#they NEVER turn off the snares either so every class I have to turn them off myself so I can actually hear myself

[iwanttobepersephone]

I don't know if there's a hate stronger than a bassist and a percussion class who share the same space in the band room

[ithinkthereforeidread]

the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

 Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

~~

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

[accioromione]

Can someone please explain to me where the Ron being stupid stereotype came from? Not only is he not stupid.. he’s not average either .....he’s straight up smart .. Like did we read the same books? Like look at these Ron quotes...

“Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

‘It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,’ said Ron.- PS

---

“What is it?’

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

‘It’s an Invisibility Cloak,’ said Ron, a look of awe on his face. ‘I’m sure it is – try it on.’

Harry threw the Cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

‘It is! Look down!” -PS

---

“You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad,’ said Ron, when Harry told him about these dreams. -PS

---

“See you later, then,’ said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

‘What was he hiding behind his back?’ said Hermione thoughtfully.

‘Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?’

‘I’m going to see what section he was in,’ said Ron, who’d had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

‘Dragons!’ he whispered. ‘Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide.’

‘Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,’ said Harry.

‘But it’s against our laws,’ said Ron. ‘Dragon-breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to stop Muggles noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.’

‘But there aren’t wild dragons in Britain?’ said Harry.

‘Of course there are,’ said Ron. ‘Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I[…]” -PS

---

“What’s that at its feet?’ Hermione whispered.

‘Looks like a harp,’ said Ron. ‘Snape must have left it there.” -PS

---

“Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare … What did Professor Sprout say? It likes the dark and the damp –’

‘So light a fire!’ Harry choked.

‘Yes – of course – but there’s no wood!’ Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

‘HAVE YOU GONE MAD?’ Ron bellowed. ‘ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?’

‘Oh, right!’ said Hermione” -PS

---

“Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

‘Now what do we do?’ Harry whispered.

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ said Ron. ‘We’ve got to play our way across the room.’

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

‘How?’ said Hermione nervously.

‘I think,’ said Ron, ‘we’re going to have to be chessmen.’

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight’s horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

‘Do we – er – have to join you to get across?’

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.

‘This wants thinking about …’ he said. ‘I suppose we’ve got to take the place of three of the black pieces.

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, ‘Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess –’

‘We’re not offended,’ said Harry quickly. ‘Just tell us what to do.’

‘Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there instead of that castle.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m going to be a knight,’ said Ron.” -PS

---

“White always plays first in chess,’ said Ron, peering across the board. ‘Yes … look …’

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry’s knees were trembling. What if they lost?

‘Harry – move diagonally four squares to the right.’

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.

‘Had to let that happen,’ said Ron, looking shaken. ‘Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on.’

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

‘We’re nearly there,’ he muttered suddenly. ‘Let me think – let me think …’

The white queen turned her blank face towards him.

‘Yes …’ said Ron softly, ‘it’s the only way … I’ve got to be taken.’

‘NO!’ Harry and Hermione shouted.

‘That’s chess!’ snapped Ron. ‘You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I’ll make my move and she’ll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!” -PS

Xxx

“D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?’

‘No,’ said Ron, without hesitation. ‘Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.’

Something in Ron’s voice made Harry ask, ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’

‘Course I do,’ said Ron quickly. ‘But – you must admit it’s weird …’

‘I know it’s weird,’ said Harry. ‘The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber has been opened … what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You know, it rings a sort of bell,’ said Ron slowly. ‘I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once … might’ve been Bill …’

‘And what on earth’s a Squib?’ said Harry.

To his surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.

‘Well – it’s not funny really – but as it’s Filch …’ he said. ‘A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. -COS

---

“Harry and Ron looked under the sink, where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.

‘What?’ said Harry.

‘Are you mad?’ said Ron. ‘It could be dangerous.’

‘Dangerous?’ said Harry, laughing. ‘Come off it, how could it be dangerous?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. ‘Some of the books the Ministry’s confiscated – Dad’s told me – there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And –’

‘All right, I’ve got the point,’ said Harry. -COS

---

“Rubbish,” said Hermione. “You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done —” “He says he's done,” Ron muttered. -COS

Xxx

Hermione didn’t answer. Ron looked around.

“Where is she?”

Harry turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watch­ing the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

“She was right behind us,” said Ron, frowning.

Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared.

“There she is,” said Harry.

Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

“How did you do that?” said Ron.

“What?” said Hermione, joining them.

“One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.”

“What?” Hermione looked slightly confused. “Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —”

A seam had split on Hermione’s bag. Harry wasn’t surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

“Why are you carrying all these around with you?” Ron asked her.

“You know how many subjects I’m taking,” said Hermione breathlessly. “Couldn’t hold these for me, could you?

“But —” Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. “You haven’t got any of these subjects today. It’s only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon.”

“Oh yes,” said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. “I hope there’s something good for lunch, I’m starving,” she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.

“D’you get the feeling Hermione’s not telling us something?” Ron asked Harry. –POA

--

“Do you think Black’s still in the castle?” Hermione whispered anxiously.

“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” said Ron.” -POA

XXX

“I’ll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!’ said Ron hotly.

‘Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!’ said Hermione”  -GOF (he was right obviously)

--

and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to –’

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

‘Let’s just keep moving, shall we?’ said Ron, and Harry saw him glance edgily at Hermione. Perhaps there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps Hermione was in more danger than they were. They set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even though he knew his wand wasn’t there.” -GOF

---

“It’s been over a week,’ Harry said, looking at Hedwig’s deserted perch. ‘Ron, you don’t reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?’

‘Nah, it would’ve been in the Daily Prophet,’ said Ron. ‘The Ministry would want to show they’d caught someone, wouldn’t they?” -GOF

---

“Oh, c’mon, ’Er-my-knee,’ said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. ‘Oops – sorry, ’Arry –’ He swallowed. ‘You won’t get them sick leave by starving yourself!’

‘Slave labour,’ said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. ‘That’s what made this dinner. Slave labour.’

And she refused to eat another bite.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark windows. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

‘Treacle tart, Hermione!’ said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell towards her. ‘Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!” -(trying to get hermione to eat because he’s a wise boy who knows that hermione is being stupid by starving herself instead of just ignoring it) --GOF

---

“Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

‘Er,’ said Ron tentatively, ‘my dad told me about one … is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Moody appreciatively. ‘Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.” -GOF (we love a humble Ron who knows the answer)

---

“it down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand,’ said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. ‘I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl … Not that it needs it –’ she added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.

‘Let’s go,’ said Hermione. ‘C’mon, Harry – Ron …’

They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backwards and forwards over a piece of parchment on the table.

‘She’ll be after you next, Hermione,’ said Ron, in a low and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the street.

‘Let her try!’ said Hermione shrilly”- GOF (of course he was right)

           Xxx

Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror,' said Ron in an off-hand voice.

 'Yeah, it would,' said Harry fervently.

 'But they're, like, the elite,' said Ron. 'You've got to be really good. -OOTP (HE BECOMES ONE)

----

I did think he might be a bit better this year,' said Hermione in a disappointed voice. 'I mean . . . you know . . .' she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table ' . . . now he's in the Order and everything.'

 'Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,' said Ron sagely. -OOTP (wizard way of saying “people can't change who they really are inside”)

---

Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.

 Thanks,' he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

 'I still reckon you should complain about this,' said Ron in a low voice.

 'No,' said Harry flatly.

 'McGonagall would go nuts if she knew –‘ -OOTP

---

‘So what's in the Department of Mysteries?' Harry asked Ron. 'Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?'

 'I know they call the people who work in there "Unspeakables",' said Ron, frowning. –OOTP

---

'We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped,' said Fudge last night. 'Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.'

 There you are, Harry,' said Ron, looking awestruck. That's why he (Voldemort) was happy last night. –OOTP

---

Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?' said Ron, hitting his teacup so hard with his wand that its legs collapsed again and it lay twitching before him. 'It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley. She'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold.'

 'Well, yes, that occurred to me, too,' said Hermione –OOTP

---

'So,' said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, 'had any ideas?'

 'How did you get away?' asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.

 'Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice  little Impediment Jinx,' said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. -OOTP

---

'Have you seen this?' said Ron.

 'What?' said Harry, but eagerly this time - it had to be a sign that Sirius had been there, a clue. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

 'What?' Harry repeated glumly.

 'It's - it's got your name on,' said Ron.

 Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

 'My name?' said Harry blankly.

 He stepped forwards. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

 S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

 Dark Lord

 and (?)Harry Potter –OOTP

XXX

"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" said Ron. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a look to see if its solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'" There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Snape gave the class. –HBP

"Lucky," said Ron suddenly. "Harry, that's it — get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?"

"Use your lucky potion!"

"Ron, that's — that's it!" said Hermione, sounding stunned. "Of course! Why didn't I think of it?" –HBP

---

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver.

"Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar —"

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all _ OUCH!"

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione.

"You took that from Sinus's house," said Harry, --HBP

---

wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first year again. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all." –HBP

---

Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow. . . ." (RON)

"I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?"

"You die," said Ron simply "Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental," said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left but­tock has never been the same since."—HBP

---

"I want to know what he's up to," said Harry. "And don't tell nn its all in my head, not after what I overheard between him and Snape —"

"I never said it was all in your head," said Ron, hoisting himself up on an elbow in turn and frowning at Harry, "but there's no rule saying only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place!” -HBP

---

"Knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Ron, punching Harry on the shoulder. "We've done all right, haven't we?"

"Well done!" said Mrs. Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven OWLs, that's more than Fred and George got together!" -HBP

---

"If only we could hear what they're saying!" said Hermione. "We can!" said Ron excitedly. "Hang on, damn." He dropped a couple more of the boxes he was still clutching as he fumbled with the largest. "Extendable Ears, look!" "Fantastic!" said Hermione, as Ron unraveled the long, flesh-colored strings and began to feed them toward the bottom of the door. "Oh, I hope the door isn't Imperturbable..." "No!" said Ron gleefully. "Listen!" –HBP  

---- 

That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'ya reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?" -HBP (this basically reveals that they were the best in this class)

XXX

“Only if you shouted about it,” argued Ron (elder wand). “Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, ‘I’ve got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you’re good enough.’ As you as long as you kept your trap shut—”  -DH

---

“Harry, you were right, it was Godric’s Hollow all over again, a complete waste

of time! The Deathly Hallows. . . such rubbish. . . although actually,” a sudden

thought seemed to have struck her, “he might have made it all up, mightn’t he?

He probably doesn’t believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to

keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived!”

“I don’t think so,” said Ron. “It’s a damn sight harder making stuff up when

you’re under stress than you’d think. I found that out when the Snatchers

caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit

about him, than inventing a whole new person. Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth,

or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking.

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters,” sighed Hermione. “Even if he was being

honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life.”

“Hang on, though,” said Ron. “The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be

a myth, wasn’t it?”

“But the Deathly Hallows can’t exist, Ron!”

“You keep saying that, but one of them can,” said Ron. “Harry’s Invisibility

Cloak—“

“The Tale of the Three Brothers’ is a story,” said Hermione firmly. “A story

about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving was as simple as hiding

under the Invisibility Cloak, we’d have everything we need already!” -DH

---

“Where the hell have you been?” Harry shouted.

“Chamber of Secrets,” said Ron.

“Chamber — what?” said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them.

“It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!”

“What the — ?”

“Something to get rid of Horcruxes,” said Ron simply.

Harry’s eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermi­one’s arms: great curved fangs, torn, he now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk.

“But how did you get in there?” he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. “You need to speak Parseltongue!”

“He did!” whispered Hermione. “Show him, Ron!”

Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise.

“It’s what you did to open the locket,” he told Harry apologeti­cally. “I had to have a few goes to get it right, but,” he shrugged modestly, “we got there in the end.”

“He was amazing.” said Hermione. “Amazing!”

“So …” Harry was struggling to keep up. “So …”

“So we’re another Horcrux down,” said Ron, and from under his jacket he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s cup. “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”

“Genius!” yelled Harry.

“It was nothing,” said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. “So what’s new with you?” -DH

---

“Harry contemplated the thing, slightly revolted. It was human in shape and size, and was wearing what, now that Harry’s eyes became used to the darkness, was clearly an old pair of Ron’s pajamas. He was also sure that ghouls were generally rather slimy and bald, rather than distinctly hairy and covered in angry purple blisters.

“He’s me, see?” said Ron.

“No,” said Harry. “I don’t.”

“I’ll explain it back in my room, the smell’s getting to me,” said Ron. They climbed back down the ladder, which Ron returned to the ceiling, and rejoined Hermione, who was still sorting books.

“Once we’ve left, the ghoul’s going to come and live down here in my room,” said Ron. “I think he’s really looking forward to it — well, it’s hard to tell, because all he can do is moan and drool — but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he’s going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?” -DH

“That’s as much as I can do. At the very least, we should know they’re coming, I can’t guarantee it will keep out Vol —”

“Don’t say the name!” Ron cut across her, his voice harsh.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said, moaning a little as he raised himself to look at them, “but it feels like a — a jinx or something. Can’t we call him You-Know-Who — please?” -DH ( he was right)

---

“For the first time, Harry imagined Mad-Eye’s body, broken as Dumbledore’s had been, yet with that one eye still whizzing in its socket. He felt a stab of revulsion mixed with a bizarre desire to laugh.

“The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that’s why no one’s found him,” said Ron wisely.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid’s front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him —”

“Don’t!” squealed Hermione. Startled, Harry looked over just in time to see her burst into tears over her copy of Spellman’s Syllabary.

“Oh no,” said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. “Hermione, I wasn’t trying to upset —”

But with a great creaking of rusty bedsprings, Ron bounded off the bed and got there first. One arm around Hermione, he fished in his jeans pocket and withdrew a revolting-looking handkerchief that he had used to clean out the oven earlier. Hastily pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the rag and said, “Tergeo.”

The wand siphoned off most of the grease. Looking rather pleased with himself, Ron handed the slightly smoking handkerchief to Hermione.

“Oh … thanks, Ron  I’m sorry. …” She blew her nose and hiccuped. “It’s just so awf-ful, isn’t it? R-right after Dumbledore … I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!”

“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, giving her a squeeze. “But you know what he’d say to us if he was here?”

“ ‘C-constant vigilance,’ ” said Hermione, mopping her eyes.

“That’s right,” said Ron, nodding. “He’d tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I’ve learned is not to trust that cowardly little squit, Mundungus.” -DH

--

“If I can’t use magic, and you can’t use magic near me, without us giving away our position —” he began.

“We’re not splitting up!” said Hermione firmly.

“We need a safe place to hide,” said Ron. “Give us time to think things through.” -DH

---

“You — you don’t think you’ve still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry?”

“He can’t have,” said Ron. “The Trace breaks at seventeen, that’s Wizarding law, you can’t put it on an adult.” -DH

---

“Because we used his name?”

“Exactly! You’ve got to give them credit, it makes sense. It was only people who were serious about standing up to him, like Dum­bledore, who ever dared use it. Now they’ve put a Taboo on it, any­one who says it is trackable — quick-and-easy way to find Order members! They nearly got Kingsley —”

“You’re kidding?” – DH

“Well, they keep on the move, don’t they?” said Ron. “Like us.”

“But did you hear what Fred said?” asked Harry excitedly; now the broadcast was over, his thoughts turned again toward his all-consuming obsession. “He’s abroad! He’s still looking for the Wand, I knew it!”

“Harry —”

“Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol —”

“HARRY, NO!”

“— demort’s after the Elder Wand!”

“The name’s Taboo!” Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. “I told you, Harry, I told you, we can’t say it anymore — we’ve got to put the protection back around us — quickly — it’s how they find —”

But Ron stopped talking, and Harry knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Ron pulled the De­luminator out of his pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.” -DH

---

“Blimey, Neville,” said Ron, “there’s a time and a place for get­ting a smart mouth.” -DH

---

“It’s quite straightforward, really,” said Neville modestly. “I’d been in here about a day and a half, and getting really hungry, and wishing I could get something to eat, and that’s when the passage to the Hog’s Head opened up. I went through it and met Aberforth. He’s been providing us with food, because for some reason, that’s the one thing the room doesn’t really do.”

“Yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” said Ron to general astonishment -DH

----

“SILENCE!” cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. “It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!”

Harry felt himself lowered onto the grass.

“You see?” said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”

“He beat you!” yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defend­ers of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.- DH

Like ???????? He’s a smart ass.....a skilled wizard...understands social cues..knows when to ask questions...makes skilled observations...like where does the stupid stereotype even come from?????? 

[sandu-zidian]

Blabbing about this Musician!au I started last summer that has now also turned into a marching band!au because I got sad and nostalgic because despite how shitty it could be, marching band defined my high school life and social life and I couldn’t had asked for anything else.

I also don’t have every single prequel character (because this au is surrounding the prequel characters) in Star Wars smacked into here, and I gave up halfway through a couple of months ago in terms of brainstorming. Anyways, this is hella long so check everything out under the line if you’d like! don’t want to spam everyone with something that’s like, 4 pages long

Now, you might be asking. What instruments are these characters playing, or what are they doing in marching band? well, boy oh boy do I have some lore for you.

Anakin Skywalker: alright lets start of with the “Chosen One”. Now, I gotta say. He’s got some intense brass vibes, specifically high brass. But I don’t know. He didn’t really mesh well. And given his natural talent with the Force in canon, I thought that Anakin would be a sort of prodigy. And we all know the two instruments associated with that: the piano and violin. He’s more of a piano dude, so here we go! piano prodigy Anakin Skywalker. He also gives mad drumline vibes, and I can see him as either the lead snare, setting the tempo, or the main quad player. He’s brash, slightly obnoxious, but damn is he fucking good at what he does.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I literally started this AU on the idea that Obi-Wan would play the cello. One of the defining quotes for him is that fucking “infinite sadness” quote. And we all know that cellos play some of the saddest pieces out there. (see: Elgar cello concerto) However, I can’t see him as a marching band dude. He doesn’t really give off color guard vibes (since that’s where most non-band people go to) so I have him as the resident student helper who everyone tolerates because he brings ice cream after band camp.

Ahsoka Tano: Ahsoka is a flute player. As a flute player, I have intimate knowledge on this. She’s like the chill flute player who’s competitive enough to keep her position as principal, but is also chill enough to not have a big ego that butts heads with everyone. She also gives mad color guard vibes. Also speaking about that from personal experience (am I lowkey projecting my own experiences on her? you didn’t hear that from me). She seems like the type to love swing flags and sabre, and is 100% captain by senior year.

I have Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka as siblings in this AU because I say so. Qui-Gon is around here somewhere as the resident hippie dad who lowkey smokes pot and will support his children while giving a big ‘fuck you’ to Dooku. 

Yoda’s also in here somewhere, and I love the idea that he’s an old Chinese/Asian man who refuses to speak english and will only do so with the most backwards grammar so his grandchild (Qui-Gon) and great-grandchildren (the trio) are forced to speak Mandarin/Cantonese to him (pick your poison). He just spends his days cutting up fruit and also might pull out his erhu if everyone asks nice enough. (I want to say he was a Peking Opera musician, but immigrated during Mao’s reign after he lost opportunities during the cultural revolution)

So, I know that it doesn’t make sense for a family to have 3 sets of twins and one triplet set, but fuck that I do what I want.

Cody Fett: okay so, Cody 100% plays the french horn. I don’t know, he just, he does. He’s got that air of sophistication because he can play the hardest brass instrument, but at the same time, he’s incredibly good at it and is matter-of-fact about it. He also would be the mello section leader (I was playing with the idea of drum major, but for now, leaving him as a section leader for now). He’s a bit uptight to be a low brass player, but cool enough to still be associated with the general brass group.

Rex Fett: I got Rex and Cody as the eldest Fett twins. Rex feels like a string player, so I have him on violin. I can see him be very hardworking and practicing diligently to the point where he easily sweeps through to concertmaster in high school and the local youth orchestra. He also gives of mad drum major vibes. I can see him copying music, handing out drill charts, and hauling the met around. Also, just think about Rex doing a fancy ass salute at competitions. Yes.

Next round of twins lets gooo

Jesse Fett: You could say Jesse has brass vibes. I see him as a reed person though. In concert band, he’s on clarinet. I used to think clarinets were as stuck up as us flutes but no they’re literally balls of chaotic energy ready to be unleashed. Just imagine Jesse blaming everything on his reed. I see him as the guy who switches to saxophone for marching band, though. He’s got the energy of the clarinet and the saxophone harnessed. Also, wouldn’t be surprised if he knows how to play the sousa.

Kix Fett: Y’know, when I originally made this AU, I had Kix as a musician as well. I’m gonna scratch that. He’s going to medical school, or at least, he’s planning to. He’s on the pre-med track and is dying in organic chemistry and wishes there weren’t so many pre-requisites. However, in high school, he definitely played the oboe. Of course Kix chose one of the hardest instruments to play. Also, just imagine him trying to make his own reeds. I don’t see him as a guy who’s in marching band. He’ll come to competitions and maybe football games if he’s bullied into it. Kix is the guy who’s classes are all AP and he’s dying inside.

Next round of twins yeet:

Fives Fett: shit, I forgot I gave them all real names. If I remember correctly, Fives is Frank. Anyways, trumpet vibes. Need I say more? He’s on the trumpet in marching band as well and he’s the dude who’s obsessed with DCI and always tries to play as high as he possibly can and absolutely demolishes his chops. I would say he’s section leader as well. He also hangs with the drumline at the back of the bus and always plays meme songs on blast and sends weird pictures to people’s phone via open airdrop.

Echo Fett: I think his birth name is Ethan??? I’m spitting thoughts not checking my old documents. Anyways. Echo feels like a string person. Specifically, low strings. So, he plays the bass. Upright bass. Whatever. You get what I mean. He sleeps in the case after school and hates hauling it everywhere. He was in marching band as a mello player (the easiest brass instrument to pick up for the activity so) but he was in a car crash that left him paralyzed from the hip down, and had to quit to recover. He never stopped playing, and found ways to adjust. (I do not know how exactly this would work, since I’m able bodied and also don’t play the bass, but I know he’d at least have a stool to sit on in order to lean his body on. let me know if you have other ideas i’d love to hear them!)

Finally, we got the triplets:

Dogma Fett: Dogma plays the bassoon. He’s a low reed kinda guy and between the bari sax, bass clarinet, and bassoon, he fits the last one the best. He and Kix moan over making reeds and he’s on the quieter side. He just vibes and plays all the low notes and has fun whenever he’s got some moving part. I see Dogma as someone who is only casually into marching band. He uses Jesse’s old student clarinet as his instrument and he’s always on time, knows his sets, and his technique is on point. He always finds himself roped into his brothers’ shenanigans though.

Tup Fett: Tup plays the harp. I like to think he met Shaak Ti (we’ll get to her in a bit) when he was young, and she was playing with an orchestra. He met her backstage and she offered to give him lessons. Tup’s not really a part of high school orchestra but sometimes he’ll be brought in. He’s more involved with solo work and the youth orchestra more than anything. Tup’s another on where I don’t think he’d be into marching band. Though I can see him being in winter guard as the dude who just shows up and is lowkey rip and therefore is a hunk on the rifle. His technique’s good but they’ve never been able to saddle him into fall guard.

Hardcase Fett: (i’ve given up on remembering the birth names so i’m just gonna not) Hardcase is 100% low brass vibes. He can’t be anything but a low brass. I see him as a tuba player. He’s chill, laid back, but also reliable for being the foundation of the band sound. He plays the sousaphone in marching band and always blasts either Seven Nation Army or some other popular show tune right after rehearsals. Hardcase also can play the bari sax and no one knows when he learned how to. 

OKAY we’re done with the Fett’s! Jango and Boba are in here somewhere but honestly I don’t have enough brainpower to come up with what their roles are. Jango’s gonna be a good dad though. Maybe he was a musician and that’s why most of his kids are going into music. Or maybe he’s just a supportive father. Boba’s the youngest though, that’s for sure. And he’s a little shit. Don’t know if he plays an instrument (probably) or what it might be.

Now lets get into some other characters! There’s a lot. And I wasn’t even halfway done with the characters I wanted to include. What the hell was I on last summer?

Padmé Amidala: Padmé is a flute player who quit after freshman year of high school and started taking music production and music theory classes. She loved it so much that she decided that composing was her jam. Now, she’s highly successful and often works with well known pianist, Anakin Skywalker, on piano concertos. Also, she may or may not be dating said pianists but you didn’t hear that from me.

Satine Kryze: twosetters don’t shit on me but Satine feels like she’d play the viola. She and Obi-Obi-Wan definitely dated in high school but after a year broke up on mutual terms and are just good friends now. A lot of people feel like she’d have been a better political science/international studies major than a music major but she’s good so no one complains (until she gets into a fighting match with someone and wins smugly)

Bo-Katan Kryze: shes Satine’s younger sister and is a mad athlete. She doesn’t play any instruments but she’s deeply active and is on scholarship for college, on the pre-med track with Kix. She’s very scary and most people are too intimidated by her to approach.

Plo Koon: I originally had him as an asian man, but I can see Native American as well. He plays the euphonium and he’s just a sweet man. He helps out a lot with private lessons at local high schools and is often brought in to help with low brass during marching band.

Wolffe Koon: Wolffe and Gregor (get to him in a bit) were both adopted by Plo when their parents died when they were very young. Plo was their godfather and he took them in like they were his own. They’re cousins to the Fett brothers (though don’t ask me how I have no idea). Wolffe is an engineer and works close to home.

Gregor Koon: Gregor is Wolffe’s younger brother and had a short stint of musical interest in middle school but quit after he entered high school. Gregor was in a serious car crash during college that left him amnesiac for a year before some of his memories returned. He now owns a restaurant and sticks close to home. Wolffe often comes around to check up on him because his brain injury still impacts his current life in small physical and emotional dips

Kit Fisto: Kit gives off mad trombone vibes and it’s mostly because he seems incredibly laid back. He’s one of those brass players who’s just a nice guy and while jokes around, never got pulled into jokes as a student.

Shaak Ti: like I said above, Shaak Ti is most definitely a harpist. She has that ethereal quality I think is common in harpists. She’s a tall Indian woman and she loves her job! She’s a private lesson teacher and instructor at the conservatory on top of her job in the orchestra since she’s not called in often to play. She loves all her students and gives good hugs.

Mace Windu: Mace is the director of the Jedi Symphony, the orchestra which almost everyone is involved with. He is a bass player and he likes his more classical pieces over contemporary music. He’s good friends with Yoda and sometimes the old troll has to wack some sense into Windu and have him take on newer pieces. Windu 100% gives off unhinged director vibes because mistakes and lazy musicians definitely don’t end after high school/college is over.

Quinlan Vos: this lil shithead definitely is the obnoxious, slightly arrogant, but kind of deserving of that, percussionist. He loves his snare drum and is also in the drumline. He’s the same age as Obi-Wan and the two are close friends. Quinlan is definitely slightly unhinged and is always at the back of the bus causing havoc after competitions. He’s the guy that I (OP) hate but also can’t help but respect cuz yeah he’s annoying but at least he’s good.

Aayla Secura: Aayla is Quinn’s half-sister, and plays the French horn. Again, like Cody, she’s got this air of professionalism that I associate with French horn players and like, we gotta represent the girls in brass somehow. She just fits it really nicely.

I feel like now is the time to list who’s still in conservatory and who isn’t: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Cody, Jesse, Quinlan, Padmé, and Satine are all recent graduates. Ahsoka, Aayla, Fives, Echo, Tup, Dogma, and Hardcase are still in conservatory (at varying years of course). Kix and Bo are entering med school/frantically applying and banging their heads cuz MCATs. Wolffe and Gregor are older and have been in the field for quite some time now. Plo, Kit, Shaak, and Mace are all faculty/seasoned professionals.

Somehow, I was gonna bring in The Skiratas (with proper research cuz I know very little about them), Dooku, Ventress, the Oppress siblings, rest of Domino Squad, Cut Lawquene, the other CCs, and more. I designated a page out of my sketchbook for this and my oh my the flow chart was hella confusing. How I thought I was gonna handle that in the summer before my first year of college, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll brainstorm more in the future but for now, this is all I have :]]]

Also excuse some of my slightly unhinged language I started writing this a few days ago while slightly unfocused and tired and stressed so my language is a product of that

[stuonsongs]

My Top 10 Favorite Songs of All Time - 2006 Edition

2021 Editor’s Note: I was looking through some old files and found this thing that I wrote sometime in the summer of 2006 at age 22. For all I know, it could’ve been 15 years to the day! Looking back, I’m not sure how many of these songs would still make my top 10. Don’t get me wrong, I still love all of these tunes, but I’m sure you know how it goes - You get older, you get exposed to more things, and your idea of good music expands. Anyway, I thought it might be nice to share with anyone who still uses this site. I present it in its original format without edits to my writing. I ended up writing full posts in this blog about some of these songs if you go through the archive. 

Stu’s Top 10 Favorite Songs…Ever

Let’s start with some honorable mentions. These were so close, and I thought about it for so long, but they had to be left off.

Honorable Mentions

All Summer Long – The Beach Boys

All Summer Long. 1964. Capitol

This song has been described so many times as being “the perfect summer song.” When you listen to it, you can’t help but smile from the opening marimba intro, all the way through. It just screams “summer” and it hurt me to leave The Beach Boys off my top 10.

Bleed American – Jimmy Eat World

Bleed American. 2001. Grand Royal

So full of energy, so rocking, and so what would’ve been the most recent song on my list. I wanted to keep it in the top 10 just so I could have a song from the ‘00s, but it wasn’t meant to be. When the chorus kicks in, I can’t help but headbang.

Marie – Randy Newman

Good Old Boys. 1974. Reprise

Randy has said that a lot of young composers pick “Marie” as their favorite Newman song, and I can see why. The idea of a guy having to be drunk to tell his wife that he loves her is pretty funny, and throughout the whole song it’s just the beautiful melody with tons of strings, all to a tune about a guy ripping on himself as he comes home drunk to his wife.

Does He Love You? – Rilo Kiley

More Adventurous. 2004. Brute/Beaute

I guess this is newer than Bleed American, so it would’ve worked too. This is another more recent song that it killed me to leave off the list. The outro is an arrangement of the main tune with a different chord progression performed by a string quartet. Very beautiful. Also when Jenny Lewis screams “Your husband will never leave you, he will never leave you for me,” I get chills every time.

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

So here it is. After a long day’s work, I’m finally finished. It actually turned out much different than I was thinking when I first started. The number one wasn’t really even in my top five when I started, but I slowly realized I loved it so much. I also left Ben Folds (Five) off this list completely, and I don’t know, I just feel the whole catalogue of Ben is so solid, none of the songs stick out to me that much. But anyways, here it is! After the break of course…

Stu’s Top 10

10.

(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave – Martha and the Vandellas

Heat Wave. 1963. Motown.

This one beat out “Bleed American” just barely. The reason being that somehow, despite being nearly 40 years older than Bleed American, it still has so much energy that it kills. Dan Bukvich once told our Jazz Arranging class that you can boil all the oldies you hear on the radio down to three categories: 1) Great Song. 2) Great Performance. 3) Great Arrangement. This song is one of the great performances. The handclaps throughout, combined with the driving baritone sax behind everything and constant snare drum action will keep anybody with blood running through their veins dancing all night long.

9.

Bodhisattva – Steely Dan

Countdown to Ecstasy. 1973. MCA

This song is my Freebird. It’s just a basic blues progression song at its core with some minor changes at the end of the form. The real kicker that drives this song home is the three minute guitar solo in the middle that isn’t nearly as rocking as Freebird, but it is highly proficient and takes me to places that just make me want to play the song over and over again. I have no idea what this song is about, probably Buddhism, but hey, this once again proves that lyrics rarely matter and the music itself is the core.

8.

Zanzibar – Billy Joel

52nd Street. 1978. Columbia

This song reminds me of long car rides on vacations down the west coast with my parents growing up. They used to play a tape of 52nd Street, or at least their favorite selections, constantly on these trips. I didn’t hear this song again until early in my senior year in college and remembered why I loved it so much. The song has a heavy jazz influence, displayed in the breakdown where Jazz trumpeter Freddie Hubbard does a solo. The best part of this song though is at the end of the 4th line of each verse, Billy does this “Woah oh oh!” thing that just makes me want to sing every time. It was between this and “Miami 2017 (Lights Go Out On Broadway)” which is also a great song, but the “Woah oh oh!” is too much for ol’ Stu boy.

7.

Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) – Bruce Springsteen

The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. 1973. Columbia

Early Bruce Springsteen records have something that very few other artists can ever pull off without sounding cheesy or forced. It has this undeniable sense of urgency, like the world will fall apart and life will crumble through your fingers if this one moment in time doesn’t work out the way Bruce describes it. There are so many early Springsteen songs that just set a scene of “We have to get out of this town right now girl before it kills us, no matter what any of our parents, friends, anybody has to say.” There’s a line that kinda sums it up: “Well hold on tight, stay up all night ‘cause Rosie I’m comin’ on strong. By the time we meet the morning light, I will hold you in my arms. I know a pretty little place in southern California down San Diego way. There’s a little café where they play guitars all night and all day. You can hear ‘em in the back room strummin’, so hold tight baby ‘cause don’t you know daddy’s comin’.”

6.

I’ve Got You Under My Skin – Frank Sinatra

Songs For Swingin’ Lovers! 1956. Capitol

This song falls into the category of great arrangement. This Cole Porter classic tune was arranged for Sinatra by Nelson Riddle. The story goes that he was still copying down parts for the players while riding in the cab to the recording studio on the day of recording. After the players ran through it once with Frank, they stood up and applauded. The Baritone sax takes control here, outlining a Db6/9 chord throughout the intro. Of course, Frank’s vocal delivery is spot on and goes up and down in all the right places for the biggest emotion impact. It’s amazing how a song with no real chorus can be so good.

5.

A Change Is Gonna Come – Sam Cooke

Ain’t That Good News. 1964. RCA Victor

This song was not even going to be on this list, but then I ran across it while scouring my collection of music and remembered how good it was. Then I listened to it and was blown away by the level of detail that went into this arrangement. Sam’s vocals soar above the mind blowingly beautiful arrangement. The lyrics to this one actually add to the tune itself, speaking of wrongdoings in the world around him, and how social change is on its way in the form of the civil rights movement. The song flows with such ease out of Cooke that one might forget the weightiness of the content, but the song’s content is just so heavy that it’s impossible to deny it.

4.

Whatever – Oasis

Whatever EP. 1994. Creation

This song was released as a Christmas present to the U.K. from the Gallagher brothers and company. It never appeared on any full album, only being released as a single, and amazingly, it blows away anything else they’ve ever done. Think “All You Need Is Love,” but with tons of rocking energy and a snide, nonchalant attitude. The chorus speaks, “I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I choose and I’ll sing the blues if I want. I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I like, if it’s wrong or right, it’s alright.” Not exactly poetry, and the song isn’t exactly breaking any new ground either, but the song is absolutely perfect in every way, and it was going to be my #1, but perhaps the only reason it’s not at number one is because I’ve played this song so many times that at the moment, these next three are beating it, but who knows how I’ll feel in a few months. This song also pulls the same “outro performed by a string quartet” thing as “Does He Love You?” but even better. It’s so simple, but I can’t get enough of it.

3.

Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra

Out of the Blue. 1977. Jet

This is obviously the best Beatles song that the Beatles never wrote. The staccato guitar during the verse combined with the strings present in just about every ELO song combine to make a force that is undeniably catchy and musically challenging at the same time. This is really what makes ELO so good. I didn’t discover this song till probably Nov. 2005, and it was one of the best days of my life. I didn’t want to include two songs by the same artist in my top 10, but if I did, I probably would’ve added “Turn To Stone” on this list too because it is almost as awesome as this one. It’s a shame that just like Billy Joel, most critics at the time hated ELO for being overly creative musically (they called it pretentiousness). These days we have acts that really are pretentious (see Radiohead), but everyone loves them, even critics. I’m not knocking all Radiohead, just most everything post OK Computer. Sorry, got a little sidetracked there.

2.

Only In Dreams – Weezer

Weezer. 1994. Geffen

This has been my favorite Weezer song since about a month into me picking up Weezer’s debut album back around early 2000. It has this ostinato (a repeated motif over and over again) in the bass throughout most of the whole song, never even really resolving to the Gb major chord (excluding chorus, which never really resolves) that it wants to until the end of a 3 minute contrapuntal guitar duet when everything dies out except the bass which just retards on its own until it finally plays the single Gb we’ve all been waiting for. The song on the whole up until the guitar duet is pretty tame, but once those contrapuntal guitar lines start intertwining, my ears perk up every time. I can sing both lines at separate times upon request and when the drums finally kick back in fully at the climax of the song, I let out a sigh of relief or bang on my car wheel in exultant joy, whichever is more of an option at the time.

1.

All Is Forgiven – Jellyfish

Spilt Milk. 1993. Charisma

I always loved this song from the first time I heard it, but I didn’t realize how much I loved it until maybe April 2006. I found out about Jellyfish first semester of college in the Fall of ’02 and heard this song, and knew it was great. The constant tom-tom driven drums, the fuzzy, almost white noise distorted guitar, and the half time bass throughout. It was great. Then in April I put it on my mp3 player for the walk to school, and then I listened to it for about two weeks straight. Seriously. It runs into the next song entitled “Russian Hill” which is almost as good, but because it’s a separate song, I couldn’t include it on the list, but in my mind, they always run together and are basically one long 9 minute song. The ending just gets more and more white noise filled until you can barely take it anymore and then it just cuts off completely into the slow acoustic intro for Russian Hill. It’s perfect in every way. I think this would fall into the category of great song. And the way the song builds up right to the middle of the song and then cuts out completely except for some very VERY faint xylophone noodling, and then busts back in with some feedback directly into guitar solo. Man I love this song.

[writingchalamet]

In The Hills part II

A/N: hello I’m so sorry this has taken so long to write I’ve had a lot on my plate the last few weeks, I’ve sadly had a death in the family and have been over run at work so have only been writing in my spare time (which isn’t a lot) I’d just like to say thank you to everyone who has taken time to read my work, and followed me it’s the one thing putting a smile on my face at the moment. Thank you I hope you enjoy, let me know if you want part 3. 💖

Part I

Weeks had past and Timothée had made it his mission to see you as often as possible. He’d meet you outside the dress makers shop and take you for strolls in the meadows, or coming and reading to your sisters. He’d planted himself firmly in your families life in the few weeks you’d known him. Today was no different, the sun hung high over the village, blades of grass from the hills almost glittering in the light. Timothée had asked if he could take you into town, there was a book store he had mentioned, and he wanted to introduce you to his sister.

You were nervous to say the least. You had heard plenty of his family and their views on the lower class but he assured you his sister would be more than accepting. This eased your nerves slightly but you couldn’t help the unease of the day ahead. 

Adorned in a black corseted button down dress, you tied the top half of your hair away from your face with a matching black ribbon, small curls framing your face. You step into the kitchenette area, your heals clicking against the concrete floor. A short gasp fell from your mothers lips. She rushed over to you puffing out your sleeves a tad more, brushing down the front of your dress. You let out a laugh at her motherly tenderness stepping away from her grabby hands. “You look lovely dear, I would wear a different colour however, black makes you look ever so pale” you rolled your eyes. 

“I believe it suits her well” You hear from the doorway, there he stood in all his glory, a sister either side of him clutching at his legs. They look up at him wide eyed then back to you. “Thank you Timothée” you wrap your arms around your mother pecking a kiss on her cheek before trotting towards Tim. 

His arm extends towards you, pulling you into a hug, his lips meet your cheek for a brief moment before remembering the children bellow staring up in awe. “well goodbye!” You wave your hand practically pulling Timothée out the door. A manned horse and carriage stood at the end of the front garden. Timothée took your hand and helped you inside the carriage, stepping in afterwards the coachman closing the door behind.

 The dirt from the road flicked up from the wheels of the carriage, passing through each of the villages. Soon stopping in a more built up area, you look out of the window seeing the socialites wandering round the streets, their gowns swaying with each step they took.  There was a warm buzz in the air, the confirmation that spring had arrived, ladies carrying parasols to protect them from the suns cool and pleasant rays. The carriage came to a halt, Timothée gaining your attention again as he looked your way. You stare into his swirling green orbs for just a moment, before the carriage door is ripped open revealing a stream of sun light into the carriage. 

You shuffle over towards the door, allowing the coachman to aid you down, Timothée following, your head spinning round at the frenzied movement of the town. You could practically smell the opulence of the men in top hats and their overly perfumed ladies walked along beside them. Your eyes widened in child like manner, you had never experienced anything like this before. 

“Well shall we go and have a look around before my dear sister comes to join us?” His smile never fading for a second while he spoke. His hand slipped into yours, fingers running over your knuckles. You nodded your head eagerly, allowing him to lead the way. You wandered through the busy streets, fascinated by the colours and the atmosphere, the town hosted many stores and tea rooms, along with the beautiful scenery of the flowers and blossoming trees, the sun beating down on you, you feel your skin start to glisten. 

“Y/n this is the bookstore I was telling you about” Your eyes set themselves on a small dark wooded store, a with a gold hand painted sign hung above the door, Timothée gives your arm a slight nudge a soft giggle falling from his lips. “let’s go inside” proceeding into the building you take in a sharp breath at the sight of the array of books collected. Cabinets standing ceiling high stacked to the brim with books. The architecture of the building its self was beautiful, gorgeous oak wood filled the shop, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and the broad windows allowed the sunlight to flow right in. 

“I’d like for you to pick out some books to take home Y/n” your head spun to him, a gracious and humble look lay on his face. “How do you expect me to pick anything when there are so many beautiful books here Mr Chalamet?” You teased him squeezing his hand slightly before letting go beginning your search. Timothée made idle conversation with the bookstore keeper. You ran your finger along the top of the books stopping at one, you slide the book out of the cabinet and inspect it further. You distantly hear the door opening and closing but remain too engrossed in the detailing of the book cover to care to much. 

“Vanity Fair, now that is an interesting book”You jumped almost dropping your book before clutching it to your chest looking towards the stranger. “Pardon Sir you startled me” nodding your head He wore darker features, hair neatly brushed away from his face, deep brown eyes, you could tell his clothes were expensive, it was the odd combination of colour that intrigued you, he wore a white shirt with a maroon coloured waistcoat embroidered in black and gold flowers. His neck scarf was gold and he finished the look with black tapered trousers and an overcoat. You had never seen a man dress quite so flamboyantly, it was more the women that wore the brightly coloured heavily laced garments but you thought he was an interesting character.

“No the fault lies with me miss, have you ever read that before?” nodding his head towards the book in your hand which you had almost forgotten about. “No I haven’t sir, is it any good?” drawing your eyes away from it to meet his eyeline again. “It’s fantastic, quite enjoyable” You jump slightly when you felt the contact of Timothée’s arm snaring its way around your waist. A tingle erupted in your stomach at the feeling of his hands holding you somewhere other than your arm, a blush crept up your face making you feel hot.

“Harold Alderidge, how are you?” the words seething as they passed his tongue. His grip became a little tighter on you as ‘Harold’ took a step closer to the both of you. “Timothée my boy, I’m well, didn’t you hear the news, I’m set to inherit the Clifton manor come my uncles death, shouldn’t be long now the poor bastard, I’ll be one of the wealthiest men in the country.” The arrogance rung in his voice “What’s your name little dove” He turned to you, raising a finger under your chin, you snap your head away, recoiling more into Timothée’s side.

“This is Miss Y/n L/n” Harold let out a hum eyes looking to ceiling a brief moment. “L/n, hmm, don’t tell me you’re running around with commoners now Chalamet?” He let out a scoff “Although I can see why the fascination, she is a beauty” eyeballing you up and down. Thankfully not for too long, Timothée let out a huff, pulling you towards the door with him, you didn’t give him a second glance hearing a sarcastic “It was a pleasure-” before the door slammed cutting him off.

Stepping outside into the sun again Timothée let out a sigh of relief, facing towards you, his hands raised to your cheeks, making sure your attention was fully on him, you couldn’t help the blush from once again rushing to your cheeks “Are you okay, my love” his worried eyes searched yours for any concern. You lifted your hands to meet his, laughing “I’m more than alright, Timothée, you need not worry about me so much” Your words soothing him, you took his hands from your face linking your fingers with his. Fingers tightening their grip on yours. You felt is breath on your face, your own hitching in your throat. His eyes staggering between yours and your lips. he drops his head his lips meeting yours for the first time. They were soft and plump, you hadn’t felt anything like it before. Your hands raised to his face stroking his cheeks, to deepen the kiss. His arms entangled themselves around your waist, pulling you towards him.

He placed several kisses on you before pulling away. A nervous smile on his face, “I apologise I couldn’t help my feelings” you leaned forwards placing another delicate kiss on his lips. “I couldn’t help mine either”

The tea room was filled with nothing short of luxury furnishings, flowers sitting in vases on every table and every window bay possible, chandeliers filling the room. You observed the people and their mannerisms attempting to take notes in your slightly scrambled brain before his sisters arrival. Just their subtle nuances of how they pick up a tea cup or eat a piece of cake, there seemed to be so much mechanical movement involved almost.

You sat at a table by a big open bay window, lace table cloths and doilies filled the table along with floral printed china. Timothée sat waiting patiently looking around the room, while you adapted a new nervous tick of some sort, your leg hadn’t stopped shaking since you had sat down. Timothée takes your hand in his giving it a gentle squeeze before rising from his chair, causing a scraping sound across the floorboards. “There she is” standing now with his arms open and a large grin across his face to greet his sister.

You stood as well, nodding your head to her with a shy smile on your cheeks. “Pauline it’s so good to see you!” She embraces him in warm hug. You noticed the family resemblance immediately, they shared the same facial bone structure, eyes, mouth shape and smile even. She was beautiful just like her brother. “It is so lovely to finally make your acquaintance, I am Pauline” she offers her hand to you, you can sense her kind nature and graciously take her hand dropping into a somewhat curtsy. “Lovely to meet you, I’m Y/n” she took your hand a little tighter, pulling you up from your bowed position.

“Now let’s sit” perching on one of the floral cushioned seats, Timothée took a seat beside you taking your hand in his. His feelings for you were undeniable to his sister, a soft smile planted on her face. “Being in love agrees with you Timothée, I don’t think i have ever seen you this happy, not in a long time at least”

You felt a warm rush come across your face at the mention of Timothée being in love with you. His hand tightened around yours for a moment. “What can I say, she is rather spectacular” A single curl fell from its brushed back position down onto his face, you lifted your fingers gently moving the strand behind his ear. Your heart swelled as your eyes met his, Timothée giving you a look of endearment.

“Do mother and father know?” A question you had been dying to know the answer to for weeks. You noticed Pauline’s head drop slightly, an obvious awkwardness lingered in the air. “Yes, they’ve heard whispers as such, it’s fair to say they aren’t too contented with the news but when have they ever been happy with the decisions we’ve made?” She giggled.

“They are trying to marry me off to Andrew Vanderson” A defeated sigh falls from her parted lips, you notince her sinking into herself. “The Lord!” You couldn’t help the high pitched tone in your voice, this new high society life was something you’d have to get accustomed to. The room fell silent for a second and people turned they’re heads slightly to gaze upon your table.

“As if they didn’t have enough money on their own they need Andrew Vanderson and his fortune to keep the family going” her eyes roll almost to the back of her head displaying her annoyance at the situation. “Defy them, come and stay with me at the cottage, let us cause a little chaos!” Timothée slams his hands on the table causing the cutlery to shake and a loud bang to erupt in the air. Pauline laughs shaking her head at her brothers boisterous behaviour.

“It is easy enough for a man to run away from his problems, you can go out into this world and pave your own path, it’s not so easy for woman, we must rely on others for financial support. Father has promised that if I don’t marry Andrew Vanderson I will lose my dowery, who will want to marry me then, I’ll be penniless.” She stropped her eyes were expressionless for a moment before realising what she had said.

“Y/n I didn’t mean t-“ you interrupted “if you’ll excuse me for one moment” clearing your throat you stood up from your chair, walking through the tea room for the door, your heals scraped along the floorboards barely picking your feet up as you walked. You reached the outside of the tea room and took a deep breath.

You knew she meant no harm but her words were a real kick in the teeth. You yourself held no dowery and had little money to your name, we’re you really, as she put it, unworthy of love or marriage. You’d hoped that Timithée didn’t share the same shallow views, your feelings for him were intense with no signs of slowing down but if he had no intentions to progress any further with you was there any point. It wasn’t long before you felt Timothée’s breath on the back of your neck. Letting out a sigh you turn around to face him.

“She didn’t know what she was saying” He explains his hands raising slightly in the air. “Please don’t make excuses for people Timothée it’s just something I’m going to have to get used to. If I’m going to be apart of your world I need to be accustomed to adversity, I just wasn’t expecting it that’s all” Timothée takes your hand and raises to his lips gently pressing a kiss to your knuckles, putting the faintest bit of a smile on your face.

“Would you care to come back to the cottage with me?” You sucked in a large breath nodding your head. You had never been out with Timothée for this long, your outtings usually only lasted an hour or so before he insisted on bringing you home to your father, he was a very punctual man. You heard Timothée whistle for his carriage, you took one last look at the picturesque scene before you, at the pinks in the blossom trees, and tall building and all the ladies in their feathered hats and satin gloves. Your parents had always spoken poorly of the rich and their fruitful lifestyle, but you felt it was something you could get accustomed with.

You were waiting in Timothée’s living room for him while he made yet another cup of tea. You could tell something was on his mind, as soon as you got home there was a letter written in cursive addressed to him. He read the letter going over every detail about 3 times before he started angrily murmuring to himself and pacing around the house.

He walks through the door placing the tea cups down, Marian following behind him with a tea tray and all the utensils. “Thank you Marian, that will be all” he dismisses her, she nods her head turning to give you a pleasant smile befor she stalks out of the room. It was silent apart from the sound of tea being poured and the distant clutter of whatever Marian was up to in the kitchen.

“Timothée what is wrong my dear?” You ask careful not to press too hard, hoping he’ll open up on his own. “Nothing just a letter, that’s all nothing to worry about” he rambles, his hands fumbling with themselves his breathing was rigid, you could tell he was still bothered by whatever it was he saw on that piece of paper. “Please Timothée you know you can tell me and not face judgement?” You tilt your head to the side your expression softened as if to coax it out of him.

With shaky hands he hands you the letter, his eyebrows furrowed his fingers wrap around your wrist before you can read the letter, your eyes meet his and you notice his mood change “please don’t take anything they say to heart, just know that they are ignorant people who don’t care for other people’s happiness” Your heart dropped as he spoke those words wondering who the the mysterious letter was from. Your eyes scanned over the paper a few times, tears slowly filling your eyes.

The details were too much to bare after the afternoon you’d had. The words ‘disgusted by your behaviour’ and ‘the thought of our good, hard working son settling with street scum fills us with abhorrence” the letter was filled with more abuse following those lines, speaking ill of your family and you yourself. The letter was signed by Timothée’s father, the stabbing pain in your chest only worsened after reading the name. You didn’t know what you had done to deserve such hatred towards you, your eyes welled up, dropping the letter you practically leaped out of the house.

Timothée sprinted behind you not talking him long to catch up. “Y/n please...please listen to me if I could just have one more moment of your time” he took your delicate wrists into his strong hands, scared to grip them any tighter. “Am I really so repulsive, do you my family not work as hard as yours if not harder? While your father sits in his mansion drinking whiskey and playing poker my father is out working trying to feed his family. Yet we’re the scum. How dare he!” Your voice screaches almost the hot tears roll down your face.

“I think I should invite them over and have them meet you” you interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “Are you insane? Or do you think I’m insane that I would allow myself to be subjected to their abuse for an entire afternoon.” You shook your head taking your hands out of Timothée’s, you begin to walk away before he pulls you back to his chest, before you have time to protest his hand raises up to bring your face close to his. He closes the gap before you have time to react.

His lips smash into yours taking you by suprise, you pucker your lips meeting his rhythm, his jaw relaxes slightly after realising you were reciprocating his invite, you lifted your hands up to caress the sides of his face, one of them reaching round to the back of his neck playing with his curls. His own hands dropping from your face to take a grip on your waist .

Your lips part feeling his making their loving assault on yours. He pulled away slightly placing a few more pecks on your lips then finally pulling away. “I want to introduce my parents to the woman I wish to marry one day, I do not care for their blessing, I simply want them to see how beautiful and intelligent you are, if after meeting you they still share the same bigoted views, I’ll tell them I never want to hear from them again. Not if they can’t accept the woman I love” the words rang heavy in your ears. Especially the last sentence, he loved you. Timothée had admitted his feelings for you so blatantly and all you could do was stare back at him in awe, the words caught in the back of your throat.

I love you.

[sassypandacandy]

Candied Larkspur

Sooner or later, everyone comes to make a bargain.

The pre-law students are the hardest sell. They've read the fine print; they know the questions to ask, the verbal pitfalls to leap. They're her favorite ones to trick.

The English majors either come to her wary, or with stars in their eyes. The wary ones know there'll be a price to pay, one greater than her candied words promise. The starry-eyed ones would have been the first to eat from her table in the old stories.

Easiest of all are the scientists and mathematicians. They don't believe in her anyway.

She sits for one hour – no more, no less – at the table by the window, so the afternoon sunlight can fall on her pale topaz hair. She reads romance novels, or technical manuals, or outdated botanical guidebooks. The only other items on the table are a yellow legal pad, a blue pen, and a coffee cup filled with more cream than coffee.

These are the rules: You must bring a gift. When you have reached an agreement, you must sign your name on the legal pad. Then you must leave and never speak of your bargain again.

The first one today is a girl with curly hair pinned back by a thick butterfly clip. She has wet eyes and a sincere smile. There's a bottle of cheap moscato in one nail-bitten hand and a pack of Zebra cakes in the other. She loses her nerve halfway to the table and instead makes a beeline for me.

“Can I help you find something?” I ask, offering her my gentlest smile.

She clears her throat. “No, it's stupid.” She glances over at the table by the window, brow puckering. “She isn't...real, right? Like, she's not really---”

“That depends on you.” I can feel the heated brush of her gaze. Whatever I do, I mustn't look over. “How much you believe. How desperate you are.”

“So you know?” the girl asks.

I almost laugh. “Too much, and too late. If you're going to go through with it, tread carefully. Negotiate. Ask questions.” I lean in closer. “And above all else, remember: She is not your friend.”

The girl swallows and clutches her offerings closer. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Satisfaction stirs within me, a lazy cat stretching out in the sun. “That's very wise of you.”

“But I still need help.”

“And you can have it,” I say, nodding in her direction. “But there's a cost, and it's not always worth it.”

The girl half-turns away before glancing back at me. “You must've seen a lot of people get suckered.”

“Honestly? I've lost count.”

“But she doesn't hurt you? Even when you warn people?”

“We have an understanding.” I shrug. “And people rarely listen to me anyway.”

The next one is a boy a little older, with tall hair and a golden smile. He does not even look at me; like the rest of his kind, he goes straight for what he wants. He drops a dark, understated bottle on the table in front of her and crosses his arms.

“I need to pass my English final next week.” His voice grates even from across the library.

She does not turn her head. Slim fingers play with the pressed larkspur pendant around her neck. In the right light and to the right eyes, her nails are clearly talons. “And what will you give me?”

I silently beg him not to say the words, but of course he does. “Anything you want.” To him, this promise is meaningless. Or rather, it has a very specific meaning: Whatever his money can buy her. But of course, that's not the way this is going to go.

“I want an hour of your day,” she says.

He shifts in place. Something has changed, although he won't listen when his instincts tell him so. “What does that mean?”

“My price is an hour of wakefulness, to be taken at my liking.”

“Deal,” he says, and I close my eyes. He will be one of the bad ones.

Paper rips. She has taken a sheet from her yellow legal pad and written out the terms. Only now, as he signs his name with three flourishes, does she look him in the eye. Will he notice the odd purple-blue shade of hers? Doubtful. “It is done.”

“Whatever, weirdo,” he says, tossing the pen down. He swaggers out of the library, confident in every step of the easy road ahead. The paper has already disappeared from her hands.

The third and final one comes as the sun is reaching its golden hour. She has a bottle of Bailey's and a small notebook that she clutches to her chest like a shield. “May I sit?” the girl asks. “Or is that rude?”

“You may do as you like,” she says, again without turning her head.

The girl sets the bottle down gently in the middle of the table and sits. The dying light catches on her earrings, silver woven in the shape of trees.

She turns her head now, attention caught. “Those are beautiful.”

“These?” The girl touches the earrings and smiles. “Thank---I mean, I'm glad you like them.”

She tilts her head. “How can I help you?”

“My mom's cancer came back last month. She just beat it in March, and her doctor doesn't think her chances are good.” Tears well up in the girl's eyes. “She can't do it again. I'd like you to heal her and make sure the cancer never comes back, in any way.”

“A classic request,” she says. “The price is a kiss.”

The girl draws back, her face considering. “Not that it wouldn't be the highest honor, but do I have to kiss you?”

“You may, although you are right to be wary of such a thing,” she replies. “The kiss may be with whomever you like, although it would satisfy me all the more if it were with a stranger.”

“Is there a time limit?”

“Before the new year.”

“Which new year?”

The edge of a pleased smile appears on her perfect face. “The Western New Year will do. But the sooner you fulfill your part, the sooner I will fulfill mine.”

The girl checks her notebook. “Are there any other requirements or limitations like location or duration?”

At this, she laughs. It is the soft summer breeze and the baying of midnight hounds. “There are not.”

“Will anything bad happen to me or my mother as a result?”

“That, I cannot say. Life is full of bad things. But none of them will happen to you as a consequence of this day.” That smile reappears, and she toys with her pendant. “In fact, I am hoping for something rather good. The world needs more bold acts.”

Nodding firmly, the girl says, “Then we have a deal.”

She writes out the terms, including everything they have discussed. I cheer silently for the girl; this is the best bargain I have seen in a long time.

If only we could all be saved by our wits and a little silver jewelry.

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

It is the final day before winter break, and therefore the final day for making bargains. There is always a line to reach her table this time of year, as desperation rises and whispers abound. She is the university's worst-kept secret.

The girl with the butterfly clip has come by every day. She stops by my desk to talk before settling in to study. She talks about her break-up, how sometimes the lovesick ache in her heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and all she wants is to be able to breathe freely. I never mention the way her backpack pulls to one side with the weight of a wine bottle, or how the seat she chooses always manages to face the windows.

I hate to admit I'm becoming fond of her.

The peace of the library is shattered by a slamming door. The boy who made the poor bargain last week storms in, his hair in disarray and his swagger gone. He slams his bag on the table across from her, causing another student to jump back.

“Bitch,” he screeches. “You made me sleep through my business final!”

She has not moved a muscle. “The price was an hour of your life. You signed the contract.”

“I needed that class to graduate!” he rages, sweeping his backpack off the table.

“Then you should have been more careful with your promises.”

The students' whispers are growing louder. A security guard arrives, though none was called. He is just in time to hear the boy threaten to kill her for this. The boy is dragged out, purple-faced and still screaming.

I calm the students as best I can. It's finals week, and someone always goes a little crazy. Eventually they laugh it off. But they don't know what I know: The boy will follow her tonight, looking for his revenge, and he will see things he was not meant to see. It will be all the reason she needs. They will find his body in the first spring thaw.

The girl with the butterfly clip stops by my desk to say goodbye. She has a family to see, and a bottle of wine to drink. She thanks me for my advice. I thank her for listening.

Finally, the library is empty but for the two of us. “A bountiful season,” she remarks, standing. The table in front of her is empty.

“It was, my lady.” I turn off my computer and gather my meager things.

“There was one who never quite plucked up the courage,” she says. “She will taste all the sweeter when I snare her next year.”

I pause with my hand on the library door.

“They are only humans, Delphine,” she says. One hand curls over mine from behind, the talons brushing gently over my unchanging skin. “But if you would like to make a new bargain...”

Ice seizes my heart. “No.”

“No?” she croons. “But you have spent so many long centuries watching. Surely I could not trick you a second time.”

“No thank you, my lady,” I say again, opening the door with a harsh clang. I hold it for her, eyes downcast as she glides by only inches away. She smells of sugar and shade trees, like always.

In the old days I thought often of killing her, with cold iron or rowan staff or thorny bush. But my courage failed me every time, until I looked up one day and a decade had passed. And then another. And then another. In truth, I had barely noticed. There had been nothing and no one there to make me take notice. Not until a girl with a butterfly clip in her curly hair had reminded me that life was more than a slow march of days.

I stop the library door just before it can close. “My lady?”

She does not respond, but I feel the heat of her gaze. I hold the door open for her, and she walks back into the library. She takes her seat and picks up the yellow legal pad from where it is waiting. I take the second seat. The last embers of the day land on her face, painting her eyes crimson.

“Why this one?” she asks.

I know the answer without thinking. “Because she makes me feel brave. And she deserves to have a heart free from hurt.”

Her eyes glitter. There can be no greater thrill than tricking one who knows all your tricks. “Now then. What will you give me?”

She was right before; they are only humans. And there will always be someone else willing to make a bargain. But if I have learned any lesson in all these years, it is this: Some things are worth the cost.

[pamphletstoinspire]

The Devil Wants a Civil War

“A house divided against itself cannot stand,” asserted Abraham Lincoln during his acceptance speech for the Illinois Republican nomination to the U.S. Senate in 1858. Three years later Lincoln would be sworn in as President of the United States and would be leading his country through the American Civil War. Of course, Lincoln did not come up with those famous words from his House Divided Speech on his own. He borrowed them from Christ, who explained in Matthew 12:25, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste, and no town or house divided against itself will stand.” This wisdom from Our Lord is crucial in understanding that division s one of the main battle strategies of the devil. Satan always seeks to divide us.

Christ, on the other hand, wants to unite us. In His High Priestly Prayer in John 17, Our Lord prayed “not only for [the Twelve], but also for those who believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you Father are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me. And I have given them the glory you sent me, so that they may be one as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me.”

The devil wants civil war. He seeks to divide because he wants to destroy. Christ seeks to unite because he wants to glorify and perfect. Destruction or glory—this is the choice the Church, the nation, and the world face. On the surface it would appear to be a simple choice, a no-brainer. But consistently throughout history humanity has chosen the devil’s path to division and destruction rather than the way of unity and glory through Christ. And the same continues to happen today.

To defend ourselves against the wickedness and snares of the devil, it is helpful to understand his tactics. The devil “is a liar, and the father of lies.” He will tell us whatever he needs to in order to wreak havoc in our lives and send us on a path to destruction. In his excellent book Spiritual Warfare and the Discernment of Spirits, author Dan Burke explains, “The bad spirits cause desolation and lead us to the world, the flesh, the devil, selfishness, and ultimately hell. These spirits only seek to do us harm.” The devil will use our selfish and wicked desires, our addictions, our fears, our vanity, and our pride to destroy us. Unlike the devil and his bad spirits, the Lord’s good spirits “cause consolation and seek to lead us to God, to the Good, to selflessness, to union with God, and ultimately to heaven. These spirits are dispatched by God and only seek our good.”

The devil has successfully used these tactics for millennia. He played both sides during what is commonly known as the Protestant Reformation. He turned leaders of the Catholic Church toward their own carnal desires and away from God, causing corruption and wickedness. Then he fed on the pride and vainglory of the “reformers,” and the princes and kings who supported them, convincing them to abandon the Church to form thousands of their own independent congregations, instead of working on real reform from the inside. This division of the Church led to bloody wars between Protestants and Catholics that lasted all the way into my lifetime.

The devil has done this again and again, dividing the Church, dividing nations, and dividing the world so that we will destroy each other. It is easy to spot the devil at work in the world because of the fruit he brings forth. As Our Lord tells us, “You will know them by their fruits… every good tree bears good fruits, but the bad tree bears bad fruit.” The devil brings forth the bad fruits of division and destruction. And he is doing it again right now.

The devil’s destructive forces have taken many forms over the millennia, but one of his most successful and deadly in modern times is Marxism. Marxists seek to tear down and destroy. Marxists hate the world and its Creator. They believe that they are morally superior to God Himself and can do a much better job at building a just society. But before they can do that they must destroy the old society. That means they must destroy what Mao and his Red Guards called the Four Olds: Old Customs, Old Culture, Old Habits, and Old Ideas. Thus, things like the Church and the Constitution must be obliterated.

Like their father, the devil, the Marxists destroy by sowing division. They divide based on class, age, gender, race, and sexual desires. They turn people against each other using the deadly sins of greed, envy, wrath, and pride. Then they burn everything to the ground. The entire system must be destroyed completely and utterly. The Old Customs, Old Culture, Old Habits, and Old Ideas are blamed for all the evils of mankind and therefore anyone who still holds to them is evil as well. These evil people who adhere to the Four Olds find their property stolen or destroyed, their reputations sullied, their families persecuted, and themselves either executed or sent off to the gulag or work camps where they are tortured for years, sometimes until the day they die.

Many of the well-meaning followers of Marxist ideologies (including a large number of Christians) believe that after the old, evil system is destroyed that a new and just system will be erected in its place—the perfect Communist society. But this never happens, because the devil cannot build; he can only destroy. There is not a single example of a successful Marxist revolution being followed by the establishment of the Communist ideals. Without exception, every Marxist revolution has been followed by terror, oppression, and mass death due to famine or execution or both. In the 20th century alone, Marxists killed approximately 100 million people. And the devil danced.

The devil is using the Marxists again, this time to destroy the Church and America. Through the propaganda of his servants, he is dividing us in any and every way he can. Like their father the devil, the modern Marxists lie to achieve destruction. They have even convinced some of the faithful that sins aren’t sinful, that it doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you are sincere, that God cares only that we are happy, that objective truth does not exist, and that we can define our own truth. All too often they are even able to convince people that God does not exist at all, and in the words of famed atheist Bertrand Russell, “the Christian religion, as organized in its churches, has been and still is the principal enemy of moral progress in the world.”

The Marxists have also convinced large numbers of Americans of destructive lies. These include the absurd lie that police hunt black men for sport, that all white people are racist, and that the entire American system is racist and is rigged against black people. Through their lies the Marxists have convinced a depressingly large number of young black people that no matter how hard they work, they will have little chance to succeed due to white privilege and systemic racism. The Marxists tell us that we are better off without police, that we are better off without a strong family structure, and that we are better off without God. Then they riot and burn cities, all while continuing to lie by asserting that it isn’t happening and that everything is peaceful. If we continue along this path of division, the endgame is obvious—the devil wants civil war, and he is going to get it.

Is civil war unavoidable at this point? The Transition Integrity Project (“TIP”)—an organization made up of self-important people who really do not like President Trump—recently claimed to have “war-gamed” the likely fallout from the upcoming election. According to TIP, the only way to avoid a civil war, or at least massive civil unrest, is if former Vice President Joe Biden wins in a landslide. The Biden campaign is echoing that sentiment, with Biden himself asking, “Does anyone believe there will be less violence in America if Donald Trump is re-elected?”

But Joe Biden is not going to be the savior of America. Neither he nor Donald Trump can stop the devil’s plans for a civil war, because the true causes are not physical, but spiritual. Thus, only God can save us. Just as God told the Israelites, “If my people, upon whom my name has been pronounced, humble themselves and pray, and seek my presence and turn from their evil ways, I will hear them from heaven and pardon their sins and revive their land.” The way we can avoid the coming destruction is by turning to Christ. The devil divides, but Christ unites! The devil destroys, but Christ glorifies!

We are never completely abandoned by the Lord no matter how bad things get. He is always willing to demonstrate His inexhaustible love and mercy if we appeal to Him. This is a time to pray and fast, to mourn in sackcloth and ashes. We should organize novenas within our parishes to pray that the Lord God forgive the great sins of this nation, that He not remove His protective hand from us, and that He lead us all back to Him. We should be praying the Holy Rosary every day, with this or a similar intention. And we must demonstrate to our neighbors that Christ unites, by showing them love and respect and by being the light of the world that Our Lord wants us to be.

We can defeat the devil and his servants who are trying to destroy us if it be God’s will. If we turn to Him, He will work through His Church—through us—to defeat this great evil that threatens all of mankind. Just remember how the Lord worked through the Blessed Virgin to reveal to three shepherd children in Fatima instructions that would save the world from war and end the scourge of Communism in Russia. Following Our Lady’s instructions, Pope Saint John Paul II consecrated Russia to the Immaculate Heart of Mary in 1984. The Berlin Wall came down just five years later, followed by the collapse of the Soviet Union in the ensuing years. Even secularists who do not believe in the Fatima miracles admit the importance of the Church and the pope in bringing down European Communism.

The devil wins when we are divided. He loses when we unite ourselves in Christ. The time to do so is now before the devil gets his civil war.

BY: R. C. VANLANDINGHAM

[cloudphillips]

Two

"Excuse me!"

  A First year Ravenclaw taking a casual stroll along the halls of the Lower West Wing suddenly shrieked in surprise when she heard thunderous footsteps and felt the blast of the raging wind that knocked her off her feet. The books she'd been holding fell scattered on the floor and she was left dazed at the sight of gold and scarlet hurricane leaving destruction in its wake.

  "Coming through!"

The male Hufflepuff student dropped the pot of Mimbulus Mimbletonia from his grasp when he accidentally collided against a rampaging brick wall in the form of a Gryffindor student. He got sprayed by the plant's stinksap and was covered head to toe with its filth. It didn't take another second for him to fall unconscious because of the foul smell. "Run for your lives!" A Slytherin girl screamed at the top of her lungs, promptly alerting the students within the vicinity to scamper away and avoid the area like the plague if they didn't want to smell like dung for a month.

  Everything was in chaos ever since that hurricane of a Gryffindor came.

  "Bitch move!"

  Said hurricane took the form of Kim Yerim and she stopped her rampage along the corridors of Hogwarts when she stumbled upon a couple, a male Gryffindor snogging his girlfriend Ravenclaw, who completely blocked the entrance to the Great Hall. The audacity!

  Yerim didn't have time to tolerate this public display of affection and sheer disrespect, so she unceremoniously shoved them out of the way then barged into the Great Hall without caring if she would bump into someone or not. Judging by the shocked expressions she was getting from the rest of the student body, Yerim guessed that she must've looked like a possessed woman but her appearance was the least of her concerns as of the moment.

  For now, she needed to share the news to her friends. The news that currently circulated in Hogwarts rumor mill. The news that pulled her knickers in a twist and left her at her wits' end.

  The young Gryffindor scanned the hall in search of her friends and it didn't take her quite long to spot them huddled together at the far end of the table. Sooyoung looked positively bored as she mindlessly played with her food and gazed at the distance, Seulgi was gobbling down some chicken and mashed potatoes like a starved Threstral and Joohyun was absorbed reading the Daily Prophet.

  A frown slowly settled on her face when she noticed that their social circle was more subdued than usual. Maybe because there was the lack of mindless chatter. Seungwan, the one who usually initiates the conversation, was noticeably absent but Yerim shrugged off her concerns. That blonde nerd was probably out there doing dumb shit like trying to get initiated into a Centaur clan or reading fairytale stories to lonely ghosts.

  Either way, she wasn't worried that her Ravenclaw friend was in danger because if she was, Joohyun would be raving like a lunatic and she'd literally burn the wizarding world to the ground in order to find the culprit that hurt Seungwan. She'd even stare Death right in the face when the situation calls for it.

  Yerim crossed the hall with a few quick strides and upon reaching their group, slammed her hands against the table. "Did you hear the news?!" The Gryffindor could barely manage to control her laughter when she successfully startled both her Slytherin friends. Joohyun, in particular, shrieked like a dying whale and it gave Yerim such satisfaction to elicit distress from the older girl. The intense glare she received from the Prefect was totally worth it.

  You see, Kim Yerim was born into this godforsaken world for one purpose and purpose only.

  That was to annoy the hell out of Bae Joohyun.

  And maybe wreck some havoc while she was at it.

  "Kim Yerim." The Prefect's features contorted into a scowl and her voice dripped with venom as she regarded the young Gryffindor with malice. Any normal person would've been scared shitless after witnessing this murderous side of Joohyun but after long years of constantly being reprimanded due to her troublemaking tendencies, the Gryffindor had somehow developed an immunity to the Slytherin's method of intimidation. Trust Yerim to disregard authoritarian figures like their existence didn't matter.

  Despite her irritation at the younger girl, the Slytherin Prefect still scooted over and allowed Yerim to sit beside her. Whatever disagreement they had before was now forgotten as they ate their lunch in peace and chatted harmoniously with each other.

  "Which one?" Seulgi muttered inbetween mouthfuls of chicken and mashed potatoes. "Hogwarts has hundreds of rumors circulating every day. It's hard to keep track." The Hufflepuff turned to Sooyoung and asked for a portion of her red velvet cake which the taller girl begrudgingly gave her.

  "If this is about that Bulbadox powder that Filch drank in his tea, I swear I had nothing to do with it." Sooyoung pointedly munched on her cake and expertly maintained a neutral expression when she regarded her friends with a level gaze. She shrugged off their suspicions and acted all innocent.

  However, Joohyun wasn't one to be easily tricked. "You pranked the Caretaker?" She transformed into her Prefect mode and narrowed her eyes at her fellow housemate.

  Okay. They were getting off topic here.

  "No. I only smuggled Devil's Snare into his office and kept him locked in there while I transfigured Mrs. Norris into a cauldron but other than that, I did nothing else." Sooyoung casually admitted to her crimes as if they were just talking about the weather. Like smuggling a dangerous plant inside the school and literally endangering everyone was just another regular day in her life.

  Yerim couldn't help but be impressed. Never once had she thought of using Devil's Snare to terrorize the Caretaker. It was brilliant and certainly life-threatening. A prank of this magnitude was a ground for expulsion but Sooyoung managed to pull it off effortlessly. The Gryffindor suddenly developed a newfound respect for the Slytherin. Leave it to Sooyoung to take things to the extreme. She was amazing! Just bravo!

  "You did what?!" The raven-haired girl screeched in frustration as her sanity slowly dwindled away. Other students shifted their attention towards their table after that sudden noise but one glare from Joohyun was enough for them to turn away and mind their own business. The Prefect was mad. In fact, she was livid. The growing urge to strangle a certain tall Slytherin was difficult to ignore. "That's dangerous! You could've cost us our House points!"

  "Could you, like, chill for just a second? That was just only a few hours ago. He'd have escaped by now--" The tall girl stared into the distance and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "--or not." Her features contorted into a grimace as she internally debated on whether or not she should check on Filch. In the end, her conscience won. "Okay fine. I'll check on him later after I finish eating."

  "You better." Joohyun grumbled before settling back to her seat, still unappeased by Sooyoung's placations, and found a new habit of frowning at her food. She already lost her appetite. If only someone would comfort her and allay her worries but alas, that someone was busy out there training her flying skills.

  "By the way, where's Seungwan? I haven't seen her today." Seulgi momentarily stopped eating to glance at Joohyun. There was a topic in Astronomy that she had difficulty understanding and the Ravenclaw seemed like the best person to ask for help.

  "Quidditch practice." Came the Slytherin's response as she tucked away the newspaper she was reading in favor of her notes. Care of Magical Creatures would be her next class and it didn't hurt to familiarize herself with the new topic they're going to discuss today.

  "Seriously. They're already training at this time?" Yerim was incredulous. The next Quidditch match wouldn't be held until like two months from now. It seemed like the Ravenclaw team was preparing in advance, which was completely unnecessary since they're already a formidable force to be reckoned with.

  Ahem! No offense Gryffindor team. Yerim felt conflicted. Her mind was telling her to support their Quidditch squad yet her heart was telling her to root for Ravenclaw. Why? Because the Gryffindor team sucked and the players would rather showboat instead putting up a good game. It's no wonder they lost every match.

  Looks like we have a traitor here officer!

  "Their team are trying to get a head start for their next match against Slytherin since they are tied for the cup." Joohyun shrugged casually and her statement elicited some unexpected reactions from her friends. They all looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

  "Really? An uptight Prefect like you was keeping tabs on the Quidditch match?" Yerim exclaimed. Her mind couldn't quite comprehend the words she just heard. She shook her head in disbelief. "The world must be ending."

  "I thought you didn't care for trivial things like Quidditch." Seulgi was appalled. In her long years of friendship with the said girl, she had never displayed any interest in the sport, which was surprising since Joohyun came from a Pureblood family and Quidditch was like, the obsession of the wizarding world. Seulgi was curious as to why her friend suddenly became involved with the sport.

  "Oh, I still don't but Seungwan is so into it and you know how intense she gets. If she had her way, she might as well marry the sport." That thought alone caused Joohyun to frown and she accidentally ripped the edges of a page from the book she was reading.

  After that display of a rather passive-aggressive act, Sooyoung glanced at Yerim and they exchanged knowing smirks. Guess who slept on the wrong side of the bed today?

  The young Gryffindor decided to add fuel to the fire and teased the irate Prefect. "That's understandable since you can't deny that Seungwan is the best Seeker Ravenclaw has ever seen in centuries. She could be playing for the Big Leagues if she weren't such a nerd." She stabbed a piece of chicken meat and munched on it loudly.

  "That doesn't mean she should just spend all her time flying that stupid broom and catching that golden bastard. She has better things to do." Joohyun crossed her arms then sulked like a baby. Loneliness has made a home inside her heart and the Slytherin Prefect wondered if she could ever recover from this emptiness she was feeling.

  Okay. She was being dramatic now.

  Sooyoung rolled her eyes and gave Joohyun a goblet filled with clear liquid. The Prefect seemed confused at the sudden offer. "What's this?"

  "Water."

  "What for?"

  "To quench your thirst."

  Suddenly, the doors burst open. The topic of their conversation and the very cause of Joohyun's thirst entered the Great Hall. Seungwan scanned the surroundings in search of her friends and automatically locked gazes with Joohyun. It's as if their eyes were drawn to each other and the Slytherin Prefect was unable to look away. She still kept staring when Seungwan made her way towards them and Yerim took it upon herself to bring her friend back to reality. "You're drooling."

  Joohyun immediately clammed her mouth shut and half-heartedly glared at Yerim, which was pretty much useless since it had no effect on the Gryffindor. She clenched her teeth and remained stiff in her seat, not daring to move a single muscle, as Seungwan settled beside her. The raven-haired girl caught a whiff of her intoxicating earthy scent and needless to say, she was addicted.

  "Hey." Seungwan was a little breathless but she still flashed Joohyun that same brilliant smile that put the sun to shame. Her silky blonde locks clung to her porcelain skin in sticky waves and she was positively disheveled. The blue and gray robes she was wearing were all creased. She looked like she just ran a marathon around the castle grounds but despite this, she still took Joohyun's breath away.

  "Hey." The Slytherin Prefect swallowed the lump in her throat and fidgeted with the hem of her clothes. Oh look! There's a ketchup stain on her robes. Maybe she'll wash her garments later and sprinkle it with some fabric softener for it to smell divine once it dries.

  It took her a while to gather the courage she needed to fix the blonde's necktie. She bit her lip when her fingers accidentally brushed against the smooth satin skin and fought hard to keep her hands from trembling. She heard Sooyoung mutter the word whipped but she ignored it in favor of tucking away the stray locks that partially obscured Seungwan's face. "Done with practice?" Joohyun's voice came out so soft and gentle. It sounded foreign to her ears.

  "Yes. I'm quite famished." Seungwan pouted adorably. Her cheeks looking all tender and squishy and Joohyun was positively sure her heart had stopped beating.

  That was it.

  Joohyun had become undone.

  Yerim coughed then pointedly nudged her arm and that broke Joohyun out of whatever trance she was trapped in. The Slytherin blinked once, twice, before shaking off her stray thoughts and grounding herself back to reality. She grabbed a plate, cut the food into smaller portions then offered them to the starving Ravenclaw. "Eat some Seungwan-ah." Joohyun was too busy fussing over Seungwan that she didn't notice the disgusted expressions the devil duo were making after witnessing that cheesy display of affection. "Do you want some seaweed soup? I could make one if you like."

  "No it's okay." The blonde shook her head and proceeded to dig in. She wolfed down the food like a ravenous beast. Joohyun thought that she must be really hungry. Meanwhile, Sooyoung wondered where the food that Seungwan ate went. All the nutrients she'd been consuming did no wonders to her height.

  "So how was practice?" Seulgi felt confused at the sudden change of the Slytherin Prefect's demeanor upon the blonde's arrival but just chalked it up to one of her friend's tendency to be a mother hen. It was no secret to their group that Joohyun was quite affectionate with Seungwan. The Hufflepuff was about to mind her own business and resume eating when she witnessed Joohyun casually wipe away the bead of sweat that cascaded down Seungwan's forehead.

  WITH. HER. BARE. HANDS.

  That disgusting shit. Who in their right minds would do that?

  The Hufflepuff was scandalized as she glanced at Sooyoung and Yerim and telepathically asked them, through her shocked stare, if they saw that cheesy moment too. Judging from their grim features, they did and they looked like they were seconds away from hanging themselves.

  The disrespect.

  "I think our captain is trying to kill me." Seungwan shuddered at the memory of her captain's rigorous training regimen specially designed for Seekers like her. "She had the team gang up on me and had them throw Bludgers my way." The Ravenclaw shrugged it off casually like being chased to death by enchanted bloodthirsty balls was a normal everyday occurrence for her. A cheeky smile graced her lips when she turned to Joohyun and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer. "How's my favorite Prefect doing? I haven't seen you all day."

  The Slytherin Prefect squeaked in alarm and got flustered at their close proximity. She felt the warmth Seungwan radiated against her body and if this keeps up, Joohyun would be a few seconds away from fainting.

  "Oh that's good to know..." Seulgi trailed off when she realized that Seungwan was no longer talking to her. Still distracted away from her food, she observed why her two friends were suddenly acting all chummy towards each other.

  "I'm fine thanks." In an effort to remain calm and not get carried away by Seungwan's touch, Joohyun shifted all her attention to Yerim. Her last bit of hope to keep her anchored to reality. "Sorry. What was it that you wanted to share?"

  "Right..." The Gryffindor tried not to laugh at how her friend looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She thought that whatever news she was about to share now seemed a little irrelevant after witnessing the lovefest that was still occuring at their table. Seriously. Why did they have to do that right in front of her salad? Do they have no decency?

  "Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year."

  This important piece of information garnered quite the reactions that were far from what she was expecting. Seungwan dropped her fork. Seulgi choked on her food and some of the particles flew to the air, much to everyone's disgust. Sooyoung rubbed the Hufflepuff's back in an effort to alleviate her choking ass. Meanwhile, Joohyun remained impassive as usual. "Students from Beaubatons and Durmstrang will be arriving tomorrow."

  "No way!" Sooyoung exclaimed in disbelief.

  "Why so sudden?" Seungwan wondered why she only heard about this now. News this big would usually spread like wildfire around Hogwarts.

  "Maybe Professor Dumbledore will explain everything." Joohyun handed some water to Seulgi, who was still choking, and worriedly gazed at her.

  The Hufflepuff thankfully recovered from her coughing fit and profusely apologized to everyone for causing such inconvenience. The girls waved off her apology and Sooyoung handed her a napkin to wipe the stain on her face.

  "Isn't this exciting? We could make friends from other schools and maybe get the chance to meet the famous Quidditch Chaser Park Bogum!" Yeri could barely contain her happiness and made no attempts to do so. She was literally vibrating with excitement. "I heard he's currently studying at Durmstrang."

  "Of course you'd only care about boys." Sooyoung sighed airily and shook her head in disapproval. She cared about boys too but she was being low-key about it. "Talk about thirsty."

  "I am not thirsty!" The Gryffindor fired back at her friend's blatant jab. She couldn't let Sooyoung diss her without throwing her own comeback. "Just dehydrated."

  Yerim smirked and Sooyoung grinned mischievously in return as they gave each other a high-five. Seulgi merely frowned. "Gross."

  "Shut it Pooh bear!" The Gryffindor threw some shade at her.

  "I literally have no idea who that is." The Hufflepuff was confused as usual.

  "Oh it's this Muggle cartoon that children watch." Seungwan took the liberty to enlighten her clueless friend. She took a sip from the goblet of water Joohyun handed to her before resuming her explanation. "It's about a bear who has an obsession with honey."

  "Don't tell her anything." Yerim sneered at the blonde. Her eyes blazed with fire that threatened to burn Seungwan if she so much as continue talking. "These Purebloods don't need to know what we do in our world."

  "You speak as if being associated with us is shameful." Joohyun was amused at the Gryffindor's antics. She couldn't find it in herself to become offended since it was Yerim. That girl throws insults and sarcasm like she does it for a living.

  "Of course." The Gryffindor casually stabbed her salad with a fork and loudly chewed on it. "You guys are so fixated on this Pureblood Supremacy shit. It's time we fight back and start our own cult of Muggle World Domination."

  "What about me?" Sooyoung piped up. Being the only half-blood in the group, she was feeling kinda left out. "Which side am I on?"

  Yerim looked at her dead in the eye and stated in a deadpan tone. "None. You're the factory reject."

  "Yah!" The Slytherin objected and that ignited an all-out insult war with the two youngest throwing shade at each other. Amidst their argument, Seulgi figured that it was the appropriate time to voice out. "I still don't know what a cartoon is." But her query was only ignored. She sulked like a baby and ate her lunch half-heartedly.

  Joohyun glanced at her wristwatch and frowned upon realizing that she was running late for the Prefect's meeting. "Seul hurry up or we'll miss the gathering!"

  "Aww you're already leaving? But I just got here." In her desperate act of begging for her friends to stay, Seungwan unintentionally displayed a rare moment of cuteness. Her brown eyes turned all soft like a puppy and her lips jutted out to form a pout. She clearly had no idea of the effect she had on Joohyun because she successfully rendered the girl useless with no effort at all.

  Thankfully, Yerim swooped in to save the Prefect from further distress since it seemed like she has short-circuited. "Brilliant! I'm heading to my next class anyway so I might as well come with you." She bid them farewell and grabbed a really flustered Joohyun then a sulking Seulgi before unceremoniously hauling them out of the Great Hall.

  The students from other houses stared dumbfounded at the spectacle the three friends made but shrugged it off and continued minding their own business. Apparently, this was a normal occurrence in Hogwarts. The sight of two respectable Prefects getting dragged around like puppets by a Gryffindor troublemaker was something they were used to seeing.

  Now all that's left were Seungwan and Sooyoung.

  "Shouldn't you be in Divination right now?" The Ravenclaw furrowed her brows when she noticed that some students were already leaving the Great Hall to attend their classes. Meanwhile, the Slytherin was just sitting there and eating her lunch. She made no move of getting to her class.

  "I'm not going." Sooyoung waved off her query and nonchalantly took a sip from her pumpkin juice, acting like skipping classes wouldn't be detrimental to her future.

  "What? But that's against school rules!" Seungwan was scandalized. She was horrified at the thought of missing lessons. Learning magic was amazing! How could anyone just disregard their education like it was nothing? Her inner Ravenclaw was having a hysterical fit.

  "Oh, you don't get to pull that on me when you literally snuck out after curfew just a few nights ago." The Slytherin rolled her eyes at her friend's pathetic behavior. It's as if she was acting all blasphemous and Seungwan itched to burn her heretic ass to the ground. She paused for a moment to contemplate about something before leaning close and narrowing her eyes to observe the Ravenclaw. "You're lucky Joohyun didn't report you."

  "I didn't mean for her to find me." Seungwan bit her lip and scratched the nonexistent itch at the back of her neck. She at least had the decency to look sheepish. Sooyoung did have a point and her claims were true. After that one fateful night were she was caught roaming around the halls by the said girl, Joohyun didn't even reprimand her nor take away house points from Ravenclaw. She just gave the blonde a stern warning never to repeat it again then let her off the hook and pretended like the whole thing never happened.

  "But she did anyway and told no one about it. Joohyun can be lenient when it comes to you." Sooyoung stared at her pointedly, as if there was a secret message she was trying to convey with her eyes, and Seungwan, for the love of God, had difficulty getting the memo.

  Upon noticing her friend's confusion, the Slytherin sighed in exhaustion as she massaged her temples to alleviate the growing headache. "Merlin's beard, you're so hopeless." She was tired, so very tired, of putting up with the blonde's cluelessness. Joohyun was out there giving out obvious signs but Seungwan and her blind ass just wouldn't take the hint.

  How could someone be so smart yet so stupid at the same time?

  "Anyway--" Sooyoung decided to change the topic since it would take her friend centuries to finally catch up with her subtle implications. "--I'm not completely disregarding my studies. I just have other priorities as of the moment."

  "Like what?"

  "Learning a new spell."

  "Which is?"

  The Slytherin stared at her for a complete minute and conducted an ocular inspection to see if Seungwan was worthy of knowing the vital information that she kept secret. Leaning closer on the table and wringing her fingers in a tight knot, the tall Slytherin adopted a serious expression that was rather uncharacteristic for her personality. The Ravenclaw couldn't help but follow suit. "The Patronus Charm."

  "You want to conjure a Patronus?" Seungwan clarified for one more time to check if she was hearing things correctly and to ensure that she was not being tricked. "Why?"

  "Well, aside from wanting to know the corporeal form of my Patronus, learning a complex spell like this would certainly help me in the future." The Slytherin shrugged and took a bite from her cake. "Give me an edge in Auror training and all that jazz."

  Oh. Now that was an actually valid excuse to skip classes.

  "Look Sooyoung. I'm glad you have the motivation to further your education but trust me when I say that the Patronus charm is really difficult to cast." Seungwan recalled all those sleepless nights and failed attempts she had to undergo before she could perfect the spell. "I tried doing it since second year and it was seriously daunting--" Her ramblings were suddenly interrupted by Sooyoung.

  "Wait. Hold up." The Slytherin held up her hand. A gesture to stop the Ravenclaw from talking. "You started practicing the charm since we were second years?"

  "Yes and I have learned to perfect my technique over the years." The blonde stared at the distance. A small wistful smile had settled on her lips. "It's a shame I can't use it on a real Dementor though." Seungwan returned back to reality only to witness Sooyoung's features morph into a scowl.

  The Slytherin lunged to grab the Ravenclaw by the collar in an attempt to strangle her and unleashed all the profanities she'd been holding. "Why didn't you tell me?! You could've spared me the effort of desperately begging Professor Flitwick to teach me. My pride and honor has been tainted!"

  Seungwan tried to escape but it was futile since Sooyoung held on firmly like a Boa constrictor. Thankfully both of them were the only ones left in the Great Hall or else other students would witness the commotion they were making and prevent rumors from flying around Hogwarts about Seungwan being a wimp.

  "I'm sorry!" The Ravenclaw wailed pathetically as she struggled to breathe and gather air into her lungs. "I just accidentally stumbled upon it while reading a book in the library and figured that it would be fun to try!" She wheezed and started seeing white halos in her vision.

  This was it. This was the moment she was gonna die. Her death would be brought not by the claws of a cat, but by the constricting arms of Sooyoung.

  The Slytherin growled and smacked her on the head. "While we were learning to levitate a fucking feather and doing dumb shit like unlocking doors, you were out there practicing a supremely advanced spell just because it was fun to try!" Sooyoung grabbed the breathless girl by the shoulders and shook her relentlessly.

  "Teach me!"

  "Okay okay! I'll do it!" Seungwan could feel her neck crack from the continuous motion. Her vision blurred and she was getting dazed. Thankfully, Sooyoung stopped her assault just in time. She smoothed out the wrinkles in Seungwan's collar, tucked away stray strands of blonde hair and patted her cheek affectionately before smiling menacingly.

  "Good. Meet me in the Courtyard tomorrow." Her gaze was dark and her voice dripped with poison. The glint in her eyes seemed almost threatening and Seungwan couldn't suppress the shiver of fear that ran down her spine. The Slytherin glanced at her watch and sighed dramatically. "Oh great. Now, I have to check on Filch to make sure he wasn't eaten by that blasted plant." She talked as if this greatly inconvenienced her and Seungwan thought. Who's fault was that?

  With that, Sooyoung left the Ravenclaw and set off to save the Caretaker. Seungwan could only stare at her retreating form as she wondered.

  Just what has she gotten herself into?

  ***

  A ship emerged from the waters of the Black Lake.

  It exuded a skeletal aura with dim, misty lights shimmering through its portholes and making it seem like a ghostly wreak. The enchanted ship glided across the docks and created turbulent waves along the shores.

  Meanwhile, a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a mansion, soared through the air. It was pulled by winged horses, all white and each the size of an elephant, over the grounds at Hogwarts.

  When Seungwan saw all of this, she was rendered speechless. She never thought she'd get the chance to witness something so magnificent, having only read about ghostly ships and flying carriages on the Muggle books she kept back home. She only relied on her wild imagination before but now she actually witnessed for herself how her dreams became reality.

  "Stop gawking and let's continue."

  Her blissful moment was rudely interrupted by the tall Slytherin who threatened her into sharing her techniques in conjuring the Patronus charm. They've been up since early morning, only stopping their sessions to attend classes and Quidditch practices, and spent most of their free time training. It was a little past two o'clock in the afternoon now and they were still making no progress.

  "Hey. It's not every day one gets to see ghostly ships and flying carriages." Seungwan crossed her arms and tried to defend her case, which was completely useless since she could never win an argument with Sooyoung.

  The tall girl merely rolled her eyes and stated in a condescending manner. "Ghost ships and magical carriages are common in the wizarding world. Everybody has seen them."

  This privileged motherfucker.

  Seungwan sighed in defeat and gestured at her friend to continue practicing. Sooyoung closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Relaxing her body and letting her mind focus on the memory receiving her Hogwarts letter for the first time. The elation she felt was undescribable and she allowed this positive energy to envelope her. "Expecto Patronum."

  A silvery whisp erupted from the tip of her wand and formed a white spectral shield. Sooyoung was ecstatic at the sight her progress but she lost focus and got distracted. The magic lasted for a few seconds before it fizzled out into nothing.

  "Are you sure that you're thinking of a happy memory? The spell won't work unless your memory is a powerful one." Seungwan frowned after witnessing another one of her friend's failed attempt. She crossed her arms and tilted her head in contemplation. Their methods weren't working. Maybe they were missing something? She'd better go and check her book just in case.

  "Say that again one more time and I'll slip some Draught of Living Death into your morning tea." Sooyoung growled in annoyance because she was already exhausted from her countless failures. The tall Slytherin clenched her teeth and tightened the grip on her wand before trying to cast the spell once again. This time she injected more force into her incantation. "Expecto Patronum!"

  The same silvery wisp emerged for a few minutes before it completely disappeared.

  "Honestly!" Sooyoung groaned in exasperation and threw her hands up to the air in defiance. "Why does this have to be so difficult?!" She glared at the heavens for causing her such distress. It's like the universe was conspiring against her when all she just wanted to conjure her Patronus. Was that too much to ask?

  "Don't be too hard on yourself. I had a hard time learning this spell too." Seungwan approached her friend and laid a comforting arm on her shoulder. Fatigue has been wearing them down and affecting their spellcasting abilities. She tried to reassure the Slytherin as best she can. "Most witches and wizards don't even have Patronuses and that's okay. It's not the end of the world if you're unable to cast the charm."

  "I know that." Sooyoung's eyes prickled with tears as feelings of inadequacy started to strain her and thoughts of doubt clouded her mind. "But how can I become an effective Auror if I can't even conjure my Patronus?"

  The sight of her friend's anguish tugged at Seungwan's heartstrings and she pulled the younger girl into the comforts of her embrace. She hummed a simple lullaby and rubbed the tall girl's back in an effort to relieve her misery. The Slytherin choked back a sob and buried her face into the blonde's neck.

  "You can do this." She cooed in Sooyoung's ear and traced random patterns on her skin. "I know you can."

  Then a brilliant thought flashed into her mind and the Ravenclaw brought it upon herself to cheer Sooyoung up. She pulled away from their embrace and grinned brightly. "Wanna see something cool?" When the Slytherin nodded in affirmation, Seungwan closed her eyes and recalled the happiest memory she had.

  Five girls

  Brilliant smiles

  One from Gryffindor

  Sunny skies

  Another from Hufflepuff

  Warm hugs

  Two from Slytherin

  Innocent laughter

  And one from Ravenclaw

  Souls connected with each other for the first time

  She held out her wand and voiced out the incantation she had grown familiar with. "Expecto Patronum."

  Sooyoung gasped in awe when, out the end of Seungwan's wand, burst not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling silver animal. She screwed up her eyes, trying to see what it was, and realized that it looked like a bird. A small, beautiful and elegant bird. It silently flew around them in circles, lightly nudging its head on Sooyoung's cheek before landing gracefully on the shoulders of its owner.

  The Slytherin was greatly impressed and she forgot about the negativity she felt earlier. "So your Patronus is a bird?" She asked after a minute of admiring the spirit guardian.

  "Not a bird!" Seungwan was offended. She didn't spend all those years of suffering from sleepless nights and learning a ridiculously advanced spell just for her Patronus to be called a bird.

  "A Nightingale!"

  Sooyoung narrowed her eyes and inspected the said animal for one last time before directing her skeptical gaze on Seungwan. "Doesn't look like a Nightingale to me." Her tone dripped with mockery and her eyes brightened with mischief. She wrapped an arm around the blonde and seemed to be having a great time teasing her friend.

  The Ravenclaw was about to retaliate by stating a rather scathing remark when she heard someone call out their names.

  "Seungwan! Sooyoung!"

  Joohyun approached them with a metaphorical cloud of darkness following her wake. Her features were grim and her gaze burned intensely. She looked like someone broke her wand and was on a rampage to wreck havoc on Earth, bringing upon destruction and chaos to all those who oppose her.

  Once she reached them, her gaze travelled along the length of Sooyoung’s arm that was wrapped around Seungwan’s waist. It lingered for a few minutes before she schooled her features into an unreadable expression. All her thoughts concealed under a mask of indifference and her eyes devoid of any emotions.

  That was the moment Sooyoung knew.

  She fucked up.

  The tall Slytherin quickly realized her error and jumped meters away from Seungwan then put some good distance between them. After ensuring that she was avoiding the Ravenclaw like the plague, she turned to Joohyun and tried not to wilt under her scrutiny. "It's not what it looks like, I swear! She was just teaching me the Patronus Charm!" Sooyoung was never really the type to keep a level-head during times of crisis and right now, under the pressure of Joohyun's gaze, she finally cracked and was in a state of panic.

  "You don't have to explain." Joohyun sounded calm and composed but her eyes told a different story. It raged like a storm and burned with the fires of hell. Sooyoung was never really a believer but now she prayed to every deity in the heavens to have her life spared just this once.

  Seungwan didn't understand why her friend was suddenly acting all nervous, as if Sooyoung was caught red-handed for a crime she didn't commit, and decided to clear up any misunderstandings. "It's true Hyun. I'm helping her cast the spell." She held up her hands in a placating gesture as if she was trying to tame a wild animal. Here she was, defending herself even though she didn't do anything wrong. She honestly felt like she was being reprimanded.

  "I can see that." Joohyun glanced at the silver spirit guardian still perched on blonde's shoulder. Her face still impassive. "Nice bird."

  Seungwan groaned and shook her head in disbelief. "Merlin's beard! It's a Nightingale for crying out loud!" Sooyoung faked a cough to hide her laughter. Her eyes glinting in amusement. It's nice to know that she found delight in Seungwan's despair.

  Joohyun remained indifferent when she addressed the both of them. "We're late for Potions class." She took off without further ado and left her friends in the dust, never even turning back to wait for them.

  Sooyoung and Seungwan briefly stared at each other, silently agreeing to continue their training session later, before running off to follow their friend.

  The trip to Potions class was relatively quiet. Joohyun kept to herself the whole time and Seungwan and Sooyoung didn't dare spark a conversation with her. The Ravenclaw knew that something caused the Prefect to become irate but she had no idea what it was. It felt like she was walking on eggshells around her friend and she was honestly getting tired. Hopefully, their lesson for today wouldn't require too much thinking on her part so she could have the time to relax and take it easy.

  Seungwan should've known better than to expect things to go her way. The universe had a vendetta against her. Surely, she'd have learned her lesson by now.

  Wrong.

  Fate just loves to make a fool out of her.

  She should've known that things were going south when they were greeted by excited chatters and furious gossips from the students as they arrived at the Potions classroom.

  She should've known when she observed how Professor Slughorn was acting more chipper than the usual. The smile never left his lips when he flitted around the room to gather the materials that will be used in the class.

  She really should've known when Sooyoung voiced out. "This is going to be fun." As the tall girl noticed Joohyun stiffening like a rock and successfully imitating a statue by the time the professor announced.

  "Today, I'll be discussing Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world."

  Well shit.

  "Finally!" A boy from Gryffindor pumped his fist to the air in excitement and the rest of the class burst out in laughter. He glanced at Joohyun and smoothly winked in her direction but the Slytherin acted like it never happened. That blatant display of flirting caused Seungwan to worry for her friend. She knew that Joohyun despised unwanted attention, especially ones from arrogant boys who think they have a shot with her.

  "Hey you okay?" Seungwan moved to stand beside Joohyun and angled her body to shield her friend from the Gryffindor boy's line of sight. She gently grabbed Joohyun's arm and to her great surprise, the Prefect flinched as if she was spooked. The blonde was confused. Joohyun never shied away from her touches before.

  "Yeah I'm fine." The Slytherin faked a cough and distanced herself away from Seungwan. She focused all her attention on their professor and didn't even bother looking at the Ravenclaw.

  "I appreciate your enthusiasm for today's lesson Suho. The topic of love really never gets old." A small indulgent smile graced Professor Slughorn's features when he complimented the Gryffindor student. Suho looked quite smug with the praise he received. It was no secret to everyone that Slughorn took quite a liking to the young boy. Suho was a promising Quidditch captain and a popular dueller. Rumor has it that he was scouted to play as a Beater in a professional Quidditch team.

  Professor Slughorn's eyes twinkled when he continued with the lecture. "As I was saying, Amortentia is a rather potent concoction. Rather than create true love, this potion induces in its drinker an unhealthy obsession with its provider. Those conceived under the influence of this are doomed incapable of love. It is extremely powerful, dangerous, and must be continuously administered to maintain its effect." The smile on his face disappeared and his gaze turned stern. His voice dropping into a serious tone to emphasize his point. "Thus, we must exercise extreme caution when handling this potion."

  "This potion sounds dreadful Professor. Why is it even here?" Sooyoung raised her hand in question and Seungwan nodded in agreement. Why would they study this concoction if it was dangerous in the first place?

  Most importantly, why would Slughorn teach a bunch of hormonal teenagers, who all had the tendency to make brash decisions, to brew a complicated love potion that may or may not be used for illegal purposes?

  "So that you can study its appearance and commit it to memory. That way you can recognize and avoid Amortentia if you happen to encounter it." Standing close to a bubbling cauldron, Professor Slughorn turned down the fire until it was completely extinguished and removed the lid that sealed the brew.

  The love potion emitted a pink-colored steam that wafted into the air and envelopes the entire room. Everyone caught a whiff of its potent fragrance and Seungwan couldn't help but wonder why the scent seemed awfully familiar.

  Freshly-laundered clothes sprinkled with fabric softener

  Blooming flowers under clear sunny skies

  Deliciously cooked seaweed soup

  "The scent of Amortentia is unique because it differs for everyone. Its fragrance caters to which a person finds most attractive." Professor Slughorn scanned the room to search for volunteers and smiled in delight when his eyes landed on Joohyun. "Ah Ms. Bae, would you please come in front and share to the class what you smell from this brew."

  For a moment, Joohyun seemed like she was hesitating and Seungwan thought her friend was going to decline. To her surprise, the Prefect nodded in agreement and simply walked towards Professor Slughorn. Her movements were stiff, almost robotic, as she made her way towards the front.

  Once she was close enough to the cauldron, she swallowed the lump in her throat and studied the bubbling liquid for a while, brows furrowed as if she was debating on whether she should smell the potion or just run the fuck away from here. Fear was evident in her eyes but it was carefully concealed under a mask of calmness.

  Everyone waited with bated breath as they watched the Slytherin lean closer and closer her eyes to inhale the scent. Several seconds passed and Joohyun jolted awake looking quite disoriented. She blinked rapidly to gather her thoughts and clenched her hands into fists to keep anchoring her into reality. A brilliant shade of red dusted her cheeks and she looked visibly shaken. Their gazes accidentally met and it took all of Joohyun's self-control to look away. It's almost as if she was burned when Seungwan's gaze left tendrils of fire on her skin.

  "So Ms. Bae, what do you smell?" Professor Slughorn sealed the cauldron and stared expectantly at the Slytherin.

  Joohyun nervously bit her lip and muttered something under her breath that no one caught. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling. Seungwan had never seen her look so anxious before. The love potion must've really affected her. "I smell the pages of an old book, the musky scent of wood burning in a fireplace, the sour tang of blue oranges and--" She  straightened her posture and clenched her jaw like she was about to reveal something that could make or break the world.

  "Freshly baked pastries."

  There was something in the way Joohyun uttered the last line. She wasn't angry nor sad... just resigned. It's like she was finally accepting the fate she had long denied. The fight seeped out of her bones and now all that's left was surrender.

  Sooyoung sidled up next to the Ravenclaw and muttered under her breath. "Oh crickets! I wonder just who could she possibly be smelling." Her tone was sarcastic, almost mocking, and her eyes held judgement for Seungwan as if accusing her for a crime she didn't commit. It left the blonde very confused.

  "Thank you, Ms. Bae. Fifty points to Slytherin" Professor Slughorn applauded to show appreciation for his student and resumed in discussing the subject more extensively.

  The Prefect returned to the empty space beside the blonde and mostly kept to herself throughout the whole duration of the class, never sparking conversation with anyone, not even Seungwan. Something was clearly bothering Joohyun since she mostly spent her time deep in thought. "Penny for your thoughts?" The blonde tried to broach the topic and internally hoped that her Slytherin friend wouldn't find her meddlesome.

  Joohyun gazed at her pointedly, eyes shimmering with something Seungwan couldn't quite understand, and it lingered for a few moments before she dejectedly shook her head and smiled bitterly. "You won’t understand." Her response was short and brief, almost too formal, and the Ravenclaw was caught off-guard at this cold treatment.

  She was seeing another side of her friend for the first time. The curt, proper and unbelievably prideful side. The one ingrained since birth only if you grew in a powerful Pureblood household. The blonde wouldn’t deny it. This side of Joohyun made her feel insignificant. Like the Slytherin was in another plane of existence, too high up in the heavens, unreachable and definitely out of Seungwan’s league.

  The Prefect focused all her attention to the ongoing discussion while jotting down notes seriously and completely ignoring Seungwan as if her life depended on it. The blonde turned to ask Sooyoung. "Did I do something wrong?" She thought of all possible ways she could’ve offended Joohyun but she came up with none.

  The tall Slytherin glanced at her with pity evident in her eyes. "What do you think?" Her statement caused the Ravenclaw to frown.

  Where did she go wrong?

  ***

  "Tonight, I'm pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting a legendary event. An event that fosters camaraderie, friendship and inter-school magical cooperation."

  It was Dumbledore's first greeting once the sorting ceremony was finished. The rest of the students in the Great Hall buzzed with excitement because this could possibly be the moment the Headmaster might finally shed light about the sudden appearance of ghost ships and flying carriages within Hogwarts grounds.

  Seungwan tried to pay attention, she really did, but after that incident in Potion's class and Joohyun's change in attitude, she couldn't even be bothered to care. The Slytherin started acting all proper and formal around her and she didn't know the reason why. It’s like they were back to the time where they were still acquaintances.

  She sighed helplessly before shifting her attention towards the Slytherin table where Joohyun sat and casually ate her food. She was engaged in a conversation with Sooyoung. The Prefect seemed fine. Gone were the traces of the formality she displayed earlier and even allowed herself to smile. Their gazes accidentally met and Seungwan held her breath when Joohyun simply acknowledged her existence with a curt nod.

  Okay. Maybe Seungwan was reading too much into this. She should just relax and try not to overthink.

  "The Triwizard Tournament!"

  Dumbledore announced proudly and seemed totally pleased with himself for maintaining an aura of absolute mystery and for keeping this information under the wraps. Little did he know that the whole student body practically knew of his secret due to the circulating rumors around the school. He paused for a moment to build-up suspense and basked in the excitement that enveloped the entire crowd. "Now please help me welcome, the lovely ladies from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic with their headmistress Madame Maxime!"

  The doors of the Great Hall opened to reveal sophisticated-looking women. All wearing pale blue robes made of fine silk and exuding an aura of grace. Pink little butterflies flew when they passed and the scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air. They all looked unbelievably stunning. A girl in particular, one who had strawberry-blonde hair and enchanting brown eyes, stopped before the Ravenclaw table together with her lovely friends, blew Seungwan a sweet kiss then headed to the Hufflepuff table where the Beauxbatons students gathered.

  Good Lord. Seungwan sat reeling and dazed after that unexpected interaction. Her presence has been acknowledged by one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen and her brain was still in a state of shock. A small, almost dreamy, smile settled on her lips. She must've done something good in her past life for her to be graced with this blessing.

  Suddenly, she felt this uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Like someone was drilling holes into her head and stabbing her back. A quick scan around the hall confirmed her suspicions when she noticed Joohyun shooting daggers at her from the Slytherin table. Her features morphed into a scowl and she gripped her fork so hard that her knuckles turned white. Apparently, she witnessed that little interaction between Seungwan and the Beauxbatons girl and she didn't look quite happy about it.

  "Next, let us greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their high master, Igor Karkaroff."

  All the buzzing hushed down as everyone turned to look at the doors of the Great Hall in anticipation. The lights dimmed and floors vibrated. A loud booming roar was heard before an entourage of all-male students, wearing fur cloaks and blood red robes, made their entrance. They started twirling, tumbling, and doing other forms of acrobatic shit. A person conjured flames from the tip of his wand and it morphed into a ginormous dragon. The Hogwarts students gaped in awe and clapped in delight at the magnificent display of advance magic.

  "Holy shit that's him!" One of Seungwan's housemates gushed like a maniac. "That's Park Bogum!"

  He pointed at one student in particular. The one that stood out from the others. He was quite tall, sported dark raven hair, eyes intensely narrowed and wore a grim expression. His overall serious look greatly contrasted with his innocent features. He took long confident strides and his presence demanded attention. With chin held high, he joined his Durmstrang brothers in the Slytherin table.

  So that's him. Seungwan thought to herself. The Greatest Chaser in the world had come to grace Hogwarts with his presence.

  Dumbledore stood patiently in the podium and waited for the excitement to die down. When the chattering finally stopped, he started his speech. "Eternal glory!"

  He paused for a dramatic effect and Seungwan smirked in amusement because of course the Headmaster had a flair for theatrics. "That's what awaits the champion of the Triwizard tournament but let me remind you that this is not for the faint of heart for each competitor must face three tasks." Dumbledore glanced at everyone in the hall. His voice turned dark and foreboding. "Three extremely dangerous tasks. For that, only one is crowned as champion. To prevent premature deaths and ensure that no life is wasted, no student below the age of 17 is allowed to enter the tournament."

  The hall broke into chaos as most of the students, especially those who failed to meet the age requirement, voiced out their complaints. The people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were shocked at the ruckus the scholars from Hogwarts were making and Seungwan could only shake her head in disappointment. The students were certainly doing wonders in upholding the school's reputation. Dumbledore cast a Sonorous spell and yelled "Silence!" which did its desired effect because it rendered the Great Hall to become completely quiet.

  He stepped off the podium and with a flourish of his wand, transfigured said podium into a golden tower adorned with shimmering jewels. The other students gasped in awe. Dumbledore doing magic was such a rare sight and it still rendered everyone speechless.

  A silent incantation passed his lips and the golden tower melted until it revealed a rather rusty-looking bronze goblet. Blue fire burned at the tip of its rim and a cloud of silvery mist circled around it.

  "The Goblet of Fire."

  The Headmaster turned serious again and everyone was enraptured with his commanding presence. "Anyone who wishes to enter must only write their name on a piece of parchment and drop it to the cup before Friday midnight."

  Seungwan swallowed the lump in her throat when Dumbledore finished his announcement.

  Well, that was an interesting dinner.

[drjackandmissjo]

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

chapter 1 --- next chapter 

Harry Potter fic masterlist

Set in the course of his Sixth Year, this story follows Slytherin's finest, Blaise Zabini, as he navigates classes and friendships and Death Eaters and a certain idiot plant-head Gryffindor.

Sixth year had started nicely: Blaise had been asked to join the Slug Club, and his mother had yet to find a new disposable rich husband and was leaving him the space to do whatever he wanted. Despite Draco's father being thrown in Azkaban and the sudden sulkiness of the blonde boy, the atmosphere wasn't much tenser than usual.

Sure, Draco probably was going to kill someone by the glares he gave and might have punched Saint Potter on the train, completely justifiable, and The Dark Lord had officially risen, sending everyone in a constant state of panic; but things were not that erratic, especially for a Slytherin Pureblood like him. The world was his oyster.

Which was why he was about to kick Pansy Parkinson off the Astronomy Tower.

They had agreed upon a seating chart that allowed all of them to maximize their brain capacities in order to gain as many House Points as possible. Since Draco was the Slytherin on top of every class, damned little miss perfect Granger and her habit of beating his friend up on the podium, the settlements revolved around the blonde and each individual strength. Pansy got Charms, her silver tongue finally useful on an academic level and not only on dark corners with older students; Theodore had Potions, his natural talent ready to expose himself in front of Slughorn, who had decided to keep him out of the little impromptu meeting on the train and to whom Theo had sworn vengeance; he would get Transfiguration, being the most skilled at changing various things in different states almost flawlessly and also due to the fact that he was the best behaved Slytherin. Amongst the members of Draco's Inner Circle anyway: Crabble and Goyle were bullies and lost causes, Millicent was as dull as a wall, Theo was too impulse, Draco was, well, Draco and Pansy was, for lack of a better word, a bucchinara. Only Blaise was polite and respectful and tried to keep his personal vendettas hidden and managed to deal with them without a fuzz, and that, plus his innate aptitude for Transfiguration, meant he went along with Professor McGonagall pretty smoothly.

Which meant that Transfiguration was his.

The other classes were not as important and therefore their seatings could be random, but for those they came prepared. Slytherin was going to win the House Cup that year, unless Draco revealed that he was already a marked Death Eater, which would've made them lose a shitton of points but nothing more. After all, no one had ever been expelled from Hogwarts during Dumbledore's Reign and Blaise was positive it would never happen.

But he was about to get his first detention of the year, possibly, if that bitch didn't move. That would have not been a great way to start, but deep down he was sure it would've been worth it. "Pansy, move your white ass off that chair at this instant" he said through gritted teeth, barely moving his lips and avoiding creasing his flawless smile. 'Rule number one' his mother had taught him, 'always appear kind and gentle and then stab them in the back and get them coins.'

"Why would I do that, Zabini? I'm comfortable here" claimed the annoying girl that was very close to getting hexed, leaning back with a lazy smile on her face.

Blaise had many great qualities, but he also had no room in his body for bullshit. 'Rule number two: never hit first but obliterate them after they start. And don't forget, never ruin a manicure.' He mentally counted to ten, trying to calm himself before he did something he might've regretted, "We agreed yesterday on this" he said, slowly losing his patience. He had very little disregard for those who didn't appreciate his careful planning.

Pansy gave him a poisonous smile, her bold red lips giving her extra points in the vicious department. "Change of plans, pretty boy" she said, voice saccharine and melodious that managed to hide perfectly her true nature.

'Rule number three' his mind recalled 'do not have witnesses nor explicit motif in case you do remove someone from this Earth'. That threw a wrench in his immediate future.

Breathing deeply inwards and closing his eyes, he imagined the petite girl being slowly entrapped in a Devil's Snare and painfully dying. It made him feel instantaneously better. When he opened his eyes again, unfortunately, one of his main causes of stress was still there, now joined by Draco, who took the golden medal in the 'giving Blaise headaches' category. His roommate was puzzled by the sight but decided not to complain and chose to poke holes into Saint Potter's head with his consistent stare.

Blaise wondered, not for the first time, what would've happened first, a make-out session in a broom closet between the Saviour of the Wizarding World and his friend, or a murder. Things would be less boring around Hogwarts if either event happened, even if the school was not boring to begin with.

One of the many topics he didn't agree on with Draco, especially this year, revolved around the blonde's complete annoyance to school life, despite maintaining stellar markings. Hogwarts was full of life and joy and unexpectedness.

Which was why Blaise didn't exactly want to start the year with a detention. "Very well" he said eventually, scanning the room for a proper desk to sit at. He would've avoided Gryffindors as if they carried the Plague, of course, but it seemed that the only empty chair was alongside one of them.

"Holy burning hell" he thought to himself, scolding his face into a bored and superior expression as he carefully watched Neville Fucking Longbottom casually reading his textbook with a Muggle pencil behind his ear. Blaise hadn't had all the time in the world back at the Hogwarts Express to see anyone other than his close friends, too much preoccupied to make a good first impression with Professor Slughorn to care about his fellow classmates, let alone someone as insignificant as 'Schlongbottom', as the other Slytherins called him.

"Boy oh boy, have I made a mistake!" his mind screamed.

He used to be lanky and chubby, but he must have definitely worked out during the summer, for he didn't look that way anymore. Under the shirt and vest, it was possible to see the beginning of some seriously well-kept muscles and, despite his slouched position, he an aura of confidence that he was missing the previous year. "Fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry surely left its mark, uh?" he wondered as he watched the Gryffindor move his head to talk to Weasley. There were so many of them that Blaise couldn't be bothered to keep notice of them all, but he recognized the one into his year as a general individual, blending the remaining white boys into a general identity.

He was almost immediately broken from his mind and brought to reality: "I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes" Draco snickered as he also noticed the only empty spot in the classroom, drawing also Pansy's attention to his misery. The witch gave him another vicious smile, before slowly and purposefully turning into her seat as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom. She had won that round, but Blaise was positive the unexpected outcome would see him victorious as well. 'Rule number fifteen, ogling a hot person is a great past time.'

Unbothered on the outside, he moved lazily towards the Gryffindor, noticing the surprise on the boy's face as he moved the chair next to him and took his place silently. Immediately he tensed, waiting for Blaise to attack him as his roommates had done many times, and it almost pained him to see all the confidence disappear under a cautious mask. But he had to give it to him, Longbottom didn't even flinch as he unceremoniously dumped his textbook and notebook on his side of the desk. He would've gotten a lot of dirty looks from his friends if he was somebody else carrying a Muggle object, but since he was Blaise Zabini no one said anything. After all, countless meters of parchment were as impractical as eating soup with a fork.

He also didn't miss the slightest nod of approval to ever been given him, directly from Professor McGonagall herself, before she began her first lecture of the sixth year.

And with that, they started.

***

Two hours later and with six pages of notes and the tiniest smidge of ink from a Muggle pen on his hands, 'I'll be damned if I have to write every day with a messy quill", the lecture was over. Professor McGonagall had done a brilliant job as usual, with her being the most competent, if not the only, teacher in the school, but one thing was absolutely clear as day to Blaise: the recently very attractive Gryffindor boy seated next to him was absolutely useless at Transfiguration. His grandfather would've used the word chiavica with a disapproving look at his way and forced him to sit and eat twelve different dishes, as if that would've made him improve.

The problem wasn't that he lacked the proper concentration and magical talent, but rather that he wasn't as passionate about the subject as Blaise was. The boy had also taken countless notes, writing them at the corners of his book in a minute calligraphy with his Muggle graphite, and he seemed to grasp the general concept, yet failed almost comically at properly producing the magic.

Needless to say, the Slytherin dreaded the day his favourite teacher would give them a project to be done in pairs.

Not a single word had been uttered between the two boys, as it should have been. They had no communal interests nor any shared group of acquaintances, even if they were both Purebloods. Their Houses were rivals, their roommates were arch-nemesis, and yet here they both were, seated in silence next to each other.

But there had been guarded glances from both sides, of that he was sure. He looked at the Gryffindor with fretted disinterest, desperately trying not to get caught staring at the hot guy next to him like a creep, while Longbottom looked occasionally back with something akin of fear and disdain. He wasn't really surprised by the reaction and couldn't really blame him. Blaise wasn't sure if his family had remained neutral or had been hurt at the hands of Death Eaters before Saint Potter saved everyone, but nevertheless, the Slytherin house suffered an image decline due to their notorious works. The House reputation was turbid and getting dirtier by the hour, with all the alumni tarnishing the good name of their former house with their debauchery. Of course, not all Slytherins were evil, but it was the fucking coincidence of the majority of those evildoers being Slytherins that gave way to all the hate.

"You're just giving into the stereotype" he had ranted at Draco on the train, after the blonde told him the news, "and yours is such a bloody shitton of bullshit l cannot tolerate anymore!"

And just like that, the class was over and students packed their bags to migrate into their next lecture. He had now a free period, as the majority of his friends took Divination for reasons unknown to him, and decided to make it count as much as possible by staying in the library before going to 6th year History of Magic.

After signalling a little goodbye to his housemates, he turned around to the pretty useless boy next to him to begrudgingly salute him as well and perhaps ask him to trade place with someone less inept at the subject, only to find said incredibly tall and gorgeous beefcake standing in all his height with a bag draped over his shoulder. Despite the sudden tough exterior, he had a kind and polite smile and a softness in his voice that Blaise would've never guessed. "Apparently we have to seat next to each other now" he said with a shy tone, and then immediately went to nervously bite his lips. Blaise was dumbfounded, unable to form words at the sight hovering over him. He definitely wasn't the lanky boy he remembered.

Unsettled by his lack of response and probably taking his silence as a sign of disgust, Longbottom let out a shaky laugh, trying to ease the tension. Bringing a hand up to scratch his neck. "Look, I get it if you want to switch" he began, looking down at his shoes, "but I don't think Professor McGonagall would let us."

That brought him back on Earth. He had not mistaken the look of approval the Professor had given him and he'd be damned if he ever let down the best teacher Hogwarts had ever seen over something so futile as a seating partner.

Also it didn't hurt that his deskmate was a bloody vision, incompetent maybe, but most definitely his type. And now more than ever he needed to know for which team this asshole beat for.

"Yeah, no. I know, it's fine or whatever" he stuttered nonchalantly, knowing that he sounded dismissal while on the inside he was a bubbling mess. Trying to regain his composure and to remember his reputation, he spat out with as little venom as possible, "I guess there could be worse of you lot to sit next to."

"Wrong. Fucking. Thing. To. Say. Genius" his mind yelled as he internally cringed at his choice of words while maintaining a disinterested exterior. He saw the exact moment Longbottom's face went from kind and polite to pissed off. In all the years they had spent at school together they had never really talked or acknowledged each other's existence, not as much as he had with members of the other two Houses, yet Longbottom would've never stroke him as the type of person that could get angry.

"That's cause you never spoke to him until now. Stop thinking with your dick" his brain fired as he rose from his seat and stood a few centimetres short of the Gryffindor. He had to admit that it was incredibly hard to stop thinking with his dick at the moment, but managed to maintain a neutral expression.

"Yeah, well. I guess so too" replied rather childishly the other boy, folding his arms over his chest and giving him what must've been his best glare.  "I was trying to be polite, but I guess there is no way for a civilized conversation or partnership with you lot" he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Now it was Blaise's turn to appear pissed and he mustered his worst killing glare, created by years of training,  "Do not generalize me and I won't generalize you."

Longbottom was looking down at him, almost as if he was a puzzle that was not behaving. He supposed that from his perspective it was like that, since generally speaking they were supposed to hate each other's guts and here they were, one clearly trying not to lust for the other and the other apparently disapproving of the one's entire existence.

He eventually conceded, "Very well. See you around, Zabini." And with that Longbottom left, joining Thomas and that Fire Kid from his House.

Blaise was left alone, baffled and shocked, before he shook violently his head and left also the classroom and began walking in solitude towards the library.

This had the potential to become a great or a terrible year, and he supposed that the majority of the chances rested on the unexpected outcome of the Transfiguration class.

GLOSSARY: 

'bucchinara' is a southern Italian word that means 'someone who gives blowjobs'

'chiavica' is a southern Italian word that means 'someone that really really sucks at something'

[tlbodine]

1970s: Exploitation Horror

The 1970s were a strange period in history, and that oddness shows through in the horror of the time. The decade is a grab-bag of content, featuring the rise of some of the best-known tropes and landmark films of the genre, but also some really baffling, awful movies. 

We decided to launch our journey through the decade by getting one of its most unnerving trends checked off the list early: the exploitation film. 

The death knell of the Hays Production Code and the moral gatekeeping by the 1960s left a period of cinematic anarchy. The MPAA would take a bit to solidify our modern rating system and lay out the rules for film content, so for a while the only real limitation on movie content was what a movie theater would play. These decisions came on a case-by-case basis, and so-called “grindhouse” theaters capitalized on it by offering the kind of shocking, low-brow, vulgar or otherwise unpalatable content other theaters wouldn’t touch. 

Thus, “exploitation” films were all about exploiting the tumultuous times in cinema. 

One popular genre to crop up in this setting was the rape-revenge movie. The basic formula: a woman is raped, left for dead, and returns to wreak bloody vengeance on her attacker(s). The plot provides an excuse to show both graphic sex and violence, which is like a 2-for-1 exploitation buffet and also incidentally the theme of this week’s film series. 

Analysis below the cut! 

First up: I Spit On Your Grave 

This 1974 film, written and directed by  Meir Zarchi, is probably the best-known and possibly best-made of the rape-revenge movies of the era. It’s also incredibly hard to watch.

The story is straightforward. Jennifer, a female author, moves to a remote summer home to work on her novel. There she attracts the attention of a group of men, including one mentally challenged delivery boy named Matthew. Matthew’s friends are assholes, and they goad him about the “crush” he has on this fancy city woman, and decide it would be entertaining for him to lose his virginity to her. So they, uh, harass her, physically assault her, and take turns raping her before leaving Matthew to kill her (he doesn’t, and lies to his friends about it, leaving her beaten but alive and thus able to exact revenge). 

There are several things about this movie that are noteworthy: 

It portrays the rape in the least-sexy, least-romanticized way imaginable. It is not titillating or exciting in any way. The rape sequence lasts for 30 minutes of film time, and they are excruciating to watch. There is no soundtrack, so you have only the flat silence punctuated by screams, grunts, and scant dialogue. The camera is often stationary, focused on the scene as an objective viewer rather than spending a lot of time cutting and zooming -- putting the audience in the role of helpless witness. 

The character of Matthew is interesting and, honestly, sympathetic. It’s pretty clear that he has the intellect of a child, and he has no real idea of what’s really going on. He’s goaded and pressured into participating, and he’s reluctant and tries several times to stop and escape. In a way, he’s a victim almost as much as Jennifer. 

The second half of the film is pure revenge fantasy. Jennifer is transformed. She is suddenly cool, calculating, physically capable, and able to deliver cutting one-liners. The villains, never the sharpest tools in the shed, transform into unbelievably stupid caricatures capable only of thinking with their dicks. Jennifer systematically seduces and murders them in increasingly violent ways. 

It’s probable that the film’s events are meant to be taken at face value, but I think a more interesting read on the story is that the second half -- the revenge portion -- is literally a fantasy. After the attack, we see Jennifer spend some time recovering physically, then piecing together the torn pages of her manuscript before sitting down to write. Perhaps, then, the revenge is happening on the page rather than in reality. Perhaps she has put together the pieces of her life and rewritten her narrative such that she can take control of her sexuality and work through her anger and grief and pain. 

Maybe it’s just the writer in me, but I think that’s a cool interpretation and one that makes a lot of sense in context. 

Either way: I Spit On Your Grave is an uncomfortable but well-made film that’s worth talking about. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding it even to this day (and it was a box office disaster, grindhouse or no), but I think on the balance it’s ultimately a feminist film, or at least a sympathetic one. 

Note: There was a remake and multiple sequels released in the 2010s. I haven’t seen any of them, but my understanding is they’re more over-the-top violent and sensationalized, and I can’t help but suspect that cheapens the brutal elegance of the original. If you’ve seen them, feel free to weigh in! 

The second film of the night was The Last House on the Left. 

Wes Craven’s directorial debut, The Last House on the Left (1972) tells the story of two teenage girls who run afoul of a gang of psychotic thugs who kidnap, torture, rape, and eventually murder them. The thugs then end up coincidentally at the house of one victim’s parents, who exact their revenge after discovering their daughter’s body dumped in the woods nearby and put two and two together. 

All I can say is: What the fuck did I just watch. 

I’d never seen this movie, although I was familiar with it by reputation. It’s famous, and I heard good things about its 2009 remake. What nobody thought to warn me about is the goddamn soundtrack. 

I can respect the artistic technique of pairing graphic violence with tonally inconsistent music as a way to create dissonance and cause audience discomfort. But that’s not the effect this had. This had the effect of causing me to burst out into laughter at the absolute absurdity. There is synth keyboard. There is banjo. Snare drum. A fucking kazoo. And it’s relentless, showing up to hammer you over the head and also drown out everything else that’s happening in the movie. 

Like, at one point, I seriously considered muting the damn movie so I could at least try to concentrate on the story because the music is so distracting and undercuts the tension at every possible moment. 

Music aside (and boy do I wish the music had been an aside), the film just...wasn’t great. The violence is comparably tame and lacks the visceral discomfort of I Spit On Your Grave. The villainous gang members are pretty much flat characters who seem like a bad parody of Sopranos extras. Even the parental revenge is bizarrely absurd, with the father opting to booby-trap the house in a Home Alone-esque fashion despite literally owning a shotgun and literally using the shotgun to threaten the bad guys. At least in the remake a guy’s head gets exploded in a microwave! No such fun here. 

Oh. And do we need to talk about the two bumbling police officers who end up running around town in a long-running slapstick gag? At one point their squad car runs out of gas because one of them is too stupid to fill up the tank, so they have to waddle around on foot and hitch a ride on the roof of a car loaded up with chickens. For. Some reason. 

Honestly, this movie was a disaster, and I’m honestly amazed that Wes Craven managed to make more movies afterward (and I’m glad he did, because they are much better than this). Sweet lord. 

I give you permission to skip this one. As far as I’m concerned it’s irredeemable. 

As a note, the movie is apparently a (very) loose adaptation/inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s The Virgin Spring, which was itself adapted from a 13th century Swedish ballad. Go figure. I don’t think I’ve seen it (although I may have watched a part of it in a college film class, because it does seem familiar) but I feel pretty confident that it’s a better movie so...watch that instead, probably. 

Or, if you can stomach it, check out one of the other many...many...rape/revenge stories from the 1970s and beyond: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_and_revenge_film

[megalony]

Detox

This is a new Roger Taylor series that I will be working on which I hope everyone enjoys.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac

Warning: Mentions of drug use.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roger took one glance at the paper that the boys were passing around before throwing it back onto Miami's desk where it had been when they had entered their manager's office. Leaning back, the drummer slouched into the sofa as if his limbs had turned to jelly, his arms folding over his chest as he looked unimpressed as opposed to embarrassed.

He tried to ignore the looks he was getting from John and Brian but it wasn't working. He could see the worry in John's eyes out the corner of his vision and he could feel the confusion radiating off of the guitarist like heat waves. Roger didn't want their sympathy, nor did he want their worry or concern because he didn't need it. Freddie seemed to be the only one masking his emotions with a neutral expression that the drummer was thankful for.

"Why are you showing this? You think I don't know what shit they write about me?" Roger barked, his head lifting so he could look at Miami, his eyes hidden by the raven black sunglasses sitting on his nose. He didn't need their manager to show him the tabloids and front covers of every magazine to know that there were quite a few articles out this week about him. There was always one paper somewhere in London or America that was describing how the band was outlandish, stupid, risky or how one of them had done something wrong. It didn't matter what their music sounded like, it mattered about their image that the world was trying to tarnish.

Roger knew he wasn't perfect, far from it. But he wasn't trying to be perfect and he wasn't putting on a show for the media. He was himself and he had flaws, if they decide to pick on those flaws and show them to the world Roger couldn't stop them, he simply found it petty and stupid to try and do that. People liked his music and went to his shows, they didn't need to know his life to enjoy his music and if they didn't like him then no one forced them to listen to the music he produced.

"There problems with this Roger and we can't ignore them. One is that the media have a picture of you high on drugs, they have confirmation that you took drugs. I don't care what you do in your own time but this was after a concert, if you do this then there are repercussions. People aren't likely to go to a show where the act does heroin backstage." Miami responded, his head cocked to the side as Roger looked down to his lap for a moment.

Roger didn't know how the media found out because they had no paparazzi backstage at any of their concerts. If a show was recorded then it was by a Queen production, they listened when someone said to stop recording them and Roger took the drugs in his dressing room on his own. But someone had snapped a picture of him later on and it was quite clear he was higher than a kite. But he didn't know how they knew what drugs he had taken. The band knew he was on drugs, (Y/n) knew he was on drugs, hell even Miami had known before now that Roger was doing something before now.

The boys and (Y/n) had tried to stop him. They tried to tell him that it wasn't what he needed and the amount he was doing wasn't going to be good for his health but Roger shrugged off their worries. It was his life and he had his reasons, they weren't going to change his mind but it didn't stop them from trying. Miami had ignored the problem until now because although the band respected him, he was never going to stop them from doing what they wanted.

"The other problem with this is that you're doing drugs in public and whilst your working. You do them at the studio, you take them at concerts and now the media have proof of that. I know none of you care about your image but the fact is that other people do. The studio in London won't take you if you do drugs Roger and we can't have you high at a concert. You either get clean or you do drugs in your own time."

The managers of the studios that the band used wouldn't let them back in if they knew Roger was high when he was working and that was understandable. But people would be less likely to go to a concert if Roger was high and more to the point he wouldn't be allowed on stage. He had to either get clean or get his drug use under control or else the band was going to have problems very soon. Now that the media had confirmation of this instead of simple rumours they could be more damaging than they had ever been before. People in any industry didn't last much longer if they were found to be doing drugs or being abusive or having any brushes with the law.

In some instances it didn't matter as much, such as parties. Drugs were a normality in high-end parties that Queen often attended so no cares were given if one or even all of them did drugs at a party. But this wasn't about a party, it was about one of their own shows.

"Alright, it was one fucking concert anyway. I'll curb it down, don't worry." Roger held his hands up in defence. They all knew he had never done that at a concert before but last week he had been desperate. He normally did drugs in his own time and certainly not when he was in public. sure, sometimes he would go out when he was rather stoned but he wouldn't take his drugs where people could see or find out. He had his reasons to take them, he wasn't doing this for fun or to intentionally ruin their image.

"Curb it down?" John repeated with a scoff, leaning forward in his chair so he could see the drummer who was sitting on the sofa next to Freddie. John raised his brows as he felt like screaming. Roger wasn't even going to attempt to get clean, he was just going to 'tone down' his intake. "Rog, are you that addicted you can't even try and clean yourself up?"

"No Deaky, I can't. I've been on three different painkillers and the doctor won't give me any higher meds in case 'I get addicted'. Heroin and the other shit I take is the only thing that works because it's just like pain meds anyway. What do you want, me stoned every day or me calming it down because I can't not take something for the pain." Roger pushed himself up so he was sitting straight instead of slouching. Leaning over Freddie to see the bassist who looked the rather bad kind of surprised.

Roger had been in a car accident six months ago and it had damaged his left arm and his back. He had a nerve very close to his spine that had been damaged and was now making everyday hell for the drummer. The doctor had given Roger different prescriptions but they weren't enough, the amounts weren't even close to taking the pain away and being a drummer was demanding. He had to constantly twist and turn and move to clash the cymbals, the snare drums, the bass drum, every drum was scattered around him and he had to twist side to side to reach them all. His left arm was beginning to feel easier and better so that wasn't the problem.

Someone at one of the parties to celebrate one of the shows going well had offered Roger some drugs and he needed something so badly to take away the pain. It wasn't the drug that was addictive, it was the lack of pain. It was how much Roger felt like himself and how he felt able to walk and twist and even run with no pain because the drugs were dulling everything in his system. Heroin was very similar to certain high-class prescription drugs that were addictive, one of the reasons his doctor wouldn't prescribe him them. The drugs worked for Roger, they took away the pain and let him have his life back.

Last week at the concert he had needed a high to stop his back from screaming. The concert was over two hours long and it took a lot of energy and movement, there was no way Roger could have gone through that with his back and nothing to take the edge off.

"You're stoned now, aren't you?"

Before Roger could even respond to that, Brian had reached over and taken the glasses from his eyes. Roger wasn't shifting uncomfortably in pain, he wasn't in tears from his back and he wasn't sitting in one position like he sometimes would when the pain got worse. His eyes were red and his pupils were blown wide.

"You can't carry on like this, let us help you." Brian wouldn't interfere if Roger was taking drugs now and again. If it was recreational it would be different, Roger would be taking them for fun or for the high because he liked it. If he took them every so often when his back pain got worse Brian might be able to understand because it would be a little easier on Roger. But he was taking something nearly every day because he wanted to be without pain and if he even tried to get clean he would be bombarded with pain that he didn't want to face.

They could get him into rehab, they could take him to the doctor and start him detoxing so he could slowly get himself off the drugs and start taking something else as a replacement. They could try and get the doctor to give him stronger meds when he was off the heroin. The band would do anything and everything in their power to help Roger because he was their family and they couldn't let him suffer. But taking the drugs was only going to make him even more dependant on them than he was now and that was never going to have a happy ending.

One day Roger would end up taking too much because either the pain was getting worse or he was relying on it and one small burst of pain from any injury would make him take more heroin. He could overdose and ruin his system or he could overdose and then go take more heroin and kill himself. Either way, Roger wasn't on a path that would lead somewhere good and they needed to get him back on the right track.

"Can you fix this?"

Pushing himself to his feet, Roger tried to keep the tears out of his eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt before throwing it to the floor. Turning at an angle to each band member could look at his back.

All three of them stayed quiet, eyes blown wide as if they had suddenly become as high as Roger was right now. No one even dared to breathe as they looked at the damage. Roger had a scar littering the middle of his back directly over his spine from his operation after the car crash. But there was clear swelling along the middle and lower part of his spine which was beginning to bruise and he was bleeding under the surface of his skin. Not to mention the internal damage they couldn't see like his nerve damage or the shredded muscle he had which had to have part of it removed.

Leaning around, Miami caught a glance of the problem which caused his expression to fall. His head shaking as he got to his feet, clearly going to leave the room either to give them space or talk to someone.

"Take him to hospital, that needs sorting now." Miami pointed to the damage on Roger's back before he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Managing to force his eyes open, Roger tilted his head up, locking his eyes onto (Y/n) who was standing at his side. Thousands of tears had flushed his features and were still continuing to well in his eyes that were red raw from the saltwater distorting his vision.

The boys had called (Y/n) before they had driven Roger down to the hospital to get checked over. That had been this morning and now it was seven in the evening. The swelling on Roger's back was close to pressing on his spine and if that happened his damaged nerves would have added pressure and it could cause temporary or even permanent paralysis. But they couldn't find out what was wrong whilst he was high on drugs, they needed his system to be clear so they knew what symptoms he was having and to start tests and scans of his spine.

The drugs were slowly wearing from his system but it wasn't happening fast enough and it would take a few days to detox Roger in the normal way. He was already starting to go through the withdrawal symptoms. His body was spiking a fever, his head was splitting at the seams and the pain was back to his shaking system. He couldn't lie on his back because it applied pressure to the swelling and made everything more unbearable for him.

An idea had come up that they could put Roger into an induced coma and flush his system so all drugs and medications would be swept out of his body in a matter of twelve hours. That was ideal in order to get Roger clean and start the tests to get him better but it came with risks. Roger could deteriorate in that time, his heart could get damaged or stop and it would be worse when he came back around. He wouldn't be able to take heroin again because detoxing made his body less tolerable to the drug so a small amount could cause an overdose.

But Roger needed to do this.

Part of him wanted to do this, he wanted to get clean now and not have to go through the whole detoxing process and the withdrawal symptoms such as throwing up, fever, feeling drowsy and the unbearable pain. It would be so much easier and he could be clean like everyone wanted. But the other part of him knew that if he did this then he was condemning himself to pain. He would have to beg his doctor for a higher prescription and he would have to deal with the agony his back caused him because he couldn't take heroin again without the risk of overdosing from a small amount.

"I can't... i-it's gonna hurt worse." Roger whimpered the words as he felt himself beginning to shake. His hand tightened around (Y/n)'s as she bit down on her lip to stop herself from bursting into tears. This wasn't his fault, he was in agony and he was still going to be in agony once this was over. There was no winning for Roger.

"Sshh, they'll put you on morphine when you come back around after this. And the doctor will give you a prescription, they won't let you leave if you're not okay or are in too much pain, sweetheart." (Y/n) bent down so she was level with Roger, her free hand brushing through his hair as she brought his knuckles to her lips. Trying her best to calm him down but nothing she could say would make this easier for Roger.

A choked sound resembling a morphed scream left Roger's lips as his knees jolted, pushing up towards his stomach as he contorted his body into a C shape to try and take away the pain that was now shooting up his back. It was the raw pain he was first met with after the crash, the pain that the doctors had ignored and refused to treat with the higher meds that Roger clearly needed. Both his hands wrapped around one of (Y/n)'s to the point he was cutting off her circulation as he brought her hand to his chest, trying to distract himself but it wasn't working.

"M-make it stop." Roger spat the words as if they were a vile taste on his tongue that he wanted rid of.

His words were the confirmation that the doctor standing behind him needed to push the medication into the IV drip going into the vein on his right arm at the crease of his elbow. The medication that took only seconds to work and effectively turn Roger's brain off until morning.

The feeling of his brain turning off was one that Roger had never experienced before but it was not one that he would recommend. It was like remembering and feeling the exact moment you went to sleep at night when normally you remembered your head hitting the pillow and thinking for a while, but you never remembered exactly when you drifted to sleep. Roger knew one thing for certain as he started to feel the pain disappearing. He knew that he wasn't giving up the heroin for nothing. He had gone through six months of suffering and taking drugs to make the pain go away. If Roger couldn't have something to take that pain away if it persisted, he would rather die than go another day with the pain they had refused to take away before.

[the-walking-memelords]

Our History

A Co-Written story by me and @journalofthedead

Rated: T

Pairings: Louis/Aasim

Word Count: 5339

An assortment of entries from Aasim's history book since the beginning of the apocalypse.

Read it on Ao3!

Year 1, Mid Summer

Something weird happened today. 

We were in math class working on the sheets Mr. McKenna gave us when in the middle of it he told us all we had to go back to our dorms. I looked at Jasper and she just shrugged. 

When we walked across the campus it was like every kid in school was out there. I lost Jasper in the crowd, so I just found my way back to my dorm on my own.

It’s been hours and no one is allowed to leave the dormitory buildings, so I went to the common room to see if anyone knew what was happening. A few teachers are practically guarding all the exits and Louis said when he went to ask about dinner they just told him to go back and wait.

People are saying it’s a lockdown drill or the real thing, but this isn’t anything like the drills we’ve had before.

I’m scared.

Year 1, Mid Summer 

I woke up really hungry. They never let us eat dinner last night, so hopefully, they’ll make up for it with breakfast.

They’re all gone. All the teachers. I’ve asked everyone I could find and no one has seen anyone. Most of the kids took this as an opportunity to bolt, but thankfully Louis is still here. Jasper stuck around as well, so did the twins, their brother, and Violet, and a bunch of others. There used to be over a hundred kids here, now there’s only about thirty.

We found one teacher, or well, a nurse. Ms. Martin seems to be the only one still here. She said there’s something happening in the cities and the other staff went to check on family since no calls are getting through. She says they’ll come back, but who knows.

Louis, Marlon and I snuck into the headmaster’s office. Lou’s been dialling the phone for hours trying to call his mom but nothing’s going through. Maybe she’ll come to get him. I wonder if she’d take me too, I don’t think my dad would care. 

Year 1, Mid Summer

The power went out today and Ms. Martin couldn’t figure out why. Doesn’t surprise me though, she’s a nurse, not a maintenance woman. I suppose all we can do is wait and see if it comes back on.

No one’s come back yet. Not staff. No parents. No one. Everyone is on edge and a few of them want to go out and see what’s happening in the nearby town. Ms. Martin’s going to have one hell of a time keeping everyone here.

Someone came to the gate this afternoon. No one any of us knew, just some random guy. He looked gross all his clothes were covered in mud. Ms. Martin told us all to stay back which was fine by me cause I didn’t want to get anywhere near that guy anyway. He was banging on the gate and the way he spoke… it wasn’t even like words… just animal noises almost.

Jasper… Jasper’s dead. That man killed her. 

She kept trying to talk to him… something about him being hurt I think she said. 

Ms. Martin tried to stop her but she just wanted to help him… and when she opened the gate he just jumped on her. I didn’t see exactly what happened next. I just… couldn’t watch. I closed my eyes and covered my ears but I could still hear all the screaming. Jasper’s and everyone else’s. 

I don’t remember what happened after that. I’m in my room now. Louis is on the other bunk leaning against the wall. He’s quiet for once, which isn’t good. “She didn’t make it.” was all he had to say. I don’t know what to say or if I can even say anything. I’m still shaking so much. My face is wet so I know I’ve been crying. 

Maybe if I go to sleep I’ll wake up from this nightmare.

Year 1, Late Summer

I didn’t understand what was going on at first, I thought it was a hoax… Some sick game, but that changed when Erin was bitten, no one knew… We were walking back to the dorms together, Erin was acting so weird. “Are you alright?” I asked her, hoping to get an honest genuine reply. Erin didn’t respond to me, she just went into her room and shut the door quietly behind her.  

Later that evening, Ms. Martin asked me to go check on Erin. She didn’t show up for dinner, some were more worried than the others, Erin and I weren’t close but we still talked. I knocked gently on her door, not wanting to upset her even more. Silence filled the hallway before there was a dull thud inside the room. 

“Erin?” I called, knocking a bit harder this time. I didn’t know what was going on, at the time I thought she fell. That wasn’t the case of course, without thinking I twisted the knob, surprised that it wasn’t locked. 

I took a breath and walked in. 

“Erin?” I called again, looking around the darkroom. Where was she?  The sounds of growling and snarling made the hairs on the back of my neck raise, I looked to my left and gasped loudly.  Erin’s blonde hair was dull, falling out of her bun, her blue-rimmed glasses laid on the ground. The most shocking thing was her eyes, the light green eyes that used to shine with life were now dull and pale, almost white. 

She became one of those things we’ve been seeing in the woods. One of those things that killed Jasper. I slammed the door shut before she got to me and I heard her pounding on the other side. I just ran to Ms. Martin. 

You have to go for the head… that’s what we’ve figured out… but I didn’t want to be the one to kill her.

We’re all going to sleep in the Admin Building tonight.

Year 1, Early Fall

Ms. Martin died today. She sacrificed herself to save us…  I didn’t know how to really feel, a part of me felt guilty, I could’ve done something, but I listened to what she told us, get the others and get out of there. During her funeral all I could think about was the what if’s, Ruby tried to talk some sense into me and pull me out of my funk, all I felt was guilt though.  

Year 1, Early Fall

One day later, Louis confronts me in our shared room. “What is it?” I grumbled at him, at the time I didn’t really want to talk to anyone. Louis gave me a look, something about that look he gave me stopped me in my tracks. I oddly felt warm and safe in his presence, it was a bit annoying but I felt at peace at that moment. 

“You need to snap out of it,” Louis told me, crossing his arms.  I was surprised at his behaviour, Louis was never this serious. I liked this serious side of him and I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.  I left the room today with Louis, the conversation we had while walking outside was one I would always remember.  

I think Louis and I became really close friends today, even though Louis can be a bit much at times. I find his company to be nice, something I want to keep around. 

Year 1, Mid Winter

It’s so fucking cold! 

Yet again it seems like I’m the only one that cares about having enough food for this school! Marlon doesn’t know what he’s doing!  He calls himself a good leader? I think he’s full of shit, I mean we should be out there hunting and making traps.  Marlon doesn’t get it, this snow will only get heavier and it will get colder. 

Louis isn’t helping either, he keeps throwing shit at me and I really want to throat punch him.  How is that I’m the sensible one here? Sometimes I wonder why I wasn’t made the leader? Not to toot my own horn, I’m definitely a better leader than the rat and by the rat I mean Marlon.

The food supply is getting low, tracks are getting covered by the snowfall. I can’t help but feel restless, we needed food to survive.  Marlon needed to get his ass in gear, open his eyes to see that this plan of his isn’t working and that he needed to do better if we wanted to survive the winter. 

Year 1, Mid Winter

We brought back a decent amount of food today from the hunt this afternoon, Marlon actually listened to one of my plans. I was shocked when he listened, I for one didn’t expect him to listen to me at all. My shock only grew even more as I was heading out with Mitch and Brody to go hunt. 

It felt good to be listened to for once, the look of pride on Louis’ face that day made me a bit giddy. (Still not telling a soul about that either.)  

The look on Omar’s face was priceless, I’ve never seen him so happy to cook something warm. Dinner was amazing tonight, Omar is a god when it came down to cooking.  It made me wonder though, why was Omar sent to this school again?  Whatever, that's a story for another day, well maybe. Who knows? Maybe Omar will tell us? Maybe not.  

Year 2, Early Spring

I guess the one good thing about the entire forest being turned into a giant mud pit is that the animals are easier to track. I have to give Louis credit for his snares since they do a pretty good job catching rabbits. If only he’d kill them himself instead of making me do it though, I hate it as much as he does but we’ve gotta eat after all.

One of the many bad things about the entire forest being turned into a giant mud pit is that it’s slippery as shit and Louis would rather laugh at me than help me up.

Year 2, Mid Summer

A big thunderstorm stopped us from hunting today. I should be disappointed, but I’m not. I feel so calm, the sounds of the beating rain against the windows made me smile.  Before I was sent here, I would sneak outside and just watch the rain.

My parents thought I was weird for doing this. I didn’t care what they thought of me, it wasn’t like they paid much attention to me anyway.  I have this hate for them, I know I’m probably acting like a child but I don’t care. 

They left me here. I hope karma bites them in the ass. 

Year 2, Late Summer

The nightmares came back. They were worse this time around, it’s gotten to the point that I am afraid to fall asleep at night. I knew Louis was worried about me I could see it on his dumb face, though it felt nice to have someone worry about you. 

“I miss cartoons,” Louis told me when I woke up in a hurry. That threw me off, normally I would give a snarky come back to his banter. This time I actually let him ramble on, it was comforting to hear him just… Talk. 

I hope that one day I could have his enthusiasm. 

Okay, that’s a lie. I honestly do not think I could handle being that enthusiastic about everything. It makes me wonder though, how does Louis hold this much energy? 

Year 3, Mid Summer

Louis made a weapon today. Oddly enough it’s a chair leg, named Chairles. Louis has quite the imagination when it comes to anything and everything, I like that about Louis, despite that it’s pretty weird to name your weapon, but who am I to judge? 

'Chairles' is a chair leg, out of all weapons he could make. Louis chooses a chair leg. Though I have to admit, Chairles suits him, Louis seems comfortable with the weapon and I'm not lying when I say Louis has a good swing.

I’ll stick with my bow, I’ve gotten better with my aim. 

Year 4, Mid Summer

It’s been a while since my last entry, a long while. I’ve been thinking about my sisters lately. I miss them. Every little thing reminds me of them, I haven’t been sleeping much because of this.  When I close my eyes, I see them. The dreams happen quickly, but I remember every painful detail about my vivid dreams. 

First I was sitting under a tree with them, the big oak tree that was in the middle of the park by our house. We were laughing about some stupid joke, then the scene changed to something bloody. My sisters smiling faces turned to horror and pain, all that blood, it was like I was frozen. I couldn’t help them, I just stood there, watching as walkers tore them apart. I tried to help them, but it was too late.  

I’m so tired. Afraid to sleep. I don’t want to have the same nightmare again. 

Why can’t I just have some peaceful sleep? 

Year 4, Mid Summer

It’s been five days since I’ve gotten any sleep. Everything around me is hazy and muffled. Ruby says I need to rest, but I have to work. I can’t sit out for a day and I really don’t need Marlon on my ass again. 

Breakfast is almost ready. 

The smell is making my stomach churn. My headache is getting worse too. 

What’s going on…

Year 4, Late Summer

Louis has been stern with my sleeping schedule. It can get aggravating at times, but who am I to complain? I haven’t been taking care of myself so Louis stepped in to smack some sense into me.  Though I am thankful. I lost myself, all because of those damn nightmares. 

"You need to keep your head up high." 

Louis tells me every morning, I thought I would find it annoying by now. Though I didn't, his words were comforting and I used them, every day. 

Louis will never know. 

I don't need to be teased relentlessly, again.

Year 5, Late Summer

The traps have been getting emptier and emptier over the last couple weeks. I don’t know if the rabbits are getting smarter or the walkers are eating them before we get the chance.

I caught myself staring at the firepit last night. It’s not good. I don’t want to fall back onto old habits. Sometimes if I can’t sleep I find myself fiddling with my matchbook. I’ve been able to stop myself from lighting one, but it’s getting really tempting lately. Matches are too important to just throw away.

Maybe I could ask Louis to just hold onto them for me. I don’t want him to worry though. The school’s old psychologist said I’d been “Cured” and wanted to send me home. I don’t want Lou to think I’m turning back into some crazy pyromaniac on the verge of burning down the school.

I just need to get a hold of myself.

Year 5, Late Summer

I broke. I lit one of the matches.

I watched the small flame flicker down the wooden stick until it burnt the tips of my fingers. I dropped it on the floor and stomped on it but now there’s a small black scorch mark by the side of my bunk.

I hope no one notices it.

Year 5, Early Fall

I fucked up.

I fucked up so fucking bad.

I’m not sure what came over me, to be honest, I don't entirely remember what happened. I think I just had too many bad days lately. This is all my fault, preaching how we need to work as a group and then isolating myself like this and now…

Tennessee might not make it.

I’m locked in my room right now because the twins have a hard time looking at me without attacking me. Totally justifiable, I’m just as disgusted and angry with me as they are.

It was dark out, and I remember it was cold. I couldn’t sleep so I went walking around the school. I was in the art room. Dust covered easels and dried up paint all over the place. It was so cold, unusual for so early, the leaves had barely changed colour. I either couldn’t or just didn’t think

I lit a fire.

Small, paper scraps and paintbrushes in an old clay bowl on the table. I couldn’t stop looking at it. I began to stick things into the flames and just fuck around.

I didn’t even know Tenn was in there. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and went hunting for art supplies or something I don’t know.

“Aasim?” His sudden voice scared the hell out of me and I dropped a flaming ruler on the ground. The thing nearly set my pants on fire on the way down but I jumped away.

Watching the debris on the floor quickly catch is where things begin to get hazy again. I got out fine. My throat is scratchy from the smoke but that's nothing compared to the poor kid. I didn’t get a good look at him but I could smell it. Burns all on the side of his head. Ruby and the twins are with him right now, but she isn't a doctor. 

I wonder if they’ll kick me out if he dies, or kick me out anyways. I’ll go if that's what they want. Louis hasn’t come by our room yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if he hates me too.

Year 6, Early Fall

Hunting has been stressful lately. Louis has been sick for the past week, leaving me hunting with Marlon. Oh, the joy.

Not.

I can't stress enough how annoying Marlon is, not only that he is an egotistical asshole. There isn't a time where I don't want to punch Marlon in the throat.

Why is the leader? He has no leadership skills or qualities. Marlon is going to get himself killed one day and it wouldn't surprise me one bit.

Marlon is an idiot. How could Louis be friends with that? 

Seriously. Marlon can fuck off. Twat. 

Year 6, Mid Fall

Hunting has been better. I had Louis back with me, I could actually smile again without having thoughts of killing a boy that looked like a road kill rat. 

I never really thought that I would miss hunting with Louis this much. But I did. That damn smile…

What am I saying?

Anyway. 

Hunting has been better, we managed to snag a buck and a few rabbits. It should  last us for a while.

That's all I hope for. Among other things. 

As long as I don't have to hunt with fucking Marlon again. 

Year 7, Early Fall

Minerva and Sophie died today. They went scouting past the Safe Zone with Marlon and Brody and were killed by walkers. Violet and Tennessee went back to their dorms and won't talk to anyone, but you can hear the crying echoing off the walls. I tried talking to Louis but he's acting distant. He won't even talk to Marlon. I don't blame him, he and Minerva were close.

I just hope he knows I'm here for him.

Year 7, Mid Summer

I found Louis in the music room today, hardly a surprise since he practically lives at that piano bench. He was playing, but it wasn't really a song. It sounded like he was just randomly pressing keys. Broken melody fragments. Reminded me of what he sounded like when he was first learning. He didn't look at me when I walked in, so I figured I'd just find the book I was looking for and give him some space.

He called my name just as I passed him, and started playing an actual song. It was a nursery rhyme. Literally just "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," He asked me to guess the name and of course, I got it right, so he played another. Eventually moved on to some classical pieces and a few I remembered hearing on the radio as a kid. I guessed… most of the names right.

It's a game we've played often. He plays and I guess. I've gotten better over the years, he tends to play a few of his favourites over so I've memorized a lot of them.

It's nice to hear him play for me again. The school is mostly moving on from what happened to the twins, and it's nice to see this dork smile again.

Year 8, Late Summer

I don't know who's the bigger idiot, Louis, or me. We're out alone in the middle of the woods trying to find some dinner and he just blurts out: "So, 'Sim. You got a crush on anyone?" 

What kind of fucking question is that? And of course, because I'm a dumbass, I panicked and said "Ruby"

I'm not going to live this down, am I?

It's not like I could have said it was him, right?

Year 8, Early Fall

Marlon brought two newcomers to the school today. A girl our age and a little boy. She's capable, at least. The new girl helped the hunting party come back. I fucked up and almost got myself killed but she saved my life. 

Louis has been hovering over her since she woke up. Just flirting, non-stop. She's definitely going to end up stabbing him.

Also, the kid is really nosey and the girl is an enabler.

Year 8, Early Fall

Marlon sent the new people -Clementine and AJ- with Louis and me to hunt this morning. I went ahead by myself the first chance I got, I couldn't stand listening to him try to woo her. Even out of earshot it was all I could think of. I was so distracted I only bagged one rabbit.

Goddammit, Louis.

Louis took the new people to the fishing shack to see if Violet and Brody had any luck catching anything, but only Brody came back. She said someone broke into the shack and stole a bunch of our stuff. She was freaking out but Marlon wouldn't have any of it. I wish he wouldn't brush these things off.

The sunset and the others aren't back yet. I volunteered to go looking for them but Marlon wouldn't let me. Brody said they stayed behind to find more food, but it's been so long. I'm worried. I decided to write this now to distract myself, but I can hardly sit still. I hope Louis is alright. I'm starting to feel sick.

Everyone came back alright, and with a shit ton of food. They went outside the Safe Zone to a walker-infested train station to steal it. It was stupid, but it paid off I guess. Louis kept telling me he was fine but I still felt frustrated. It's too quiet when he isn't around.

Year 8, Early Fall

Marlon and Brody died last night. It turns out Minnie and Sophie's deaths weren't an accident, Marlon gave them away to some group so that he could live, and killed Brody when she couldn't stay quiet anymore. He lied to us saying Clementine killed her, but Louis got between them.

Marlon dropped the gun, but AJ snuck up behind him and shot him.

I helped Louis dig the grave. It wasn't easy, we had to use bowls to dig and the rain was pouring. He was shaking so much he could barely make a dent in the ground. I left the rest of the work to the others, taking Lou inside to dry off.  It's been almost an hour since Clementine and AJ were kicked out, they should’ve stayed, Clementine was smart and knew how to survive in this hellish world. 

“Louis,” I said to him, sitting down next to him on one of the beds in our room.  Louis was too quiet, I didn’t like it… It was so unlike him. I wanted him to smile again. 

Louis did something I wasn't expecting tonight. Louis slowly looked up at me before wrapping his arms around my waist tightly, laying us both back on the bed. I was surprised… Though I felt warm and safe, it's been a small secret of mine but I longed to be held by Louis. 

THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS ENTRY!

I never expected to see Louis break down, I didn't mind that he squeezed me tight while he cried. I just wanted him better.  

Year 8, Early Fall

Clementine and AJ came back.

AJ wasn't looking so good, Clementine told us that he was shot. I felt bad for the kid. Though as of right now, my main concern is what we have to prepare for. I'm not telling anyone this, but I'm afraid.

What if we all end up dying? All this stress is making an old urge of mine come back. I'm scared, everyone is even Louis.

What if I lose him?

I can't lose him… I just can't.

Maybe I should talk to him? Tell him how I feel? I don’t know what to do anymore. Maybe it’s for the best that I keep my feelings for him a secret? This fight for our lives is more important than anything else at the moment, we need to be prepared and focused on what’s going to come.  Louis did mention that he needs some help with his aim, I guess I could show him the ropes. 

Year 8, Early Fall

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

Louis kissed me! We kissed! Yeah, it was a dare, but I didn’t expect him to go through with the dare.  It felt so surreal during the card game, I for one thought I was going to end up having the lowest. Turns out that it was Louis that had the lowest, Louis picked dare, of course, he never backs down from a dare.

He was given a choice: Kiss me or kiss a walker's head.  He chose to kiss me. When Louis leaned over and kissed me, it felt so surreal, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. When I kissed back, it felt so real, so nice…

I sound like a lovesick teenager... 

He cupped my face, gave me that smile of his and closed his eyes and leaned in.  When our lips met, I closed my eyes and slowly returned it, resting my hands on his shoulders. I don’t even know if the kiss meant anything to Louis, it probably didn’t… Part of me wishes it did. 

Maybe I’m overthinking this. I mean, Louis has feelings for Clementine. At least I think so. 

Year 8, Early Fall

I’m so sorry, Aasim. 

Fuck. I could’ve done something! I let you be taken… 

I feel like a fucking failure. I shouldn’t even be writing in your journal right now, but here I am. Sorry in advance Aasim, when we save you and the others, you can totally rip my entries out. 

Year 8, Early Fall

I’m sorry ‘Sim. I went down into the basement where we’re keeping that creepy one-armed guy and well, he was sort-of awake. I looked at him and I felt so angry. I wanted to hurt him. Hurt him like he hurt us, hurt you, but I couldn’t do it. He and his people are the reason it’s me writing in this book right now and not you.

I hope it’s not me writing the final entries.

Anyways, I keep rereading the things you’ve written about me over the years. It makes me feel giddy and guilty at the same time. I just want you to know that if you and I both live through this raider bullshit, 

The next time I kiss you won’t be the result of a dare.

Year 8, Early Fall

Abel talked enough before he puked out his internal organs. (Remind me never to fuck with Clementine) We know where you are, and we have a plan.

I’m coming for you, Aasim, just hang on a little longer.

Year 8, Early Fall

We did it.

Holy fuck. 

We’re back.

All of those raiders are dead. I… I killed one of them. I’ve never killed someone before. It feels strange and gross. Like bile, or a scream that doesn’t know if it should or not. I think of that woman’s face as I shot that arrow through her mouth and I just… I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I feel bad, I think. I think of her, and then I think of you. 

You probably think you’re still on the boat right now. You were out when we found you, covered in blood and the smell of burnt flesh was everywhere. I kept calling your name but you didn’t wake up the whole way back.

You gotta hang on, Aasim. I can’t lose you too.

Minnie’s dead. Tenn’s dead. Mitch is dead. Clementine is dying and maybe so are you and I don’t know what to do anymore so I’m sitting here with your book wondering if I’ll have to decide whether or not to bury you with it while Ruby tries to treat the burns on your back and patch up Clementine’s missing leg and hope neither of you turn.

 Year 8, Mid Fall

So, I’m back. 

I just read all of Louis’ entries. To be honest, I hadn’t thought about this book the last couple weeks, I didn’t even notice it was gone. Louis must have had it this whole time. He’s been by my side ever since the boat, but today when I woke up he was gone and this was on the dresser.

Everything hurts. Both my back from that explosion and my head from trying to figure out what I’m going to do now.

I can't help it, but I feel a bit giddy that he feels the same. Yet I am afraid. 

Afraid that I could lose him to anything out there. 

Maybe I should rest some more before talking to him. 

Year 8, Mid Fall.

That's it. 

I'm talking to him.

I need to. 

I have to.

I'm driving myself crazy just sitting here and thinking about it.

Now to find him.

Year 8, Mid Fall. 

We are dating now. 

I was so nervous when I found Louis, he was playing the piano. I stood by the door and watched him play for the longest time, thinking over the ways to approach him, though it was like I couldn’t move. I was in some type of trance that was keeping me there and not letting me free.  Then he stopped playing, he smiled once and looked over at me. His eyes filled with some sort of relief and he stood up, quickly making his way over to me. 

I threw myself into his arms almost instantly, not even waiting for him to stop walking. I didn’t care that the fast movements hurt my burnt up back, I just wanted to be in his arms. 

“Woah. Be careful.”  Louis chuckled. I really missed the sound of his laugh. I missed everything. 

“Shut up. I missed you.” I told him, but I frowned when Louis gently moved me back, looking me in the eyes. 

“You read my entries, didn’t you?” His question was soft and serious, like he was afraid or something.  

I just smiled at him and slowly nodded, leaning into his touch when he cupped my cheek. We didn’t say a word as we stared at each other, it was like we knew what each other was thinking but didn’t make a move to initiate anything. 

“Well, Romeo? Gonna kiss me or not?” I whispered to him, breaking the sweet silence between us. Louis only chuckled and brought our lips together into a sweet, yet slow kiss. 

It was better than the last kiss, and he asked me out right after.  

I sound a sap. 

But I don’t really care.  

[a-bear-at-hogwarts]

Loathing

Complicated didn’t quite cover Merula’s relationship with one Dahlia Goldman. The first word that jumped to mind was loathing it had been for some time. After all, loathing wasn’t something that sprung up out of nowhere, no... loathing grew from slight into hatred, and then festered into scraped-raw nerves and antagonism and bared-teeth lashing out. She was pretty sure she could pinpoint which slight had planted the seed, though she wasn’t fond of doing so - after all, Goldman had been showing her up for years. Why else would she have grown to loath her?

As she remembered it, they’d been eleven at the time, which would make sense considering it’d been the wait in the hall before getting sent up to put the dumb hat on where they’d first met. Much as she’d have liked to forget the particular detail, she recalled she’d been right scared, her hands shaking under her robe as she glanced about the room full of students - nobody’d known who she was yet, but they would. Soon as that old witch with the list started calling out names, someone would recognise hers.  Snyde. Death eaters’ daughter.  Merula’d known she needed to emphasise right off the bat she wasn’t to be screwed with, and at the time she’d thought she knew the perfect way to do it; the one kid there she knew enough about to make a jab at, and the one kid who wouldn’t know her to jab back either. The so-called cursed student, little sister to the famous Jacob Goldman. Famous for supposedly going mad, for searching for the vaults and getting expelled and vanishing without a trace… the sheer amount of material she could pick from only grew as she got closer to her target, padding through the huddled masses of dark-cloaked kids. From the article she remembered reading on the whole debacle, the missing Goldman had been described as noticeably tall, and it seemed to be a family trait since she stood at least a head above everyone else - tall, and muscular and scarred, two noticeable marks marring her face. Making fun of how she looked would have been the easiest thing in the world with all that to work with, names like Gangly, Chub and Scarface popping to mind immediately, but it’d have been simple and way too forgettable. She’d wanted to make a proper first impression to scare off anyone who’d have tried the same with her.

So she’d gone for the thing that was bound to hurt the most. Her Brother.

What exact words she’d used she couldn’t remember, not really - she’d gone up close to her, having to crane her neck to jeer in her face, and she’d told her… well, she’d told her a lot of things. But she’d finished it up with the cruel declaration that more likely than not, her brother's corpse was lying in a vault somewhere, rotting. Or something to that effect anyways, like she’d said the exact words were foggy. But Goldman’s reaction was crystal clear, sharp in contrast with the fog surrounding it - hell she could even remember her gaze flicking from her eyes, dark brown and long lashes with one of those scars splitting her eyebrow, to her lips painted pitch-black with some sort of matte lipstick or something, point was they’d twisted into, into….

A bored sigh. She didn’t even look at her for more than a few moments as she drawled her response, voice low and rough-

 “Yeah, no shit. He’s been missing for two years. What, are you going to tell me the sky’s blue next? Try something original at least.” 

Years later the memory of those words still burned her, ears and chest and lungs. Especially when she remembered how she’d just bloody stood there afterwards, like some kinda idiot. Just because - because she’d never been thrown quite like that before, off balance, confused and vaguely hurt and outraged because no, no that wasn’t supposed to happen, you were supposed to get upset or angry or, or-

Anything but that. I’m not irrelevant damn it!

Yet as time had gone on and she’d tried again, to find something that stung, to drag her down to earth from that lofty air of boredom she seemed to just love so much, it seemed like to Goldman at least she was. Nothing phased her, nothing got under her skin past a passive sort of annoyance, and the only thing that was more annoying was how…. how perfect she seemed, all the time. Calm, composed, in control and making progress someway, somehow. She constantly outpaced her in terms of house points, despite the fact she fell asleep in class basically every day, despite the fact she seemingly knew nothing and was starting from scratch, despite the fact she faded into the background for seemingly anyone but her. Even when Merula’d lost her temper completely, when she’d made the dumbest decisions of her life and locked her in a cupboard with a Devil's Snare...

The whole afternoon she’d been panicking, terror rasping in her ear that she might as well have just killed her outright, whatever her intent had been she’d just signed Goldman’s death certificate. It’d been the first time she’d actually been happy to see her dumb squishy face when she’d been herded into the common room by the groundskeeper guy, Hagrid or something- yet that happiness had been shortlived. Because even after all of that, even after mortal peril and betrayal she just looked…

Flat. Shut off and out of reach and calm as anything as she padded past the chattering crowds of Slytherin students and headed to her dorm. Merula’d had to pinch herself to make sure she hadn’t dreamt the whole thing, it was over that fast. There was no doubting that the girl had just had a brush with death, everything from the red marks around her arms and neck where the plant must have grabbed her to the tears in her jumper pointing to a struggle having taken place. Yet… nothing. Her face had been locked into the exact same expression it had borne every day that had passed, the tiniest of cracks marring the mask as some sort of vague annoyance lined her brow. Nothing more. Nothing….

And it ignited an anger she’d never felt before, wrathful and bitter in a way only fury kindled by redirected guilt could be. Hadn’t she spent the whole damn day worrying over what might have happened as a result of her reckless actions? Fretting over how a single act of lashing out might have cemented her in the shoes of her parents? All that time, all that fear and she came back like nothing had fucking happened-

It was only a matter of time before that seething rage bubbled over. And if she remembered right, it had done only a few days later.

It’d been late. Like, really late - she’d only stayed up in hopes of catching her alone, sneaking back into the dorms like a lost midday shadow; had it even been night or next morning? The fire had long since burnt itself out to crackling embers, its warmth leached out of the air and into the cold stone walls, encouraging her to burrow into her cloak as she waited, waited for… there. The grinding of stone, muted but audible, clued her in to the arrival of her quarry -  and as Goldman padded through the entryway with gentle, quiet steps she rose.

“You’ve been gone a long time. Is that even allowed?” The flinch of her shoulder silhouetted in the dark had given her a flicker of momentary satisfaction, before the figure turned to face her. Eyes flashed in the dark, the torchlight glancing off them as her fellow snake regarded her. “What?”

 “You waited up for me?” More than anything the amusement in her tone set her teeth on edge, anger and frustration and something, something melting together into a sensation that was very nearly painful. A feeling that, looking back on the moment from the present day, felt all too familiar. But in that moment it had been new and uncomfortable and she’d wanted more than anything for it to stop. 

“You’re awfully cocky for someone alone with someone who nearly killed you.” … oh yeah, that was why she usually avoided thinking back on this. God she’d been a dumbass eleven year old, angry and just enough of a jerk to do stupid shit like that. And it’d only riled her up more when instead of getting pissed in response, Goldman had smiled.

“You didn’t mean to.”

“You can’t know that-”

“Please,” She’d started padding towards the dorms again, brushing past her like it was the easiest thing in the world. “You’re not an idiot. That plant is far from a sure kill, nine times out of ten a teacher would hear the struggle. It’s ineffective.”

Somehow the backhanded compliment only infuriated her more, enough she’d missed the chill that traced her spine. She remembered jumping to her feet, getting in her way, in her face as blood thumped in her ears; how dare she, how dare she!

“You don’t know everything, you-! What if I did want you dead, huh?! What then?” The  underlying threat in her words was empty, but rang in the air as though it might be true…  but still. Nothing.

Or at least very nearly so.

Because while no fear or fury lit in the figures eyes, she remembered clear as day that something undeniable had changed. Something about her stance, the way she looked at her maybe. More than a year later she still couldn’t figure  out what it was, what had shifted and bloomed in the low, flickering light of candle and torch… but as it had, she’d frozen. Because Goldman was still smiling, but now… now it was something else. A challenge. A dare.

“Then you should try harder.”

Frozen to place like frost had claimed her bones and all, Merula hadn’t said a word as the tall figure had brushed past her. 

Not then at least. As it always did, always did, confusion and fear and guilt had all given way to a flood of rage. And after the day that followed, she’d returned to her furious attempts to break that mask the tall girl wore - however she bloody well could. Sure they had their moments, brief snippets of time where she was… decent. But it never lasted. Her very existence seemed to get under her skin, how she’d look at her as though her efforts to lash out were mere amusement, how she’d confront her on purpose - and how she couldn’t resist rising to her confrontation with bared teeth and sharp words. She hated the fact that loathing couldn’t quite seem to cover what she felt while sparring with Goldman. 

She hated that she couldn’t quite want it to.

[dracoyoflam]

HDTH Chapter 4: Trouble

Hermione sighed to herself, 'Why didn't he kiss me, I didn't do anything wrong did I? Did I want him to kiss me? I think I did but I don't know why. This is so wrong. Does he know how I'm feeling about him?'

Meanwhile... 'Does she know how I'm feeling about her? Does she know that I was dreaming of her, not Pansy? She couldn't know anything, could she? I'm not that obvious. Why didn't she push me away?' 'I'm so confused.' They both thought simultaneously. They walked in silence thinking about each other most of the morning. Hermione of course having the advantage of being behind him, so he wouldn't notice that she kept staring at him, wondering if Malfoy could be any different, once you got to know him. ‘But did she know him really? A few hours and a stressful situation wasn’t the best judge of character. Perhaps it was some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome, but without the kidnapping?’ “Ouch, what the heck is that?” “Draco, move! Get out of the way! Look out for that vine!” Hermione yelled as Draco was attacked. It shot out suddenly and snared him around the ankle, dragging him into the forest. Hermione ran over, grabbed him by his left arm and kept pulling as hard as she could to keep him there – but it wasn't quite working the way she had hoped. The vine maintained the tug o’ war, they had to do something before he was dragged away to who knows where. Draco drew his wand and stabbed it through the vine, his wand recognized his distress and shot burning sparks into the captor. The vicious plant let go, and they heard a loud screeching noise from the distance. Draco and Hermione both stood and ran together, hiding behind a huge tree. They were both panting, desperate to catch their breath. “Oh my goodness! Draco, you’re bleeding.” She pointed to the dark, faintly copper-scented stain on his shoulder; from where he had landed when the vine pulled him over. “Okay, take your robe off and let me see.” “No I'm alright, really, I'll be fine.” Hermione shot him an odd look then yelled at him, “Take it off! Or I swear I'll curse you when we get back to school!” He reluctantly took off his robe. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt that cast tempting shadows over his upper body muscles. His stomach was taught and he had muscular arms. He also wore perfectly tailored blue jeans, and below his black leather belt was his… his… long muscular legs. Hermione tried to look at the cut through the slice in his shirt, which was slowly soaking with blood; it was hard to tell how deep the wound went, as leaf litter and soil stuck to it. It had to be cleaned before she could make any form of judgment on it. “Well, take you shirt off and let me take a proper look at that cut. It needs cleaning. Let me try to fix it for you.” He pulled his black shirt up over his head. He tossed it next to them and waited for Hermione to come and poke at his injured shoulder. She stared at him in amazement with her mouth hung open like a small snake eating a fat rabbit. She quickly realized this and closed her mouth, crawling over and sitting behind him with her legs crossed Indian style. She leaned over to try and take a good look at the cut but she was having difficulties with balancing on her legs the way they were and looking at his shoulder. “You can get closer if you need to, I won't bite too hard I promise.” Draco laughed. She thought 'Okay but you're the one that decided it, you remember that.' She put one leg on each side of his body and scooted up right behind him. Drawing out her wand, she pointed it at the wound on Draco's shoulder. ‘Well, I'm hoping that we're close enough to Hogwarts to use magic and not in trouble for it’ she thought before muttering the spell she needed. “Aguamenti.” A small jet of water came from her wand, responding to the small-voiced command, rather than a shout. There was just enough pressure to gently wash the blood and debris away without further damaging the tissue. “It's really deep, you must have sliced it on a sharp rock, or something. It doesn't look too good.” She pointed her wand in the opposite direction to where they sat as she ripped a strip from his ruined shirt to use as a cloth. Soaking the fabric with her wand, she returned to the task in hand; trying to be as gentle as she could on his shoulder. It was really too deep for her careful cleaning to not hurt at all. Draco was sat cursing and hissing every time she touched him. “Sorry, I don't mean to keep hurting you, I'm trying not to. Are you doing alright?” his pain was obvious, and Hermione didn’t enjoy being the cause of it. “Just hurry up will you.” He hissed through clenched teeth as she carefully pulled a few fallen needles from an evergreen from the wound with her fingers. First aid could only move so quickly and remain effective. It was better to take a little time now than risk Draco developing an infection; many plants had antiseptic essences, Hermione doubted this one did, she gave another small squirt of water from her wand just to make sure the deep cut was clean before ending the spell. Hermione took a deep breath before making a zig-zag motion between one side of the lesion and the other, muttering Vulnero propinquus as she did. Slowly, the edges of the wound began to knit closed and seal. She hoped her use of magic wouldn’t be noticed. Hermione tore more of his shirt into strips to make a bandage, wriggling out of the vest top she’d worn under her shirt to act as a dressing. Carefully she bandaged the wound, the little cotton top protecting the gash as well as soaking up the tiny trickle of blood that still came from what was now just a large scratch. “We need to find a way to some water so I can soak your ankle; it's already starting to bruise.” “Well it doesn't feel to good either, any other negative, or obvious news you'd like to tell me?” Hermione gave a small grin and simply replied, “Yeah actually, your ankle is probably going to be rather painful, so have fun walking.” “Thanks Hermione, but I really didn't need an answer. The question was actually rhetorical, though you never fail to answer questions in class, so answering questions in a forest isn’t surprising… Well, if my ankle is so bad then maybe we should start looking for a safe place to soak it. Let's go.” Hermione stood and started walking as she called out behind her, with a smile on her face. “Enjoy the walk, I'm sure I will.” *** They walked for a while before Draco needed to sit down and rest his ankle. It was already showing a blossoming bruise and becoming more inflamed by the minute. He only sat for a moment when Hermione looked down at him. “I think I hear water, we should be getting close, if we keep walking it shouldn't be too long. Come on Draco, let's go, I suppose you could lean on me for support, if you really need to. “How do you know we're getting close to water? I don't hear anything.” Draco said, looking up at her. “Well, because, according to my calculations of where the last river was and how long we were travelling in the train before the accident, there should be another river around here somewhere.” He didn't reply so she continued. “I like to look out of the window of the train, and I remember things. Harry and Ron talk about Quidditch and things that I don't really care about, so I can keep myself occupied by staring out of the window.” “Oh.” He said, “Well how do you know for sure that we're even headed in the direction of the river?” “Can't you hear it? I think I'm starting to be able to smell the water too.” She thought to herself, 'I really hope it's the right one, please don't be the Faesterevir.' The Faesterevir was a river constructed from magic to try and keep anybody traveling by land from getting to the school, it was for protection. She read a little about it in The Magical Guardians book from the library. She thought it was really interesting how the river worked to keep people away, even though it was actually quite dangerous. It looked like a normal river, very calm and inviting, a person could stand right next to it and not know the difference. *** When they finally got to the river they both stared at it in awe, it was as clear as it could possibly be. They could see straight to the white sand at the bottom. “Wow! Hermione, we actually found the river! You were right.” “Yeah I guess.” She looked at it and looked around, she didn't feel quite right, but everything looked normal enough. She walked up to the water and looked into it; It looked safe to her; the current wasn’t fast and it wasn’t deep. Then she saw Harry and Ron, they were swimming around at the bottom, signaling for her to join them. She stood there for a moment and heard her name, “Hermione, are you alright?” She looked at Harry and she thought 'Yeah, I'm fine, why?' Harry looked at her and signaled for her to get in again, she gingerly dipped one foot into the water – nothing untoward happened, so she stepped in with the other one. Harry and Ron pulled her in further, slowly pulling her to the bottom, they smiled at her and she smiled back. 'Wow this is fun, but shouldn't you be at school?' She thought. Harry and Ron both had terrified facial expressions, gesturing madly to something behind Hermione. She turned, and saw a creature that looked like it was a mix between a dragon and some kind of water serpent. It was heading directly for her; huge jaws opened wide with thin, dagger-like teeth. It had shimmering green and silver specs mixed through the scale; and if it hadn’t been terrifying, it would have been very beautiful. She felt as if something was sucking all the air from her lungs; she couldn't breathe, what was happening? She looked for Harry and Ron, but they were nowhere to be seen anymore. Things became hazy, and just before she blacked out she saw the creature reach for her… and everything disappeared. “Hermione! Hermione!”

[missjosie27]

Year 1 Chapter 3- A Deadly Trap

The next day featured Transfiguration and Herbology for the first year Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall was every bit as strict as Snape, however, she was not cruel or vindictive and happy to assist any student who was in need of proper instruction. It was a difficult branch of magic to say the least, and by the time the class ended, only three of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had managed to achieve transfiguring their beetle into a button. Thankfully, David happened to be one of them, earning a brief moment of praise from his Head of House. He just hoped she hadn’t heard what happened with Snape.

Professor Sprout was much more akin to Flitwick, not quite as jolly, but extremely good natured and fair. It was easy to see why she was Head of Hufflepuff house, who were also a solid lot and certainly the most outgoing. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs tended to get along the most so they said. The subject itself was more intensive than wand work, but it did everyone a chance to move around as opposed to sitting in a desk all day.

With the exception of potions master, who more or less hated everyone, David got the feeling most of his teachers liked him thus far, which made the prospect of Potions with Snape a less daunting task and the sting of the lost points lessened.

Angelica, however, still expected him to get those points back and she reminded him as much when she presented a letter to him at lunch.

“Snape sent you this,” she said to him as he sat eating extra large sandwiches with Rowan, Ben, and Charlie.

“What, he can’t tell me in person? I’m insulted.”

“Just open it, Grant,” she half ordered, half sighed.

David did so, all the while wondering just what Snape wanted. Nothing good he supposed.

Grant,

It has come to my attention that your potion yesterday may have been tampered with. As such, I am allowing you a chance to regain the points you lost. Fetch me a jar of picked slugs from the Potions on the 5th floor and I will consider restoring them.

Professor Snape

As he read it aloud, Angelica’s eyes widened with opportunity.

“This is your chance to make things right,” she pressed him. “You have to get those points back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rowan offered. “I’m only a first year but I know the castle pretty well already. Plus, we did make that potion together it’s only right I help.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“You sure this is a good idea?” Charlie asked. “Bill’s told me all about Snape. He’s never one to give points back once he’s taken them. Especially for Gryffindors.”

“Whatever the reason, you have to take the chance he’s sincere,” Angelica insisted.

David shrugged.

“I suppose I have no choice. Couldn’t hurt anyway.”

“Let’s go right now.”

And the two boys set off, hoping that their Potions professor was not quite as bad as the first impression led them to believe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“You know, I always thought the Potions storeroom was on the tapestry corridor,” Rowan mused to himself as they finally reached their desired destination. “I suppose there must be more than one.”

“Who the heck knows where they put things around here,” David shrugged. “Let’s just get this jar before we have to go to our next class.”

Nodding to each other, they opened the door and upon entering the room couldn’t help but notice how dark it was, nearly pitch black.

“Cast lumos, Dave, I can’t see a thing.”

Just then, a small *click could be heard behind which only meant one thing.

“Uh, Rowan, why on earth did you lock the door?”

The Indian boy swallowed.

“I didn’t.”

“I did.”

The voice was muffled and came from the other side of the door, but there was no mistaking that nasty, arrogant tone.

“Merula.”

“Now you’re catching on,” came the haughty reply. “Oh, I’d use that lighting charm as soon as you can. It might be the only thing that saves you from the Devil’s Snare.”

That caused Rowan to get quite jumpy.

“D-Devil’s Snare?!”

“Some fourth year showed it to me the other day,” Merula told them. “Figured it was just wasting away all alone in year and could use some company.”

David, his body racked with fury, slammed on the door with both of his fists.

“Merula, are you kidding?! Let us out of here!”

“No can do, Grant,” came her vindictive response. “I told you would regret talking to me that way in Potions and all it took was one fake letter from Snape to get you right where I wanted. Enjoy!”

Just as she finished that sentence, a slimy tentacle slithered up his pant leg, causing him to jump back.

“AGH! Lumos!”

The wand lighting charm only served to show them just how much danger they were in. The room was packed head to toe with the deadly plant and it was making its way towards them.

“David, I don’t suppose you know what Devil’s Snare does to people it comes in contact with,” Rowan said, his voice shaking.

“Yeah, it strangles them until they’re blue in the face and dead!”

“What do we do?”

David had to shrug off more of the vines that were attempting to grab him. Only a few were active at the moment but more would be coming.

“Keep yelling for help and hope for a miracle. I’ll hold it off for as long as I can.”

He tried to sound confident as he said it, but none of the two boys had any real practical defense or offense against the killer plant. The only thing either could do was keep waving light at it, which would cause the vines to retreat momentarily, but they would always come back. Finally, the vines became so numerous it was impossible to prevent oneself from being ensnared in their grip.

One of them grabbed David by the ankle, causing him to crash hard to the floor.

“ROWAN!”

“Dave!”

As he slid towards the horrifying mass of green in front of him, David couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly the way he was going to go out: age eleven on his second day of Hogwarts.

Killed by Devil’s snare, tricked by a fake letter. They’re going to write that on my bloody tombstone.

Just as Rowan was about to grab his hand in an effort to prevent him from sinking into the abyss of Devil’s Snare a miracle happened, literally.

The door to the room was suddenly burst open, so violently it nearly broke clean off its hinges. Standing in the doorway was the largest man either boy had ever seen in their young lives. He was close to ten feet tall and had width to match. He donned a thick, brown beard along with small, beetle like eyes and wore an enormous trench coat that surely would have dwarfed another human being.

“Gulpin’ Gargoyles!” the man thundered. “Get away from that Devil’s Snare! Yer scarin’ it!”

“Oh sure, I’m the one scaring it,” Dave yelled as he struggled to prevent the vines from securing a hold around his neck.

“Alrigh’ don’t panic. Tha’ just makes it worse,” the half man, half giant said more calmly. “Here ya go.”

Without even so much as an effort, he picked both him and Rowan off the ground, the vines snapping as he did so, placed them outside into the corridor and pulled the door shut once more.

Pausing to catch their collective breaths, it was only once the danger had passed that David and Rowan could properly acknowledge their savior…and truly gain perspective as to just how big he was.

“You saved our lives, mister…uh…”

“No need to call me, mister,” the man laughed. “Rubeus Hagrid at your service. Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts.”

“Well, thank you Hagrid,” David said sincerely knowing he was the only reason that he was still breathing. “I’m David, David Grant.”

“Aye, yer the one everyone’s been talking about,” the gamekeeper said with an inquisitive eye. “I hope trouble doesn’t run in yer family. Even most firs’ years know not to get tangled up in Devil’s Snare. How’d you two end up in there anyway?”

“We were tricked,” Rowan admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Merula Snyde,” David said, venom practically dripping off his voice. “She sent us a fake letter pretending to be Snape.”

“Blimey! Well tha’s certainly not righ’. What are yer plannin’ ter do?”

“I figured a good hex to the mouth might do the trick.”

Hagrid began shaking his massive head.

“Yer upset, which I understand. But I’m tellin ya, getting back at her will only make things worse. Yer riskin worse punishment then she’ll ever get.”

“He’s right, Dave,” Rowan agreed. “I’m just as upset as you are, but imagine if we lost more points trying to get even. Angelica will have our heads.”

David considered himself a very easy going person by nature, quick with a joke and slow to anger but Merula Snyde was currently testing the limits of his patience. Nevertheless, he complied.

“Alright. Thank you for your help, Hagrid. We would have been dead meat in there without you.”

“No problem, Dave,” Hagrid said, a warm smile discernable underneath his shaggy beard. “Feel free ter come visit me in me hut anytime. In the meantime, you’ll be wantin ter change out of them robes.”

They said their respective goodbyes and headed back to the common room, both boys remarking just how lucky it was Hagrid showed up in the nick of time, not to mention admiring his huge size.

When they returned to Gryffindor Tower, however, there were a large contingent of people present. All eyes turned to focus on them and their torn, disgruntled appearance.

“Merlin’s beard! What happened?” Angelica asked them, heading through the crowd. “You two looked like you were almost mauled by a Chimera.”

“Devil’s Snare actually,” David said with a hollow chuckle.

“But wait, what happened with Snape?”

“There was no Snape. We were fooled by Merula and locked in a room with the stuff.”

Immediately, dark whisperings began circulating through the crowd, though no one looked angry at them. On the contrary, several instances of the word ‘Slytherins’ could be heard. Apparently, this was just another day in the rivalry between the two houses.

“This girl is a menace,” Angelica said, her face hardening into a scowl. “I’m going to tell Professor McGonagall about this. You could have been seriously hurt or worse.”

“Leave it,” David said quietly. Enough fuss had been made about his time here already. He wasn’t about to encourage drawing any more attention to himself. “She just hates me because I’m the only first year who stood up to her. That’s what I’ll continue to do, for better or worse.”

Several of the older students nodded their heads in respect, though a few looked as though they already had retaliation on their minds.

Thankfully, Angelica didn’t press the issue.

“Alright. But at least go and change out of those robes. You can’t go around looking like that.”

Just as he was about to go upstairs, she called out to him one more time.

“Grant. You did the right thing. Some things are worth more than house points.”

Nodding, he continued on his way, somewhat relieved that he had gotten on the good side of his prefect and his house, but one irrevocable fact overshadowed that accomplishment.

He had a bona fide enemy in just two days at Hogwarts and her named was Merula Snyde. He had a feeling their feud would not be ending any time soon.