#they goin ham with it with theories and art

[gomzdrawfr]

Very adorable!!

More ghoap baby Tommy and his stressed out papa Ghost ^^ probably the only one for the week since i have too much going on for school and christmas-

AU by @would_btw on twitter

Inpired by this picture @gomzdrawfr posted on twitter!⬇️⬇️

[shadyelizabeth]

Cooper zigged and zagged his way across the lunchroom to his usual table, avoiding excited arms and backpacks haphazardly thrown on the ground, buzzing with nervous energy.

His best friend, Maddie, was waiting for him, her nose buried in a book. He couldn't make out the details, but the cover was black and yellow in the center and colorful around the edges.

Cooper knew Maddie tried to read at least two books a month, though she shot for four—one a week—if she had the time. Cooper knew this was her second book of the month because last week she'd been reading something with an illustrated knife on the front. Cooper knew, since it was Tuesday and meatloaf day in the cafeteria, Maddie had brought her lunch—a ham and cheese sandwich, carrot sticks, apple slices, and pickle spears—because Maddie hated meatloaf. Cooper knew almost everything there possibly was to know about Maddie, from her preferred flavor of toothpaste (cinnamon) down to her weirdest fear (being covered in oatmeal in her sleep) because they'd known each other since his family moved in next door to hers when they were two.

But there was one thing he didn't know: Every month on the full moon, Maddie was nowhere to be found. The topic existed between them like an invisible friend. He never asked or acknowledged the situation. She never offered up any information. After fifteen years, his interest had peaked, and today, Cooper was finally going to ask. Well, he was going to offer up his theory and see what she said.

Dropping his backpack, he placed his tray on the table and slid onto the bench across from her. She didn't look up from the page, but said, "Hey, Coop."

"Hey, Mads. How's it goin'?" This was the first time he'd seen her all day. They had no classes together before lunch, and they'd been arriving at school separately for the past few weeks since she had Yearbook after the last bell.

He watched her mouth as she answered, thinking he might see something he'd never noticed before.

"Meh." She shrugged. "Found out I'm failing Art, but I think I'm finally understanding what's going on in Calculus. You?"

Her canines didn't look particularly long, and there didn't look to be any protrusions of extra teeth hiding in her gums.

When he didn't answer, she waved her hand in front of his face. "Uhh, earth to Coop!"

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. She cocked an eyebrow at him in curiosity.

"I asked you how your day has been."

Though he'd never say it out loud, there had always been something almost feral about Maddie, something wild and dangerous. She had big brown eyes that were sharp and watchful, and no matter how hard she tried, she could never tame her hair. He remembered how, when they were little, she hated having a brush run through it because the bristles would get caught and pull at her scalp. Now, she let her ringlets hang loose and free.

More times than not, she did what she wanted when she wanted to, never letting standards and rules stand in the way of how she lived her life. She loved purely and lived freely—which seemed to further confirm what he was pretty sure he knew.

His foot was bouncing furiously under the table, and his palms were sweaty. He couldn't make small talk with her right now.

As if she hadn't spoken, Cooper looked around to make sure he wouldn't be overheard before he blurted out, "Are you a werewolf?!"

Maddie didn't say anything. She just placed her book spine up on the table and blinked at him as if he'd suddenly grown a third eye.

Interlacing her long fingers together, he couldn't help but steal a glance at her nails—clean and manicured.

"Werewolves aren't real."

Shaking his head, he said, "That's not what I asked."

With a heavy sigh, she said, "No, I am not a werewolf because werewolves are not real."

That's what a werewolf would say, he thought.

Cooper didn't want to push. Maddie had always told him everything she wanted him to know, but nothing else made sense. Why else would she be unavailable every full moon? His imagination was clearly starting to get the best of him and he needed to know.

"Mads, as my best friend, I hope you know there is nothing you ever have to be afraid of telling me. I'd never look or think differently about you."

Nodding, she placed a hand on top of his. "I know, Coop. And I hope you know the same goes for you. You're my best friend, always."

"I know, Mads, and I appreciate it. I appreciate you so much."

"Same, Coop."

A moment of silence passed between them while Cooper waited for her to continue, to finally explain what he'd been wanting to know for years, but she said nothing.

"Sooo?" he prompted.

"Sooo?" she repeated.

"You're really gonna make me say it?!"

"You know," she said, stretching her arms behind her head. "I'm surprised it's taken you so long to ask. I could tell how much you've wanted to ask, and I'm actually kinda grateful you respected my privacy as long as you have."

"Thanks?" He shook his head. "And you're welcome, I guess, buuuut I'm still in the dark here. You. Full moons. Always disappearing. Unable to be found. Can't be contacted. Supposedly not a werewolf, so what's up with that?"

She leaned her head down low, close to the table, wiggling a finger in a come here motion, instructing him to do the same. Her eyes had taken on a serious note, a look he normally wouldn’t associate with her.

In a quiet voice, she said, "I've wanted to tell you for a while, but my parents didn't think it was a good idea. Not that they don't trust you; they do, but they also know how close you are to your family. And if I tell you, you can never, like seriously never, speak of anything that happens on a full moon to anyone outside of me and my family. You can't write it down, post about it online, tell your parents or your priest. No one.

"Do you think you can handle that?"

Cooper searched her eyes for any hint she might be joking but found nothing.

"You're serious?"

She nodded once. "I know we joke and kid about a lot of things, but I am 100% serious this time. Swear on Grandma Mary's grave. If you wanna know the truth, you can come with us next week, but there's no turning back once you do." Straightening up, she continued, "You've got til the night of to decide. No, I won't tell you anything more than what I already have. You have to decide if knowing my truth is worth keeping such a monumental secret from practically everyone you know. Cuz once you know, there's no going back."

As if perfectly timed, the bell signaling ten minutes before the end of the period went off.

Maddie stood, scooping her book up with her. "I gotta run to my locker before next bell. Finish your lunch"—she gestured at his uneaten tray—"and don't feel like you have to give me an answer immediately." Giving him a two-finger salute, she said, "I'll see you in History."

Cooper watched Maddie walk away, wondering what she could possibly tell or show him that would require him to never speak to anyone, but especially his family about it.

Maybe it was lycanthropy? That was something passed down through one's bloodline, right? Or was it that someone had to be bitten to be a werewolf? It didn't make sense for Maddie to have been bitten so young. His memories from his childhood may not be completely intact, but he knew whatever was going on with her had been going on since at least kindergarten.

What if it was something illegal? But the Martinezes had never struck him as the type of people to dabble in anything nefarious. They went to church every Sunday and volunteered at the local soup kitchen. He'd joined them on multiple occasions. And even if Maddie was giving him a choice, he didn't think she would ever drag him into something criminal.

And with his parents, they weren't especially close. While he didn't tell them every little detail of his life, he didn't keep any big secrets from them either. As a therapist, his mom was all about open communication and "the undeniable freedom of words", so he instantly felt apprehensive.

But what if it was something amazing, like immortality or secret undercover special agent stuff? Though he imagined getting inducted into the CIA or something would be a much more difficult and lengthy process than his best friend taking him somewhere on the next full moon.

The five-minute warning bell sounded. Cooper still hadn't touched his food, but he wasn’t very hungry anyway. Grabbing his backpack and his tray, he returned the tray to the kitchen and headed to his next class with a lot to think about.

[lilsherlockian1975]

Part 3 of The Potential of Pairs

Here’s the next installment of my little PotterLock. Once again, huge thanks to @darnedchild and @mrsmcrieff for their help and support. Hope everyone is enjoying it so far, it’s still rated T. @mizjoely thanks again for the prompt, this is for you, my friend! Enjoy! ~Lil~

Part 3 - The Progression of Partnerships

She started meeting up with Sherlock several times a week to study or just talk over theories. Usually, they met in the library but sometimes, if the weather permitted, they’d walk to the Black Lake and sit in the sun as they worked. Eventually, their conversations turned to more personal topics, which surprised her the most.

Soon she learned about the ‘detective business’ that Professor Snape had mentioned. It seemed that Sherlock intended to create his own profession upon graduation: Consulting Detective. Molly was fascinated.

There was so much more to him than bluster and beration. He was actually funny when his scathing wit wasn’t directed at her. One of the most surprising things she found out about him, was that he had a deep compassion for animals and magical creatures.

He talked at length about a dog he’d had while growing up. A dog. Not magical beast, but a regular canine, a mut even. What was a Pureblood doing with a Muggle pet?

She knew he wasn’t a typical Slytherin, his closest friends were Gryffindors, for Merlin’s sake. But with each passing day, Molly found out new and, unfortunately for the crush she thought she was over, wonderful things about the wizard.

One day, whilst studying near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the pair heard a distinct rustling of leaves, then footsteps. Turning to her left, Molly saw a Thestral foal edging close to the clearing where they were seated. The small thing looked frightened and lost (and also a bit terrifying).

Sherlock stood, slowly, carefully and walked toward the creature. “Can you see it, Molly?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the beast.

“Yes,” she whispered as she stood. Having been with her mother when she passed, Molly, unfortunately, could indeed see the skeletal creature.

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Sherlock said as he continued to inch forward. “Hand me a bit of ham.”

It took Molly a couple of seconds to realise what he meant, then she picked up one of the sandwiches they’d been nibbling on as they worked, pulled out the meat and slowly walked to her lab partner. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “It’s a boy?”

He chuckled. “A male, yes.” Nearly reaching the foal, Sherlock stretched out his hand closing the distance and offering it some of the meat.

Molly held her breath, waiting to see how the creature would react. The foal lowered his head, sniffing Sherlock’s hand, then quickly took the proffered snack. Sherlock moved slightly closer and stroked its leather-like skin.

“Come here, Molly. You have to feel this,” Sherlock said.

Slowly, carefully as not to startle it, she stepped closer to them. “Will it let me?”

“Him. And yes. He’s not shy, although he should be.” He took her hand and brought it up to the foal’s nose. “Just be gentle. He doesn’t mind.”

As soon as she touched the creature's snout, Molly gasped, causing it to take a half a step back.

“Sorry,” she said, pulling away.

“No-no. It’s okay.” Sherlock offered the young Thestral another bit of ham. The creature quickly returned, taking the food and allowing the wizard to touch him. “Let’s get him back to his herd.”

“Shouldn't I go get Hagrid?” she asked.

“I know where to lead him,” Sherlock replied, then started to walk deeper into the forest.

Molly followed a bit bewildered, but impressed nevertheless. Ten minutes into their journey, she couldn’t take it any longer. “Sherlock, how do you know where to take him?”

He smirked. “Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention, shall we?”

The witch huffed. He had been teaching her about the science of deduction, but Molly just wanted a straightforward answer, not another lesson.

“Come on, Molly. Why would I have such knowledge?”

She considered it for a moment. “You haven’t taken Magical Creatures since fifth year.” Looking around nervously, she added, “Not that Hagrid has ever taken us this deep into the forest before.”

“True. But you’ve clearly been taking the class.”

“Because they added House-elves, vampires and werewolves to the curriculum and I need the course for my apprenticeship. Though I find the distinction of ‘creatures’ insulting.”

“As do I. But they did remove vampires and werewolves from the Dark Arts classes. Baby steps, Hooper. At least they actually treat them at St. Mungo's now.”

Molly nodded, agreeing with him as she continued to think. The most likely answer was that he would need the knowledge for his future career. Surely solving crimes would involve magical creatures at some point. But if that were the case, why not just take the class? Knowing Sherlock, though, he could simply research what he needed when the time came. No, it wasn’t to do with…

“Molly,” Sherlock whispered as he moved into a clearing. “Stay here and try not to move.”

That’s when she saw it: another Thestral. Only this one was lying on its side, bleeding.

“Wiggy!” Sherlock called out. A second later, a House-elf pop into the clearing.

“Wiggy is here, Master Sherlock!”

“Go get Hagrid, the half-giant. He lives in the gamekeeper's cottage. Hurry,” he instructed the Elf then it Disapparated.

“What’s wrong with it?” Molly asked as Sherlock moved closer. And where did that Elf come from?

“I don’t know. Come closer, tell me what you think.”

Molly inched towards the injured beast. When she got close enough, she saw several deep claw marks in its side; it also clearly had a broken leg. “It’s been attacked.”

“Yes, but by what?”

Just then the Elf and half-giant reappeared in the clearing.

“What’s goin’ on, Sher… Merlin’s beard! The poor thing! Not again!” Hagrid exclaimed as he knelt next to the injured Thestral.

“What do you mean, not again?” Sherlock demanded.

“There’s somethin’ out here, Sherlock. I found a unicorn colt dead not a week ago.”

“I’m assuming it’s nothing to do with you?” the wizard asked knowingly.

“No! I swear it! I’ve not been gamblin’ in months!”

“And you told the Headmistress?”

Hagrid nodded as he gently tended to the creature.

“Will she live?” Molly asked.

“If I’m quick and I have a little help.”

“Molly…” Sherlock said, looking at her pointedly.

“I don’t know anything about healing animals!”

“I can do some of it, but my magic’s not strong enough,” Hagrid explained. “Yer takin’ Poppy’s class, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, but…”

“Come on, Miss Hooper. We’re gonna fix her right up.”

Thirty exhausting minutes later the Thestral was… better. Hagrid said she would live and that he would look after her and her foal, but Molly was worried. She expressed as much to Sherlock on the way back to the castle.

“She’ll be fine, Molly. You did well,” he said with a smile.

“I didn’t realise how cold it had gotten.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“You used quite a bit of energy, both physical and magical. Here,” he said as he removed his cloak and put it over her shoulders.

Gathering it closer, Molly took a deep breath. Gods! It smelt of him. She had been trying to stave off her crush for weeks, to no avail. It was coming back with a vengeance. “Thanks.”

“That House-elf, who was he?” she asked a few minutes later.

“Wiggy? He’s my personal Elf. Been with me since I was a boy.”

“And you can call him, even here?”

“Yes. Though I rarely do. Time was of the essence, I’m afraid. I’m sure he appreciated it. He gets so bored at the manor.”

Molly rolled the word ‘manor’ around in her head. Her family wasn’t by any means poor, but upper middle class in the Muggle world and wealthy Pure-blood wizards were about a million miles apart.

“We, Molly Hooper, have a mystery to solve,” Sherlock said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“We?”

“Of course! You’ll make an excellent assistant!”

Molly often wondered if Snape was conducting some sort of social experiment for his own amusement with his strange match-ups. The man was brilliant, if not a bit sadistic, surely he had his reasons… right? She had heard all the tales of his exploits during the war and even if only half of them were true, the wizard must have been able to read people better than most. Why then had he paired them all off in such a manner?

Some were doing fine, of course. Sally and Philip seemed to be getting along, for the most part. Though the Hufflepuff wizard did cower from time to time under the stern glare of the witch, but their potions rarely failed. Mike and Irene, oddly enough, were getting on famously. Molly had always found her Housemate a bit shy and lacking in confidence. Since the start of term, however, he was noticeably more self-assured and had been spending an inordinate amount of time with the slutery Slytherin. Molly distantly wondered if they were brewing something other than potions in their spare time. Meena and that Dimmock bloke, who Molly barely knew, were also doing quite well. Meena mentioned that both her and Daniel’s grades had improved since they’d started working together, which was surprising. Her best friend had always disliked Potions even more than Molly.

The other three pairs, however, were having some major issues.

Jim and Mary didn’t exactly seem to be fast friends, for instance, but Mary was far too cool-natured to let the slimy Slytherin get to her. Frankly, Molly thought that the Gryffindor chaser was slowly driving Moriarty crazy with her ability to seem unaffected. He was used to getting a rise out of people. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Molly often enjoyed watching the byplay during the sometimes stressful class.

The most dangerous combination by far was John Watson and Sebastian Moran. Molly was just waiting for the day that the two would end up dueling in the middle of class. Though most of the pairings made sense, in an odd sort of way, this one was just plain scary. Moran was a loose cannon if there ever was one and John, a Gryffindor through and through, clearly had no stomach for the Slytherin’s devious ways. Professor Snape had broken up fist fights between the feuding wizards three times by the middle of November. Thankfully, no wands had been drawn… yet.

Greg usually spent most of the class period ignoring Kitty. Molly knew the Gryffindor quite well and she knew he was too much of a gentleman to tell the Hufflepuff off, but his girlfriend wasn’t. Just after the Christmas hols, Molly was witness to an entertaining confrontation between Sally and Kitty in the hallway before class.

“Oi, Kitty-Cat!” the witch called out.

Riley turned. “What do you want, Donovan?”

Sally stalked up to the ginger. “I’m going to say this slowly and use very small words so that you can follow. If you don’t get your act together and stop screwing around, I’m going to hex you purple.”

“I’m sorry?” Kitty said, planting her hands on her hips.

“You heard me. Ship up, Riley. Greg needs to do well on his N.E.W.T.s to get into the Auror programme, he can’t have you slowing him down. It may not matter to you because of your family, but it does to him. Therefore, it does to me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sally rolled her eyes. “What word tripped you up, Kitty? Was it programme? Or have you never heard of an Auror before?”

“I don’t think I like your tone, Sally!”

“I don’t like the amount of blush you wear, but that’s besides the point. Greg’s important to me and this class is important to him. He got saddled with you but he’s too nice mention that you’re a few centaurs shy of a herd.”

“What?”

“You’re knitting with only one needle, Kits,” Sally said with a smirk.

Kitty looked at Molly. “What the hell is she trying to say?”

“She’s saying that you eat soup with a fork, Kitty!” Molly replied, frustrated with the whole scene. Was she really so dumb that she didn’t know when she was being insulted? “That you’re not smart and it’s affecting Greg’s grade!”

A ripple of laughter lit through the corridor, causing Molly to look around. Most of the class was waiting to enter the room. She instantly felt horrible.

“Oh, Kitty…”

“I get it, Molly,” the Hufflepuff said. “You suddenly think you’re hot stuff because you’re working with Holmes. Doesn’t matter, you’re still just ugly, boring little Molly Hooper! One Potions lab won’t change that!” She stormed into the room, leaving Molly standing there, the rest of the students staring at her.

Molly was frozen in place, unsure of what had caused her to say something so mean-spirited to the witch. Suddenly she felt a hand on her back.

“Come on, Molly,” Sherlock said, guiding her into class.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. That was just the outcome Snape was looking for.”

“What?”

He winked as he moved to take his seat.

More to come! Thanks for reading! ~Lil~