, and kind. But he was the same man. Just as cold, just as sharp.

She could not get a clear shot, but fought her way nearer, and the Great Hall became more and more crowded, as everyone who could walk forced their way inside. Ginny saw Yaxley slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick’s hands, saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Luna’s curse, hit the stone wall opposite and slide unconscious to the ground. He saw Ron and Neville bringing down Fenrir Greyback, Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son.

Voldemort was now duelling McGonagall, Slughorn and Kingsley all at once, and there was cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him--

Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she duelled three at once: Hermione, Luna and Katie Bell, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Ginny rushed forward only as Bellatrix rebounded Hermione’s curse and Katie crumpled. Hermione and Luna froze.

A wild laugh echoed, and Ginny stepped over Katie’s body--she was still breathing, thank Merlin-- and raised her wand. This woman had tortured Neville’s parents. This woman had killed Sirius. ‘It’s not-’ she began, but she never got to finish her sentence.

There was a green flash of light and Ginny blocked only just in time. Hermione and Luna, either side of her, were startled back into awareness, and then curses were flying freely. Bellatrix’s red flash-- Hermione responded with confringo to the wall behind her-- Luna’s protego-- another green flash-- then Ginny’s own reducto--

The battle around them was still going--

Bombarda--

There was still shouting, and crashing, and swearing, though a lot less screaming--

Oppugno--

And Ginny had to wonder, who was winning? But she couldn’t stop, couldn’t take her eyes away from--

Relashio--

Another green flash, this time heading straight for Ginny. She felt her breath catch. At least in death she would join Harry and George and all the others she would be missing in life. But at the last second, as a scream escaped from Hermione’s mouth, a hand yanked Ginny backwards.

Panting hard, Ginny saw her mother, Molly Weasley, with eyes like fire, stepping forward. ‘NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!’

Mum threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.

‘OUT OF MY WAY!’ shouted Mrs Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Ginny watched with terror and elation as her mother’s wand slashed and twirled, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s smile faltered, and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches’ feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill.

A particularly fast curse shot past her mother’s shoulder, and Ginny shook herself, jumping forward to help. She wasn’t losing her mother as well. ‘No!’ her mother cried. ‘Get back! Get back! She is mine!’

Ginny vaguely realised that hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights: Voldemort and his three opponents; Bellatrix and Molly. Ginny stood, invisible, torn between both, wanting to throw herself at Voldemort, who had killed Harry, and yet unable to turn from her mother.

‘What will happen to your children when I’ve killed you?’ taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly’s curses danced around her.  ‘When Mummy’s gone the same way as Freddie?’

Ginny started forward, already forming a curse in her mind. It didn’t matter if her mother wanted the honour of killing Bellatrix. For saying that, Ginny would kill her.

But, ‘You – will – never – touch – our – children – again!’ screamed Mrs Weasley, and then Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backwards through the veil. Somehow, Ginny knew what was going to happen before it did.

Molly’s curse soared beneath Bellatrix’s outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: for the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

Ginny felt as though she turned in slow motion; she saw McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn blasted backwards, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort’s fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley, at Ginny’s mother, who was still watching with vindictive pride the still body of Bellatrix Lestrange.

‘PROTEGO,’ roared Ginny, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the hall.

Voldemort’s wrathful features twisted further, and his wand turned from Molly to Ginny herself.

‘GINNY,’ screamed Ron, and she felt her mother’s grip trying to pull her back. Across the hall, behind Voldemort, Ginny even thought she saw Dean Thomas darting forward as if to help her. But she would not turn from Voldemort. She pulled away from her mother, and she whispered, beneath her breath, her daughter’s name.

‘No, Mum,’ Ginny said, not taking her eyes from Voldemort. ‘I’ve got to do this. Let me do this. He won’t kill me.’

The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Ginny looked at each other. A smile spread across his features, cunning and gleeful. ‘Another blood traitor…’ His smile widened. ‘This school does seem rife with them.’

There was silence, and he seemed to realise that there was no one left to laugh for him. His smile turned into a snarl. ‘And tell me, girl, why I will not kill you.’

‘Because you can’t,’ Ginny said simply, not knowing what she was going to say next. ‘I did my research. I might not know everything, but I know enough. Your curses can’t touch us tonight, can they. None of yours can. Oh, we can hit our own--by accident--but you can’t touch us. You can’t touch any of us.’

Ginny felt that, if it had been possible, Voldemort would have paled. Instead, he just gripped his wand tighter in that twisted, pretentious way, and sneered. ‘And I suppose you, too, are going to tell me that love will save you?’

‘Yes.’ Here she had to steel herself. ‘Because Harry didn’t die running away. Harry died for us. He died protecting us. Just as Lily Potter died protecting him. Love kept him safe. And it will keep me safe, too, for however long it takes for me to kill you.’

He laughed, a cold, high sound that bounced back from the heights of the ceiling and died in the silent, breathing air. And in his rasping, lilting voice, he said, ‘You’ll forgive me, I think, if I don’t quake before a seventeen year old girl.’

‘Sixteen, actually. But that’s okay. I didn’t think you’d remember my birthday.’

‘To remember, I would have had to know in the first place. I’m sorry to say that I haven’t been keeping up with the birth announcements in the Daily Prophet.’

‘You knew it, once,’ said Ginny, and she took a step. He mirrored her, and they began to circle. ‘But you’ve forgotten me. That’s alright. It’s an easy mistake to make. But I never forgot you. How could I? You were inside my head for a year.’ They had made a half rotation and Ginny saw her mother, frozen and white, holding and held by Bill. ‘But you forgot something else, as well. I was inside your head, too.’

‘What is this you speak of?’ hissed Voldemort.

‘Your diary. From the year 1943. I wrote to you, and you wrote back. I know how it feels, Ginny. I know how it feels to be forgotten. I know how it feels to be lost. I’m sure you only said it to pull me in, but we lost children always see the truth in each other. The difference is that I’m not lost any more. And you, Tom, are.’

‘You dare –’

‘Yes, I dare. And I know. I know the truth.’ Another quarter turn, and there was Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville, bunched together at the front edge of the crowd, Kingsley and Professor Sprout behind them. ‘I saw who you really were back when you were Tom Marvolo Riddle, half-blood boy from a Muggle orphanage. Desperate for friends, desperate for power. You were just a child. You weren’t any different from anyone else. I was scared, my first year here. Blood on the walls and in my clothes, blank spots in my memory. You used that, you said you knew what it felt like. And you were so kind, so patient. I was so glad I had you. A friend I could carry around in my pocket. But I wasn’t stupid. Even as an eleven-year-old, I could see that you were scared. Scared enough to try to run from death. Scared enough to hide behind a false name. Scared enough to try to kill a baby.’

‘Harry Potter is dead!’ Voldemort shrieked. ‘Your last hope has disappeared.’

‘Fine. Harry’s dead. But he’s not gone. He’s still with us. And he hasn’t taken our last hope with him. He has created hope for all of us. You might have killed him, but we live because of him. And if you think we won’t fight til the very end, until you and everyone who supports you is gone, then you’re wrong. Look around yourself, Tom Riddle. See all the people who stood up to you. Think of all the ones that can’t be here today, but will protect their loved ones from you anyway. We will fight, and we will love, and we will kill, and we will die, until you are dead. We will carry on going until you are gone. We do it for the ones we love.’

‘Love again?’ said Voldemort, his snake’s face jeering, ‘Dumbledore’s favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the Tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out Potter’s Mudblood mother like a cockroach– love which has never stopped me before. And nobody seems to love you enough to run forwards, and take my curse. So what will stop you or any other dying now when I strike?’

‘You’re wrong,’ Ginny said. ‘They do love me enough. Anyone in this hall would step forward and die right this second. But they’re going to let me kill you, instead. Because I love Harry. And maybe he is dead, but he did what he had to, and you’re a man now, the same as any other.’

‘Not quite, little girl. You speak of what I have forgotten, but it matters not! I am the master of the Elder Wand.’

Ginny stilled, her foot faltering in the half-turned circle. The Elder Wand. That was of bedtime stories, wasn’t it? But-- no-- she remembered rushed words, whispered between Harry and Ron and Hermione. They had spoken of it, somewhere, somewhen. It was real. The most powerful wand in existence. The Deathstick. And perhaps for now, Voldemort couldn’t kill her, for Harry’s love, but that wouldn’t last forever. He would find a way around it. And then they would all be dead.

A footstep behind her. And, as if no time had passed since Pansy Parkinson had screamed ‘Somebody grab him!’ here in the Great Hall, Hermione had closed the gap between them, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Ginny, facing the enemy.

‘You’re not,’ she said, voice shaking. Her lip was split, blood and mud covering her face. ‘You’re not the master of the Elder wand.’

He snarled. ‘I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore. His wand is mine.’

‘It didn’t belong to Professor Dumbledore,’ she said. ‘It belonged to someone else by the time Dumbledore died.’

‘What is this?’

Of all the things that Ginny had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like Hermione’s words. Ginny saw his pupils contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten. And everything clicked together in Ginny’s mind. Harry’s wand, broken. The replacement he had found. The one Ginny recognised, from all the times it had been pointed at her, or at Hermione, or at Ron, or at Harry. Draco’s wand. Harry had overpowered Draco. And Draco…

Harry’s nightmares had said enough. Draco had disarmed Dumbledore.

‘Draco Malfoy,’ said Ron, stepping up to Ginny’s other side. ‘It belonged to Draco Malfoy. Draco disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower that night.’

Blank shock showed in Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it was gone.

‘But what does it matter?’ he said softly. ‘Even if you are right, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the Potter boy: we duel on skill alone, and you are children ... and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy ...’

‘Don’t listen to him, Ginny,’ said Ron, very quietly. The whole hall must have heard, it was so quiet. ‘Harry loved us. He loved you. He died for you.’

Ginny steeled herself, and she could have sworn in that moment that she heard Harry’s voice in her ear. I just wish I’d asked you sooner. We could’ve had ages . . . months . . . years maybe. . . . Now she would never have any time with him ever again. But she could make sure that no one else died at Hogwarts. Not tonight. Not one. Except for Tom Marvolo Riddle.

‘We’re the ones Harry loved the most,’ she said. ‘The know-it-all Muggleborn, the stupid Weasley boy, and me. The seventh child of a seventh child. The weak one, who was taken in by a mere diary.’

She took a step forward, raising her wand as Harry had taught her in the Room of Requirement over two years before. Tears were burning behind her eyes. ‘But I managed to get rid of you before, Tom Riddle. I can do it again.’

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them, as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Ginny heard the high voice shriek as she, too, pointing her yew wand and thinking of the child Harry had been, the man he had become, yelled her best hope to the heavens:

‘Avada kedavra!’

‘Expelliarmus!’

The bang was like a cannon-blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Ginny saw Voldemort’s green jet meet her own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air towards the girl who never made the same mistake twice, the one who had never looked for the Elder Wand because after so long she had learned that all she needed was herself. And Ginny, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in her free hand as Voldemort fell backwards, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upwards. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Ginny stood with two wands in her hand, with her brother to her right and her best friend to her left, the dead body of the boy she loved behind her, staring down at her enemy’s shell.

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

thanks to @mamodork for this prompt (I saw the prompt on ig so couldn’t put this as a reblog) (I also literally never use tumblr and I think I tagged wrong but idk)

[goldenreign]

@frcznreign​​:   magnus gets a first kiss.  //   send ◈ for a first kiss

her holiday memories are full of laughter,   smiles,   and warm cups of cocoa by a blazing hearth.   the damora manor is the opposite of her home in every way:   frigid in a way that never seems to both the two siblings who’d grown up here but that forces her to wear several layers at all times,    nearly devoid of decorations,    and lacking the scent of holiday sweets she’d enjoyed every year of her childhood.   tonight,   however,   gaius is hosting several other pureblood families for a grand event.   for the first time since she’d they’d come here for their break,   the manor actually looks like a place where someone could actually host a holiday party.   she’d thought it would make her feel more in the holiday spirit,   but if she’s honest with herself,   she knows her despondence has more to do with missing her father and sister than the lack of holiday celebration in the damora household.

she stares at her dress for a long time before finally getting herself ready for the evening,   trying to find some kernel of excitement within her for all these things she’d been missing these past several weeks.   right on time,   as always,   a knock sounds at her door.   she opens it to find magnus looking handsome as ever in his dress robes,   ready and waiting to accompany her to the event.   a memory of theon standing at the foot of the stairs,   eager and waiting in his dress robes,   nearly two years ago now for the yule ball flashes in her mind.   preoccupied as she is,   she misses the moment he needs to gather himself after taking in her appearance   ---   her gown is his favorite color,   red,   in celebration of the holiday.   brushing aside the memory,   she takes his arm with a tight smile.

they’ve grown closer over the course of the fall semester,   between tending to the herd of thestrals together and him helping her study to retake her OWLs.   her friends,   nic and jonas especially,   didn’t understand how she could stand to be around him,   let alone how she had come to consider him a friend.   but they didn’t ever see him the way she did.   they hadn’t really known him at all before the mess of the triwizard tournament.   she can still remember the way he’d finally asked her to be his date to the yule ball,   hope warming his eyes,   and the way that icy mask had concealed his hurt when she’d had to tell him theon had already asked her.   her grip tightens on his arm as that memory surfaces,   and she muses at how their lives seem to have come full circle,   despite the dreadful circumstances that had led them here.

looking at him,   her heart warms just enough to where she feels as though maybe she could find something to enjoy this night.   when he glances over,   probably sensing her gaze on him,   she immediately averts her focus to the various holiday decorations,   cheeks flooding with heat.   thankfully,   he doesn’t comment on it.   

after the stuffy dinner that’s mostly just an affair of gaius boasting about his many accomplishments while the guests nod and interject appropriately,   she manages to coax magnus out onto the dancefloor.   he tries saying he doesn’t know any dances,    but she refuses to let him get away with that,   especially since the alternative is sitting around being idle.   and idleness leaves her mind to wander to all the things that are missing from this holiday.   so they take to the dancefloor and follow along with the traditional waltz that’s playing.  one of his hands is on her waist and the other is held in hers,   and when his eyes meet hers as they dance around the room there’s nothing else on her mind at all.   just this.   just them. 

there’s something magical about the holidays,   she’s always believed that.   when the crowd has delved a little too deep into the eggnog and they’ve deemed it safe to sneak away,   she follows after magnus as he leads them down a hall promising to show her something.   when they come to a balcony,   at first she’s adamant that it will be far too cold to go out there,   but he sheds his outer layer and drapes his warm robe over her shoulders.   her hand in his,   he guides her out onto the balcony and watches in amusement as she takes in the landscape.   “   the snow is...   really beautiful...   ”   she says,   trying not to be rude and ask why he insisted they come out here.   then his fingers gently lift her chin and her breath catches as she turns towards him,   but instead of kissing her    ---   how silly of her to think he’d been planning to kiss her,   but her heart still seems to thud disappointedly in her chest   ---   he tilts her head upwards to the point where she can see the sky.   she gasps as the most gorgeous display of colors she’s ever seen dances across the starry scape.   it’s only after a few moments of staring at the lights in wonder that she finally pulls her gaze away to look at him,   but he’s already looking at her. 

her breath catches in her throat again,   one cold hand coming to rest on his cheek as her heart starts to thunder in her chest.   the lights of the sky reflect in his eyes,   making them seem brighter than usual.   perhaps it’s the magic of it all,   the holiday,   the lights,   or perhaps this has been inevitable all along.   her hand slips from his cheek,   brushing ever so gently over his scar,   to the nape of his neck so she can have some leverage as she rises to the tips of her toes and captures his lips in a kiss.

[thepotionbat]

Moon’s Writing Challenge

Hello all! I’m back with another entry into @moonlight-thestral‘s writing challenge, this time I hope with the correct format (LOL).

Link to the challenge and dialogue prompts here.

My prompt: 13.) “You’re such a distraction!”

Pairing: Severus x Reader

Word count: 1,851

Summary: Between the summer of your fourth and fifth year at Hogwarts, you haven’t much to occupy you except the pile of summer assignments you need to complete -- oh, and Severus, who lives only a few houses away.

Warnings: None.

I hope you all enjoy!

It was a quiet night on the street of Spinner’s End.

It was around 11:00 and you were sitting at your desk, attempting to complete some of your summer homework; next year’s term was quickly approaching, and you still had a lot to get done.

Rain was falling outside, the drops splattering against your window gently; the warm cup of peppermint tea beside you emitted a nice aroma, adding to the overall cozy ambience that had settled in your room. You were writing an essay for Transfiguration; McGonagall wanted everyone to review on some of the spells they had learned last year, including color-changing and the fundamentals of vanishing spells. You were getting quite far into it, too, hitting your stride and feeling as though you would finish soon, should you keep going at the pace you were—

That was, until the calm drizzle of rain was interrupted by a scuff sounding outside of your window.

You turned to the sound, squinting at your window uneasily. The scuff repeated, this time a bit louder, and just before you became thoroughly spooked, it suddenly occurred to you what — or, rather, who — it might be. Grumpily, you made your way to the window, just as you heard a familiar rapping on the glass. You pulled back your curtains to reveal the face of Severus Snape; his black hair was all wet, sticking to his pale cheeks.

You opened the window.

“Let me in,” he said.

You stepped aside, allowing him to clamber in; afterwards, you closed the window quickly, then turned to him with crossed arms. He was wearing a long raincoat, which allowed his clothes to have escaped with minimal rain exposure; however, the hood had obviously blown away from his head, leaving his hair and shoulders wet, as were his shoes; water dripped off of him and onto the floor below. He shrugged off his coat.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “Also, you’re getting my carpet wet.”

“Sorry,” he said immediately.

You tried to frown at him, but of course you couldn’t really be angry; your lips betrayed you, pulling up in a small smile. You watched him fold up his coat neatly and put it to the side, and then you snagged a blanket from your bed and tossed it at him. “There,” you said.

He wrapped it around his shoulders, pushing his wet hair from his face. “I thought you would be happy to see me,” he said with mock offense, sitting himself on the wooden chest at the end of your bed.

“I am,” you insisted. “I was just in the middle of writing my Transfiguration essay.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly serious as he peered over at your desk curiously. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not,” you said, returning to your desk but sitting to face him. “Just sit there and dry off and get rainwater all over my stuff, I don’t mind.”

His lips quirked up at your sarcasm. “Certainly,” he said. In one quick movement, he reached over to your desk, snagging one of your hairbands that you had taken off earlier; with deft fingers, he used it to tie up his own sopping hair into a bun.

“You never answered my question,” you pointed out.

“I’m here because I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “And, I saw the light on in your room.” “Stalker,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he shot back with smirk, leaning back onto your bed-frame. “You’re acting like you didn’t come up to my room just the other day.”

You rolled your eyes. “Listen, I’ve got to try and finish this, Severus,” you said. “So be quiet, if you please.”

“Fine,” he sighed. You turned back to your work, took a sip of your tea, and tried to get back into the productive mindset you had been in before Severus interrupted you. You had just picked up your quill, your mind allowing your hand to sputter back to writing competent descriptions when you heard the familiar creaking sound your floor made when someone walked across it. You glanced up at Severus from the corner of your eye to see he was at your bookcase, browsing through the spines of the novels; if it hadn’t been for the floor, you would never had known he moved, for he always was so quiet.

“Did you ever finish reading Jane Eyre?” you asked.

“No.” He spoke without looking at you, his fingers brushing against the spines of the book, not yet lingering on one long enough to indicate that he had made a selection. “Almost. And I thought you were supposed to be writing your essay.”

You scowled at him, but he still wasn’t looking at you to see, so you turned back to your parchment. You heard the floor creak once more, announcing that Severus was walking across it once again. Stop, just focus.

You managed to crank out another several inches of writing before you realized you hadn’t heard anymore from Severus in a long while.

Curiously, you sat up away from your parchment and allowed your gaze to flit around, landing on where he ended up, which so happened to be sitting cross-legged on the floor, propping his back against the wooden chest at the end of your bed; the blanket you had thrown at him was draped across his lap while he turned the pages of a book he’d borrowed from your shelf (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest).

“Why are you on the floor?”

He finished the page he was reading and flipped to the next one before looking at you to answer. “I was afraid I’d drip water on your sheets,” he explained. “And you’re sitting in the only chair in here.”

“I don’t care about my sheets,” you said with a light, fond laugh. “It’d be more comfortable to you than where you’re at now.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him, yet after a second’s consideration he closed his book made a move to get up, obviously going to take you up on the offer. Satisfied, you turned back to your essay. Just a little more, and I’ll finally be done. You began flipping through your textbook, making notes and writing a few more sentences.

It wasn’t until you shifted your position in your chair that your head turned slightly and you caught a glimpse of someone standing very close to you from the corner of your eye— abrupt fear washing over you, you jumped in surprise.

Turning fully, you looked up at Severus, who was peering over your shoulder at what you were writing.

“You scared me,” you protested.

He smirked, looking away from your paper. “Sorry.”

You shook your head at him, turning back to your parchment. “Does it sound good?”

“It’s not bad,” he allowed. You felt his presence retreat away from your back.

“‘Not bad?’” you repeated, spinning yet again to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He was settling onto your bed, throwing the blanket over your pillows before he laid down and rest his head on them. “Exactly what it sounds like,” he replied smoothly, shifting until he was comfortable where he lay and then opening his book back up again.

You laughed, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re ridiculous. How much have you done of yours, then?”

“I’m already done with mine, actually,” he said, flipping a page.

“Show off,” you said. “Such a show off.”

Another faint smirk ghosted his lips. “You asked,” he pointed out.

You tried to be cross, but you couldn’t help but grin at him. “Well, I’m almost done.” You returned your attention to your paper. If you could write down just four more inches, you would be finished, at long last.

Several moments passed by in silence.

“Do you think McMurphy was actually crazy?” Severus spoke, causing the silence to be broken once again. He was looking at the pages of his book thoughtfully when you turned to look.

“You’re such a distraction!” you exclaimed, exasperated at all of the interruptions you’d suffered. He met your gaze, amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Well, do you?” he asked.

You sighed. “I don’t know… Objectively, yes, I think there was a part of him that was very dark. But he compensated for it with a general disdain for rules.” Severus nodded.

You turned back to the words you’d written, silently contemplating picking up your quill again. After a moment longer of consideration, you decided to abandon your essay -- it was only a few inches, anyway; you could do it tomorrow. You left your desk, flopping into the bed next to Severus, who scooted over to give you some more room; still, your arm brushed against his.

“Finish your essay?” he asked.

“No, I can do it tomorrow,” you said dismissively. “I can’t focus with you around.”

He smiled slightly; if you didn’t know better, you would think you saw his cheeks flush.

Before anything else could be said, the wind gusted outside with sudden force, and after only a brief pause, the rain began to pour down hard, now slashing against the window and effectively ending the calmness of the drizzle it had been earlier.

Severus dropped the book, still open, onto his chest, and looked towards the window disdainfully. “That will certainly be fun to walk home in,” he remarked.

You glanced at the window, too. Wind gusted once more, and rain was thrown harshly onto the glass; distantly, you thought you heard a rumble of thunder.

“Why don’t you just stay here?” you suggested, after a moment’s thought. “Just leave early in the morning, before my mum finds you.”

He blinked at you in surprise. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not, Sev,” you said. “As long as you don’t think your parents would notice you’re gone and freak out, or something.”

He let out a note of humorless laughter.

“They wouldn’t notice if I’d been missing for a week,” he stated with certainty.

This caused you to look at him sadly; you saw the way some of his dark hair — despite it being tied up — still managed to fall into his face; the way his pensive eyes were staring at the ceiling, churning with some complicated emotion; the way one of his delicate hands still rested on the back of your copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest.

“I would notice,” you told him.

He looked at you in surprise, then smiled, one of his rare, genuine ones. You smiled back softly, and he picked up the book again, which told you he was agreeing to stay. You reached over to the nightstand next to you to grab the book you had been reading the night before, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence; it was still raining hard outside, bouts of thunder sounding through the air, and yet the cozy atmosphere from earlier was not gone; somehow, as you two read in silence, breaking it often to make comments or conversation, the coziness was even more prevalent.

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

Hiiiii, I absolutely love ur Ao3 fic "If my mind could think(I was still a mad man)" I haven't finished it yet just bcuz I'm taking it slow as I don't want it to end. Anyway, I was hoping that you could rec me some more depressed/suicidal/mental illness Harry? Basically similar fics to yours. They aren't easy to come by these days, I just fell in love with ur fic and now I really wanna read more. Thank you so much ❤️

Thank you so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying my story 💜

As for recs, I'm going to list a few of my favourites that deal with mental health in some way or other. It's mostly mental health issues in general, and recovery from them. I don't know many fics that deal with self harm though, which is partly why I felt the need to write one 😅

Be careful to read the tags and warnings for these! Here they are, in no particular order;

The Blood Magic series by @spinnersendslytherin and @thestralhouseofblack

This is a series of 3 works and over 300k words in total. I'm still reading it, and I really really enjoyed what I've read so far (I'm about half-way). In this series Harry Potter struggles with Drug Addiction and suicidal thoughts (among other things). Draco Malfoy, who has his own struggles, decide to help him.

The Nightmare Club by @diligent-thunder

This one is an 8th year fic that explores (amongst other things) how people are dealing with their sleepless nights post-war. I read it on a sleepless night when my insomnia was acting up and it honestly felt like a warm blanket. It's light angst and hurt/comfort and friendship and I really enjoyed it!

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft

This fic deals with internalised homophobia and homophobia. The angst made me cry and I finished it feeling a lot better about my own sexuality.

When Did You Last Let Your Heart Decide? by Hephaestiions

Harry definetly has mental health issues in this one, and so do the others. This fic really dived into how everyone could have been struggling post-war, and how they work together to get better.

If anyone else know or has written fics dealing with Harry struggling with his mental health feel free to add on to the post 😊